#but I did say all the ones I watch growing up

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kidnapped IV

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: You visit your older sister, Frido

Frido grins as you step into arrivals.

You've gotten a bit taller in the months that she's not seen you, sprouting up like a weed until you're the long and lanky person that stands before her now.

"Hey, you," She says fondly, tugging on a stray lock of your hair.

"Hey, Frido," You say in response, tugging your suitcase behind you just as your sister sweeps you into a hug.

"How is school?" She asks," And the family? And what about your friends? Are they all good? Oh! And how is your handball going because-"

You laugh, knocking your shoulder against Frido's with a grin.

"I can't answer your questions if you keep asking them one after another."

Frido glances down at you.

You're barely sixteen but still nearly reaching her height, nothing like the tiny little baby she'd once held in her arms all those years ago. You're yet to fully grow into your lanky limbs but Frido can still see the faint outline of the small muscles underneath the baggy clothes you've worn for the plane journey.

She can't imagine that they'll remain that small for long, if what your parents have told her about your handball training has been true and your attempt to get onto the Swedish Olympic Youth Team is successful.

"What?" You ask," Why are you looking at me like that?"

Frido laughs, ruffling your hair fondly before grabbing your suitcase. "No reason," She says," I can't just look at my little sister?"

"You're being weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Frido pokes you in the shoulder. "Is that anyway to talk to the person that's buying you dinner tonight?"

You grin, more of a half smirk than anything else. "It depends."

"On?"

"On if I'm choosing dinner or you're choosing."

"Be nice to me on the way home and I'll let you choose."

Your room is as you left it the last time you came to visit Frido with a stack of books up on the shelf, a blanket thrown over the little reading nook in the corner and one of your handball trophies on the bedside table.

"I changed the sheets and stuff," Frido tells you as she unpacks your clothes into the wardrobe," And I put some new snacks in your drawers. I know you like to snack in the middle of the night. Your old ones went out of date."

"Thanks. You didn't have to."

"But I wanted to."

Frido draws you closer to her. Almost six months ago, she could rest her chin on the top of your head but now it's more of an awkward angle because of your growth spurt.

"I'm just trying to make you comfortable," She teases," Because our parents sent me your gym routine. The life of a student athlete. You don't get a break even when you're on holiday."

You grin. "I'm just making sure I'm a better athlete than you."

"You can't compare football to handball. They're completely different sports."

You grin. "And yet I'm still outdoing you."

"For now," Frido says," We'll get to the gym and I'll show you that I've still got it."

"Yeah, right, old woman," You laugh," I can run rings around you."

"We'll see."

Frido, for her own peace of mind and so no one else sees, bans you from posting your triumph on the running machine on your social media later that day.

"You should have seen me in my prime," Frido says that evening as she eats dinner out of a box and pokes you in the leg with her toe.

You're on the other side of the sofa with your own box of food, grinning over at your sister as she pokes at you again.

"You wouldn't have been able to keep up," Frido continues," You'll see. Watch any of my highlight reels."

"I don't need to," You say with a grin," Why don't you watch some of mine?"

Frido flicks a piece of food at you and you smugly catch it in your mouth.

"Is it still the plan to quit?" She asks," When you're older?"

You groan, throwing your head back to look up at the light. "Did Mama and Papa put you up to this?"

"Don't deflect," Frido says," You can go far in handball, you know. You've got the talent."

"I don't know," You say after a long stretch of silence," I...I just don't want handball to be my everything, you know? I just...I don't know how feasible it is to have two jobs at once if I'm being an athlete."

"You're too smart for me," Frido says simply," So I don't know either but I know that if you're really set on it then you'll find a way to make it work."

"Really?"

Frido laughs. "Of course. You're smarter than people give you credit for. I mean, you managed to track down that guy that tried to steal Mapi and Ingrid's cats and you weren't even in the country for a week. You'll work it out."

"You think so."

Frido reaches forward to ruffle your hair. "I know so. Now, how about you grab that menu over there and we'll have a look about ordering dessert too?"

[cursedcanon]

BABY!!

how JJK men hold your newborn baby >:D

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto, Toji , Nanami, yuji and megumi

Gojo Satoru

Gojo holds the baby like he’s cradling a star — effortlessly, like it was always meant to fit in his arms. He tilts his head, squinting at the baby’s face with a mischievous grin.

“Are you sure this one’s ours?” he teases, glancing at you. “They’re way too cute. I thought they’d come out with sunglasses and an attitude.”

The baby stirs, letting out a soft noise, and Gojo’s playful demeanor falters. His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to their tiny forehead.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I’m your dad.”

You smile, exhausted but happy. “They already have your dramatic entrance, Satoru. Did you hear how loud they were crying?”

Gojo gasps, feigning offense. “Loud? That was a declaration of power, babe.”

Choso

Choso doesn’t move for a solid minute after the baby is placed in his arms. He just stares, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a complex puzzle. He finally speaks, voice hushed.

“They’re... warm.”

He presses the baby gently against his chest, heart hammering. His fingers tremble as he strokes their back, and he swallows hard, as if holding back tears.

“I never thought I’d get to feel this,” he whispers, looking at you like he can’t believe it’s real.

You reach out to touch his hand, your voice soft. “You’re a natural, Choso. They already love you.”

His eyes fill with quiet determination. “I’ll protect them,” he promises, voice steady. “I’ll protect both of you.”

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna looks offended. He holds the baby at arm’s length, scowling like they’ve personally insulted him.

“This is it?” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes. “This tiny, squishy thing is what had you screaming for hours?”

The baby wiggles, yawning. Sukuna freezes. His scowl fades. Slowly, he brings the baby closer, letting them rest against his chest. His eyes linger on their face, and his voice drops to a low mutter.

“Tch. You better grow up strong,” he mutters. “I’m not raising some weakling.” But his hand stays steady, cradling the baby with surprising gentleness.

You chuckle weakly from the bed. “They already survived you holding them like a sack of rice. I’d say that counts as strong.”

Sukuna snorts, but his eyes don’t leave the baby’s face. “Maybe they’ve got potential after all.”

Geto Suguru

Geto immediately melts. He holds the baby like they’re made of silk, his eyes shining with warmth. He sways instinctively, rubbing slow circles on their back, completely captivated.

“They’re so peaceful,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against their forehead. “Like they know they’re loved already.”

He looks at you, a soft smile curving his lips. “We did good,” he whispers. “Really good.”

You wipe away a tear, your heart swelling. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Geto’s gaze doesn’t waver from the baby. “No,” he says softly. “I’m the lucky one.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji stares down at the baby like he’s never seen anything like them before. He shifts his grip, holding them with careful precision, as if testing his own strength.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he mutters, noticing how the baby grabs at his shirt with a weak but determined grip. He chuckles, low and rough, rubbing his thumb over their tiny fingers.

“Already fighting,” he smirks, eyes glinting with pride. “That’s my kid.”

You laugh tiredly, watching him. “Looks like they inherited your stubbornness.”

Toji grins, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Good. They’re gonna need it.”

Nanami Kento

Nanami holds the baby like he’s done it a thousand times, but the way he stares at their face tells a different story — like he can’t believe something this small and fragile is his. He traces their tiny fingers with his thumb, gaze soft and steady.

“You’re so... perfect,” he murmurs, voice thick with quiet reverence. “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

You watch him, exhausted but smiling. “I think you worked hard enough to deserve a little luck, Kento.”

He glances at you, eyes filled with something so tender it makes your heart ache. “Maybe,” he whispers, looking back at the baby. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never lose it.”

Itadori Yuji

Yuji cradles the baby like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, eyes wide with wonder. He can’t stop smiling, rocking them gently as he talks nonstop.

“Hey, little guy,” he whispers, beaming. “I’m your dad. Isn’t that crazy? I still can’t believe it. You’re actually here.”

He chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye with his sleeve. “I promise I’m gonna be the best dad ever. We’re gonna play games, eat so much food, and I’ll protect you from anything bad, okay?”

The baby lets out a soft noise, and Yuji gasps like he’s just discovered magic. “Oh my God, they answered me.”

You laugh weakly, watching him. “Yuji, they just breathed.”

“I know,” he whispers, eyes shining. “And it was the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi looks like he’s in shock. He holds the baby like they’re made of glass, his jaw tense, eyes flicking between their face and their tiny, wriggling hands.

“What if I drop them?” he blurts out, frozen stiff. “Or — or hold them wrong? Or —”

The baby lets out a soft, content sigh and snuggles against his chest. Megumi goes silent. His entire body relaxes, and he stares down at them like they just erased every anxious thought in his head.

You watch quietly, voice gentle. “You’re doing fine, Megumi.”

He swallows, holding the baby a little closer. “Yeah,” he whispers, like he’s finally convinced. “I think... I think I am.”

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

summary joel comes to pick you up from work, and after soaking up the night's energy for a short while, you finally let him take you home [fluff, kissing, 1.1k]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

There’s something different about the way he walks into a room these days. A gentleness as his eyes comb through the space to familiarize himself, not size up those in it. Tonight, Maverick’s buzzes with people desperate to forget the work week that now lies behind them. They laugh and drink and embrace the live music as it flows from the stage to wash their worries away. 

Joel expertly navigates through the crowd in a gruff string of excuse me’s and thank you’s. He'll never know whether they make way because of his manners or the broadness of his frame. From behind the bar, you watch him cross through a frenetic sea of patrons that part with every few steps he takes. The surrendered look on his face suggests that if he were twenty years younger, he’d allot time to work the room instead of having a one-track mind with a pin set on you.  

It’s not lost on him that your smile grows wider as he sits on the barstool before you. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s a slight sound you have to strain to hear. He’s more interested in how the overhead lights bathe your skin in their warm glow.

There’s a quiet knowing between you, a familiarity that doesn’t need words to prove itself true. The moment he places his interlocked hands on the counter in front of himself, you brush your fingers over his knuckles before turning away. You return with a bottle of Lone Star in front of him, condensation rolling down the sides. You twist the cap off for him.  

Joel nods curtly. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you.” There’s a sparkle in your eyes. 

Joel raises the beer to his lips to quell his smile. You admire how his large hand nearly consumes the bottle and how Adam’s apple bobs with each steady sip. When he sets it back down, you tilt your head in a way that makes his smile bloom anyway. He gives up on trying to hide it, and you’re glad it’s a short-lived fight. The lines on his face become more pronounced, but he looks years younger. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel commits the lilt of your voice to memory like he has countless times since meeting you a couple of months ago. Each time, the note is different. A little kinder, a little fonder.

“Should be criminal hiding a smile like that.” 

“Thought you said you got off at six,” he changes the subject. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” you say.

Joel tracks you as you saunter from behind the bar to join him on the opposite side. 

“Figured if I lingered, it’d coax you out the parking lot.” You fix a rouge strand of his silver-streaked hair as an excuse to trace the shell of his ear and make him shiver.

“This seat taken?” You climb onto the stool beside him before he can answer. 

“Was sitting out there wasting my gas ‘cause of you.” He’s willing to waste way more than that.

“My sincerest apologies.” You give his thigh an affectionate squeeze. 

A month ago, Joel would’ve graciously pushed your hand away because of the thought of too many eyes. Too many trains of thought that could derail full steam ahead in the wrong direction. He learned from his father to keep his cards close to his chest—good hand or bad. In the end, all that mattered was how he deciphered their potential and chose to play them. But letting the world in was inevitable, and inevitability wasn’t always so bad.  

Joel takes another sip of his beer, this time to distract from the absentminded way you run your hand along his thigh, back and forth over his denim jeans. He wishes your touch was against his skin. You’ve always been so gentle that he’s begun to consider the possibility he could break after all. 

You briefly perk up in interest when the band starts playing a new song.

“We gonna sit here all night, or can I go ahead and take you home?” 

“What’s the rush?” 

“There ain’t one.” Life and patience are one and the same. “It’s just loud. A lot going on.” The type of scene that fueled him once upon a time.  

“We seem to be hearing each other just fine,” you say lightly. “One more song, okay?” 

Joel hums low in agreement. 

Thankfully, you hold fast to your promise. As the closing chord hums throughout the room, you stand and lead Joel out of the bar with one of his large hands at the small of your back. A few other patrons file out alongside you while others file in. 

Outside, as the Maverick’s sign glows bright, fluorescent red, the warm air is a welcome surprise. It’d been cooler the last few nights, and now there’s no need to hug your arms and walk swifter. Even though there are plenty of open spaces, you spot his charcoal f-150 parked further away than most cars. 

“How’d you know I needed to get more steps in?” You playfully peek back at him as he walks a few paces behind. 

When you’re seconds away from opening the passenger door, Joel rests a steady hand on your hip and uses it as leverage to make you turn and face him. No sooner does his large frame crowd into your space until your back meets the metal of his truck. Every move is careful and intentional. Not a single second passes where he isn’t gauging your reaction. Ready to course correct on a dime. 

When a surprised smile curls at your lips, he dips his head down to kiss it away with a tenderness that aches. Joel’s beard is a welcomed brush against your skin. A pleasant weight settles low in your gut like a small stone finding its home at the bottom of a riverbed. 

He cups your cheek with a calloused palm as his lips move against yours. He takes his time. Let’s himself enjoy the softness of your lips, the privilege of your proximity. It’s the most spontaneous he’s been in a while, but the moment washes over him so seamlessly he can pretend he’s this brave every night. Pretend that his inhibitions don’t take the reigns more often than not. 

When he pulls away, his breaths fan over your lips as he looks down at you. There’s a palpable fondness in his gaze that makes you wish you could get lost in his dark eyes forever. He’s the constant you’ve been needing as life attempts to pull you every which way. Wise, strong, dependable.  

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs gruffly, thumbing gently along your lower lip. 

The distant sound of rowdy laughter tethers you back to earth.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[yanderes-galore]

Hi.. could you do best friend itadori x reader where itadori is a platonic yandere but then becomes romantic yandere when they are 1 year away from going to college?

-💮

Oh sure! This sounds like a cute idea :)

Yandere! Best Friend! Yuji Itadori Concept

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Blood, Violence, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Denial of feelings, Clingy behavior, Dubious relationship.

Yuji has always cared for you during Jujutsu High.

Even when he was a vessel, he's been protective of you.

I can definitely see Yuji falling for a best friend he has.

When he was learning to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer he barely had time for love.

Despite this... He always felt a close connection with you.

Through training under Gojo sensei, you two worked together to he Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Yuji didn't realize it at the time, but throughout his school life he fell for you more and more.

Even when you all lost Gojo during Shibuya and felt lost... You did your best to guide Yuji forward.

Yuji's always been concerned about your safety.

Even to the point Sukuna comments on you, wondering if the teen is having a little crush.

Yuji always ignores the curse in his head, thinking that it can't possibly be what he feels for you.

He... He's just like a brother, right...?

Although even that doesn't feel right to him.

There've been many situations in just his first year of meeting you where he's gotten bloody on your behalf.

Many battles have led to injury or him pummeling another curse user.

Each time you've been at his side to check his wounds and help him.

Yuji's experiences have made him worry about losing you.

He hates that you've both seen countless deaths and injuries due to curses and curse users.

This is one of the reasons your best friend is so overprotective.

He never leaves your side, checks to see if he trusts the people he leaves you alone with...

Get into fights with those who failed to protect you....

You've been his family since he started Jujutsu High.

You've always been there for him, his best friend....

Even when Sukuna's defeated and he continues high school with you, that protective behavior remains.

He's covered in scars from his battles... grimacing when he sees them on you too, apologizing for being unable to watch you.

Not that they... don't look attractive...

What is he thinking!?

It's nice for him to not have Sukuna whispering impulsive thoughts in his head.

He can finally clear his head... focus on you...

Why does he keep thinking of you?

Yuji is probably in denial about his feelings.

He wants to focus on his studies and training.

Yet he keeps finding his gaze flick over to you, wondering what it would be like if you two...

Best not to say that right now.

Yuji truthfully develops a crush throughout high school.

You both have grown quite strong and he only seems to admire you more the more you grow.

He tries his best not to show his growing feelings until after high school.

He still finds himself calling and texting often... visiting you... training with you...

You two are practically unable to be separated yet he hates admitting his crush.

You probably don't feel the same... and he should just watch over you for now.

Unfortunately... Watching you develop relationships with other people tends to make his heart ache.

College wasn't something Yuji thought he'd do.

Yet when you both graduated and you expressed an interest in pursuing a career outside of Sorcerer duties.

Well... He couldn't help but want to follow you.

Yuji wasn't sure what major he wanted, he just knew he wanted to continue being in your life.

Which is what leads him to setting up a college application to support your interests.

Yuji's not that bad of a yandere with Sukuna gone.

He isn't murderous and is most likely not going to kidnap.

He's a soft yandere, acting like a puppy around you when he finally accepts he has a crush on you.

Yuji tried to give you space before college, but he finds himself unable to do it.

Even if you were seeing someone at the time, he can't ignore the feelings steadily growing within him.

He's gone from wanting to protect you... to also wanting to kiss you.

He wants you to know you're loved.

Yuji would probably confess before you both went to college.

He's surprisingly shy, fidgeting as he admits he's loved you for a long time now.

If you're single and accept him, he's ecstatic.

If you aren't single or are and just decline... Yuji's understanding and drops it for now.

Yet he doesn't stop obsessing over you.

While he's a soft yandere, he still stalks you.

He tries not to... but he's so concerned about you he can't stay away from you.

You mean everything to him...

Even if you don't love him now, he hopes you will at some point.

If you had someone you were dating already, Yuji's going to secretly sabotage that relationship.

Then he's going to comfort you as your best friend... all while saying you deserve so much better.

While he doesn't want to be... Yuji can be manipulative.

He wants to be the only one for you.

His whole plan was for you to date in college....

It would be perfect!

His jealousy tends to make Yuji pushy, gently trying to nudge you into loving him.

He doesn't want to be best friends anymore...

He wants to be your boyfriend.

One way or another, Yuji's going to drag you into a relationship with him....

Even if it's just a pity date... Yuji plans to prove to you he's perfect for you.

He'll protect you like a good boyfriend should... just like he always has....

Yuji's intense with affection since he's trying to prove he's a good boyfriend.

He loves you... so much.

If it means hugging you tightly and covering you in kisses, he'll do it.

It's hard to focus on training or class work when he can only think of you.

He understands you may just want to be friends...

He tries to be patient...

But by now he can't see you as just a friend anymore.

He's addicted to you and your attention.

All he looks forward to is dragging you to his dorm for cuddles.

Probably even a bit of PDA in class to show others you're his.

While not a bad boyfriend... He doesn't leave you alone.

Yuji watches you from a distance when you're with others, he tracks your phone and socials...

He wants to be involved with everything you do.

He refuses to lose you to anyone.

He just can't... You need to be his.

If you aren't... He might just go insane.

There's times he's threatened those around you, unable to hide his jealousy.

There's times you hope the blood on his hands is just due to him training too hard.

He never gives a straight answer.

You can try to tell Yuji to back off, to give space for you to clear your head...

He backs off for a little while.

Yet then he comes right back like being alone is the most horrible experience for him.

You try to have Nobara and Megumi distract him... No dice.

Yuji now finally understands what he feels for you.

You're not his best friend... you're meant to be his partner.

Yuji wants to support, protect, and care for you... Nothing will take you from him...

As long as he loves you... Yuji will never leave you alone... even if you asked him too.

[sylussweetie]

“CALL ME BABY”

Desc. What kind of fathers the LADS men would be. The kinds of kids they have. The brief dynamic amongst the children.

Featuring. Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, & Caleb! All x Reader/MC (separately)

w.c

A/N: Not me making problems for children. Also, the break my nuts game is a real game. My auntie was watching over some kids that were friends of a friend and they were jumping off the couch onto a firm triangle cushion trying to “break their nuts” crazy work btw, 10/10 parenting somehow

Xavier. He get’s a boy and a girl as twins. The older one I see taking on his more stoic and responsible attributes. The second kid, taking on his sleep everywhere traits but is a bad bitch on the down low. Second kid’s just unmotivated and unbothered.

Imagine it like this, if they were to grow into a high school setting, the archetypes of the first kid would be a student body president or have a role in the student body (they’d be arguing with Zayne’s kid for that role). Then the second kid would be just a “average” student with extra brain cells but wouldn’t want to put them to use. As they’re much more content with going to sleep and not exhausting as much energy as possible but when it comes to being relied on, end up being very reliable.

They def bicker a lot but not as much as Rafayel’s kids (Which we will get to later).

Xavier def treasures those kids. They would take on his hair but your eyes and have features that mostly resembled you with his cosmetics. He and second kid would get along fine and would cuddle together growing up because of how much they SLEEP. Imagine second kid clinging onto Xavier when he has to go to work. All like “daddy no! Don’t go!” Grumbling and gripping onto Xavier’s shirt.

Xavier’s oldest and him bond over simple talking, quality time in… cooking for you.

“But you’re banned from the kitchen.”

“Says who?”

“Mom.”

“She won’t even notice.”

“She will if the house is gone by the time she gets back.”

“I wasn’t aware the house could teleport. It must have been an oversight when I bought it.”

“Dad.”

Oldest kid loves practicing against Xavier with the sword. Second kid gets too dejected easily and does not truly want to do Xavier gets his fun out of oldest child. Teaching his oldest kid all the tricks he learnt and if anyone tries to get too close at school he gives them permission to defend themselves. If you know what I mean.

The oldest kid inherits Xavier’s light evol. They def train together. The second kid doesn’t care but they’re like a naturally talented and gifted sort of genius who doesn’t have to try. I’d say they’re really good at the sword with bad evol control or have skilled evol usage with a lack of effort or skill in sword fighting. One or the other.

The kids ask about how you and Xavier fell in love and Xavier’s always so sentimental when he tells the story. His rendition. Something you haven’t heard from him before but did now. First kid is sitting obediently at his side and looking up to the face of their father listening intently. While second child is lazing with their head on Xavier’s thigh as Xavier brushes their hair.

Zayne. Zayne feels like a girl dad or a boy dad, but with only one child. Honestly if he has a girl first, it’s a single child. If he has a boy first, then he has a young girl right after but when the boy is 5-7 so they have a pretty decent age difference.

Girl dad Zayne loves his baby girl. So, so much. She’s taken on your features, your hair, your eyes. I guess the only thing she has of his is the cold personality. Though not really cold, just shy and then with your chipper excitement whenever she lights up at anything she loves. Is also a lover of dessert. You have to yell at them both when they sneak away extra macaroons.

Zayne knows it’s wrong but can’t help it when she gives him the puppies of eyes.

Zayne’s son has almost all of his colors save for his features. He’s inherited the eyebrows for sure but the other features are yours. Sculpted soft nose and cushy cheeks. When he was born, Zayne couldn’t help but ghostly pinch at the chub of his newborn son. Almost looking akin to that cheery little seal he would always craft out of his evol.

Zayne’s daughter loves her big brother so, so much. She walks to school with him while holding his hand and skipping with the biggest, toothiest smile on his face. Whenever you give her candy she always saves a piece to share with her older brother and loves to tease him with sticky candied fingers. She adores being twirled around by him in the air and it always ends up with you having to warn them to be careful not to fall. She’s the only one she has such an easy time showing emotion with (besides you guys).

When she gets older she stops trying to be so reliant on him. Especially in public, she’s so independent and self reliant to everyone else, but at school she gets all embarrassed and shy when her big brother comes into class to remind her that she forgot her water bottle. Or that mom told her to eat all the veggies packed in her bento. Her classmates all awe at him and how cool her big brother is.

Zayne’s son is hardwired to look after his wittle baby sister. He can’t help it, she’s so cute. But also as he grows older he begins to wish for time to himself and independence from having to be an older protective brother. With so much weight on his shoulders he begins to act out and at some point claims that his dad only cares about his baby sister and that he doesn’t love him. (He’s a pre-teen give him a break).

All is resolved of course after a talk and that Zayne assured him he loves him, and pinching his cheeks.

Zayne’s son being the cool VP that hangs around and lets the kids chill from the rules while Zayne’s daughter in her generation is the president and is def more strict.

They both inherit Zayne’s snow ability but to your Evol versatility. Zayne’s son specializing in more imaginative moving creatures while Zayne’s daughter specializes in ice in the form of intricate and sturdy sculptures.

Rafayel. Rafayel has a girl, and a younger boy. No questions asked. Only like 3-4 years apart. The older girl is a sassy version of him, if not sassier. She has his hair, and his eyes. Although the big bug eyed version of them where it feels like she’s constantly staring into your soul. Constantly has them tied in adorable little pigtails at the side of her that swish back and forth when she shakes her head “no” especially when she was a toddler, a little pout on her face, lower lip jutted out as she crosses her arms with watery eyes peaking up at you both.

She is in fact a daddy’s girl, but very much still loves you. When she was younger she’d fight you over who got to cuddle dad in bed until Rafayel just tucked himself in the middle and cuddled you both. When she’s older she’s much more content with just you, and in fact finds her dad’s possession of your time to be really annoying. She wants to go shopping with you, for you to do her hair. For you to bake with her.

If anything, she kinda feels bad when she was younger for preferring her dad over you and wants to remind you that she loves you, too. Especially when you had her brother. Who took up most of your time. This was when she truly noticed the loss of your attention.

She kinda bullied him a lot too lol. But not too harshly, usual sibling banger of chasing each other around with a knife and threatening death. Then consoling and begging not to tell mom or dad. With her is the only time he’ll ever fight or argue back. But in a shy “leave me alone!” Kid sort of way. They bicker and banter back and forth. “Go climb a tree! Bug eyed freak!” “I hope the sharks eat you! You’d taste better than the grass!”

Rafayel’s son is much shyer. With one eye the color of Rafayel’s gradient hues and the other one of yours. He’s quite different than the both of you since you’re both so bold, especially with each other. He’s sensitive, and very shy. When he was younger, he’d often liked to be held by you and would bury his chubby face into your neck. He likes hiding behind Rafayel’s leg in public when he has his art galleries cause he still likes to see the pretty art his papa makes.

He loves to paint, Rafayel and him bonded that way. Rafayel somewhat got him out of his shell when his son was gifted the most talented artist award in kindergarten. In middle to highschool, Rafayel’s son gets pretty famous for being such a talented artist (but often gets compared to his dad and how he can’t live up to the original). Oh well, guess that’s why his older sister is there to beat them all up.

Younger son has evol doing with painting. The elements he paints come to life for a momentary period of time. He’s still learning to use it. Older sister has Rafayel’s fire evol. She’s more of a fighter though like her mom rather than a “dainty” artist. However, she fights with a force and grace of that of a well practiced and skilled dancer.

Sylus. Twins. Two girls. One boy. Just a five year age gap. His little girls are fierce and bold. Just as daring, sly and cunning. He spoils them SO much. They come back from weekend shopping trips from different parts of the world, sometimes richer in fashion and sometimes richer in mind. He definitely takes them to explore other cultures and they bring back souvenirs from their travels.

His girls love to hang onto Sylus like little monkeys. Very adventurous. If one of them is climbing his leg, the other one is hanging off his arm as he holds it up like a branch. Even as they get older to beg him for something they use this tactic.

As for his son, Sylus likes to sit with his son. It’s kind of strange cause the little boy is so quiet. Sylus likes to clean his guns with his son. Having the little child sit on the couch just staring blankly at his father reload and clean a gun. Of course, safety first.

His son inherits his animal loving trait. Horses? Check? A strange forest water creature? Check. A beaver? Strangely yes. Cats? Especially cats. If he goes outside expect him to come back with at least one cat that managed to follow him home.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Mochi and Miles. They’re brothers, Mochi is really nice but Miles is really mean.”

He looks up at you with those puppiest eyes, “Can we keep them?”

Before Sylus was more adept as a parent he had Mephisto watch over the twins in the crib. He had a special crib made with a perch sturdy enough to hold between two cribs so the crow could look over them all at once.

After you found out you scolded him, “what is a bird going to do if they’re in danger?”

“CAWCAW.”

“He’s going to do that.”

Luke and Kieran love the girls. Twinsies!!! They play house with them, feed them, albeit they’re both very clumsy in trying to feed the stubborn kids. The oldest is definitely very impatient and eats as fast as possible to go play, a choking hazard. The second one is patient and eats slow while transfixed with the TV, also a choking hazard with how distracted she gets. They both are very worried, very paranoid, very protective.

On the playground a little boy comes up to give Sylus’s second daughter a flower, all blushing and unable to meet her eyes as she’s more confused rather than thankful. But take it anyway. Luke and Kieran watching the whole thing interrogated the poor kid.

This kid is someone in Second daughter’s class that always remains behind the scenes throughout the years. In middle school he’s a pimply nervous kid and gets a completely glow up in high school that has every girl blushing but he only has eyes for second daughter.

Kieran and Luke refer to the son as little monarch. Throw him up in the air and like to shadow box with him. They’ll come out from the shadows and as Sylus’s son is throwing a punch, they’ll dramatically toss themselves backwards and groan in pain.

First daughter is chatty as FUCK. Wanting to know everything about her baby brother while second daughter watches and observes.

“Mommy, what does he eat?”

“Milk.”

“From a cow?”

“No.”

“From your nipples?”

“Whe-where did you learn that?”

“Did we drink from your nipples too?”

“Sylus!”

Sylus’s son is much more deadpanned, reserved, less excitable than the girls but just as adventurous if not more bold because of this personality difference. He gives off little shit energy. He’s a menace who does what he wants and loves to piss off his older sisters.

However, he’s a mommy’s boy. Prefers to spend days with you whether it be action based, training in the ring or relaxing, spa based. He loves both because he wants to spend time with his mom.

Very often it’s Sylus showing you PDA and all three of the kids BLEGHING at the sight. Although they acknowledge that they’re very lucky to have healthy, loving parents.

The oldest twin and son takes on the more physical attributes of both their parents. They both love boxing. While Sylus’s second daughter is more elegant and dancer-like. She’s more nimble and lean. Definitely took acrobatics when she was younger.

Second daughter takes on Sylus’s evol but in a ribbon leverage sort of manner. Kind of like Spiderman in movement and functionality but with evol strings. Son takes on mother’s attribute of physical combat with Sylus’s build. Think of the “BEAT HIS ASS” audio and that’s the vision you get whenever he fights. He grows to be way taller than his sisters. Older daughter is a combination of both, a master of none but a jack of all trades. She’s got skilled abilities in fighting, and evol manipulation but it’s her father’s manipulative eye that she’s got the most handle over out of the three.

Caleb. Caleb would have twin boys, one girl. Six year age gap. He’s hoping for a kid to look like you, but the twins share his resemblance. It’s extremely uncanny. The only thing they’d have is your nose bridge and eye structure. Otherwise it’s those beady lavender’s staring right back at him.

Metal arm Caleb is especially careful of holding the kids, definitely letting his more fleshy one being the one to hold his kids. Especially before they can even crawl, open their eyes, etc. He really wants to hold both kids in both arms, he’s strong enough to but is too afraid of hurting them. As they grow older they get used to their daddy’s “robot arm” and begin to ask questions about its origins and how other daddy’s don’t have robot arms.

They’re also very mischievous. Grabbing each other’s hair, especially as infants who can crawl. The youngest in retaliation always grabs the oldest’ hair and never lets go until he gets a toy. Or as they grow older, throwing dirt in the other’s faces, stealing a portion of their food but never taking each other’s portion of dessert because that’s sacred. Not as bad as Rafayel’s kids but 100% more physical.

They’re also both sort of manipulative. In the cute little shit way and less of the egotistical man sort of way. They want simple things like candy, not world domination (yet). They both also fight over your attention, and fight their dad for your attention. Caleb makes it very well known his little shits can’t have you at night but you will most certainly tuck them in.

The kids always BLEGH whenever he calls you pipsqueak or anything super endearing. With such love in his voice and heart eyes, a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss your forehead. Such a love they cannot fathom just yet as they repulse is disgust at the affection.

“Momma we can kiss you way better than papa can.”

“Yeah, papa’s icky right now. He’s got cooties and germs all over him.”

“Your momma loves my cooties just fine.” He teases them with a flick to both their foreheads.

He loves flying paper airplanes for them, especially when they were toddlers. The way the two of them would toddle after an airplane mid flight with wide soft lavender eyes. Caleb also regales to them old “war stories” about being on the fleet.

They think he’s the coolest when he’s telling them these types of stories. They also try to play fight with him, all about how their evol is way stronger cause they’re younger and he’s a sad old man. He obviously beats them, never lets them truly win and it’s only after about three times does he let them succeed in “defeating” him.

The boys are just menaces, playing dangerous games like jumping off the couch like a ninja or climbing on each other’s shoulders. Jumping from the couch onto—albeit—soft cushions to play the “break my nuts” game they made up on a whim.

You and Caleb are both exhausted but happy. Yet there’s just one more thing he wants…

When Caleb gets his daughter she looks just like you. His hair but your eyes and your features. He loves her so much, adores her. The very first day you gave birth to her he wouldn’t put her down. His finger presenting itself to her tiny soft grabby little hands as she grips onto his larger finger tightly. She can’t open her eyes yet but her mouth is agape with the tiniest and most adorable little “o” as if she’s perpetually yawning. His mini pipsqueak.

The boys are rough players, and very loud, very destructive. You both cannot have nice things for long. You wonder how they’ll be.

When Caleb presents to them their baby sister they become quiet. Unknown with the little creature that sits so small and quietly in their father’s arms.

“Why is she so wrinkly?”

“Why is she so small?”

“She’s shaped like a potato.”

“She’s wrapped in a blanket, and you were small and wrinkly once like this too, y’know.” Caleb teases with a small grin.

The second oldest talks at normal voice level—loud—and Caleb has to shush him for fear of waking up the baby. They don’t think it’s much of an issue but after that they have to deal with crying in the night at fuck who knows hours and second oldest is a light sleeper so he definitely hates having the little potato around.

The boys hate how they have to tiptoe around her for the longest time while she’s this size. They’d get to a point where the oldest decides to rebel and the second son follows his lead and they both start screaming and hitting pots and pans. They’re such menaces.

Poor little Caleb’s daughter, with her baby ears and sensitive sleep schedule. He obviously yells at the boys and makes it very clear they can act like this again when she grows older.

They sort of resent her for a small period of time but grow to become fond of her when she’s a toddler. She cries less and sleeps through the night. Through exposure she’s gotten attached to her big brothers and sits by them whenever they’re watching a movie or follows them whenever they erratically walk around the house roleplaying as far space pirate.

They’re both very attentive and aware of what will hurt her, albeit not because they were taught to be Caleb but because they’ve learned to care about her safety over time. She fell down the stairs once? Her crying broke their hearts. Oldest kid kicked the stairs in anger and started crying because he hurt his foot. Second kid kicked the stairs for hurting both his older brother and baby sister, also started crying because he stubbed his toe. All in all, don’t kick the stairs.

As she grows older the boys tease her and kind of leave her out of things when they play together. They’re not exactly mean or cruel but they grew up together and prefer their boy time with one another. However, it doesn’t mean that they don’t feel bad about preferring playing sometimes without her. After they’re satisfied they also return to her with an apology and promise of the new big adventure the three of them will be on together.

When her hair’s longer, Caleb takes extra care to brush it, style it and takes care of her like he did for you when you were both younger. His little princess.

Don’t even mention boys or the possibility of her dating, it’ll break his heart knowing no one is good enough for his little girl. Not to mention the way the twins would erratically and immediately be threatening death if that boy were to do their sister wrong.

The twins inherit his abilities of gravity manipulation evol and the third inherits your abilities.

[ryuyejiho]

"On the line" - Lee Know

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader ft. Han

Genre: Smut Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sex Summary: A teasing game turns into heated temptation, but a phone call adds a risky twist. As they lose control, one question remains—did Minho ever hang up? Word Count: ~1.2 k

"Oh, come on, don't be such a dick," I grumbled, bumping Minho’s shoulder. We had been sitting on the couch watching movies for three hours. And for three hours, I had been trying to do anything to get Minho to pay attention to me.

"You wish I was. I can see how needy you are," he laughed with his signature smirk and shoved another chip into his mouth.

"Ugh," I only muttered, pouting like an offended cat as I leaned back against the couch. But after a few moments, an idea popped into my head, so I made myself a little more comfortable.

Without looking at Minho, I placed my hand on my chest and began to squeeze it lightly. In my mind, I imagined that he was the one doing it, but I would never admit it. Especially not now.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was grabbing another chip from the bowl and still watching the movie. But seeing his quick blinking and the slight redness in his ears, I knew he had noticed.

I tilted my head back and let out a quiet moan. My other hand wandered across my body until it reached my throat, which I gently wrapped my fingers around. I could feel his gaze on me, which didn’t surprise me at all—I knew how obsessed he was with choking me.

"Come here," I heard his deep voice. I immediately sat up and straddled his thigh.

His hands instantly found my ass, squeezing it tightly. He literally pulled me closer to himself, causing my panties to shift to the side.

Just as he started kissing my neck and I was beginning to lose myself in the sensation, his phone started vibrating, and a goofy picture of Jisung appeared on the screen. He pulled away from me and picked up his phone.

"Show me that you deserve anything from me, and you’ll get your reward. And be quiet unless you want Jisung to change his opinion about you."

Before I could say anything, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there, waiting for him to finish the conversation—but that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon. After a moment, Minho placed his hand back on my hip and, with a tilt of his head and raised eyebrows, motioned for me to start doing something.

Seeing his smug expression with that signature smirk pissed me off, so I decided to show him what I was capable of.

With one swift motion, I took off my tshirt, leaving me in only my panties as I sat on his thigh. He grinned stupidly, and his hand instinctively moved to my bare breast.

I placed my hands on his still-clothed chest and slowly moved my hips in circles. My hands moved gradually toward his neck.

Within seconds, the bulge in his sweatpants was prominently outlined.

I lifted my gaze from his growing erection and met his eyes. I smirked slightly before shifting my focus back to my hands as they reached his throat. Licking my lips, I wrapped my fingers around it and, just as he was replying to Jisung, I squeezed. Just hard enough to cut off his breath mid-sentence.

Even so, Minho smiled and threw his head back. It seemed incredibly sexy to me. He looked like a madman turned on by a girl choking him. Though usually, I was the one being choked.

It was so sexy that my clit instantly became twice as wet.

Unfortunately for me, due to my movements, his shorts had rolled up—just enough that my barely-covered clit was now rubbing directly against his bare thigh.

I glanced down, and seeing how his dick twitched and the muscles in his thigh tensed, creating a visible outline, I involuntarily let out a moan.

A long, loud moan. So loud that Minho looked at me in shock and pressed the phone to his shoulder to cover the microphone. But after a second, he started laughing quietly.

"I told you something," he whispered before putting the phone back to his ear, trying to explain that I had hit myself, hence the sound.

I felt slightly embarrassed but decided not to stop.

I placed my hand on his bulge, gently stroking the fabric of his sweatpants. Minho pressed his lips together and slightly tilted his head back. I had the feeling that, in one second, he stopped caring about the conversation.

Wanting to tease him, I tightened my grip around his erection and resumed moving my hips. But now, I was so turned on that my movements became stronger and faster.

I could feel myself getting wetter. Minho felt it too because, with his free hand, he pushed my panties completely aside.

I slipped my hand into his sweatpants and wrapped my fingers around his dick. I squeezed lightly and teasingly played with the tip. When I looked at him, he was gazing at me with slightly narrowed eyes and parted lips.

I leaned in to kiss him. But just as our lips touched, Minho lost the battle with himself.

He set his phone aside, grabbed me by my ass and thigh, and pulled me closer, making me sit directly on his crotch. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he pulled his cock out and, with his index finger, pushed my panties aside before thrusting deep inside me.

Pressing his lips back to mine, he wrapped his arms around my waist and moved my body back and forth.

I could feel him deep inside me, stretching me. I pulled off his shirt and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I moaned his name continuously, which turned him on even more.

With one swift move, he flipped us over so that I was now lying on my back on the couch, and he was on top of me. Kissing my neck, he started thrusting so fast and hard that I began seeing stars.

Tears started streaming down my cheeks, and my throat was getting more and more raw.

When Minho is turned on, nothing can stop him. That’s when he turns into a beast capable of things no one would ever expect from him.

The way he moves, the things he says… Sometimes I feel like we’re unintentionally practicing BDSM. Minho is truly capable of anything.

A few minutes later, I felt myself getting close. I was overstimulated. That’s usually how our sex goes. And usually, when that happens, he stops all movement just to tease me.

But this time, it was different. Minho’s movements became even faster and more erratic. He gripped my shoulders tightly and buried his face in my neck. His moans became louder and more audible.

The sight of how aroused he must be pushed me over the edge. My orgasm hit me hard, and the way I clenched around him quickly brought him to his own release.

With a loud moan, I felt him cum deep inside me.

He kept moving for a little longer before collapsing onto me, hugging me tightly.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, gently running them through as I felt myself slowly drifting off. But suddenly, a thought hit me.

Did Minho ever hang up on Jisung?

[ditzydoe444]

hi love, it’s me again!

i saw your post about older!jason and omg that is soooo up my alley. imagine older jason absolutely loving the power play between you guys! how he is so much more experienced and big and mature, and you’re just so little and dumb and innocent. he’d have the biggest corruption kink! knowing that he is the one doing all those things to you, teaching you how to be dirty for him and him only!

loving how he turned this innocent sweet girl, who he might have seen growing up if were feeling extra dirty, into his dirty little slut. the sweetheart to the public eye that he turns into a whore on his bed. but can you blame him? when a sweet young thing like her looked at an older and rugged man like him he didn’t even had a choice but to make her his.

- 🎸(sorry i got a bit carried away, my mind took her own turns lmao)

MDNI 18+

older! jason todd x reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

▐ age gap (reader is early 20’s and jason is late 30’s) vaginal sex, oral (both m and f receiving), a little manipulation

a/n: i loved everything you wrote!! it’s so spot on because he would def have a corruption kink

older! jason todd who couldn’t keep his eyes off from a pretty girl like you, in your early twenties who just graduated from college. you would prance around in the shortest dresses, allowing him to catch a glimpse of your panties occasionally. you were always so sweet to an older man like him, bringing him cookies whilst he worked in the garage fixing cars, your girly self juxtaposing against the roughness of the oil stained place.

older! jason todd who wanted to corrupt you, you were extremely sheltered hence why you were known as the neighbourhood sweetheart, so kind and innocent always expecting the best from people. so when you came to him about your broken aircon and how it was bothering you because your dad was away for the summer, jason did not hesitate to help. there was something about being alone with you in your own house, in the summer heat where you only wore a thin tank, no bra because he could see your nipples and the shortest baby shorts where he could see your panties and the outline of your pussy if you bent down.

older! jason todd who made you turn into his own whore, he just felt so good who started craving him constantly!! you would go to his garage, where he bent you cover the table and fucked your cunt until you went limp, occasionally, if he wasn’t working on the cars and instead on boring paper work, he would have you under his desk and sucking his cock. sometimes if he felt nice, cock warming would happen which then turns into pure fucking.

older! jason todd who loved the way your small cunt took his cock, how your body was so eager please him despite how big he was. your body was so determined to please him, how you were bouncing on his lap, completely naked begging him to fuck you. “please jay? it hurts,” you pleaded as you pathetically humped his leg, and how could he say no to a pretty thing like you?

older! jason todd who taught you how to suck his cock, watching your lips stretch out to accomodate his thick length as you gagged half way down. it was adorable how eager you were to take him, “slow down yeah? can’t have you choking when you are barely halfway.” jason was filthy, he loved making you give him the sloppiest head, your eyes rolling back as saliva dribbled down your chin and out the corners of your mouth.

older! jason todd is the biggest munch, he would grip your thighs apart as he devoured your cunt, watching your puffy folds drip with your own cum, his chin glistening as he refused to waste a single drop. whenever you told him that you were overstimulated he would guilt trip you. “i just came home from working and now a starved man can’t get a taste of his own girl? come on sweetheart, i thought i taught you better.”

[captain-bubble-wrap]

please a auston matthews x younger reader (like 21) and they are in a kinda private relationship but make an appearance at family skate or something if that makes sense 😓😓

I did some digging and couldn't find anything exactly like a "family skate" that wasn't a charity, so I invented one for the sake of the fic! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I hope you enjoy~ 🤞🏻 Sorry it took me longer than expected, I really struggled with this, and I apologize. 🥺🥺

C|W: none • W|C: 2.2k

You had felt nervous since waking up, and constantly watching the clock had done nothing to improve the situation. All morning you had danced through countless scenarios of how this day could go, what could possibly go wrong, and everything in between. Your roommate had asked you if you were okay each time she saw you, the same concerned expression on your face.

"Are you sure?"

"What--? Oh, yeah, it's nothing! I have an event later. I'm just worried about...things."

She looked at you curiously, and you regretted what details you had let slip out. "Things?"

Nervously you laughed, like you were trying to play it off as nothing, "Yeah, you know, gotta look good..."

"Right..."

You knew good and well that she didn't believe anything you were saying. She was used to you being quiet and guarded of your private life, but this felt different.

"Are you...in trouble or something?" She pressed, not ready to let it go yet.

Looking at her like a deer in the headlights, you'd actually manage a genuine smile. "No, I'm not in any trouble! I'm just in my own head -- stupid stuff that I'm making too big of a deal over! I'll be fine once I get where I have to be. I promise. Just me...being me."

"Okay...if you're sure," she replied reluctantly. "I just want to help, okay?"

"I understand! Thank you~"

Shortly after the exchange, you'd return to your bedroom and flop facedown on the bed, a tightness growing in the center of your chest. It was panic, and you knew the feeling all too well, but the last thing you wanted was it ruining your day.

*ping, ping*

Blindly, your hand would search for your phone, quickly finding it amongst the blankets. You relaxed slightly once you saw that it was Auston who had messaged.

Matty: You doing okay, baby?

Y|N: Yeah

Matty: :/ What's wrong?

Y|N: I'm just nervous

Matty: About this afternoon?

Y|N: Yeah

Matty: I won't let you fall! ;)

Y}N: It's not that

Matty: It's just the team and their families, baby, they're not going to make a big deal about anything. No cameras if that's what you're worried about

Y|N: Okay

Matty: :/ I wouldn't lie to you

Y|N: I know, I'm sorry

Matty: I'll be by to get you in a little bit, okay?

Y|N: Just text me when you're out front and I'll come out. Sarah is being nosy

Matty: You can't keep me a secret forever ;)

Y|N: I know, today just isn't the day

Matty: I understand, baby. Whenever you feel comfortable.

Y|N: Thank you bb

Matty: Of course. I'll see you soon. I love you <3

YN| <3 I love you, too <3

You'd stay the next two hours in your room; one hour spent on a nap, and the other getting ready for the afternoon's event with Auston. Right on time, your phone dinged with a message from him saying that he was waiting out front. You'd say goodbye to Sarah in a hurry before rushing outside to slip into the passenger side of his car, your skates in a bag over your shoulder.

"Why do I feel like a getaway driver," Auston asked, after seeing you exit your apartment in such haste. His contained laughter resulted in a smirk as he looked at you.

You sighed as you clicked your seatbelt into place, "Hi, baby."

"Hey, mama," he affectionately replied. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I swear that's the question of the day. Yeah, I'm fine."

Auston's hand came to rest on your leg, and you'd wrap both of yours around it as he merged back into traffic. You knew he was only trying to make sure he wasn't forcing you into today, but you felt like there was a red light going off above your head that signaled that you were "off".

"I promise today will be fun, and if it isn't, well, we'll leave, okay? You just let me know how you're feeling. I promise you, this is just a fun, carefree kind of day, alright?"

You'd give him a nod, before letting your eyes zone out through the passenger side window. He wouldn't press you for conversation until you arrived at the practice arena, but he would give you soft, little squeezes along the way.

Once parked in the parking garage, Auston would confirm one more time if you were still comfortable with everything. He was worried about you; worried that he was pressuring you to join him.

"No, Matty, I'm okay, really. I'm just--"

Pulling you into a kiss, you'd completely melt into his touch, your worries falling away almost instantly. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"Will you stay with me?"

Auston smiled, "I won't leave you alone."

- - -

Inside, the two of you found yourselves amongst a dozen or so of Auston's teammates, their wives and small children. You stayed by his side the entire time, his hand never leaving yours. They were caring on general conversations when you noticed one of the children staring at you. She was cute, but transfixed glaring at you, almost unblinking. At first, you thought she was just looking at Auston, but no-- she had her full attention on you and it seemed no one realized it but you.

Auston was busy talking with Mitch, while you were losing a staring contest with a five-year-old, but eventually, everyone would consent to getting the little team event started. As everyone walked off, however, Auston turned to you, wrapping his arms low around your waist.

"What's wrong?"

"I was getting mean-mugged by a five-year-old..."

Auston tried not to laugh, but his beautiful smile shone through regardless of him honestly trying not to hurt your feelings. "Oh, I saw."

"I've never felt so threatened by a child in my life," you confessed, your hands resting gently on his hips.

"Some weeks ago she told she was going to marry me. You must be competition," Auston said, finally allowing himself laugh. "She was dead-serious about it, too. It made everyone laugh."

You just sighed and laid your head against his chest. "But I loved you first."

His grip tightened, "Gonna take more than a playground proposal to get me away from you."

With your face away from his, you smiled at what he had said -- how cute it had rolled off his tongue and the butterflies it had given you.

"Can you lace my skates for me, please?"

He smiled, "Of course. C'mon, let's get going before they start to tease us."

- - -

Back in the dressing room, children were running wild in a little gang while their parents struggled to contain them. You both slipped in quietly enough, and Auston had you take a seat below his nameplate on the bench while he unlaced your skates.

"I can do that," you reassured, hand outstretched for him to give you your other skate, but he just gave you a smirk instead.

"Alright, Cinderella, give me your foot," he teased. "Let's see if this glass slipper fits."

"I hope it does!"

He was so gentle as he guided your foot into your skate, tying it up tightly. You were in your own little world, just watching him take care of you and with something so simple as lacing laces. Neither of you would notice anyone looking at the two of you having your little intimate moment. Some of the guys knew Auston was seeing someone, but they knew better than anyone, that he was an extremely private person so they didn't press him for juicy details, but seeing him with you made them smile. They loved their captain and wanted him just as happy as the next guy.

"Do you need me to move?"

"Nah, there's room," Auston replied, sitting down right next to you to get his own skates on. "I didn't get those too tight, did I?"

You'd shake your head, pulling your hands into the sleeves of his hoodie you were wearing. "Nope, they feel good, thank you."

"Okay, good," he said, making quick work of his own, giving your leg a quick squeeze when he was done. "Are you warm enough? Kinda wondered if I had left that hoodie in a hotel somewhere."

You laughed, blush flooding your cheeks, "I'll give it back!"

"Nah, it looks good on you. All yours, baby," He whispered before placing a kiss to your temple. "Still remember how to walk in those?"

"I think so -- hope so!"

- - -

Those hallways had felt like miles, but eventually, the two of you made it to the ice and while it was still pretty vacant. It seemed getting skates on children was proving harder than most had anticipated. You were thankful for the quiet though you knew it wasn't going to last for long.

"You want some shooting practice?" Auston asked, half-joking as he tossed a few pucks down on the ice, giving your butt a soft tap with his stick as you slowly skated away from him.

"Hey! Don't do that!"

Though you were laughing, Auston still apologized. "Sorry, babe! You're doing fine; it will come back to you."

"I've forgotten how to turn!" You said before using the boards to stop you. You felt embarrassed that you had forgotten so much, skating opposite Auston no less.

"Bend you knees and lean, babe. Lean your upper body in whichever direction you want to turn."

You'd follow his directions and after the first successful turn, it felt familiar again. You weren't doing punch turns by any means, but at least you didn't need forty feet to turn a semi-circle. Auston would skate up beside you, hand resting on the small of your back just in case you got wobbly.

"You're doing fine, I know it's been a while."

"My legs hurt already," you joked, feeling the sting in your thighs.

"Wanna catch your breath on the bench? I don't want you to get hurt."

At first, you were going to decline his offer, but he had a point. The last thing you wanted was to pull something just because you were trying to keep up with an NHL player. There wasn't any shame in taking a break, you weren't a professional by any means.

"I feel like I've only been out here thirty seconds," you replied, feeling defeated.

"Hey, I've had games where I've done a thirty second shift."

You gave him a look, "You're skating at twenty miles an hour!"

Auston would turn tight in front of you, stopping you against his chest. He had a look on his face that was meant to make you feel okay about needing a minute, but you looked down out of shame. By now, there were more people skating past, paying zero mind to the two of you just standing there. You felt so small against him, the embarrassment making you wish you could melt right through the ice.

"Wait right here, okay?"

After giving him a nod, Auston returned to the bench to leave his stick behind so he could be fully engaged with you. "Give me your hands, mama," he asked, returning to the ice in front of you.

You'd do as he asked, and soon after he was skating backwards, pulling you along gently in tow. It amazed you how he knew how many strides he needed in the corners without looking, how long he could go in the straights before having to turn again. You felt safe with him having a hold of you.

"Want me to let go of you?"

"Going a little fast."

Auston chuckled before slowing his pace. "Better?"

"Maybe, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be! I don't want to scare you and make you panic."

After a few more seconds you'd let him know that you were good enough, and slowly your hands would slip out of his. He still remained facing you as you kept pace with him.

"Remember, wide stance, and lean. Ah, see, there you go!"

Your smile transferred to him as he quietly cheered you on before letting you collide with him gently. He'd put his arms around you again, picking you up in a slight spin before making sure you had your footing before letting go. As much as you had been apprehensive about today, you were happy you had gone through with his invitation. Everyone else was off in there own little worlds, chasing children or teaching their wives. Right now, it was just you and Auston.

"I love you, Matty," you said smiling, holding on to him tightly.

"And I love you, baby. Thanks for coming with me."

"I'm glad you talked me into it, but you owe me dinner!"

He laughed, bending to put his forehead against yours, "Wherever you want to go."

[prapaiwife]

The whole point of the letter is that everyone has their worth, and it doesn't and shouldn't have to be measured by whatever job it is that you have. Cause again being successful is great and all, but we already as human beings have value even if we don't have a prestigious title or the most high-ranking in a job. Because at the end of the day, it's the people around you, the ones closest that see you for you. You know you're worth it, and it's just up to whoever in life u meet whether they see it or not.

And it's so good because for Po his ex made him feel exactly that which was worthless, because why po didn't reach the top as fast as he did was he holding him back it doesn't matter cause he shuns him away! and it breaks up with him, leaving him with no-closure as to what and why it happened. But now, when he has a title, he has some significance now as a well-known creative director he now feels gracious enough to give me the credit on the very thing that he helped work on for him?! all those sleepless nights po endured everything he did he earn didn't have to say it his actions showed it that po didn't deserve it then, but he deserves it now all the thanks and praise?. He even says it would help both of them to since he has such a prestigious company and Po is a now well-known director. Back then, when po didn't have that title at the end of the day, he was your boyfriend, and as him and being your partner, he deserved that respect then! just as much as he deserves it now.

So watching Po Stand Up to him and tell him "I won't take things you never gave me" was amazing cause po can see that their failed relationship didn't teach him a thing. He didn't change or grow as a person from how he treated po so poorly, so po doesn't have to accept a thing from someone who can't fully be honest with themselves earn will be earn. But po grew and came into his own from that past relationship cause ep 1 po probably wouldn't have been able to have done this, but since po has now seen what love is in it's truest most rarest form thanks to thame🤧

[theinheriteddutchess]

Flattery will get you anywhere😂

I started of intending to have Lee be darker, but really along the way, they flowed so nice together that I realized that even if he's a selfish man, he intends to be a good husband and I believe he softened when they started interacting.

Oh my god yes! I really picture her living in her own world dancing around the reality😭 I love what you said here! And he watches her so much now, building up over the years, no one else seems to notice this, they just judge. But he sees that vulnerability and the qualities she does have.

I think I wanted to make him even older but he's probably about 9 years older? He wasn't seeing her like a possible match right away because she was a teenager. He just felt some sympathy for her and noticed that she was actually well behaved and sweet. And then after a few years started to see her differently. He was early twenties when he helped her. Not as bitter and shady as he is when our story starts. He's just the kind sheriff that treats her nicer than the others. Also he's not pretending to be nicer, she brings that out in him. He just thinks people are too mean to her.

Now after, now she's in her 20's he's acting very nice...👀 Now he wants to pursue her😂 before their interactions were short and spontaneous. Now he's searching her out.

I definitely tried to make it seem that while she's desperately trying to go along with people, they are rejecting her for how she is. She can't help it, but they are sure to let her know she simply doesn't fit in.

And I love reactions like this because as someone often feeling like I was also not really fitting in, that I was different, it's so nice to hear that people read this and get it! 💕

She reads mostly romance, she's still very sheltered, so the smut is really vague and non-descriptive 🤭

But Lee in that library🥴 he probably never set foot in it before 😂 he's really trying to get in her spaces.

Okay so to answer your question, he's helped her when she was about 16 and then kept an eye out for her because he knows she's struggling and people are being mean. They ran into each other off course because it's a close community, but it's all fleeting and shallow meetings? So she did grow up with him but he was not constantly involved and he definitely didn't see her this way until a few years after. It started with him thinking she's just a good girl and then that she would make a good partner and then it changed in that she would make a good partner for him. And as soon as that thought sneaked in, that's when he really started looking at her differently. And he then was basically waiting for the right time to pursue her.

The chairs... Wel i noticed I can get really upset about changes that make no sense sometimes so I just changed certain examples but I can relate to that feeling. That chair was something she was used to, safe and now what was taken from her and she couldn't even really express her feelings because she knows they're "not normal" so whenever she struggles and tries to hide, well it doesn't really work. And those women are so brutal. I love everyone had the same reaction to these mean girls. It's so so relatable.

I just want to say that she feels bad for her parents but get parents do nothing but love and accept her, don't worry. But Lee is the first person to truly be nice and compliment her outside her parents😭😭

I really loved how he was trying to hint at her being the one to cure his loneliness and it flew right over her head. She's so sweet, but Lee needs to be very clear with her. I love those awkward moments where he's left unsuccessful lol.

Anyway you got me ranting as well! Because I love this story so much. And I really loved your enthusiasm, so thank you so much for reading and reblogging and the excitement because it means so much!💕

Dream Of A Girl

Part 1

Summary: The sheriff had his eyes on you for a while, the town's joke of an Omega. You never thought you'd find love, but around him you just can't help acting on your inner instincts.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word count: 3899

Warnings: Lee, small town gossip and bullying, neurodivergent reader, slurs\insult of neurodivergent back in the day, no cats🥺, turns slightly non-con at the end, Alpha\Omega

Notes: absolutely loved writing this, got really into it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and make sure to drop me a comment, I would love to hear what you think!💕

Series masterlist

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

He was watching you again. Inside his car, on his lunch break, slurping from his milkshake as his eyes never left your form. Your head was turned down, watching the pavement as you moved, yet you seemed to be aware where everyone else was because you never bumped into anyone. He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. You flinched if someone did.

You were alone a lot. Listening to the noises around you, or he would sometimes hear you murmur to yourself. Sometimes you made strange noises if you were excited. He knew what they said about you.

They thought you were weird.

He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

Of course, he was the sheriff, so no one dared to say it to his face. But they did to you. He had watched you for years. With your pretty hair, and that body…

He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. You always had an effect on him.

He loved your eyes, although you barely look up to him. You do that. You glanced past people, or talked with your face turned a different way. Some people looked at you funny when you did.

But he knows why. Your parents told him once. When you got dared into doing something naughty. You didn't like it, but told him you had said you would do it before they told you what you were supposed to do. And you needed to keep your promises.

He talked to you sternly about how wrong it was of you, and you sat there with tears in your eyes. Head down. Like you had committed the worst crime. You were a good girl. Your parents told him that. It wasn't your fault. It was those kids. They thought it was funny. School talked to them. They left you alone. But you didn't make many friends.

Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest.

He liked that about you. He didn't need to wonder what you thought. You weren't two faced like all the other bitches. Who smiled at him in hope for favors, or in hope he would turn his eyes away from what they were doing. You were, you.

When you were alone, or thought you were anyway, your shoulders relaxed and he could sometimes see you smiling. Most times you would if you spotted an animal. Talking to it, like it was your friend. And you were good with kids. Really good. They flocked to you and you easily handled them. You didn't like sudden noises, and you were very clear about that, and they listened to you.

That's something people did like about you, they had no problem ditching their kids on you. You were a natural.

It was one of the things he noticed first about you. That drew him towards you. Your natural motherly instincts. He knew you would do excellent with your own. And the idea of you, one or 2 kids by the hand, belly swollen with another, made him rock hard each time.

God, you would be so pretty. He imagined your children; babies with brown hair, maybe a cleft in their chin, like his. The family Bodecker. You, all soft and sweet smelling. A ring on your finger. It made him come so swiftly once he touched himself.

He was happy no one snatched you up. They all couldn't look past your different behavior and see the gem underneath. They were blind to your qualities. What fools. But it worked in his favor though. Such a good, sweet girl. All ripe for the picking.

You were growing and seemed to not be aware of him. That was okay, he was fine with letting you have this time for yourself. Just out of college, young women needed to find their own way. He didn't want you to feel like you missed out on everything once he married you. That led some housewives to turn a little crazy, he saw it all the time, married at 18 or even 16 at times, high school lovers, and by the time baby number 2 was on the way, they looked worn out and disappointed in life.

Not you though. You finished school, you had a nice job, good parents. He gave you that time. He never was far away though. Watching you. Making sure you stayed out of trouble. Or trouble didn't find you. There weren't many boys to approach you, but those with eyes did, those who were too eager to be bothered with your quirkiness. He made sure to scare them off. He didn't need the competition.

He had a good job, a job that gave him power over this town, a nice house. He could afford a family. When the time came, he could convince your parents he was a good match. But most important was he needed to convince you.

📖

You walked into the library to return your books and pick up new ones. You came here at least once a week, often twice, as you loved reading. It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.

Lately you got very into fairytales again. Consuming every book you could find, rereading classics, daydreaming about the magic that was both wonderful and scary. The Alpha King, and Omega and the false mate, Sleeping Beta…they were all lovely stories and you couldn't get enough. You walked through the rows upon rows of books, feeling calm and like you were amongst friends. Here you were safe. Here you were liked.

Your hands occasionally picked up a book and read the cover, lost in thought. You didn't even notice the presence next to you, until a voice shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me.”

You froze and looked up. Sheriff Bodecker looked down at you.

“Oh”, you said, stepping away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to grab this book.”

You watched him as he picked up a faded green book. He flipped through the pages. You hadn't expected him to read. You scolded yourself after the thought. You didn't know him. It's just that…he didn't seem the type. You heard stories about him. They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him.

Gossip was tricky, though. For years rumors went around that you were stupid. That you were rude. That you were mentally challenged. They didn't understand you. And you honestly often didn't understand them. Luckily your parents loved you and stood up for you. They might not always understand but they didn't punish you the way other parents would have. They didn't make you feel bad for not always looking them in the face. Or for being blunt and too honest. How your head was in the clouds at times. Or how people overwhelmed you sometimes. But other people, they didn't get it. And they didn't like what they didn't get.

You watched everyone around you making friends and falling in love. Easily getting through events you struggled with. They got married, and started a family. It was difficult at times, to realize you wouldn't have that, but eventually you accepted it. You were comfortable with your life. You had your family, and one or two acquaintances, and you were okay. It was nice being alone. Quiet. When you were alone, no one expected something of you.

You watched out of the corner of your eye how he assessed the book, before he looked at you again. “Do you know if it's any good?”

You glanced at the title like you had to think about it. “It's a little boring. But I don't know what you're looking for.”

“Just a little something to entertain me in the evenings. I was never much of a reader, but I thought why not read a book once in a while instead of always putting the telly on, ya know?”

You nodded. “What genre are you interested in? Action? Or mystery.”

“Romance.”

You blinked. “Romance,” you quietly repeated. You're eyes gliding past the titles of books and thinking to yourself.

“I don't mind it being a little…naughty, might motivate me even more to be honest,” he chuckled.

Your cheeks heated, but you tried not to show any signs of your discomfort. A heated romance. Of course you could list a few, but it felt awkward sharing that with him. You hummed softly under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, but you grabbed a book eventually. “A little naughty, and definitely romance,” you told him.

He hummed and turned the book in his hands. “Thank you, I didn't know where to start.”

“The librarians are happy to help if you can't find anything.”

“Yes, I'm sure they are, but you seem like you know more about this stuff.”

Maybe you did. Maybe it was easier to approach a visitor than the strict ladies running this place? You continued your search, but he did not leave.

“Don't you have enough books?”

You frowned. How could anyone have enough books? And why was he criticizing you? “I like reading.”

He laughed. “ No, I can see that, but do you really read all these in a week?”

“No. Sometimes I read them in a few days.”

“Oh, really. Okay. That's impressive. I really need to catch up if I were to compete with you.”

“It's not a competition. You can read how you want.”

“Oh I know, I was just joking.”

It wasn't a very good joke in that case. “Oh.” You thought, then replied. “Do you need anything more?”

There was silence, then he answered awkwardly. “No, you helped enough.”

You nodded.

He said your name quietly and when he didn't continue, you looked to the side at him. Your eyes locked and you blinked before you looked away.

“Tell your parents hello from me, will you?”

You nodded. You would, if you remembered.

He walked away and you were left feeling a little weird about the whole conversation. Sheriff Bodecker, reading a romantic book. It seemed a little silly. But maybe he was a little lonely. He was unmarried and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get settled.

He asked for something a little naughty, though. If he wanted anything naughty he should've gone to a different section of the library. They had a few of those, although most people didn't dare to pick them up and give the ladies anything to gossip about. Sheriff Bodecker, with a naughty book. You smiled to yourself. It would be the talk of town.

🤎

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, it was a little chilly today. Maybe you were just tired. It had been a long day at work today, your hands were cramped from all the typing, and your colleagues had left you feeling a little upset. Normally you tried to not listen to their chatter and ignore if they were ever negative about you. But today…they had stood a little nearer and you had more trouble filtering their voices.

They had talked about Marcie, who had found herself a beau. If only it had stayed about Marcie, it would have been fine. But they had looked over at you and pretended to lower their voices.

“Spinster”, they had used. They giggled slightly during it. You pretended not to see them staring at you. Or how they didn't care if you heard it.

“She’s never going to find anyone, I mean did you hear her talk about the different office chairs to mr. Johnson? One would think she had to sit on spikes.

You bit your lip. You did not want to cry in front of them. They had changed the chairs two days ago, the old ones too worn out to be pleasant. But you had liked them. You were used to them. And it felt like an old friend had been ripped away from you. So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.

And now they kept bringing other things up in their conversations. Like they enjoyed your discomfort.

You did your job well, however, so you were pretty sure if you laid low for a while, mr. Johnson wouldn’t fire you. You always made sure to finish all your work, even if you had to stay longer. Got the job done.

But now, at the end of the work day, you felt exhausted. It was tiresome keeping up pretense. The constant noise of the workplace around you. A short break to try and relax and be alone wasn't enough. You knew maybe things would be easier if you sat with them and told them things you heard, so they could gossip about someone else for once. But you didn’t like them. And they were too much. You needed your break to rest before getting back to work. You often sat outside on a bench alone, or took a walk.

You took a deep breath. Tonight you were going to read your new book, and ask your daddy if he wanted to play the piano. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but you always enjoyed his music. He would do it for you, you knew it.

As a single Omega, you still lived with your parents. It was common to do so. You couldn’t live alone with your designation and it didn’t seem like you would ever move out and get your own home to look after. Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.

You walked past the shops, occasionally looking through the windows. You liked window shopping. Seeing all the new things on display, even if you didn’t buy much. You didn’t need it. But sometimes you saw something pretty and pondered if you should get it. You should buy a new dress. Most of the ones you had were getting a little old. But they were so comfortable and new dresses felt a little tight and rough. Perhaps your mother would buy some fabric and sew one for you. She knew your tastes.

A car honked next to you and you startled. When you looked around with a beating heart you noticed the car of the sheriff. He had rolled down his window and called out to you.

“Sorry, little lady, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking and thought maybe you wanted a ride home?”

You blinked. A ride with the sheriff. You had never done that. “I’m fine walking.” You replied and tried to smile.

“You just look tired, is all. And it is going to rain soon.”

Was it? You didn’t feel much like getting wet. Still, this was weird. Different. What were you even going to say to him?

He opened the door from the inside though, clearly expecting you to get in, and you didn’t want to be rude. He meant well.

You clambered in, fixed your dress and your hair.

“Long day?” he mentioned. “You look tired.”

“Yes.” you answered.

“I get that, I’ve been busy since 5 this morning myself.” he sighed. “Got a call in for a robbery. Those damn Callen boys always stealin’ them chickens from the Bookers farm. Not exactly the most exciting job.”

You blinked, thought of how to reply. “Did you get them back?”

He chuckled. “Well some of ‘em. They ate at least two, but I arranged for them to work a few weeks at the place to pay them back. And I'll make damn sure they're going to show up and do the work.”

You nodded. The Bookers were cheapskates, but a theft was a theft, and you were sure they enjoyed the free labor. Those chickens couldn't be worth that much.

“You look nice today,” he mentioned suddenly.

You looked down at your dress. A little frayed around the edges. Your hair must've been less than proper because you tended to play with it if you were in thought. Maybe he was being nice. “Eh, thank you,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “That dress is a nice color.”

“Blue is my favorite,” you blurted out. You wore red today, you didn’t know why you said it.

He chuckled. “Is that right? Well I love blue.”

Your eyes looked anywhere but him, at the passing buildings and bushes. What else were you going to say? It was polite to talk back, your mother had told you. Ask about something!

“Ehm, this is a nice car,”

He turned to look at you again, not keeping his eyes on the road and you swallowed. “Well, it comes with the job, but it does its work.”

You nodded.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh no. No, no. I do not.”

“I could teach you.” he offered, and your heart rate increased.

“No!...no. I don't think I can, I get nervous.”

“Well everyone gets nervous the first time, but you’ll learn soon enough, you’re a clever girl.”

You blinked at him. No one had ever called you clever before. You weren’t stupid, you werent, but no one thought you were particularly bright. “I get nervous.” you told him firmly.

He hummed “Well alright, If you change your mind, I'm more than willing.

“I don't mind walking.” you told him.

“Yeah, I see you walking around. You like looking at things don’t you?”

You looked down, ashamed, but his finger lifted your chin. You startled at the contact.

“Wasn't mocking you. I just see you sometimes. Gotta keep an eye on the crowd to make sure nothing happens, part of the job, I can’t help it. So I see you walking and befriending the neighbors cats.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what to think of this. Being watched. You always felt like you were. “I like cats.”

“I like them too. They’re a little feisty. You got one at home?”

You shook your head. “No, my parents don’t want one.”

“I was thinking about getting one. Might be nice to come home to something, you know? House is all empty.”

You understood. You’re parents rules, however, nothing you could do about it.

He sighed “ Yeah…. gets real lonely for a man by himself. You got someone waiting on ya?”

“Eh no. No, no one.” You felt nervous. You knew it was common for a girl your age to settle, or have settled already. It was embarrassing to admit.You had never even kissed before.The thought of it made you anxious though, How to even do that with a tongue, and how to move? It seemed mighty complicated.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It’s a hard job, and not everyone can deal with being the wife of a sheriff. I’d treat her right, though. Yessir. I’d be a good husband. For the right woman. I always wanted that. A house, a wife, some kids. A nice meal when I get home…”

You hummed, like he had done before.

"You can cook?”

Your eyes moved rapidly over the car interior. “Why, yes?” it came out as a question.

“Yeah I expected you to. You’re a good girl after all. Momma raised you right.”

You felt warmth shoot through you. You didn’t know why. He was being nice. And you weren’t used to that. You actually were a pretty good cook. And you liked doing it. Relieving your mother from the hard work running a household was. And showing you cared. You know you weren’t always good with that. Often absorbed in your own head and your own feelings. So cooking was something you could do.

“Would love to have a home made meal again. It’s been so very long.”

You nodded.

He eyed you. And as the silence lingered he tsked. “Well, who knows, maybe someone will invite me someday.”

“Oh. Yes. I'm sure,” you were quick to agree. It would be nice for him. Someone cooking. Maybe Miss Oleson would, the woman was all alone and about 70, she probably would love the company.

You would ask her, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. Miss Oleson would watch you sometimes when you were younger, and she was kind to you. She always gave you candy even if your parents had told her not too. You were fond of her.

You arrived at your house soon and you got out. He leaned towards the window again.

“If you want, I can come pick you up again tomorrow.”

You blinked. Why? Was it going to rain again tomorrow?

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” he grinned. “Unless i’m being called away, but if so, I’l call you.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You eyed the laces of your shoes.

He laughed. “No silly, at your office, I can call the company.”

“Oh. Yeah that would work. I guess.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” you mumbled and turned to walk towards the door.

As you heard him leave behind you, you suddenly remembered you hadn’t said goodbye, or thanked him. You felt your cheeks heat. You were supposed to thank someone for helping. You messed up again. Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you would make sure to thank him then. Maybe he wouldn’t think you rude anymore. And maybe you should find some questions to ask him about. So he didn’t ask you weird ones when there was silence.

You hung up your coat at the door, suddenly smelling a nice scent coming off it.

The fabric had absorbed some of his that lingered in the car. You sniffed carefully and then reared back in shame. It was kind of improper to just smell someone. You only did that to someone you knew better. Like family, or…or a suitor.

Still, the scent lingered in your nose as you walked away, and it was pleasant enough for you to feel a little lighter for the rest of the evening.

Part 2

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 5

hope you’re all enjoying the fic. this is my first one—i’ve been a longtime reader and finally decided to give writing a shot. just finished the boys, so you could say i’m a little obsessed right now.

i’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you enjoy it, reblogs mean the world to help more people find it. feel free to message me with any requests. xo

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 4<3

Part 6<3

Part 7<3

Summary: After a whirlwind 24 hours, Homelander’s obsession with you only grows. What started as desire has become something darker, more dangerous. But when he realizes someone hurt you before, his need for control turns to vengeance—and whoever’s responsible won’t live to regret it.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power dynamics, strong language, mature content, smut, violence, sexual content, mentions of sexual assault/rape, foul language, murder, yandere (if i forgot any pls let me know <3)

The morning light filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. You stir slightly, still curled up in Homelander’s lap, his fingers lazily running through your hair. He hasn’t moved all night. Hasn’t slept. Not once.

He just watched over you. A silent guardian against a threat that doesn’t exist—at least, not in this moment. His body should be exhausted, but it isn’t. Just being near you keeps him alert, wired, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

A small yawn escapes your lips as you stretch, blinking up at him. “Good morning.”

His hand stills in your hair for a moment before resuming, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Morning, doll,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Sleep well?”

You nod, sitting up and shifting in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs curling around his waist. “I did. Did you even sleep?”

Homelander exhales, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.” His grip on your hips tightens slightly. “I couldn’t. Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You smirk. “You know I’m a supe, right?”

It’s meant to be teasing, lighthearted. But the playful glint in his eyes fades almost instantly. His grip tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

“I know,” he mutters, voice dark. “But you’re not as strong as me. You’re not untouchable.” His jaw clenches. “I have enemies, and if they knew what you meant to me, they’d come for you. You think I’m gonna let that happen?”

You try to lighten the mood. “I mean… I do pilates.”

A short laugh escapes him, but his hands move up, cradling your face between his palms, forcing you to look at him. His amusement vanishes.

“I’m serious.”

Your expression softens as you study him. “Who wants to hurt you?” you ask. “Who would want to hurt me?”

His blue eyes darken, full of something unreadable. “Anyone who hates me,” he says simply. “And there’s a lot of them. They’d do anything to take me down—including hurting you. And I won’t let that happen.”

His grip is unrelenting, his words heavy with promise.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you reach up, threading your fingers through his golden hair before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.

He responds instantly. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses you, no hesitation. His hands slide up your back, pulling you tighter against him, like he can’t get you close enough.

But then you pull away, laughing breathlessly as you cover your mouth. “Ew—sorry. I should’ve brushed my teeth first.”

Homelander chuckles, the tension in his body easing. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says, voice low and teasing. “I don’t mind a little morning breath.”

Before you can protest, he reaches up, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth, his grip firm.

“And besides…” His eyes flicker with something dangerous. Something possessive. “I like it when you’re a mess.” He smirks. “Makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“Ruin me, huh?” Your voice is teasing, but there’s a nervous edge to it as you trace the rigid contours of his suit, your fingertip gliding over the perfectly etched lines of his abs.

Homelander’s eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening. “I will ruin you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. “But only for me. No one else will know how bad you are—just me.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Sometimes, being around him feels so natural, like you’ve known him forever. But then there are moments like this—moments where the weight of his intensity makes you hyperaware that your life is entirely in his hands.

His gaze locks onto yours. “There’s something else you need to know,” he says.

You swallow. “What?”

His expression sharpens, deadly serious. “I can’t think about you with other people. And I don’t want to. If I ever hear about you with someone else—before me—I’ll have to hurt them. Probably kill them.” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s stating a fact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t care if it was a fling. I don’t care if it was your first kiss back in grade school. There’s only before and after me now. Anyone who’s ever touched you will wish they hadn’t.”

Your breath catches. His jealousy is suffocating, terrifying—and yet, it sends a thrill down your spine.

“Well…” You hesitate, avoiding his piercing gaze. “You’re the only one who’s touched me.” You pause before correcting yourself, voice barely above a whisper. “Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

Homelander stiffens. His grip on you doesn’t falter, but something in his expression shifts. You regret speaking instantly.

Shit.

His blue eyes search yours, and without a word, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “It’s like you knew to wait for me.”

But he doesn’t miss the distinction in your words. The only one you wanted to touch you.

Who the fuck touched you without permission?

Names. He needs names.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, his mind already conjuring a thousand different ways to make them suffer. To make sure they regret ever laying a hand on you. To make sure they never touch anyone again.

He imagines tearing them apart, one by one, making you watch as he erases them from existence. Their names. Their families. Their homes. Everything they’ve ever loved—gone.

The thought makes his whole body tense. He shifts, readjusting himself as the dark, possessive hunger coils inside him, tightening like a vice.

But he can sense it—you’re not ready to talk about it. Not yet.

That’s fine.

You’ll tell him when you’re ready.

And when you do, he’ll make sure you watch as he destroys them all.

A knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Come in,” Homelander says smoothly—like this is his apartment, like he’s the one in control here.

Your head snaps toward him. What the fuck? You barely have time to adjust, sitting in nothing but a tank top and panties, the thin fabric of your shirt doing nothing to hide the way your nipples peek through. The door swings open, and of course, it’s Ashley.

Your boss.

Not his. He’s his own boss, you’ve come to realize.

Ashley stops in her tracks, her brows shooting up as she takes in the scene. You. Straddling him. And he—looking smug, satisfied—makes no move to let you go. If anything, his grip tightens, holding you in place like he wants her to see this. Hell, maybe he hopes she takes a picture, sends it straight to the top brass at Vought. Let them all see who you belong to.

“Hi… you two…” Ashley starts, hesitantly. She clears her throat, eyes darting between you and Homelander before settling on you. “Access Hollywood wants to do a piece on your journey to the Seven. I know people your age don’t really watch it, but it’ll be good for pulling in ratings from the 35 to 50 demographic.”

Homelander bristles. “Why the fuck does she need to pull from that demographic, Ashley?” His mind immediately goes to older men. The ones who’d watch the segment. The ones who’d look at you. They’d be his age, sure—but it’s different with him. Any other man, twice your age, interested in you? Fucking perverts.

Ashley falters. “Just, uh… covering all of our bases, sir.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. You force a smile, desperate to salvage some semblance of professionalism after the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. You don’t let Homelander speak.

“Okay. Great. I’ll get ready now,” you say quickly, trying again to lift yourself off his lap.

His hands keep you locked in place.

Fine.

You shock him with your fingertips.

“Ow! Fuck,” he hisses, just enough of a sting to loosen his hold. You smirk, tossing a blanket around yourself as you slip off him and head toward the bathroom.

He watches you disappear behind the door. The second it clicks shut, he stands, towering over Ashley.

“Why the fuck are we worried about whether forty-year-old perverts are interested in her?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Who gives a shit about ratings? She’s not doing it.”

Before Ashley can respond, a new voice cuts in.

Sage.

Standing at the door, watching the whole damn thing. Apparently, everyone is making themselves at home in your apartment.

“He’s obsessed with her,” Sage says bluntly, arms crossed. “It’s not healthy how possessive he is.”

Homelander turns, mock surprise on his face. “Oh, hi, Sage. It’s me, Homelander. I’m right fucking here.”

Sage doesn’t blink. “Let’s talk about your ratings. They’re already dogshit. You think screwing a twenty-something-year-old with a baby face is gonna help?”

His smirk fades. She knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think I care about ratings?” His voice is sharp, seething. “She gives me something I need. Something I’ve never had before.”

Sage scoffs. “What? A tight hole? Get a grip, Homelander. You brought me onto the Seven to help you. To guide you. This? This is a stupid fucking mistake.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t make mistakes.

“I don’t need you to tell me what is or isn’t a mistake,” he snaps. “You work for me, remember? I make the decisions here. Not you.”

“She’s young. She’s new. You’re putting a target on her back.”

Ashley. Finally speaking up.

He barely acknowledges her, but she pushes forward.

“You have to see how reckless this is. It’s dangerous for both of you.”

Homelander clenches his fists. “I know the risks,” he grits out. “But I can protect her better than anyone. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ashley sighs, rubbing her temples. “By not sleeping? You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

His eyes darken. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You do.”

Homelander stares at her. The audacity—speaking to him like this. But there’s no malice in her voice, just exhaustion.

“People will notice,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Just… please. Get it together.”

The room is silent.

Finally, he exhales sharply.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try to sleep.” A pause. “But I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Sage and Ashley exchange a look—two women always at odds, finally agreeing on something.

Neither of them speak as they turn and leave, shutting the door behind them.

Homelander lowers himself onto the couch, his mind still tangled in the conversation with Ashley and Sage. Their words should mean nothing to him. But they linger.

The sound of the shower running pulls his attention away. His thoughts shift instantly—away from strategy, away from arguments—to you. Naked. Wet. Warm water cascading down your body.

His pulse quickens.

He stands. Walks toward the bathroom. His hand hovers over the handle, hesitating for only a second before pushing the door open.

Steam greets him, curling around his body as he steps inside. The air is thick with heat, fogging the mirror and the glass of the shower. But he can still see you—your silhouette blurred, water glistening on your skin.

His breath catches.

Slowly, he sheds his suit, letting the fabric fall in a careless pile on the floor. He moves toward the glass, watching you, savoring the sight. Then, without a word, he pulls the door open and steps inside.

You gasp, your arms moving instinctively to cover yourself.

He chuckles, amused. His eyes darken, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands are on your wrists before you can react, pulling them away, pinning them above your head. The warmth of the water does nothing to cool the fire in his touch. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth, claiming every inch like it belongs to him.

A soft moan escapes against his lips, and it undoes him.

Something dark, something primal stirs inside him—something he’s barely been holding back.

His grip tightens in your hair, fingers tangling at the nape of your neck as he tugs, tilting your head back. Forcing you to meet his gaze.

Blue eyes, sharp and predatory, lock onto yours. His chest rises and falls, his breath ragged. He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable beneath him, completely at his mercy.

And god, he likes it. He was ready to fuck you, to devour you. He puts his cock against your clit, rubbing small circles with his tip. He feels the way your body tenses beneath him, the shift so subtle yet impossible to ignore.

And then your words echo in his mind— You’re the only one who’s touched me.

Something dark in him—something selfish, something monstrous—wants to take, to claim, to make you his without hesitation. To ask for forgiveness later, not permission now.

But the part of him that needs you, that aches for you in ways he doesn’t fully understand, knows better.

You deserve more than that. More than him at his worst.

Your first time should be something close to heaven.

And for you, he chooses restraint. He exhales sharply, jaw tight as he pulls back, shifting himself away from your center. The need inside him rages, demanding more, but he won’t let it win.

Not with you.

You exhale, your breath finally steadying—but the moment you do, his voice cuts through the steam, firm and commanding.

“Lay down.”

He doesn’t reach for the faucet, doesn’t bother turning the water off. The warm stream continues cascading over both of you, soaking his hair until strands cling to his face, his eyes dark beneath them.

He watches you, unblinking, unmoving—his presence overwhelming in the small space.

Slowly, you lower yourself, your back meeting the wet tile, your hair fanning out around you, heavy with water.

His eyes drink you in, his voice thick with possession as he commands, “Open your legs for Daddy.”

He lowers himself onto his knees, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. He studies you like a masterpiece—something rare, something fragile, something that belongs to him. He gently opens up your pussy with his fingers, slowly massaging the hood of your tiny clit.

You moan without restraint, your body reacting instinctively, back arching in ways you never thought possible. He continues to rub your clit, then he sticks a finger in.

Then 2.

Then 3.

Each thrust is slow and deliberate, a silent reminder that every part of you belongs to him. Then, with effortless strength, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders, your head tilting back as pleasure overtakes you.

He aggressively kisses and sucks your clit. He’s like a rabid animal—hungry, insatiable. If he could devour you completely, he would.

He continues to suck your clit, feeling it harden. He begins to stroke his cock with purpose. Effortlessly, he uses one hand to keep you upright, his grip firm yet controlled, as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Please don’t stop, baby, please,” you beg, your voice trembling with desperation.

Homelander’s grip tightens as he looms over you, his eyes dark with possession.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he commands, his voice low and unwavering.

“You—I—I belong to you!” you cry out, your body trembling as you surrender completely to him.

Suddenly, your body tenses, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you reach your peak. A rush of warmth spills into his mouth, and Homelander doesn’t hesitate—his lips part, tongue hanging out, greedily lapping up every drop like a man starved, as if he’s been waiting his whole life just for this. He strokes his cock with more determination—he releases a low growl and lets his cum paint your backside.

Both of you exhale. He gently releases your legs from his neck. Keeping your legs spread, he uses his cum as a lubricant to rub your clit even more.

“One day, this will be inside of you. You’re going to be such a good mommy,” he whispers, his voice dark with promise.

Your breath hitches as you sit up, hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, drawing another soft whimper from your lips. Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mix, shaky and uneven.

You come undone once more, trembling in his grasp.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Always so good for me, you know that?”

His mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply before pulling back, allowing you a moment to breathe.

The two of you sit there on the shower floor, water cascading over your tangled bodies, the heat between you rivaling the steam filling the space. Neither of you speak, just taking a moment to absorb the weight of what just happened.

“That was…” you murmur, still breathless.

Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead, his grip on you possessive yet tender. “Come on,” he says, voice softer than usual. “You have to get ready.”

You blink up at him, confusion flickering across your face. Just a moment ago, he was adamant about you not doing the interview. What changed?

As the two of you stand, rinsing off the remnants of heat and indulgence, you finally ask, “What did they want earlier?”

Homelander doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you against him, his grip firm, his lips crashing into yours like he needs to make a point. His kiss is deep, hungry—like he’s claiming you all over again. His hands find your wrists, pinning them against his chest as he devours you, breathing you in like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls away, his expression is unreadable, torn between frustration and something far more dangerous.

“Ashley and Sage,” he mutters, jaw tight. “Being nosy. They think I’m too obsessed with you. That I’m making a mistake.”

You smirk against his lips, tilting your head as you press another slow, teasing kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue flick against his.

“You are obsessed with me,�� you whisper, your words a challenge.

Homelander growls low in his throat as you tease his lips, his grip tightening on your hips. You’re right—he is obsessed with you. Entirely. Uncontrollably.

He pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours like he needs to mold himself to you, like he wants to brand his presence onto your skin. His hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, memorizing every inch.

“I am obsessed with you,” he finally admits, voice thick with an emotion he barely understands. “And it scares the hell out of me how much I need you.”

You tilt your head, your gaze steady. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.

His grip loosens slightly, his expression shifting—not soft, but vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“I know,” he mutters, almost like he’s reassuring himself. “That’s what scares me. I don’t… I don’t need people. I never have. But you?” His fingers flex against your skin. “You’re different.”

You smirk, your playful nature creeping back in. “You know that’s normal, right? Well… maybe not this,” You gesture between your bodies, naked and pressed together after barely a day of knowing each other. “Never mind.” You giggle.

Homelander chuckles, shaking his head, his grip steadying you against him. “No, doll, this isn’t normal,” he agrees, smirking as he brushes wet strands of hair from your face. “But I’ve never liked normal anyway.”

He kisses you again before turning you around, his hands threading through your hair as he massages shampoo into your scalp. His touch is slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for him. He works through your hair with a care that’s foreign to him, his hands sliding down to knead your shoulders, rubbing away whatever tension lingers.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head forward. That feels so good, you murmur.

Homelander hums in satisfaction, fingers kneading deeper. “You have no idea how good it feels to touch you like this,” he mutters, his voice dipping lower. “To have you completely at my mercy.”

You glance back at him, studying his face through the steam.

“You like knowing you can hurt me, that you can end me… don’t you?” You ask. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His hands still for a fraction of a second. He absorbs your words, his jaw clenching, his blue eyes darkening with something unreadable.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” he finally murmurs, his voice rough. “I do.” His fingers brush down your spine, barely touching. “I like knowing I could crush you if I wanted to. That I have all the power.” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to protect you.”

Homelander kisses you again, slow and deep, but his mind is already elsewhere. Somewhere darker.

Your words haven’t left him. They won’t. They cling to his brain like a parasite, infecting every thought, twisting his stomach into knots of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re the only one who’s touched me. Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

His fingers twitch against your skin, his muscles tightening as he fights the urge to demand their names right now. He pictures them—whoever they are—small, pathetic, unworthy. He doesn’t need details. He doesn’t need a reason.

He just needs to hear you say the words.

Tell him who they are.

Tell him where they live.

Tell him how they did it.

And he’ll take care of the rest.

He imagines their faces caving under his fists, teeth splintering like cheap glass, their pitiful screams cutting off with the wet, sickening squelch of his fingers ripping their tongues straight from their throats. He’ll tear them open, gut them like livestock, string them up in a place only he can see so he can admire his handiwork when he’s feeling nostalgic. Maybe he’ll fly them so high the oxygen thins before dropping them—make them fall for miles, long enough to know exactly when they’re about to hit the ground, long enough to understand they’re about to die before their bodies splatter like meat against pavement.

It’s what they deserve. It’s the bare fucking minimum.

But not yet.

Not yet.

He needs to be patient. For you.

So instead of demanding answers, instead of forcing them from your lips, he just pulls you closer, pressing another soft kiss to your jaw. You don’t notice the way his fingers dig into your skin a little harder, or how his breath turns just a little more ragged. You don’t see the violent, vicious promise buried deep in his eyes as he whispers against your skin.

“One day, baby… you’re gonna tell me who they are.”

You swallow hard.

They.

You thought he forgot.

Oh, silly girl. A man like him? He doesn’t miss anything.

Homelander watches your reaction, soaking in every twitch, every breath, every slight shift in your expression. His grip on your waist tightens just enough to remind you—he’s still in control. He always will be.

His smile lingers, slow and knowing, a predator savoring the scent of fresh blood.

“I see that look, baby,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper, something hungry. His fingers slide up your spine, his nails ghosting over your skin like a warning. “You didn’t really think I’d let that slide, did you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears it nearly drowns out his voice, but he hears it. Of course, he does.

He likes it.

Loves it.

Because it tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mmm.” He hums, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His tone is soft, almost gentle, but it carries the weight of something final. A promise. A death sentence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

His lips curl, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear as he breathes in deep—like he’s inhaling your fear, drinking it in, letting it settle deep in his lungs.

He smiles, a slow, dangerous thing.

Homelander lets the words hang in the air, heavy and absolute.

“And believe me… once I’m finished with them? They’ll beg for death.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. But there’s something in his voice—glee. The kind of twisted, unhinged satisfaction that sends a chill down your spine.

Your stomach knots. You should stop him. You should say something. But the way he’s looking at you? That wild, feverish glint in his eye?

It’s too late.

His mind is already painting the scene—rivers of blood, splintered bone, screams so raw they tear through vocal cords. He wants them to suffer. He wants them to hurt. To feel every ounce of pain they inflicted on you a thousand times over.

And when they’re on their knees, their bodies broken beyond repair, gasping through bloodied lips for mercy?

There won’t be any.

“I’ll make sure they remember your name,” he purrs, dragging a thumb over your bottom lip. “Right before I carve it into their fucking skulls.”

You swallow hard, your breath shaky.

He smiles. Oh, he loves this. Loves the way you react, loves the fear, the hesitation—because it confirms what he already knows.

They’re dead.

They just don’t know it yet.

[supernova2205]

A Recipe for Trouble

Chef Gaz x reader

Summary: What starts as a simple cooking class to cure boredom quickly turns into something more when your charming instructor, Kyle, challenges you to a final test cooking him dinner at your place. With your track record in the kitchen, success isn’t guaranteed, but maybe the real lesson isn’t about cooking at all.

Boredom had a way of making you do questionable things. Like signing up for a cooking class despite your well-documented history of culinary disasters. You had scorched eggs, burned pasta, and once managed to set toast on fire. If there was a way to ruin a dish, you had found it.

So, naturally, a cooking class seemed like a logical next step.

The only thing that stopped you from bolting right out of the class on the first day was the instructor himself, Kyle.

He was confident, charismatic, and, unfortunately for you, devastatingly attractive. That last part made focusing on anything remotely related to food prep significantly harder.

Your first lesson began with an introduction to knife skills, and you quickly realized that chopping onions was its own form of torture. Your hands fumbled, your slices were uneven, and at one point, you nearly lost a fingertip.

Kyle chuckled as he slid a cutting board in front of you. "Alright, let’s slow down before we end up in the emergency room, yeah? Hold the knife like this, firm grip, but relaxed." His hands covered yours, guiding you through the movement. "There you go. Now try again."

You tried to ignore the way his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary, focusing instead on not making a fool of yourself.

That resolve lasted about three minutes until you managed to send half a tomato flying across the room.

Kyle blinked, lips twitching in amusement. "Well, that’s one way to do it. Not exactly the right way, but you’ve got enthusiasm."

"Enthusiasm won’t stop me from burning the kitchen down," you muttered, shaking your head. "I’m hopeless."

"Nah," he grinned, leaning against the counter. "Just need the right teacher. And lucky for you, I happen to be the best."

The lessons continued over the next few weeks, each one filled with equal parts disaster and progress. You learned how to knead dough without it sticking to everything in sight, how to properly season a dish without making it taste like pure salt, and, most importantly, how to not set things on fire.

Every lesson was a battle between your growing skills and your natural inclination for chaos, but Kyle never lost patience. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you stumble through the process.

"Alright," he said one evening as you both hovered over a pan of sauce that miraculously hadn’t turned into charcoal. "Moment of truth. Taste test."

You hesitated, scooping a bit onto a spoon. Your track record with homemade meals wasn’t exactly great. But as soon as the flavors hit your tongue, your eyes widened. "Holy—this actually tastes good."

Kyle grinned. "Told ya. You’re getting the hang of it."

You turned to him, a slow smirk forming. "So, what you’re saying is… I’m a natural?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re better, but let’s see if you survive the final test."

Your stomach dropped. "Final test?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Cooking a meal all on your own. No help. Just you, the ingredients, and your questionable decision-making."

You groaned. "You’re trying to kill me."

"Nope, just makin’ sure all this hasn’t been for nothing. I’ve got faith in you."

And damn it, with the way he looked at you just then, soft, encouraging, like he knew you could do it, you almost believed it too.

Then he smirked. "And, since it’s your final test, I think it should be a special occasion."

You raised an eyebrow. "Special how?"

Kyle leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself. "How about this you cook me dinner. At your place. Just us."

Your heart did a weird little flip. "Wait, is this part of the test, or are you asking me out?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. "Little bit of both."

You stared at him, trying to find the catch. "So, you want me to cook for you, knowing full well that my kitchen skills are questionable at best?"

Kyle shrugged. "I like a little danger. Keeps things interesting."

The teasing glint in his eye made your stomach do another flip. You exhaled, dramatically wiping your hands on your apron. "Alright, Kyle. You’re on. But if you die from food poisoning, that’s on you."

"I’ll take my chances."

The next evening, you found yourself pacing your kitchen, trying to remember everything Kyle had taught you. You had picked a simple dish, one you had actually managed to cook successfully under his watchful eye. But without him hovering nearby to save you from disaster, your nerves were getting the best of you.

When the knock came at your door, you took a deep breath and opened it to find Kyle standing there, dressed casually but somehow looking effortlessly good. He held up a bottle of wine with a smirk. "Figured we might need this."

You let him in, and he surveyed your kitchen with an amused glance. "So, what’s on the menu, Chef?"

"That… is a surprise," you said, nudging him toward the counter. "No interfering. You’re the guest tonight."

"Alright, alright," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show."

Despite a few near mishaps, the meal actually turned out well. You plated everything carefully and set the table, feeling ridiculously proud of yourself. Kyle took a bite and let out a satisfied hum. "Look at that. My star pupil actually pulled it off."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your face heat up. "So, does this mean I passed?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, you definitely passed. But I think we might need a few more lessons. You know, just to be sure."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, realizing that maybe, just maybe, this had never really been about cooking at all.

Authors note:Hey everyone! Just wanted to share a little fic for all my fellow Gaz fans out there. I still have more ideas brewing about him because I absolutely adore his charm and sass! Enjoy and stay tuned for more!!!!$

[rizzoreads88]

You know what I love? Azriel didn’t have to go and save Gwyn from the blood Rite because he knew she could take care of herself. He trained her so he knew. He saved Elain because she was weak and defenseless and a damsel and sat in a tent and waited for someone to save her. And guess what Gwyn did in the Blood rite? Actually made an effort and helped and even stayed up in the tree. That was her SPYING!!!!!!! Who’s to say Azriel didn’t give her any tips during the time he went over dagger handling? Gave her tips on how to spy? It’s great foreshadowing from S.J.M!!

And I cant wait for Azriel to gift Gwyn a dagger so she can name it Silver Majesty. S.J.M gave us that for a reason. At least she’ll accep it. Unlike Elain who gave back TruthTelller. Gwyn sees Azriel’s love for daggers and it is seen in the bonus. “A comfort for every growing child.” I can’t wait for them to have a child (this was foreshadowed with the above line) and they can have bad ass warrior parents.

The next book is taking forever because S.J.M got bored writing Elain’s book so she has changed it to Gwynriel. I can’t wait for their endgame and for the rest of the Elriels to finally leave our space. Gwynriels have been here longer. It’s time for others to go now who can’t accept Gwynriel is endgame.

I don’t like people pinning Gwyn and Elain against each other but since you wanted to come in my anons doing so let’s go through all your points from canon. Both Gwyn and Elain are great characters and are strong in different ways. But now that I’ve read your fanon theories let me respond with some canon.

whether Azriel believes in Gwyns abilities or not that man cared more about his enemy Eris than when she was drugged and kidnapped by multiple men…. Is that how mates act? not according to Ruhn!

Ruhn glared at her as Hunt continued to glow and menace. It means that he’s going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It’s what happened then, and what’s happening now.

Azriel may not have been able to go to the blood rite but that wouldn’t have stopped him from showing emotion around his friends if he actually cared anough to. In acowar we see azriel is full of rage and is the first to notice Elain was taken. So he will show emotion like that over Elain but not his supposed mate? lol …...it’s funny you guys try to talk around azriel not really reacting to gwyn being kidnapped to the blood right by saying “it’s bc he knew she could handle herself!” Yet cassian was there and knew Nesta could handle herself and he was still freaking out. Cassian still showed concern over Emerie and Gwyn too.

“Gwyn was spying”. So I guess everyone in the blood rite are spys now?! It’s funny Emerie and Nesta watched their enemies at times too but no one credits them to being a spy. You guys can try and claim Gwyn is a spy blahhhh but SJM doesn’t compare Gwyn to any spy tactics at all in the books. But ya know who she does? Elain. You know who they wonder if azriel is training w spy techniques? Elain lol

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.”

“Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps. Hadn’t heard any sound for moments.”

“Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him”

“Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

You know who’s good at keeping secrets like a spy does… Elain. You know who’s not? Gwyn lol Nesta tells Gwyn how they are looking for the trove and not tell anyone at all and what does Gwyn do? Tells Merrill

“At least gwyn would keep the dagger” In Acowar Azriel never gave Elain his dagger to keep. He lent it to her. For a side that screams Elriels have no reading comprehension I would think you’de understand this by now… the I won’t be using it today line means she can use it FOR THE DAY not keep it. So of course she gives it back after she’s done w it.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

The emphasis SJM puts on the truth teller scene is that Azriel has never let anyone else touch it ever and he still lends it to Elain.

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

It’s pretty telling how Azriel has been training Gwyn(and the other ladies) for months w daggers, has even had at least 1 private dagger lesson with Gwyn but hasn’t let her even touch truth teller ….. but sureeeee she’ll get silver majesty or gray bullet or whatever other name yall want to make for truth teller other than it’s actual name in the books.

“Elains weak Gwyn is stronger!!” First of all both ladies are bad ass. Yes Gwyn did some really cool things in the blood rite and helped fight to stay alive alongside Nesta and Emerie, but Elain killed a evil king.Fought Hybern beasts w her bare feet, and this is without any actual training. Elain has badass powers and has put them on to finding Vassa, the suriel during the war, and looking into Koschei. And let’s see what Azriel thinks of Elain.

Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen—with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head. Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

When everyone else thought there was something wrong with her and she was going crazy… Azriel was the one who knew she didn’t need anything. Azriel was the one to figure out she was a seer. Azriel was the one who realized they needed her.

I have no idea what your going on about in that last paragraph. I’m going to read whatever SJM writes because it’s not that serious. In fact most elriels say regardless of who ends up together they will continue reading the books. It’s a lot of the gwynr/els who post about how they won’t read a Elriel book blah blah blah. But trying to say Gwynriels have been around longer? You’re funny w that one. Seeing how gwyn is only in 1 book yet elriel has been being foreshadowed since acomaf. There’s been elriels around since then.

[gojoest]

satoru stands in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, watching his wife and his daughter have a little mother-daughter moment, pretending to have a teatime party with empty cups placed on the table while chattering excitedly about something. it always made him warm on the inside to see both of his girls together, he could just stand there quietly and watch you for hours.

but soon, his peace was disrupted by a declaration coming from his daughter.

“i’ll marry someone like papa one day!”, she says with her small voice.

you remain silent, eyes flicking to your husband with a quiet smile. he was frozen, staring at his daughter like she had just announced she was leaving for college.

“did you hear that?”, satoru asks, his voice unusually tight. “she’s going to marry someone like me”

you let out a soft laugh, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “it’s a good thing, satoru. she wants someone who will love her as deeply as you love me”

“but she’s my little girl!”, brows furrowed, he retorts. “who could be good enough for her? no one could be”, he shakes his head.

“you’re being silly”, you chuckle, rubbing his back to calm your husband down. “she’s just talking about love. you’re unwillingly setting a pretty high bar, every day. kids catch on pretty quickly on those things”, you smile softly. “i think she really admires you”

satoru sighs dramatically, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. your back pressed against his chest, his chin rested on your head as you both watch your daughter, your sweet little princess. “i’m not ready to share her”, he drags out another sigh. “she’s going to grow up and someone else is going to be all i love you and i’ll protect you — that’s my job, you know?“

“your job is to show her what real love looks like, and you’re already doing a great job. i know it’s because of you, that when the time comes, she will choose someone who will treat her just as well as her father treats her mother”

“you think so?”

“i know so, baby”

he hums, his gaze now softening. “but still… nobody touches her”

“yes, yes”, you laugh.

and as if on cue, your daughter looks at you both and says “i’ll only marry someone like papa, but papa will always be my first love”

needless to say, satoru’s chest puffs with pride at his little one’s words. he couldn’t even pretend to be tough right now — he was melting. he didn’t know what the future held, but he’d always protect his little girl with everything he got.

“good”, satoru replies. “you keep that in mind when you get older”

you let out a snort, followed by a barely audible “you’re impossible” which goes unheard by your husband.

he was way too busy savoring the moment with his little daughter as best as he could while he could still freely carry her around in his arms without getting hit with a river of complaints that he’s embarrassing her.

it’s true, he might’ve set the bar impossibly high when it comes to love, but that was exactly what his daughter deserved.

satoru’s baby daughter saying “i’ll marry someone like papa one day” because she basically grows up witnessing on the daily just how completely smitten and devoted his father is to her mother. satoru, although not on purpose, had set an incredibly high standard for his daughter when it comes to love, and she will never settle for anything less

[luvsizedfrellie]

ruined pasta, messy rooms, you dumbass (i care)

Ellie was slumped against her worn couch, the dim light from the string fairy lights casting shadows across her pale face. Her usual energy had drained away weeks ago, replaced by dark circles under her eyes and a perpetual scowl. She hadn't bothered changing out of yesterday's flannel shirt, and her auburn hair looked greasy enough to stick together in clumps. The Savage Starlight comic lying open on her lap hadn't changed pages in hours, she'd lost interest somewhere between panels three and four.

The door creaked softly as you slipped inside, dropping your patrol gear beside the coffee table, your eyes scanning the space until they landed on Ellie. For a moment, you just stood there, taking in the scene: empty water bottles scattered everywhere, unwashed dishes stacked in the kitchenette, and Ellie herself looking like she'd forgotten what sleep felt like.

"Hey," you said softly, dropping onto the couch beside Ellie, you didn't reach out right away, respecting Ellie's personal space even though every instinct screamed at you to pull your friend close.

Ellie grunted, not lifting her gaze from the comic. You recognized the sound, it wasn't even a word, just a noise acknowledging someone's presence while begging them to leave her alone. That was bad.

You slid closer, your shoulder brushing against Ellie's. "You look like shit, Els."

Ellie finally looked up, her green eyes duller than you had ever seen them. "Thanks. Just what i needed to hear."

The sarcasm was weak, barely there, another red flag. You reached out, gently pushing aside the comic book to examine Ellie's face more closely. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin paler than usual, and there was a faint tremble in her fingers when she thought no one was watching.

"You haven't eaten properly in days, have you?" you asked, your voice staying soft despite your growing concern.

Ellie shrugged, looking away. That was all you needed to know. You stood up, heading toward the kitchenette. "I'm making you dinner."

The protest came immediately— "No, i'm fine", but you cut it off with a raised eyebrow. "Save it, Els. You're not fine. You're malnourished, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapse. Joel would kill me if he knew you'd gotten this bad."

Ellie muttered under her breath, something about Joel needing to mind his own business, but she didn't fight it. That scared you more than anything, Ellie always fought. Always pushed back. When she stopped fighting, something was seriously wrong.

As you rummaged through the cupboards, pulling out pasta and vegetables, Ellie watched you with an unreadable expression. For once, there wasn't even a sarcastic comment about your cooking. That silence spoke volumes.

The water boiled, steam rising as you added the pasta. You turned to face Ellie, your eyes locked on hers. "We're going to get you fixed up, 'kay? Starting with food, then sleep, then maybe remembering what showers are for."

Ellie looked down, her shoulders sagging further, you frowned, walking over and sat down beside her again, this time wrapping an arm around her shoulders. For a moment, you were worried Ellie would pull away, as she often did when people got too close. But tonight, she just leaned into the touch, letting out a soft sigh as she rested her head against your shoulder. Her head was heavy against you, her weight an unfamiliar vulnerability that you didn't take lightly. You stayed still for a beat, letting her relax into you, unsure how fragile the moment was or how much Ellie could take before she pushed you away. The soft flutter of Ellie's exhale hit the hollow of your neck, and it hurt—God, it hurt to see her like this.

But then, as you opened your mouth to say something, Ellie's voice came first. "You don't have to do this, y'know."

You frowned, inching back just enough to meet Ellie's gaze. “Do what?”

She didn't look at you, eyes instead locked on some faraway spot on the floor. Her hand fidgeted in her lap, pulling at the worn hem of her flannel. "Pretend you give a shit," she muttered under her breath. "I know Joel probably got to you. Or whoever else decided to send you over here to play nurse or... whatever. It's fine, I get it. You don't have to stick around."

The words came out sharp, like teeth, but you could hear the crack in Ellie's voice beneath it all. She was exhausted, completely raw, and so tangled up in the lie she was telling herself that she probably believed it. That no one gave a shit. That you didn't.

It pissed you off.

"Okay, stop," you said quietly, your voice firm but without heat. "I am stopping you right there, Ellie, because that's the biggest load of bullshit i've ever heard."

That got her attention. Ellie's head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing, defiance flickering faintly across her face like a sputtering match. "’Scuse me?"

"You heard me." you didn't flinch, didn't hold back. You grabbed Ellie's chin lightly, but firmly enough that her couldn't look away. Your brows knit together, voice softening but not losing its punch. "This?" you gestured vaguely, indicating the mess in the room, the state Ellie had let herself fall into. "This isn’t on Joel. Or anyone else. I came here because i fucking care about you. And I'm not gonna sit around watching you destroy yourself like this, blowing off everyone who's been worried sick about you."

Ellie looked like she might bite back, like she might throw off your hand and bury herself deeper into her own misery. But something about the steadiness in your voice—or maybe the weight behind your words—kept Ellie planted. The frustration in her faded, replaced by something that set your chest aching: confusion. uncertainty.

"Why?" Ellie whispered, voice cracking on the word. "Why do you care?"

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Ellie, are you serious? i care because it's you, you stubborn dumbass.

The bluntness seemed to catch Ellie off guard. She blinked, and her mouth opened as if to respond, but—for once—she came up short. You could see the gears turning, could see her processing, could see her struggling to let herself be cared for.

Ellie tried to pull back, shrug your arm off, but you were faster. You caught Ellie's hand in yours—not forceful, just firm enough to keep her from slipping away. "You're not getting rid of me that easy," you murmured, your thumb smoothing over rough knuckles. "Not tonight. Not ever. So, stop telling yourself you don't deserve this, because you fucking do."

Ellie's breath hitched at that. Her lips parted, trembling just slightly like there was something on the tip of her tongue she couldn't quite say. Instead, she whispered, "You don’t have to waste your time. I'm not—fuck, i'm not your problem."

"Jesus, Ellie" you sighed, your frustration softening into something almost tender. "You're not a problem. You’re my friend. My best friend." you hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady as she continued. "Ellie. You're important to me. You have been for as long as i've known you. So, whatever this is, we're going to fix it, together. One step at a damn time. But not if you're gone before we even get a chance to try.".

Ellie stared, lips pressed tight, her throat bobbing as she struggled to swallow the lump rising there. She wanted to argue—you could feel it—but instead, she slumped back into the couch, letting herself lean closer into your side. Her chin dipped, and her voice came out small. Fragile.

"Sorry."

Your hand moved instinctively, slipping into Ellie's unkempt mess of auburn hair, pressing your lips to the top of Ellie's head. "You don't have to be sorry."

She didn't pull away this time. Her breathing grew heavier, but steadier as she let herself sink into your steady warmth, her voice was barely audible now, almost scared. "You really care that much?"

Your voice dropped, becoming softer, more vulnerable, almost matching hers as you hold Ellie close to you. "yeah, Ellie. I really do."

The weight of your words seemed to finally break through Ellie's defenses. Her eyes grew heavy, fluttering shut as exhaustion dragged her under. You felt the subtle shift in Ellie's breathing, the way her body relaxed completely against yours, and you knew she'd drifted off. As you looked down, you noticed the slightest sheen of tears clinging to Ellie's lashes and something tugged sharply in your chest but then, a ghost of a smile touched Ellie's lips, and the ache eased, replaced by a warmth that spread through your veins.

You stayed there for a long moment, just holding Ellie, your fingers carding gently through her hair, the silence of the room was broken only by her and your soft breathing.

"the pasta—shit" you realized with a jolt that the pasta boiling away in the kitchenette, now was undoubtedly a sticky, inedible mess, all you wanted was to make things better for Ellie, and you couldn't even manage to cook a simple meal without ruining it.

You cursed the pasta, cursed the mess, but you didn't regret being there, right beside Ellie. You will be up all night cleaning before she woke up yes but, as you looked back down at her, your features softened instantly. It was worth it, she was worth it.

You carefully adjusted Ellie in your arms, your fingers brushing softly against her cheek. You knew, with a certainty that surprised even yourself, that you would do anything to protect her, to ease her pain, to bring back that spark that had been temporarily extinguished.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ellie's forehead. "I've got you, always." you whispered, the words a promise to both Ellie and yourself as she held Ellie close, you let yourself linger in the quiet truth: If only you knew how much i truly do.

[ethereacals]

so american

chapter 5: love is embarrassing

synopsis: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from lIvermorny

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine

pairing: remus lupin x american!reader

cw: it’s a lil sad, but everything is resolved! kind of?

a/n: sorry it’s a bit of a short one! chapter 7 out tonight/tomorrow morning! love u all and thank you for your patience (:

STANDING ON THE EDGE of the black lake with Remus felt different this go around.

He kept trying to speak— but words continued to fail.

“These are for you.” You shyly handed him the Galaxy Minstrels, his very favorite chocolate.

You gave him his favorite chocolate.

“Y/N, I—“ He paused, running a scarred hand through his already disheveled hair in contemplation.

“It’s okay, Remus. I jumped the gun.” You finished for him.

“No, you didn't. I was a dick and you have every right to hold everything against me." Remus communicated.

"Remus, I would never hold something that you cannot psyhically control against you." You promised, grabbing his hand gently.

"You don’t have to accept any part of me ever, please— I would never force anything on you—“

“I cherish every part of you.”

“But you don’t have to cherish any—“

"I don't care what you are, Remus. You are radiant." You emphasized.

Remus froze lightly, as you scanned his features.

"Besides, now I know where all of these beautiful scars came from." You traced your fingers over the carefully carved divots of his face.

"I— I’m not beautiful-"

“And how can you say that?

“Because I see myself in the mirror everyday and—“

"Remus, tell me; When a exquisite sculpture cracks, does that make it any less exquisite?"

"I— Er— no?”

“They still display it proudly, don’t they?”

“I suppose..”

“Like the Venus de Milo, it’s practically adored because it’s broken.

And he was silenced.

"That's how I see you." You smiled sweetly, brushing his cheek as he cracked a small smile.

"You have a way with words, Dove." Remus mused.

"I've learned from the best." You giggled, marveling at his hazel eyes.

“Doesn’t mean i’m going to believe them just yet.”

“As long as I can affirm it to you and get you to believe them one day then that’s all I want.”

A comfortable silence washed over the lake, as Remus pulled you in for a tight embrace.

He got his acceptance, and you got your clarity.

"I'd never wish anything to happen to this, Dove."

“Same here.” You notioned.

“…So about my mistake?” You gazed back up to him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Remus assured kindly.

“I—I still feel guilty, those weren’t my intentions—“

“It’s fine, honey. I’m not upset one bit, okay?” Remus bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Okay…”

“Okay.”

Remus was so incredibly comforting.

He was nearly identical to a large blanket engulfing you after a long tiring day, or listening to your favorite song after something went wrong.

Remus was comfort.

"We both have to make a promise," You started. "No more self-deprecating comments about yourself." "And- for me, no feelings." You attempted to convince yourself that it was a good idea.

"I can try, dove." Remus shook your hand gently, and escorted you back to the castle and up to your common room.

"NO FEELINGS?" Lily gawked, stepped towards you.

"It just came out! I can't ruin our friendship, this was way too much of a close call." You insisted, trust-falling onto your bed.

"Honey, you loved him." Mary visibly delated in her chair.

"And I still do, but I love him so dearly that I'd rather us stay safe and friends then dangerous and together." You explained solemnly.

"Besides, he doesn't like me."

"Doesn't like you? Y/N, the boy looks at you like you hung the stars!" Molly argued, watching you from her vanity mirror.

Molly Prewitt shared a dorm with you, Lily, Mary, and Marlene.

She was an 8th year who was only staying at Hogwarts to shadow Professor Slughorn for potions.

"How did you and Arthur work it out?" Mary asked the ginger.

"You have to train them, like dogs. Good boyfriends are practically DIYs." She taught, finishing up removing her makeup.

"But he's already trained, and he's perfect. I can't ruin him or our friendship." You sighed.

“Love is exasperating.” Marlene attempted to console you.

“No, love is embarrassing.” You grumbled.

The next few days with Remus just improved your friendship once more.

The library dates were back, and the evening strolls around the courtyard too.

You knew your feelings would never go away, selfishly— you never wanted them too.

You wished for them to grow and flourish, weaving into your ribs and spine— becoming permanent.

But you knew selflessly that you couldn’t have him.

Suddenly— a light knock on your dorm door broke you out of your cocooned thoughts.

You were the only one there, maybe someone forgot their key?

“Y/N, could I steal you for a moment?” James asked, smiling pleasantly as he pulled you inside.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, well— it will be as soon as this conversation is finished— hopefully.” He started.

“You’re scaring me..” Your brows furrowed gently.

“I’m not at all meaning too, I’m here to propose something.”

“Mhm?”

“You like Remus, I like Regulus.”

“I- I don’t like Remus.”

James paused, “…Sure.”

“Anyways— Lily and Mary were talking to me and they mentioned that the way they got each others attention was by dating other people to basically make them see how they’d treat each other if they were together.” James rambled, taking a breath before his next point.

“So— you and I, we date each other for like— a month or something and then hopefully we will get the attention of our respective suitors and then it’s happily ever after!” James finished, and quite convincingly too.”

“James— I promised Remus no feelings, he doesn’t want me.”

“That’s the thing, he thinks he is doing you both a favor by being stubborn and staying friends. News flash— he’s not. The bloke is pining, burning, and perishing.” James nearly was gasping for air.

“I don’t know..”

“Please? pleasepleasepleaseplea—l

“Fine! Fine. I’ll fake date you for a little while.” You caved in, but in reality you’d do anything for James.”

“Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthank—“

“It’s no problem, James— but seriously, no feelings.”

“Absolutely no feelings other than happy and friendly ones.” He insisted cheerfully.

“I’m not into extroverts anyways.”

“And I’m into french accents, you’re safe.” He smiled, before taking your hand and strutting into common room with you.

This was going to be embarrassing.

stay tuned for chapter 6 of so american

@hisparentsgallerryy @lydpop @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @thequeen0fhearts @yourlittlefries @jsprien213 @liviessun @wandasbitch22 @michtellch @hellokitty-girl666 @bmyva1entine @n1ght-vngel @anehkael @wolfstcr @assorted-knives @mrsblackx @moonyswifee @sunset-toast t @sammyreid @wsplalala @msfandomsblog @yimthesynonym @flowerytombx i @rubyinthebooks

so american taglist