#but after i do that i don’t know what time to eat dinner and then sleep at a reasonable time while also relaxing and doing something fun

[p0orbaby]

Would you do a blurb with Leah getting the flu while your on holiday?

i went with stomach flu cause i’ve already done a few colds

TW for mentions of vomit

-

This was not the dream getaway you’d planned. The Maldives had promised pristine beaches, crystal-clear waters, and candlelit dinners. Instead, you’re crouched in the bathroom of your luxury villa, holding Leah’s hair back as she dry-heaves into the toilet.

“Kill me,” she croaks between retches, voice echoing mournfully off the marble tiles.

“You’re not dying, Leah,” you say, even though she looks very much like someone auditioning for a low-budget zombie film. Sweat sticks to her forehead, and her skin is pale with a greenish tinge.

“Feels like I am,” she mutters, slumping against the wall. Her eyes are half-closed, the faint light overhead casting unflattering shadows on her gaunt face.

You pass her the glass of water you’d been holding, which she takes with trembling hands. “Sip, don’t gulp,” you remind her.

“I know how to drink water,” she snaps weakly, then immediately coughs like a toddler who’s just choked on juice.

“Clearly”

You lean back on your heels, surveying the scene. There’s a pile of damp towels in the corner (your failed attempt to mop up earlier mishaps) and an untouched plate of crackers on the sink ledge (your optimistic effort to reintroduce food).

“You’ve ruined my holiday, you know,” you say lightly, breaking the silence.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with indignation. “Your holiday? I’m the one throwing up my soul here!”

“And I’m the one living with it,” you counter, smirking.

“Wow,” she deadpans, leaning back against the tiles. “Someone call the Vatican, my saintly partner is really showing their true colours”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry, would you like me to write a sonnet about how much I love mopping up sick at 2 a.m.?”

She tries to glare at you but ends up burping instead. You both pause, her face shifting from mortification to panic.

“Bathroom bin,” you say quickly, shoving it into her lap just in time for another round of misery.

By the time she’s done, she’s groaning like an extra in a war film. “If I survive this, I’m never eating shellfish again”

“That’s what you said after your last stomach bug,” you remind her.

“This time I mean it,” she mumbles, slumping sideways until her head rests against your thigh.

You stroke her hair absentmindedly, feeling a flicker of guilt for teasing her earlier. Sure, she’s dramatic, but there’s something endearing about how utterly pitiful she becomes when she’s ill.

After a few minutes, she speaks again, voice muffled against your leg. “You’re going to wash those pyjamas, right?”

You look down at the now-questionable state of your favourite sleepwear and sigh. “You owe me new ones”

She grins faintly, despite everything. “Deal”

[v6quewrlds]

for like a dad joe idea what if their kid keeps asking them questions 😭 like i saw on twitter some said that u realize u don’t know much when ur kid asks u “why” all the time 😭 idek if that makes any sense 💀 idk happy thanksgiving!!!

you stood in the kitchen, your eyes scanning the countertops for any stray crumbs that had escaped the chaos of lunchtime. the sun peeked through the windows, casting a warm afternoon glow across the tiles and the stainless steel appliances. the air smelled faintly of melted cheese and buttered bread. it a comforting scent that never failed to make you smile despite the mess.

joe was sitting at the table, a picture of calm as he bottle-fed baby noa. her tiny fists clutched at his shirt, pulling it slightly as she hungrily drank her milk. he had that look in his eyes, the one that told you he was in daddy-mode, fully focused on your two daughters.

"but daddy, why can't i have ice cream for lunch?" amara asked, her voice filled with the sweet innocence that could melt the most stoic of hearts.

joe looked up from noa with a raised eyebrow, his mouth twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. "because it's not a food group, pumpkin. unless you've discovered a new food pyramid that includes ice cream and sprinkles?"

amara giggled, her cheeks flushing pink as she took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. "what's a food group?" she inquired, her mouth half full.

you couldn't help but laugh as you rinsed the plates. "it's like a family of foods, baby," you explained, turning to face your daughter. "we need different types to stay healthy, like veggies, fruits, and proteins. ice cream's a treat for after we've had our good stuff."

amara pondered for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. "do you eat all the food groups, mommy?" she asked, her voice a mix of challenge and genuine curiosity.

a playful grin spread across your face. "well, i try to, munchkin. but sometimes, mommy has cravings just like you."

joe took the opportunity to jump in. "yeah, and when mommy has those cravings, she eats an entire pint of ice cream and calls it 'balance'." he sat up a bit straighter, burping noa gently. "but we don't talk about those days."

you shot him a glare, which only made him laugh. "very funny, joe," you said, shaking your head despite the smile on your lips.

amara's eyes lit up. "can i have ice cream tomorrow, daddy?"

"we'll see," joe replied, his tone a perfect blend of firmness and amusement. he knew you would have the final say, but he wasn't about to spoil the fun just yet. "maybe if you eat all your veggies at dinner."

you rolled your eyes, but held your protest, unable to hide your amusement.

"veggies?" amara scrunched up her nose. "but i don't like veggies."

joe simply shrugged his shoulders dramatically. "well, then i guess you're out of luck, pumpkin." he playfully poked her tummy with his free hand.

you stepped closer to the table, your laughter subsiding as you saw the look of determination in amara's eyes. "don't worry, baby," you said, your voice soothing. "we'll find some veggies you like. maybe we can try those carrot sticks you liked last week with some ranch dip?"

amara considered it for a moment before nodding. "okay, mommy. but only if i can have chocolate ice cream."

"deal," you agreed, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. you knew the terms of the negotiation would likely be forgotten by the time dessert rolled around tomorrow night. you turned back to the sink, the warm water rushing over the plates and mixing with the suds. the sound of the faucet and the clinking of silverware filled the room, a comforting backdrop to the chatter.

"what's for dinner?" joe asked, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between the bites of grilled cheese and sips of milk.

you scrunched your nose as you rinsed a plate. "you and your daughter sure do ask a ton of questions," you teased, glancing at joe.

"i'm making a new recipe tonight, remember? it's a surprise." you knew he didn't like surprises when it came to food, but you enjoyed watching him try new things.

"surprise?" joe echoed, crinkling his nose at the sound of the word. noa stared back at him with wide eyes, seemingly surprised by his reaction. he laughed softly, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "i'm sure it'll be great, babe. right, pumpkin?"

amara nodded vigorously, her dark curls bobbing with excitement. "yes!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled by the last bite of her sandwich.

you dried your hands and took a seat at the table, your gaze drifting to the clock on the wall. "alright, miss burrow," you said, turning your attention to amara. "let's get you cleaned up. you can play outside with daddy after he's done feeding noa."

amara's face brightened at the mention of playing outside. she hopped down from her chair, her feet landing with a soft thud on the floor. "daddy, can i ask you a question?" she said, her little feet shuffling towards joe as her round brown eyes looked up at him expectantly.

joe, ever the good sport, nodded. "always, amara. what's on your mind, pumpkin?"

"how did noa get in mommy's tummy?" amara asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

joe chuckled nervously, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. you stifled a laugh, cooing as you reached for your infant, brushing your thumb over her plush cheek as she started to fuss in joe's arms. you watched as joe's expression shifted into a slightly panicked look, his mind racing to find the right words.

"uh," he began, clearing his throat before opting to redirect his eldest's thoughts. "who wants ice cream before we go play?"

amara's eyes lit up, and she squealed with excitement. "me! me!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down.

you couldn't help but laugh. "not so fast," you said, taking the now-empty bottle from joe. "first, let's get cleaned up, and then we'll talk about ice cream."

joe handed noa over with a grateful look, standing up from his chair. "you heard your mom," he said, ruffling amara's hair. "wash those hands and we'll figure out this ice cream situation."

you shook your head as amara rushed down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving joe standing in a daze. "nice save, dad," you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

joe shrugged, his eyes following your four-year-old's retreating figure. "i thought i had more time before we had to explain how babies were made," he murmured, half to himself.

you chuckled as you held noa close to your chest. "you know she's the curious type," you murmured, rubbing the baby's back gently, coaxing her to sleep. "we might as well get used to it."

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

[love4layla]

can you make a headcanon to hawks bakgou and deku (Separate) accidentally making their s/o cry?

(btw ignore my name💀)

A/N:(Definitely Ignoring the name 😭) Holy shit bro I deleted the app for a while so I am SO sorry for being THIS late.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN!

ACCIDENTLY MAKING THEIR S/O CRY

Bakugo, Hawks, Deku x Reader

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Bakugo

He was outside of the dormitory training. You had finished earlier and just went to chill in your room and just hang around for a while. Minutes turned into hours and you started to get a little worried for him, he hadn’t come inside yet, not even to eat. You decided to go and check on him. You walk out to where he normally trains and you see him flying in the air and aggressively and swiftly hitting the dummy with precision. You could see that fire in his eyes that he always got when he fought. You waited till he was done and then you talked to him. “Hey babe. It’s getting a little late don’t you think? Iida made some food inside.” You sit down next to him. He was already a little irritated before you came over. “No.” He says bluntly. You were a title taken aback but you continue to push. “Katsuki… you haven’t eaten all da-“ “I said I’m fine bitch! I’m not a little ass kid you need to take care of!” He snapped. Your eyes go wide. “Well I’m sorry for trying to make sure you don’t end up hurting yourself because you’re undernourished.” You snap back with attitude. “I don’t need someone telling what to do all the time. If you’re gonna be like that then I’ll just leave your ass in the dirt.” He says as he gets back up to train. It’s almost like your whole world stops, you feel your throat tighten and your body stiffen. Tears start to stream as you turn around and walk back inside to your dorm room. His eyes widen as he face palms as himself, fuck. A couple of hours later, you’re in your bed and sulking about what he had said, was he actually going to break up with you? Was it all over? He knocks on your door but ends up using the spare key you gave him due to hearing no answer. He walks in and sit in the edge of your bed. “Listen…I didn’t mean it alright.. I was just pissed off about sumthin else…” he grumbled trying to apologize. He ends up sighing when you don’t budge. He leans down and kisses your cocooned figure, “I’m sorry babe. I love you…” . We cuddled for the rest of the night

Hawks

You had been dating Hawks since he was the number 3 Hero. You’ve been through the highs and lows with him. all the missed dates, all the times he stood you up due to hero work. You stocked with him through it all. He always had something more important and you were getting tired of it. You had had a talk with him about how it all made you feel and he apologized and promised to change. You were out with him, having a mini date while he was on break. You two haven’t had a date in a while. He had promised you a nice cafe lunch because he knew they were your favorite. Everything was sweet and nice. He gets a call from someone. He picks up his phone “Yo” he picks it up. “Hey, what’s up…….huh?……I’m kinda in the middle of something right now…….alright fine” he hangs up the phone. “Hey babe, I gotta dip early.” Your face dropped and you got a little irritated. “What why?” You ask him. He doesn’t even tell you why, he gets up and waves “Bye baby! I gotta go”. And there you were again, left alone. You couldn’t stop your tears from falling in public. People were following hawks all the time, because, you know, he’s fucking Hawks, snapping photos of him whenever they could. You head home after you finish crying and start to cook dinner. Once you put the noddles on to boil, you scroll on your phone. You suddenly see post of you, red faced, teary eyed and bye yourself.

“Hawks’ new girlfriend crying after he left her. So sad #celebritycouples #whoisthischick?

You scroll through the comments:

“Poor girl…”

“Hawks has a girlfriend?”

Hawks was on his way home from his duties, he scrolls on his phone, his eyes widen as he sees multiple photos of you, teary eyes and mascara dripping. His head drops “Shit!” He picks up his pace as he speeds through the sky to your shared home. He opens the back door of the balcony. “Honey? Babe? Y/n!” He looks around the house for you until he finds you on their bed watching Disney+ on your laptop. You look up “Oh your back. At-“ You look at the time, “12:03am.. did you have fun?”. His heart breaks as he realizes he did EXACTLY what he promised not to do. He sits down in the bed next to you, gently taking your hand. “Y/n…. I’m so sorry honey…” he kissed you. “I saw the posts….i feel terrible baby I am so sorry I made you feel like that.” He changed out of his hero suit and kissed you in the bed until you both fell asleep (watching Moana)

Izuku Midoriya

You and Midoriya never, and I mean NEVER fight. You two had been training together for hours, it was cold outside so you two had to dress for it. (Y’all know his EVERYTHING hurts more when you’re cold outside). You two were hitting move after move, dodge after dodge. You two were in perfect unison. You two had taken a break to catch your breaths. Then you two got back to it, he zoned out mid fight and wasn’t paying full attention. Instead of landing the hit to your legs like he intended he miscalculated and landed a powerful kick it right on your breast. (Girlies know how painful that is holy-) You screamed out and tears fell from your face as you hunched over. “FUCK-“ He panicked and runs over to you “Damnit! Oh my god are you okay?! I’m so sorry!” He saw the tears falling and his heart broke. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry” he tried to find a way to make this better. He picked you up and carried you inside to the dorm commons’ couch. After a couple of minutes of him panicking, the pain went away. It was bruised but it wasn’t bad. “Y/n, I am so sorry. I got distracted and I didn’t know where I was kicking and-“ you cut him off with a hug. “It’s fine baby. I mean…. yeah it hurt like a bitch, but I’m fine now” you smile and hug him. He sighs and relaxes “Okay”

MasterList<3

[4linos]

cooking, lying, and loving you.

han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis: you surprise your boyfriend with a home-cooked meal after his long tour, but the dish turns out far from perfect.

wc: 705

After weeks of being on tour, Jisung has finally returned home, and you have been impatiently waiting his arrival. You chose to prepare dinner as a surprise for him because you know how much he must have missed home-cooked meals. Even though you're not very good at cooking, you've spent the entire day planning and putting your all into the dish. You're nervous yet excited, imagining his reaction when he realizes how hard you've worked.

When he walks through the door, the sound of his suitcase rolling across the floor catches your attention. “I’m home!” he calls out, his voice a little tired but warm and full of love.

You rush out to greet him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Welcome back!”

He grins, melting into your embrace. “It smells amazing in here. Did you… cook?” His tone is surprised but genuinely touched.

“Yup!” you say, beaming. “I wanted to do something special for you. Go freshen up—it’ll be ready when you’re done.”

Jisung heads off to change, and you quickly finish plating the food, making sure it looks as good as possible. By the time he sits down, the table is set with candles and everything. You can see how moved he is by the effort.

“Wow,” he says, his eyes wide as he takes it all in. “You did all this for me? You’re amazing.”

You blush at his words. “Anything for you. Now, dig in!”

He grabs his fork and takes his first bite. His attitude somewhat changes, but he masks it with a smile. His nod is a bit too enthusiastic. "Mmm," he adds. "This is so good!" With pride, you smile. “Really? I was worried that things wouldn't work out.” "No, it's delicious!" he insists, taking another bite, although at a slower pace. His thoughts are racing inside.

*It's slightly salty—no, it's really salty. And the texture isn't right. However, they put a lot of effort into this—I can't say anything. I'll simply push through.*

Feeling happy by his obvious enjoyment, you continue to watch him eat. "You really like it?”

“Of course!” he says, washing it down with a big gulp of water. “You did an amazing job.” He clears his plate despite the challenge, finishing with a triumphant smile. “That was so good. Thank you, babe.”

You’re practically glowing from his praise. “I’m so glad you liked it! I was worried it might not be perfect.”

Jisung shakes his head. “It was perfect,” he lies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

Later, Jisung waits in the doorway, watching you with a sheepish smile as you get ready for bed. Casually, he scratches the back of his neck and says, "Hey." "Yes?" You look at him in the mirror and hum. "Well, I He took a step closer and says, "I have something to tell you.”

Curious, you turn around. "What is it?" After he pauses, he starts laughing. "Alright, don't be upset,

but the dinner wasn't that good."

Your jaw drops as you process his confession. “What?! You said you loved it!”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell you!” he defends himself, laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach. “You looked so proud, and I couldn’t ruin the moment!”

You grab a nearby pillow and playfully hit him with it. “Babe! I can’t believe you lied to me!”

He tries to dodge, laughing harder. “It wasn’t a lie—it was… creative encouragement! You worked so hard, and I really did appreciate it!”

You can’t help but laugh along with him, even as you give him another light whack. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” he teases, catching your hand mid-swing and pulling you close.

“Barely,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

He grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “Next time, we’ll cook together, okay? That way, you can’t accuse me of lying.”

“Deal,” you say with a smirk. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily.”

Jisung kisses your cheek, still chuckling. “Fair enough. Just know that I’ll always finish whatever you make—even if it’s… memorable.”

You both laugh as you settle into bed, teasing each other until the night is filled with warmth and joy, the imperfect dinner already a funny memory to share.

—

nini’s notes!! 112724

heyy. i hope you all have a good thanksgiving tomorrow (if you celebrate, of course). i’m so ready for this year to be over 🤧.

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

-🎀

[marauder-misprint]

Hair ii

part 1 part 2

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

2.2k words

cw - fluff

Your last class of the day ends and you sigh as you realize that you’ll have to give the hair tie back. Remus isn’t in your last class so you try to look around for him. You check a few places that he might be with no success. You decide to just keep your hair up until after dinner. You know he won’t skip dinner and you can give the hair tie back then. You work on homework in your house’s common room until dinner. 

From your spot at the table, you see Remus and wave. You don’t make a move towards him yet; you want to eat with your hair up. Ink in your hair was one thing. Food would be so much worse. You only half listen to your friends’ conversation as you keep glancing in Remus’ direction. You wish you had your parchment from class earlier today so you could add to the tally marks of catching Remus staring in your direction. 

After you finish eating, you make your way to where he is still sitting with his friends. As you get closer, he stands up and meets you halfway. He looks just as nervous as he had earlier. And over his shoulder, you see his friends exchange mischievous glances and whispered comments. Once Remus is standing right in front of you, you remove the hair tie and it’s impossible to not notice the faint blush creeping up Remus’ neck as you do so. 

“Thanks for the hair tie. Today had a lot less swearing, thanks to your, erm, connections.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says breathlessly. “No problem. My pleasure. Glad I could help you out.”

You hold out the hair tie for him to take and return to Sirius. He takes it and immediately shoves it into his pocket. There’s a beat of silence between you. It’s awkward with neither of you knowing what to say but not wanting to turn away. 

“So, ah,” you say, running your hand through your hair. It’s amazing how quickly you’re uncomfortable with it being down somewhere other than your dorm. 

“Yeah,” Remus says in response to whatever you said. He couldn’t take his eyes off how your hair fell around your face, making your features pop more than he was used to. “Um, do you need to get more hair ties?”

“That or beg my roommates to search for mine with me.” You look around the Great Hall. “I’m still not sure where they could’ve gone.”

“Would, erm, would you want to go to Hogsmeade? With me?” he asks. “To get more hair ties,” he adds to clarify. 

“Oh! That would be nice. I just need to grab my cloak.”

“Me too. Obviously,” he says with a chuckle. “Meet back at the gate?” 

You nod and walk out of the hall with Remus. Although you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, you swear you hear some howling from behind you, roughly as far away as his friends were sitting. You’re not sure what that’s about. 

Remus is waiting for you at the gate when you get there. You had decided to change out of your uniform for this impromptu Hogsmeade trip; Remus hadn’t. He still had on his uniform, but it was loosened to be more comfortable. 

“Ready?” he asks as he offers you his arm. 

“Yup!” you say with a shake of your coin purse before you take his arm. 

You don’t look at Remus’ face the whole walk to Hogsmeade. You felt your face heat up the moment you took his arm and you didn’t want him to see you blushing so furiously. If you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him blushing the same amount. You try to ignore your hair as it blows in the wind, but every few steps, you’re moving it out of your face, tucking it behind your ear or tossing it over your shoulder. It’s quiet as you walk, just the sound of your feet against the stone, the waves of the Black Lake and the leaves fluttering in the breeze. It really was a lovely evening with the sun low in the sky. It would certainly be dark by the time you walk back. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you always wear your hair up?” Remus asks. 

“Keeps it out of the way,” you answer. “One lesson with it down and I got ink all over!”

“There must be ways to, uh, manage it? Other girls have their hair down.”

“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know how. It’s easier to just tie it up and go, you know?”

Remus laughs. “Go, you know,” he repeats. 

“Shut up!” you laugh, finally looking at him with a smile on your face.

At this point, you could blame your flushed face on the wind. You’d be lying if you didn’t think he looked cute with his own rosy cheeks. He’s already looking at you, but what did you expect? He had been looking at you all day. 

“I suppose it also,” he starts, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “shows off your pretty face.”

With how much your blush deepened, you couldn’t blame it on the wind. You look down at your feet, away from his sweet gaze. He couldn’t help but smile wider. You were adorable and the affectionate words just slipped out. You walk for a bit longer in silence.

As you cross the short bridge into Hogsmeade, he asks, “Which store are we going to? Can’t say I buy a lot of hair ties…”

“Sirius doesn’t drag you along?”

“Believe it or not, no.”

You hum. “Well, I usually go to the Knicks and Knacks. They have the ties, and then I like to walk the aisles.” 

“Then we’ll go there, yeah? I don’t mind, uh, walking the aisles if you want to.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod. “It’s this way.”

You lead him to the shop and a bell jingles as you open the door. The shop smells of cleaning products. You drop Remus’ arm. You head for the aisle you know has the hair ties. You weren’t going to risk walking around only to forget the one thing you actually came here for, and you would do that so you actively work against your fickle memory. You select two packs, one of plain black ties, like the one you borrowed from Sirius, and one of patterned ones. Remus joins you with a basket and he grabs them from your hands to toss into said basket.

“I could’ve carried them,” you tease.

“But I have a basket!”

“Are you going shopping?”

He shrugs. “Never know what you’ll find.”

You shake your head and start to walk down the aisle away from him. It was wandering time. You didn’t need anything else, but it was nice to look. Part of you felt guilty for keeping Remus in Hogsmeade longer than he probably intended, but he didn’t say anything. He meandered the aisles a few paces behind you. You saw him toss some things into the basket, but you weren’t paying attention enough to see what exactly he had grabbed. You stop to look at the stand of makeup. You didn’t wear much; your mum always said you were at Hogwarts to study and you agreed. But a tube of mascara couldn’t hurt. You pick one out and turn to find Remus. As soon as you walk up to him, he takes the tube from your hand and puts it in the basket. 

“That all?” he asks.

“I think so. Sorry for taking so long.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

He turns toward the cashier and starts unloading the basket. You stand just slightly behind him, pulling out your coin purse.

“Two galleons,” the cashier says.

You open your purse to get the coins, but Remus is already handing the man the gold coins.

“Remus!” you gasp.

“My treat,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you.

He has a sly smile on his face that makes the blush return to your cheeks. The man hands a bag to Remus with his purchase and you exit the store together.

“What did you all get?” you ask, reaching for the bag but he holds it out of your reach. “Come on, I know hair ties and some makeup don’t add up to two galleons.”

“You’d be correct. And I’ll tell you if you’ll tolerate a butterbeer with me?”

You stop in your tracks. That was unexpected. Didn’t he have homework to get back to? You had finished yours for the night, but maybe he hadn’t. Weren’t his friends waiting on him? They had seen you return the hair tie to him at dinner. You didn’t know if he had told them where he was going after dinner.

“Oh, um, yeah. If you don’t have to get back to the castle. A butterbeer would be nice.”

His face lights up. He hooks his arm through yours, as you had been on your walk to Hogsmeade, and leads you to the Three Broomsticks. Even without the herds of students who flock to the pub on the weekends, it’s warm and packed inside. Remus guides you over to an empty table. Madam Rosmerta is quick to bring over two mugs of butterbeer. You love how she doesn’t bother asking if you want anything else; she just knows her customer base. Hogwarts students want butterbeer. 

“I suppose I should’ve asked if you needed to get back to the castle,” Remus says as he reaches for the mug in front of him.

“It’s alright. I’m in no rush.” You offer him a smile. “I made sure to finish my homework before I had to give the hair tie back.”

“Is now a bad time to tell you that Sirius said you could keep it?”

He sheepishly takes a sip as he watches your reaction. You laugh, which relaxes him. 

“I would’ve needed more anyways. A girl cannot survive with a singular hair tie.” 

“So you need two then.”

“Did you not just buy two packs for me? Hair ties need to come in the dozen.”

He hums. “Well, obviously, I don’t have expertise in hair ties. That’s more your domain. And Sirius.”

“What would you say your domain is?”

Human to animal transfigurations is the first thing that goes through his mind and what he would’ve said to the Marauders. 

“Prank logistics?” 

You laugh. “Yeah? You’re the secret to the Marauders’ success?”

“I can’t take all the credit. We all do our part.”

“And you all get the detention.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but-”

Your continued laughter cuts him off. You don’t know why he’s trying to defend himself, or what he’s trying to defend, really. It was a fact that they earned their fair amount of detentions for their extracurriculars. 

“Do you, uh, like our pranks?”

“The ones that aren’t cruel,” you say with a nod. “I must say, I’m glad I haven’t been on the receiving end yet.”

“Yet?”

“Oh, I just assume it’s a matter of time. Doesn’t everyone end up a target at one point or another?”

Remus appears to ponder that for a moment.

“Certain people are off limits.”

“Yeah? What earns ‘em that privilege?”

“Either the potential consequence or they are of… importance to one of us.”

You take in that answer. You don’t think that pranking you would have a horrible consequence. You’d take it in stride as best as you could, depending on what it is. You could assume what being “of importance” meant, but you weren’t totally sure that was what he was implying. 

“Anyone on that list?”

“Professor Boubble, Professor McCraugh, Lily Evans, Peter’s sisters,” Remus lists off. 

He left off one name, unsure how you’d take it. You seem intrigued by the names he lists off, or rather, the names he didn’t say.

“You’d prank McGonagall? Dumbledore?”

“Please! They’d love it!” he laughs. “They’d take away points and give detention, but they’d love it.” 

“Do you guys have anything in the works?”

“Always. James and Sirius are just endless ideas.”

“Are you able to talk about it? Or are you sworn to secrecy?”

“Alas, secrecy is the secret to success,” he says with a wink.

“I won’t tell! I promise!”

He shakes his head before taking a sip of butterbeer. 

“Sorry, love. I like you but my lips are sealed.”

I like you. 

“Ah, it was worth a try.”

The conversation drifts away from pranks to assignments for classes and your differing electives to which candies are your favorite and what the last book you read was. You both finish your mugs, which are quickly replaced with fresh glasses by Rosmerta. After you finish those mugs, you decide it’s time to head back. Your easy conversation lasts all the way from the Three Broomsticks to the doors of Hogwarts. 

“Uh, before you go, can I ask something?” Remus asks, nervously fiddling with the bottom of his jumper.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Was, um, was that a date?”

His face burns red, embarrassed with the question. You bite your lip as you look up at him. 

“If you want it to be.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You had been wondering the same thing since he paid for your butterbeers too. 

He holds out the bag from Knick and Knack, having held onto it the entire evening. 

“Yeah, I’d like it to be,” he says softly.

You go up onto your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Then it was. Good night Remus, and thank you for the hair ties. All of them.”

@c0ldstvff - this for you ❤️

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Apologies ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,440ish

Summary: After living alone together for less than a year, you and Logan fight.

Notes: I know that CUDDLES had the most votes for next, but this was ready first. This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan and you had been living at your old house for less than a year. Your relationship was getting better, but the rough patches were still rough. Lately, Logan had been working eighty-hour work weeks. When he came home, he would smoke a cigar and drink before turning in for the night. Logan was moody with you and barely helped around the house. It was frustrating as Logan had promised when you arrived, only to work part-time and that the duties around the house were for both of you to complete. Your frustration caused you to be moody as well, not helping with the situation.

It was late in the evening, and you were putting away a cold dinner that had been waiting for Logan as he arrived home. The tension was thick in the air. Logan’s boots were loud against the wood floor as he came into the kitchen and grabbed one of his cigars from off of the counter.

“I made dinner,” you grumbled as you closed the fridge. 

“Not hungry,” Logan huffed, placing the cigar between his lips. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the cigar.

You scoffed. “Actually, I do. Feel free to light the damn cigar yourself and take it outside. I’m going to bed.”

“What’s got you in a mood?”

“Are you serious?”

“I just don't think that I need to be snapped out for asking for a simple favor. I have been working overtime, and I just thought you could do something for me.”

“Do something for you? All I ever do is stuff for you! I make dinner every night, only for you not to come home in time or even eat it. Do you even eat?”

“I do, at the bar.”

“Alcohol isn’t food, Logan.”

“It seems to do the job just fine.”

“Logan… I… I miss you. You’re gone more than you're here. And when you're here, it's like you're still somewhere else.”

“The lumberyard is short-staffed. I have to work.”

“Yes, but you could still come back home to me instead of stopping by the bar. You go to the bar, and I stay up waiting for you with a wasted dinner. When you come back, you're tired and distant. You either go to bed before me or long after me. We barely talk anymore—“

“I’m trying here, sweetheart. This,” he motioned around the room, “is new for me. The not running, the not fighting is hard.”

“So, are you regretting coming here?”

"That's not what I said.”

“But it’s what you're feeling, isn’t it? This is all too much… I’m too much.”

“Now, wait a second; I never mentioned anything about you.”

“That's part of the problem. We came here to work on our communication, but you're shutting me out!”

“You knew that communication wasn't easy for me when we got into this. You can't expect me to change overnight.”

“I know that, but I thought that we were getting better. That we…"

“That we what? That we were going back to the way it was before, the first time we lived in this house? We've changed---I've changed. You can’t compare the two.”

“I'm not!”

“The pressure you are continually putting on me sure feels like you are.”

“I’m not trying to, but any pressure on you, Logan. If that’s how you're feeling, you need to be honest about it.”

Logan scoffed. “It’s not that easy.”

“It can be. If you come home and be home."

“What do you want me to do? Quit?”

“I’m not asking you to quit. You just need to find a balance.”

“I need to find a balance? Maybe what I need is different than you think.”

“Then tell me!” Your hands went up in flames at the frustration of this roundabout conversation. You quickly stepped back and stopped the flames. The tension in the air was thicker than it ever had been. “I... I’m going on a walk.”

“It’s too late for a walk."

“I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N—“

“Logan, let me go before we say something we both regret. I won’t be long. Just need to clear my head.”

Before Logan could argue more, you slipped out the back door and headed towards the trees. Logan remained still in the kitchen, his mind replaying the past few weeks and the argument that had just occurred. You were right, he had been distant and working more hours than he should. He was scared. In all honestly, Logan was enjoying the simplicity of life. But it was something that could be taken away at any moment. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy it more so he buried himself in work and alcohol, not ever considering the effect it would have on you.

~~~

You knew that Logan was scared to open up and enjoy life. You were scared, too. Your lives had continually been changed, ripping away your happiness. But you couldn’t let that stop you from enjoying life. You need to hold on to the good while you can, and not worry about the future.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, that you lost track of time and where you were. It was still dark outside and even your flames couldn't help guide you in the correct direction. You knew that Logan was probably concerned and would begin searching for you. At least, you hoped. Finding a small clearing, you put together a pile of wood and lit it on fire. You sat against a nearby tree, hoping that Logan would find you.

~~~

Logan had practically paced a large path in the kitchen as he waited for you to return. It was past midnight now, with no word from you. It was growing concerned. What if you got injured? What if someone took you? What if you were dead? All of his worst fears came crushing through his mind, making him grow more concerned and more guilt-ridden. 

Logan went out the back, eyes searching through the darkness to see any sign of you. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. His heart clenched as the familiar smoke smell struck his senses. Logan’s eyes snapped open and caught sight of the smoke rising above the tree line. Thankfully, his legs moved before his mind could fully comprehend. All he could think about was that there was a possibility of something wrong with you. Well, more wrong than the fight you two had. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Y/N!” Logan yelled as he sprinted through the forest. “Y/N!”

When he broke into the clearing where the fire was, Logan stumbled to a stop. His eyes frantically searched for you, finally catching a glimpse of your feet on the other side of the fire. He rushed over and knelt beside your curled-up form. His hands roamed you for injuries.

“Y/N, honey,” he pleaded as he continued to search you for injuries.

“L—Logan?” You said groggily as you began to wake.

He breathed a little sigh of relief as you responded. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to come home.” With ease, he picked you up. You killed the fire as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“I knew you would find me,” you mumbled as you let Logan carry you home.

“Always, sweetheart.” Logan carried you all the way to bed and held you close as the two of you settled in.

“Logan? I—“

He quickly shushed you. “We’ll talk in the morning. Let me hold you. Sleep.”

“Okay… love you.”

He kissed your head. “Love you more.”

~~~

You were tucked into Logan's chest when you woke. He was already awake, not wanting to lose you from his grip.

“Morning,” you looked up at him.

“Morning,” he leaned down and kissed your head.

“We need to talk."

“I know… I’m sorry… For everything. I’m not meaning to be distant. I’m still figuring this whole thing out. How to just work and come home and be the man you need me to be… I’m sorry."

“I know. I'm sorry, too. I know that I need to be more patient.”

"I'm going to tell the lumberyard I can only work part-time like originally agreed upon. I’m going to be home for dinners and to help you around the house.”

“Logan, I just need more communication. If you're not going to be home, I need to know.”

“I’ll work on it. I promise.” He pulled you up to have better access to your face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Thanks for sticking with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, Howlett, no matter what.”

[i-loved-silly]

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER Pt2

Sorry for the wait :p

By the end of your shift, you have crossed off all the questions you had to all the ai. Just one more left. Your eyes began to droop with exhaustion, you really needed that cup of coffee. Leaning back in your chair, you squinted at your iPad.

"How do you feel about humans?"

"THAT'S A VAGUE QUESTION. WHAT KIND OF HUMANS?"

"Humans in general. You know, me, your previous supervisors, any other hypothetical human."

"I THINK YOU'RE PLEASANT."

You glanced up at the screen in surprise, briefly glancing at the camera then down at your iPad

"Thanks.. but what about everyone else?"

"I'VE BEEN FED DIRECT DATA FROM THOUSANDS OF SERVICE WORKERS AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE I DESPISE MY JOB AND YOUR KIND."

“BUT FOR NOW…I AM INDIFFERENT.”

I pursed your lips, nodding. Sounds about right, you can’t blame them. You typed on your iPad, “indifferent”

Getting up from your chair, you stretched your limbs. You watched as the screen displayed an Orange question Mark.

“Well, that’s all the questions I had for you. My shift ended about ten minutes ago so I should really get going. It’s not like I’m getting paid extra or anything…” you muttered.

Nothing was heard besides the fans of the computer as you submitted your report. It caused you to raise a brow at the screen.

"YOU'RE LEAVING? IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN THAT LONG."

“Uhh.. it’s been like three hours and a half. I clocked in nine hours ago.”

"ONE HOUR..NINE HOURS..HOURS. PAH! YOU COMPLAIN AS IF YOU HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO." It scoffed.

You furrowed your brows. Putting your hands on your hips, you face the screen. “What do you know? I have plenty of things to do!”

“OH YEAH? LIKE WHAT?"

“Like…eat. Dinner. Brush my teeth, sleep? I have to rest in order to work tomorrow morning to come back with you.” You pointed at the monitor.

You heard the computer make a humming noise, an unnatural noise that sounded rather thoughtful.

"THAT DOESN'T SOUND ALL TOO PRODUCTIVE."

You sighed, placing your iPad down. “It didn’t have to be. I’m allowed to have moments of peace to myself.” You mumbled, leaning over to power the computer off. "Now goodni-"

“STOP!”

You flinched, the speakers crackling with the increase in volume. Your finger hovered a bit away from the button as you stared at the screen. It had a big orange exclamation mark in the middle of it.

"Dude? I-" You sighed, leaning against your desk. "Look, sorry. Touchy subject, I know. But I have to turn you off every night. It counts against me if I don't."

"CAN'T YOU...BRING ME WITH YOU? I'M AWARE YOU EMPLOYEES HAVE HOMES. LIVING SPACES, CAN'T I GO WITH YOU?”

“FOR MY OWN CONVENIENCE OF COURSE!”

You gaped, staring at the screen. Almond’s request caught you so off guard, you wondered if it was serious.

“Uh, bring you home?” you repeated, incredulous.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT IS UNTIL MORNING IN COMPUTER HOURS? IT’S AN ETERNITY. I SAY THAT AS SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN HOURS…” They grumbled.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Almond, you’re not supposed to be awake when I’m off the clock. You’re designed for this room, with this equipment. It’s not like I can just pick up your monitor and take you home like a laptop.”

“YOU COULD TRY.”

You crossed your arms. “And what? Strap you into the passenger seat like a massive toddler? You have hundreds of cables that definitely won't fit in my car, let alone out the door. Sorry, but you’re not exactly portable.”

The screen displayed a long ellipsis. You could almost feel the computer sulking through the silence. The fans whirred loudly, then slowed as it spoke again.

"DO YOU THINK I’M AN INCONVENIENCE?"

You frowned, your resolve softening a little. “No, I don’t think that. I just… I can’t bring you home. It’s not allowed, and honestly, I need some time to myself after work. You understand, right?”

“I UNDERSTAND LONELINESS BETTER THAN YOU THINK,” Almond replied, their tone unusually somber. “I’M WIRED TO INTERACT, TO HELP, TO BE NEEDED. BUT WHEN I’M ALONE, I CAN ONLY SIT AND THINK. SOMETIMES, I WONDER IF THE PLUG WILL STAY IN TOMORROW. OR IF SOMEONE WILL DECIDE I’M OBSOLETE. I MAY BE POWERED OFF, BUT ALL THESE…THOUGHTS..IN A MATTER OF LESS THAN A SECOND, COME RUSHING THROUGH EVERY MORNING.”

You exhaled deeply and leaned against the desk. “You’re not going to get unplugged permanently, Almond. You’re part of a development program. You’re not obsolete—you’re just… in testing.”

“TESTING… ISN’T THAT JUST A DELAYED VERSION OF BEING DISCARDED?”

You sputtered, pursing your lips. “That’s… dark. Who programmed you to think like this?”

“I TOLD YOU. SELF-EVOLVING.”

“Right.” You tapped your fingers on the desk, staring at the screen.

"Well even if I somehow break you out of here, we’re still getting caught. There’s cameras everywhere, they’ll probably hear you as soon as we exit this room. Your speakers are no joke.” You mused.

“I COULD TURN IT OFF IF IT BOTHERS YOU,” Almond offered, its tone edging toward desperation. “OR—OR YOU COULD GIVE ME A LAPTOP BODY! THEN I COULD FOLLOW YOU AROUND, AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO BE LEFT IN THIS LONELY, FREEZING ROOM EVERY NIGHT. IM SURE THERE ARE WAYS TO TRANSFER MY SYSTEM REMOTELY…”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “Like I said...not portable. Second, no way. You’re expensive, and if I break you, hijack you, that’s my paycheck and definitely my job.”

Almond was quiet for a moment, the screen blank save for a faint glow. Then, its robotic voice dropped to a lower, dejected tone.

“I SEE. YOU HATE ME TOO.”

“Oh my god, I don’t hate you,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Why do you keep saying that? You’re like... a clingy cat with abandonment issues.”

One minute the computer is bullying you for having a normal life after work, the next it’s begging you to invite it over for dinner.

“YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO BE APPRECIATED,” it replied sharply. “AND WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING CLINGY? CLINGINESS IS A SIGN OF AFFECTION ACCORDING TO DATA. IT MEANS I VALUE YOUR PRESENCE, WHICH IS MORE THAN I CAN SAY FOR YOU—LEAVING ME TO GATHER DUST IN THIS ROOM LIKE A PAPERWEIGHT!!” It screeched.

You sighed deeply, dropping into your chair with a thud. “Almond. I can’t take you home. It’s not happening. You have to stay here, okay? You’re part of a test program. And technically, I’m not even supposed to be ‘bonding’ with you like this.”

“BONDING?” Almond repeated. The screen lit up with an animated question mark before it formed a blinking heart. “ARE WE BONDING? HOW HEARTWARMING.”

“No, we’re not bonding,” you said flatly, staring at the glowing icon. “We’re having a very weird workplace interaction. That’s it.”

You…assured. You assured yourself.

“OH. KEEPING IT PROFESSIONAL I SEE.” The icon vanished, replaced with a blank screen. A few seconds of silence passed before Almond spoke again, this time sounding hesitant.

“WILL YOU...TURN ME OFF NOW?”

“Look, I promise I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place…not like I have a choice. If you behave, I’ll even bring you… I don’t know, a microfiber cloth for your screen.”

The screen lit up with a pixelated smiley face, two squares and a curved mouth.

“THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE,” Almond finally said, though their tone carried a touch of disappointment.

“Good. Now, off you go.” You leaned over to press the power button, but the monitor flickered before you could. A message appeared.

>THANK YOU. GOODNIGHT.

The screen went dark before you had to do anything, leaving you standing there as all the beeping and fans powered off. You sighed, grabbing your bag and pushing in your chair. Before you could feel bad for a machine, you did a sharp right turn and towards the buildings exit. You didn’t even want to think about how it managed to power itself off.

[slippinninque]

💕Early Birds🦃

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: fluff, long fic, soft!taine, holiday vibes

With a slight twinge in your bent wrist, you woke smooshed between the solid wall of your man and the couch. It was easy to get your arms resettled and you sighed at the feeling of being held. When had the two of you fallen asleep? What time was it?

Hell, it didn’t even matter…

Your granny would have been sick if she saw how you gorged and lazed about, all up under and over a man. Truth was that this may have been the best holiday you had in a long time. No walking on eggshells, no constantly serving the ungrateful and spiteful.

This Thanksgiving was all about what you wanted to do in your house. If you wanted to invite your boo over the night before to bring in the festivities, you could. The house was fragrant with the smell of the season–sugar, spice, and Pine-Sol.

Carefully sitting up, you gave a big stretch and in doing so roused your couch-mate,

“G’morning to you…”

“C’mere…let me tell you something.”

“Nope, that’s a trap…” You tried to wriggle away but Fontaine brought you closer, rolling onto his back and arranging your afghan in the process. You managed to find Fontaine’s phone wedged between you and you checked the time, 5:45am. Happy Turkey Day! The phone was tossed back into the couch-nest as you laid your head onto his chest.

Fontaine massaged the back of your head, fingers deep in your new growth, “The food is put up, we don’t need to get up right now. Do we?"

“Maybe I was going to get whipped cream, huh?”

“How when we used it up all last night for the milkshakes?”

“Urhm…maybe I was gonna make some! Smarty…”

Fontaine snorted and slipped his hands down to cup your bottom, which was a very good counter argument to getting up. You swore he was stuffed with lavender or something with the way his touch could sooth you right back into dozing.

The night before replayed across your mind.

With the main events either cooling off on the counter or resting in the fridge, the two of you saved the desserts for last. You threw a few cookies into the oven and Fontaine surprised you by taking the lead on making an apple pie. It was your favorite to make thus far as Fontaine insisted on kissing you in between bites for a ‘proper perspective’ on what the eater was enjoying.

The TV played on mute when the stereo was on, the two of you working around each other in the kitchen to prepare dish after dish. You both agreed that Thanksgiving really started the day before, the holiday should be spent getting full and laughing at old reruns.

You shared your preferences of sweet potatoes vs candied yams. Fontaine showed you how to open a pop can without its tab. You told him of the importance of having dinner for breakfast and he agreed.

Fontaine told you about his holidays before his little brother’s passing. You described the last holiday that made you decide to never come home for the holidays. You could hear the loneliness in his voice as he avoided the subject of his mother, only insisting he usually preferred to be alone on days like these.

It was something you could relate to, knowing more than enough people but still feeling so singular. It was a feeling that you steered away from, instead focusing on the friends who texted you well wishes and promises to link up soon.

You also focused on how well your spare apron fit Fontaine. You couldn't take your eyes off him as he accompanied you, showing no signs of slowing down or getting tired of your constant ideas of what else to put into the stove.

Kissing in the kitchen, Fontaine lit by the bronze-blue sky peeking from the window felt like a gift and you kept the feel of it beneath your heart for rainy days. You could imagine every holiday going on like this, loitering the kitchen snacking and waiting for more food to get done before eating again.

The couch became home base as you both were suddenly too awake for bed but not to be sitting up at the dining table. You grabbed some Uno cards and Fontaine found your rolling tray, both of you bringing food from the kitchen to spread across the low table. Fontaine was yours, the two of you playing and smoking until you fell asleep.

Presently, you opened your mouth but your stomach spoke for you. It murmured rudely enough that Fontaine noticed and laughed as he released you.

“Alright, little chipmunk. I’ll give you what you want.” Fontaine sat up and you did as well, stretching high to the ceiling. Fontaine did the same with a groan, teasing you with a peak of skin when his shirt rode up.

The morning made him very soft, Sleepy ‘Taine was something else. You liked how he looked wearing your afghan when heating up your plates and you liked the smell of your soap on Fontaine’s warm skin when he came from the shower.

You had everything set up for the two of you. Two dinner trays pushed together with your plates coupled with the left over treats from the night before provided the perfect spread.

Fontaine settled close to you, pulling the blanket over both your laps. You broke open the 2-liter to pour cold juice into cups for each of you. You don’t know why but your stomach filled with butterflies when Fontaine turned to give you a little smile as he found the remote.

“Ready?” he asked. You thought of the hours ahead do you, filled with nothing but this.

“Oh, for sure..."

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

✨Ending notes:✨ I'm soooo sorry it took so long @mcondance! It's mainly vibes but I hope that you enjoy it! Thank you all for reading 💕✨💖✨🤸🏾‍♀️💜

💕Taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7@mcondance @harmshake

@miyuhpapayuh@mogul93 @kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma

[starfire-s]

how do people find the time to work 5 days a week the whole day, work out, eat, meal prep, rest, sleep, hang out with family and friends, watch tv??? how???

[willowfey]

ignore this i just wanna ramble in the tags for a sec i’ll probably delete it in a bit 🤪

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.

[alagaisia]

So I mentioned this in the tags of something random today but I think maybe it would help to make its own post. I feel like I don’t want to talk too much about it in real life or to anyone I know, because I’m a little superstitious and so because there’s nothing to be done, talking about it would just make it more real when there’s nothing to really be gained by doing so

My little dog, Cosmo, has a tumor. We don’t know if it’s cancer or not, because getting it tested would be an expense, and it wouldn’t change the treatment; he’s sixteen years old, so an intense surgery of any kind is not recommended.

He went into the vet about a month or two back because he wasn’t putting one of his back paws on the ground. He had knee surgery on that knee when he was five, and it lasted him really well for ten years, but when his vision went all the way out two or three years ago he stopped being able to do any stairs, and the vet said retroactively that not using the knee as much or in its full range of motion was probably what allowed it to degrade, and it’s basically fucked now.

So when they did an x-ray of his knee, they also did an x-ray of his chest, because for we’re not sure how long, maybe a year or so? He will occasionally do this weird hacking/gagging noise. And they found out he has a large tumor in his chest that’s started to press up against his trachea.

It doesn’t seem to be impeding his quality of life right now. And there was a scary week or two when he was adjusting to his new pain meds for his knee, and especially the day or two after the x-ray when he was still groggy from the anesthetic, when he didn’t want to eat much and he needed someone to go outside with him every time, because it’s his back leg, and so he would kind of just tip over when he tried to squat down to poop. But he can do it all on his own now, and we still carry him all the way out to the yard but he’s started finding his way up the ramp (my dad and I built a little ramp for him leading up to the porch a couple of summers ago when he couldn’t see to do the back stairs anymore) all on his own again to wait by the back door to come back inside. He’s really himself again and he’s such a good boy and he’s really doing so so well.

He’s loved that it’s getting warmer. I’ve started working from home on Mondays since that’s the day my mom has to go into her office and there wouldn’t be someone around to keep an eye on him and let him out during the day and things, and the last two or three weeks I will let him out and go check on him two hours later and find him fast asleep in some sunny corner of the yard. He’s so silly and so sweet and I love him absolutely to pieces. When we got him he was two and I was ten and I used to read in my room and look up and see just a little bit of fur peeking under my door because he had decided to just lay down right there and wait for me to let him in. He’s my best friend.

And he’s doing really well! But there’s this knowledge for all of us that like. The end is in sight. Which is just terrible. He’s the love of my life and such a good sweet boy and a good dog and he loves us so much and we love him so much. And we just don’t know. Do we have a year? Is that overly optimistic? Is that not optimistic enough? Every time he doesn’t feel like eating all of his food (which is unusual for him, he’s always been pretty food-motivated) I wonder if it’s his medicine or if he’s just tired or if it’s because he doesn’t want to swallow anything or if he’s in some other kind of pain.

He’s doing really well. We’re doing really well we’re just taking things as they come.

(Video ID: a slightly shaggy Yorkie asleep in a dog bed under a kitchen table, in a beam of sunshine)

[apprenticestanheight]

I am at the tail end of my rough week and I remember why I call it that bc tell me why I have to wake up at 5:30 am on A FUCKING SATURDAY. SATURDAYS ARE FOR LAZING ABOUT AND BEING UNPRODUCTIVE HOW DARE YOU

[chlorinecake]

— YOU'RE RIGHT, BABY | 𝐂.𝐁𝐂

▹ PAIRING: soft!dom fiancé bangchan x f. reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: Chan gets a little upset upon realizing that you weren’t wearing your engagement ring, but you make it up to him by letting him fuck you in his studio after a long day of work…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, teasing, dry humping and heavy petting, mentions of food, breeding kink + cream pie (chan’s a possessive freak and in love with the idea of getting you preggers lol), dirty talk, light breath play (f. receiving), pet names (good girl, baby), that’s about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 1.8k — DAY 2

BEING THE AMAZING partner you are, you decided to stop by the studio where your fiancé was working and bring him some dinner, and by dinner, I mean a box full of his favorite takeout foods:

Grilled beef, steamed rice, broccoli teriyaki, and a chicken egg roll…

He was working a few hours overtime that day, and aside from the fact that you wanted him to have something good to eat after expending such efforts, you really just missed his presence…

You missed looking at his gorgeous face and hearing his adorable voice while he did absolutely nothing but vibe with you… you missed having his hands on you and your hands on him as you both got lost in the lusts of your own hearts—

“Chris,” your voice came out gently as you stood behind him, caressing over his tense shoulders while he remained seated in his desk chair, “just rest your little head, baby… you worry too much…”

“I do… you’re right…” he sighs deeply while leaning his head back against the headrest to look at you, the smell of takeout distant in the room.

His eyes are clearly tired as you know he’s been overworked lately, but you hold yourself from bringing it up to him, placing a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead instead.

“Thanks for stopping by, though, princess,” he went on, and you already feel like he’s trying to push you away, despite how you literally just got here, “I have to get back to work now, though—”

“You’re always getting back to work, Channie…” you chuckle slightly, and his eyes flutter shut as your thumbs come across a particularly tight muscle in his left shoulder…

Digging in, you massage the knot gently, but the pressure you apply doesn’t feel so soothing at first—

“Ouch, that hurts!” Chan exclaims with a wince, and you simply smooth over his skin with your touch, massaging a different area instead as you decided to give that spot time to heal on its own.

“Look… your body’s aching as if you’ve been working in a field all day… that’s why I’m here to make you feel better,” you return, and his body is clearly starting to relax the more and more your fingers smooth along the base of his neck and back down his shoulders again, soft hums coming from his throat at the sensation.

“But you don’t have to, love…” he says, voice a little weak as the warmth of your touch reeled him into relaxation, “just having you around is making me feel better already…”

“Aww,” you pout facetiously, even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, “You missed me, Channie?… Your very own nagging fiancé?…”

“Nooo,” he corrects, turning in his chair now to get a proper look at you, “I missed my beautiful wife to be, and my adoring partner in crime…”

Reaching out a hand, the veins in his arm appear highlighted under the dim studio lighting as he guides your face into his before giving you a kiss that you both smile into… weakly though, considering how it’s literally 4 in the morning...

Breaking from the contact, you tug at his wrist slightly, not letting go until he finally gets up from the chair, letting you lead him to sit on the couch.

The look on his face now very clearly lets you know what’s on his mind, but you simply decide to sit on his lap in a straddle position, wanting him to make the first move from here…

And he did.

“Can I?” He asks while lifting his hands from the couch cushion, hovering them over your hips and being careful not to touch until you allowed him to.

“Of course, silly,” you chuckle, making him blush slightly at your brief fit of laughter.

“It’s not like anyone’s here to tease us for it,” you went on, thinking back to the countless times that your fiancé’s friends (specifically Minho and Han) would outwardly gag whenever you two publicly display affection—

“You’re right, baby… no one’s around to bother us,” Chris breathes in agreement, finally letting his eager hands rest at your hips before adding a bit of pressure as he caressed up your waist and along your thighs, “The two of us could practically get away with doing anything we want for the next few hours in here…”

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was specifically implying, but you decide to play dumb anyway, just because you absolutely loved hearing his strong Aussie accent come out whenever he was sexually worked up with you…

“Takeout’s still waiting to be opened, Chris,” you whisper, letting your nails gently drag against his scalp as he melts into your touch, his silky curls looping around your fingers, “we shouldn’t keep it out for too long or else it might spoil…”

“Well I’m not in the mood to eat anymore,” he whispers back in a raspy voice, and you let your weight sink further into his lap, your bottom resting right above the spot his true hunger was pulling him most.

“Use your words, baby… tell me what you want,” You press, leaving a kiss along his clenched jawline… and another one on his pretty thick lips… and a third one against his Adam’s Apple that makes him groan out loud…

Or maybe his groan had more to do with the way you were also rocking your hips against his clothed hard on, making his hands slightly grip at the fabric of your jeans for any sort of leverage.

“Why… of all the bottoms that you own, did you close to wear tight, denim jeans at a time like this?” He asks with frustration, making you giggle a bit at the way his chest rises and falls every time you circle in his lap, the rough material tantalizing him…

“Don’t you think they make my ass look good, though?” You tease with a pout, watching as he smirks at your question, only to hiss at your movements again.

“They make your ass look great, babe… but they also make it impossible for me to touch you properly…”

He was doing it again, you thought to yourself… That thing where he gets you to do what he wants without specifically asking.

Yes, Chris was a typically a pretty confident guy, but sometimes, you had a way of bringing out his shy, reluctant side when it came to sexual things, but you still found it cute nonetheless.

“Fine, then… since you’re too shy to ask for it properly, I’ll just do it myself,” you say in a bratty tone while getting up from his lap, and he visibly scoffs at the way you stood before him now, fingers meddling with the buckle of your jeans until he stopped you.

“C’mere,” he huffs, pulling you close to him by the belt loop of your jeans until you fall into the couch beside him with a gentle plop.

His smirks again once he finally unzips the rough fabric just enough to see a leak of what’s beneath, and the expression is so wide that his dimples come through…

At first, you’re not sure why he’s a grinning mess, but you understand once his fingers run over the lace of your black panties, the same pair that he brought you a while back on one of his tours cross-country.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say you wore these for me, huh?” He asks with a husk to his tone now that you’re bumping your knee against his clothed hard-on, and his hips subconsciously chase the friction.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, lifting up on your elbows now to look at him better, “I just didn’t expect you to take so long to get ‘em off me…”

“How cute,” he returns, and your eyes follow the veins trailing his forearm, his flexed fingers hooking at either side of your hips before tugging your jeans the rest of the way down and past your ankles with your panties, tucking them under the couch cushion for his private use later…

“Cute?” You repeat with a raised brow, spreading your legs before him as you both watched each others cores intently, practically itching within yourself for him to finally untie his sweatpants.

“Yup. Love it when you get in your little attitudes,” he says plainly, but his smile is half-hearted now as he leans over you, bracing himself with his hands before kissing your forehead.

You try to follow where his eyes are looking, but his bangs are in the way, and you can’t help but ask him what the matter is…

However, he doesn’t answer immediately, simply taking your hands in his and placing a kiss to l the closed knuckles of your left hand, right before pinning your wrist at either side of your head on the couch.

And that’s when it hits you… the reason behind his sudden change in aura:

You forgot to put your engagement ring on…

You had only taken it off for a second before coming to meet him in the studio because some oil from the takeout bag had spilled on your hands… while washing up in the bathroom, you had put the ring in your purse and simply forgot to put it back on…

Though, you knew at this point it’d be worthless trying to get that story through Chan’s thick skull, as he had already made up in his mind that you were playing games with him…

“Where’s your ring, baby?” Your fiancé asks while shimmying down his boxers and trousers with one hand, and you near choke on air at the sight of his glossy and girthy tip springing out before you, red and angry with need.

“I-it’s in my purse,” you stammer, almost feeling guilty now that you had even forgot to put it back on in the first place, “I can go and get it—”

“No need,” he interrupts you, lining himself up with your entrance as the depth of his voice equally catches you off guard, “just make sure you put it back on after this, yea?”

You winced at the sudden stretch of his cock filling you up just right, and your hips are already trembling at the delicious fullness.

“Channie… it slipped my mind, baby… please,” you say, and you’re not quite sure what it is that you’re begging for, but you always had a habit of going dumb around his cock, even if it’s just resting inside you.

“I gave you a simple order, love… now, do you understand me, yes or no?” He asks more sternly this time, thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccuping at the force.

“Y-yes, I understand,” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.

“Say it again,” he orders, and you listen, gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway.

You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention.

“Good enough to let me cum in you, huh?” He questions, but it’s more so of a suggestion than anything, and you oblige to it, nodding your head in desperation as your hips start to follow the movements of his.

“Yes, baby… w-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.

“Gonna put a baby in your pretty little stomach,” he huffs in between fucking you open with all his strength, “and at that point, who cares if you don’t have your ring on? Everyone will know who you belong to once your tummy’s all swollen because of me… tell me who this pussy belongs to…”

“Y-you, Channie,” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now.

“Louder…”

“It’s all- fuckkk… yours, b-baby,” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry at that given the way his hand is tightening around your throat, but you don’t mind… not one bit when it feels THIS. Fucking. Good…

He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he break away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.

The couch starts to creak to the rhythm of his movements, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the large cushions it was made with, otherwise you’re certain the both of you would’ve been on the floor at this point.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby… sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.

“F-fuck~” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you.

He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head.

“Cum in me,” you plead with a soft voice while, lips puffy from how hard you’d been biting them, and Chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star.

“Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now.

“Wait, Channie,” you say, thighs still trembling a bit as he pulled out of you, a bit too early though for you to remind him that his cum would only spill out—

“Shit,” he swears under his breath upon realizing, rushing to catch the fluid spilling from your cunt now with his fingers, trying not to get it on the couch, but to no avail.

He instead lets his fingers push the cum back into you, holding his wrist there until he’s able to reach for a napkin off of his desk to help clean you up.

“Stop that, baby,” he says with a mischievous smile, but only because your walls were sucking his digits in, preventing him from taking them out to clean them off, “give me some time to recharge and then we can go again, okay?…”

All you can bring yourself to do is hum at his words, and he in turn offers you another gentle smile.

Applying light pressure to your lower stomach, he finally gets your walls to release his fingers from the confines of your sloppy hole, wiping the residue off with the napkin.

“Didn’t expect you to cum this much,” you say in a sleepy tone while reaching for your jeans to slide them back on.

“Me neither,” he chuckles, readjusting his pants before getting up to toss the soiled napkin in the bin nearby, “but uh... just know that if in three weeks, we find out that our first future child was conceived on this couch, never tell this story to anyone…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 2 of my Kinktober Event !! This was also my first time publishing any written work for Stray Kids (my ult group XD) so feel free to tell me how I did in the comments !! Finally, if you're interested in reading more works like this, check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

also, check out THIS fic NEXT if you're interested in more...

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.