#he likes the rest of us but we’re not her

[sinstear]

abby dressing your daughter up exactly like her, just to see your reaction 🥹🤲🏻

ohkay fluff! yes, we love. this is perfect 🫶🏻 kinda all over the place.

abby’s memorized your work schedule completely since she started dating you, and she knows that in exactly 25 minutes she’s going to hear the keys in the door, you kicking off your shoes once you step inside and hang up your jacket and bag on the coat rack, and will be in search for her and your daughter.

tying the hair band around her hair once she finished the braid, abby smiled and kissed her forehead gently. “and what do we tell mama when she gets home?”

“uhm, to not mention the candy drawer beside your bed!” your daughter giggled and rubbed her eyes.

abby’s eyes widen and she’s quickly shaking her head with a nervous laugh. “not that, baby, anything but that, she won’t let me live it down.”

“eating too much candy is bad for you, mommy.” she huffed and abby could already hear your voice in the back of her head when you once told her that your daughter huffs, pouts and frowns just like abby does.

“i birthed her, and she copies everything you do.”

“it is, but—”

“you have to be in good health to take me to the park and to see the ducks, you can’t eat any more candy.”

“oh, is that right?” abby laughed softly.

“yep, i say so.”

before abby could reply, both sets of ears perk up at the sound of the key sliding into the lock, and the jiggle of your key chains had abby smiling. “remember what we said?”

“tell mama we love her!” she cheered quietly and brushed away wispy bits of hair in her face with a grumble. “and keep the candy a secret?”

“exactly, we’re learning, baby.” abby laughed and kissed her head a final time.

you’ve barely stepped foot in the apartment when you feel a force against both your legs, and you smile tiredly when you look down to find your daughter snuggling her face against your pant-covered leg. “well, hello there, baby girl— what are you wearing?” you blinked, looking at her outfit, finally realizing. 

“i look like mommy!”

you notice the light shade of green cargo pants, similar to abby’s but not the exact same, and you bite back a laugh when your eyes peer up to the black long sleeve shirt; abby usually wears white or a light green, and to finally top it all off, you notice the braid. “it’s very neat, i remember doing yours for you.” you commented softly towards your wife.

“years of practice, babe.” abby winked at you before smiling. “what do you think? little mini me, huh?”

“you look very adorable, baby,” your smile widens when she giggles and wraps her arms around your leg again. “now, let me take a shower, change out of these clothes and then we can take some pictures for grandad.”

“grandpa!”

“you and dad spoil her way too much,” abby commented as she watched your daughter run back into the living room. “remember the day she was born and he bought her an entire dollhouse?”

“ah, yes, jerry did have good taste in dollhouses, wasn’t it pink and purple?”

“something like that,” abby nudged your shoulder with hers and kissed your cheek. “which reminds me, dad’s coming over next week, was on about helping me fix the broken sink in the bathroom.”

“may i remind you that you broke it.”

“it was an accident!”

“you rested on the sink, trying to do a push up, or whatever the excuse you used was, and broke it, abby.” you deadpanned and shook your head.

“just too strong, huh?”

“something like that—”

“mommy! peppa pig is on!” your daughter called from the living room, giggles falling from her seconds later.

abby’s eyes light up and quickly clears her throat when she spots you looking at her with a smirk. “what’s the face for? just us watching peppa pig together.”

“strong until it comes to our daughter.”

“It’s hard to say no to her, baby.”

“well you better practice because you’re gonna be the one to tell her that me and you are going on a small vacation next week and that she has to stay with jerry for the weekend.”

“me? babe, you’re kidding right? babe, babe, come back!”

[norrisluv]

THE SURPRISE - LANDO NORRIS

warnings: fluff

lando norris x zak brown's daughter!reader

english is not my first language, so I apologise if any words are spelt wrong!

this is a request!!

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The crisp morning sun poured through the window as you scrolled through the adoption website on your phone. Lando had been dropping hints about wanting a dog for months now, though it always came with the caveat of, "But I just don’t have the time, you know?" You could see the longing in his eyes every time he saw a dog during his travels or in fan posts. He wanted one, even if he didn’t let himself believe it was possible. So, you decided to make it happen—for him and for you.

After weeks of planning, you found the perfect little yellow Labrador puppy from a reputable rescue. She was playful but calm, a bright-eyed bundle of joy. You’d spent days researching everything about puppies, from training to travel logistics, knowing how hectic both your lives were. And now, the big day had arrived.

Lando was due back from a simulator session at McLaren HQ later in the afternoon, so you had time to prepare. You’d set up a cozy little dog bed in the corner of the living room, a basket of toys, and bowls already filled with water and kibble. The puppy, who you’d named Sunny, was napping on your lap, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

When Lando walked through the door, his hair slightly tousled and his McLaren hoodie slightly oversized, you could tell he was tired but content. "Hey, love," he called, kicking off his sneakers.

"Hey," you replied, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you stayed seated on the couch.

His eyes narrowed. "What’s that look for? You’re up to something."

"Me? Never," you teased, shifting slightly so Sunny’s little head peeked out from under your arm.

Lando froze. "No. Way."

You grinned as Sunny stirred, her big, soulful eyes opening and landing on Lando. The moment he saw her, his tiredness evaporated. "Oh my God! Is she… Is she ours?"

"Surprise! Meet Sunny," you said, gently placing her on the floor. She wobbled on her tiny legs before padding over to Lando, tail wagging furiously.

He dropped to his knees, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Hi, Sunny! Oh, you’re so cute! Look at you!" His voice was an octave higher as he scooped her up, cradling her like the most precious thing in the world. Sunny responded by licking his face enthusiastically, making him laugh.

"You’ve been talking about wanting a dog forever," you explained, sitting beside him. "I know we’re busy, but I’ve figured it all out. I’ll handle most of the care, and she can travel with us whenever possible. I’ve even spoken to my dad about it—turns out, McLaren’s totally cool with her being around."

Lando looked at you, his eyes soft and full of emotion. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course. I know how much you’ve wanted this, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about anything. You just get to enjoy her."

He leaned in and kissed you, lingering for a moment before pulling back to look at Sunny. "She’s perfect. You’re perfect. But are you sure? She’s a big responsibility."

"I’ve got it covered, trust me," you reassured him. "And let’s be honest, Sunny’s about to be the most well-traveled dog in the world."

Lando laughed, hugging Sunny close. "Alright, then. Sunny’s officially part of the family."

The rest of the evening was spent watching Sunny explore her new home, with Lando snapping pictures and videos to share with his family and a select few friends. You could tell he was already smitten, constantly doting on her and giving her belly rubs.

Later that night, as Sunny snoozed in her bed and you curled up beside Lando on the couch, he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you for this," he whispered. "For her, for everything."

"Anything for you," you replied, your heart full as you watched him glance back at Sunny with a look of pure happiness.

✧⸻✧

The atmosphere at Silverstone was electric. Fans cheered from the grandstands, the smell of rubber and fuel filled the air, and engines roared to life in the garages. It was a big race day for Lando, and this time, Sunny was part of the action.

You arrived at the paddock early, Sunny trotting beside you with her McLaren bandana tied neatly around her neck. She was a natural at stealing hearts, stopping every few steps as team members, fans, and even rival drivers paused to coo over her.

As you made your way to the McLaren garage, your dad, Zak Brown, spotted you from across the paddock. "There’s my girl," he called out, his sharp eyes softening when they landed on Sunny. "And who’s this little superstar?"

"Meet Sunny," you said, kneeling to let the puppy greet Zak. "She’s officially part of the family now."

Zak crouched, letting Sunny sniff his hand before giving her a gentle pat. "Well, she’s already got the whole paddock charmed, hasn’t she? Lando, this was a good call."

Lando grinned, hands in his hoodie pockets. "I can’t take the credit. This was all her," he said, nodding toward you.

Inside the garage, Sunny had her own little setup—a custom McLaren dog bed and a small water station. Zak checked in occasionally, offering a lighthearted comment here and there. "You know," he said at one point, "if she keeps this up, I might have to put her in some team promos."

As the race approached, Zak joined you and Sunny on the garage. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, and a few fans held up signs dedicated to the puppy like "SUNNY FOR TEAM PRINCIPAL!"

Zak chuckled, glancing at the signs. "Looks like she’s already more popular than me."

"She’s got that Brown charm," you teased, earning a playful eye roll from your dad.

When the race began, Sunny sat beside you and some people you know in the McLaren hospitality suite, her ears perking up every time Lando’s name was mentioned. People couldn’t help but narrate Sunny’s reactions. "See that tail wag? That’s pure confidence in her dad."

It was a nail-biting race, but Lando drove brilliantly, crossing the finish line in second place. The garage erupted in cheers, and Sunny barked excitedly as if she understood the significance of the moment.

After the podium celebrations, Lando returned to the garage, still in his race suit and champagne-drenched shoes. "Sunny! Did you see that?" he exclaimed, dropping to the floor to hug her. Sunny greeted him with enthusiastic licks, her tail wagging furiously.

Zak appeared shortly after, clapping Lando on the back. "Solid drive out there. I think Sunny’s got a future as the team mascot."

Lando grinned, scratching Sunny behind the ears. "She’s already the heart of the team."

As the evening wore on, the three of you sat outside the motorhome, watching the sunset over the paddock. Sunny curled up between you and Lando, her soft snores filling the quiet. Lando glanced over you and smiled. "This," he said, "is what it’s all about. Family, racing, and a little bit of chaos."

You leaned your head against Lando’s shoulder, your heart full. "And just think—we get to do it all over again next race."

Lando chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "As long as you and Sunny are there, I know it’ll be amazing."

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A/N: please let me know if you like it! requests are open!

[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Phainon x (fem) reader

Part1 part2 PART3

The group packed up quickly, with Tribbie cheerfully skipping ahead, Trailblazer casually snacking as always, and Dan Heng trailing behind with his usual quiet presence. Phainon lingered just slightly, trying to collect himself as his heart continued to race from Y/N’s earlier compliment.

He caught up as they began walking along a narrow path, the ancient stones of the city outskirts giving way to rough terrain. The air smelled faintly of moss and something metallic, and the ground was uneven beneath their feet.

Y/N walked ahead, her sword strapped securely to her back, her expression calm but focused. Phainon tried to focus on anything but how cool she looked.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her with a casual grin. “You were really amazing back there too, you know. The way you took down that big guy? Legendary.”

Y/N glanced at him, her face lighting up with a smile. “Thanks, Phainon. But it’s not really that impressive when you’ve had as much practice as I have.”

“Not impressive? Are you kidding?” Phainon said, his voice rising slightly. “You climbed a living boulder like it was a staircase! That’s… that’s beyond impressive! That’s—”

“Admirable?” Tribbie chimed in from ahead, turning to walk backward so she could grin at them. “Heroic? The stuff of legends? Keep going, Phainon, I’m enjoying this.”

Phainon stumbled over his words, shooting her a helpless look. “I mean, yeah, all of that! But I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

Trailblazer snickered, patting Tribbie on the shoulder as they both turned back to the path. Dan Heng, walking quietly a few paces behind, sighed audibly but said nothing.

Y/N just laughed. “You’re sweet, Phainon. But I couldn’t have done it without you all holding the others off. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Phainon flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, totally. Teamwork.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel the only sound. The scenery began to shift, with jagged cliffs rising on either side and strange, glowing carvings etched into the stone walls.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “The traces we’re following—there’s a higher concentration up ahead.” He gestured toward a fork in the path, one side leading to a darker, more enclosed area while the other veered toward an open, rocky clearing.

“Splitting up might save us time,” Y/N suggested, already assessing the terrain. “Dan Heng, you and Trailblazer could take the path on the left, and the rest of us can check out the clearing.”

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “It’s logical. But if either group encounters trouble, don’t engage until we regroup.”

Trailblazer gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. No heroics… unless they look really cool.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “Sure, just don’t die trying to show off.”

As Dan Heng and Trailblazer disappeared down the left path, the remaining trio headed toward the clearing. The rocky terrain was uneven, with glowing crystals jutting out at odd angles.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the area. “Let’s see if we can pick up any more traces.”

Tribbie wandered a little ahead, poking at the glowing crystals with her staff. “These things are so weird. I feel like if I touch the wrong one, the whole place might explode.”

“Maybe don’t touch them, then,” Y/N suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tribbie grinned, but she stepped back cautiously anyway.

Phainon, meanwhile, was sticking close to Y/N, his usual energy tempered slightly by the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, marveling at how calm and composed she seemed.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever, uh, get nervous? You know, before a fight or something?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering the question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned to channel it. Nervous energy can be useful if you use it right.”

“Huh,” Phainon said, looking thoughtful. “That’s… really smart. Makes sense, coming from you.”

Y/N smiled. “What about you? Do you ever get nervous?”

“Oh, me? Nah,” Phainon said quickly, puffing out his chest. “I’m as cool as they come.”

Tribbie snorted loudly from a few feet away. “Sure, Phainon. That’s why you nearly tripped over a rock trying to dodge one of those stone monsters earlier.”

“I was strategizing!” he said, his voice rising an octave.

Y/N laughed, and Phainon couldn’t even be mad about being called out because the sound of her laughter was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, Y/N crouched down, her sharp eyes catching something on the ground. She reached out and brushed away a layer of dust, revealing faint scorch marks and a few shards of glowing crystal.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said, holding up one of the shards for Phainon and Tribbie to see.

“Good find,” Phainon said, leaning closer to examine it. “You’ve got an eye for this stuff, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said with a shrug, slipping the shard into her bag. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever left these marks can’t be too far ahead.”

As they continued onward, Phainon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N every now and then, his golden-retriever smile never far from his face. Even in the middle of potentially dangerous territory, she had a way of making everything feel… lighter.

And if he tripped over a rock once or twice while sneaking glances at her, well, Tribbie was kind enough not to comment.

For now.

The group tread cautiously through the glowing clearing, the jagged terrain surrounding them like a maze of natural traps. The scorch marks and glowing shards scattered across the ground were undeniable signs that something was lurking nearby.

Y/N raised her sword slightly, the sharp metallic sound cutting through the tense silence. “Stay alert. We’re close.”

Phainon stepped closer to her, his signature golden-retriever grin still present, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “Don’t worry. If anything jumps out, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Mydei snorted from behind, his rough voice carrying just enough mockery to make Phainon glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t you almost trip over your own sword five minutes ago?”

“Strategic repositioning,” Phainon shot back, puffing his chest out. “You wouldn’t understand, Mydei. It’s a finesse thing.”

“Right,” Mydei drawled, his blonde-red hair catching the glow of the crystals as he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m taking down twice as many as you.”

Tribbie, skipping a few paces ahead, waved her staff around like it was a baton. “Oh, boy. Here we go again. The Phainon versus Mydei Show, round 57.” She paused, smirking over her shoulder. “You know, if you two spent half as much time fighting monsters as you do fighting each other, we’d have wiped this place clean by now.”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, grinding sound echoed through the clearing. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and from the shadows emerged hulking figures of stone and crystal.

The Titankin stood tall and menacing, their faceless, humanoid forms glowing faintly with runes etched into their surfaces. Some carried swords as broad as tree trunks, while others held bows strung with crystalline energy.

“Alright, guys,” Y/N said, her voice calm and commanding as she gripped her sword. “We’ve got company. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Hard? Please,” Phainon said, flipping his blade with a flourish. “This’ll be easy.”

“Bet I take down more than you,” Mydei challenged, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared for battle.

Phainon rolled his eyes but grinned. “Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N sighed. “Can you two not—”

“Ready? GO!” Phainon yelled, charging toward the nearest Titankin with Mydei hot on his heels.

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”

Tribbie giggled, hopping to the side as one of the archer-type Titankin fired a glowing arrow her way. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of fun watching them trip over themselves trying to one-up each other.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, dashing forward to engage one of the sword-wielding Titankin.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Phainon darted around the heavy strikes of a massive Titankin, his movements quick and graceful as he delivered a series of precise slashes to its legs. “That’s one down!” he called triumphantly as the creature crumbled into rubble.

“One?” Mydei scoffed, delivering a powerful uppercut to another Titankin, causing cracks to spiderweb across its torso. He followed up with a crushing blow that sent it collapsing in a heap of stone. “Two for me!”

“Oh, come on!” Phainon shouted, narrowly dodging a glowing arrow. “That one didn’t even put up a fight!”

“Don’t be mad just because I’m better,” Mydei retorted, smirking as he squared off against another enemy.

“Better at being annoying, maybe!”

Y/N, meanwhile, was weaving through the battlefield like a dancer, her sword flashing as she expertly dismantled the Titankin one by one. She didn’t have time to indulge in the boys’ antics, but she couldn’t help but smirk as she caught snippets of their bickering.

“Focus!” she called out, parrying a massive swing from one of the larger Titankin.

“I am focusing!” Phainon shouted back, leaping onto a boulder to get a better angle. He launched himself off it and delivered a devastating blow to one of the archers, splitting its crystalline bow in half. He turned to Mydei, grinning.

“Three down!” Phainon called out, his blade flashing as he leapt backward, dodging the heavy swing of a stone sword. He twisted midair, landed smoothly, and sliced through the Titankin’s glowing core. “Make that four!”

“Four?” Mydei snorted, dodging an arrow that narrowly grazed his shoulder. “I’m already at six. You better pick up the pace, golden boy.” He delivered a brutal punch to the chest of another Titankin, cracks spreading through its torso before it crumbled to the ground.

“You’re counting that one?” Phainon yelled, pointing accusingly at the pile of rubble. “It fell over because it tripped! You didn’t even hit it that hard!”

“Still counts,” Mydei said smugly, flexing his fists.

Tribbie laughed as she hopped onto a rock for a better view, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m just gonna say it—you two are hilarious. You’re like those birds that fight over shiny things for no reason.” She waved her staff, blasting back a Titankin archer. “Meanwhile, Y/N’s probably lapping you both.”

“I heard that,” Y/N called out, her voice steady as she parried the massive blade of a Titankin. She stepped inside its guard, her sword flashing as she delivered a precise strike to its glowing core. The creature froze for a second before shattering into a heap of glowing rubble. “And Tribbie’s not wrong.”

Phainon’s head whipped around, distracted for a split second, which earned him a close call with a stone sword slicing through the air by his shoulder. He yelped and ducked, countering with a well-placed slash to the monster’s legs. “You’re saying you’re ahead of me?” he asked incredulously, finishing the Titankin off with a dramatic spin.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on taking down another Titankin with a smooth series of strikes. Her movements were quick and calculated, every step and swing perfectly timed.

Mydei, mid-punch, glanced over at her with a frown. “She’s bluffing. There’s no way she’s ahead of me.” He delivered a devastating uppercut to a Titankin, sending its head flying clean off its shoulders.

Y/N only smiled, which, of course, made both men more suspicious.

“Seven!” Phainon yelled triumphantly, dodging and weaving through another attack. “Seven, Mydei! You better start worrying.”

“Eight,” Mydei shot back, slamming his fist into the chest of another Titankin. He glanced at Phainon with a smirk. “You’re gonna owe me dinner at this rate.”

Tribbie rolled her eyes, blasting another archer from a distance. “Wow, the male ego is really something, huh?”

Finally, the last Titankin fell, its glowing shards scattering across the rocky ground. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of the group catching their breath.

Phainon wiped sweat from his brow, turning to Mydei with a triumphant grin. “Alright, what’s the tally?”

“Nine,” Mydei said confidently, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ha! Ten!” Phainon declared, pointing his sword at Mydei like he’d just won a duel. “Looks like dinner’s on you, my friend!”

Tribbie chuckled, hopping down from her perch. “I wouldn’t get too excited, golden boy.”

“What? Why?” Phainon blinked, confused.

Y/N sheathed her sword, her grin easy and casual as she stretched her arms. “Because I got 20.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“...What?” Phainon said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Twenty?” Mydei stared at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. “Yeah. You know, while you two were busy arguing and trying to impress each other, someone had to actually take care of the problem.”

Tribbie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “She got more than both of you combined! Oh, this is gold.”

Phainon’s jaw dropped, his face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief. “You—you were counting?”

“Of course I was counting,” Y/N said with a sly grin, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault I’m better at multitasking than you two.”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

Phainon blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… uh… you were incredible out there, Y/N. Seriously. I mean, you always are, but today especially.” His usual golden-retriever energy returned in full force, though his cheeks were still faintly pink.

Tribbie nudged Mydei with a smirk. “Look at him, blushing like she just crowned him king of the world.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Phainon ignored them, flashing Y/N a grin that was only a little bit nervous. “Next time, I’ll catch up. Promise.”

Y/N chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Good luck with that.”

Phainon just stood there, staring after her, the goofy grin on his face refusing to fade.

The group made their way deeper into the rocky terrain, the eerie glow of shattered crystal fragments lighting their path. The air was cooler here, heavy with an unnatural stillness that made Tribbie glance nervously over her shoulder every few minutes.

“So… does it feel like the ground’s gonna swallow us whole, or is that just me?” Tribbie muttered, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“Just your imagination,” Y/N replied casually, stepping over a fallen rock. “Probably.”

Tribbie squinted at her. “Probably? That’s not comforting.”

“Relax,” Phainon said brightly, his usual grin plastered across his face. He gestured to the rocky surroundings. “If anything weird happens, I’ll protect you!”

“Wow, I feel so safe,” Tribbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

As they moved forward, Mydei, who had been walking ahead of the group, suddenly stopped. “Hold up,” he said, holding out a hand. His sharp eyes scanned the ground.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him.

“Something’s off,” Mydei replied, pointing to a patch of the rocky ground that looked slightly… different. The texture was smoother, the color faintly darker, almost like it had been worn down by something—or someone.

Y/N crouched down to examine it. She brushed her fingers over the stone and noticed faint grooves carved into it, leading in a jagged line toward a nearby outcrop. “These look like tracks,” she murmured.

“Tracks?” Phainon asked, leaning over her shoulder with barely contained excitement. “Like… a secret path?”

“Possibly,” Y/N said, rising to her feet. She followed the grooves with her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Whatever made them was big.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tribbie muttered, though she followed behind eagerly as Y/N began tracing the path.

The group walked in silence for a few moments, the faint glow of the crystals growing dimmer as they approached a cluster of large boulders piled haphazardly against the side of a cliff.

“Dead end,” Mydei said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to the boulders. She placed a hand on the surface of one, her gaze narrowing. “There’s something behind these.”

Phainon immediately perked up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You mean like hidden treasure? Or ancient ruins? Or a monster nest?”

“Could be all three,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Fantastic!” Phainon said, clearly missing her sarcasm.

Tribbie poked one of the boulders with her staff. “Alright, so how do we move these without getting crushed?”

“Allow me,” Mydei said, cracking his knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, placed his hands on the nearest boulder, and shoved. The rock groaned in protest before slowly rolling away, revealing a narrow passage that sloped downward into the darkness.

“Show-off,” Phainon muttered under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” Mydei replied smugly, gesturing to the newly revealed path.

The passage was just wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, its walls smooth and slightly damp. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, glowing softly as the group descended.

“This is definitely leading somewhere,” Y/N said, her voice echoing slightly.

“I vote we turn back before we stumble into something we can’t handle,” Tribbie whispered, though she didn’t stop walking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phainon asked, his excitement palpable. “This is an adventure!”

“An adventure that could kill us,” Mydei muttered, though he followed without hesitation.

As they reached the bottom of the slope, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling was high and arched, supported by towering pillars carved with intricate patterns. In the center of the room stood what looked like an altar, surrounded by more of the strange, glowing symbols.

“Whoa,” Tribbie breathed, her voice filled with awe.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, her sword at the ready. The air felt heavier here, charged with some kind of ancient energy. “This place is incredible,” she said, running her fingers over one of the carvings.

Phainon walked up beside her, his grin softer now as he took in the room. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s also probably dangerous,” Mydei pointed out, eyeing the shadows warily.

“Dangerous and beautiful,” Phainon said cheerfully. “Like Y/N.”

Y/N turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing!” Phainon said quickly, his face turning pink.

Tribbie snorted. “Smooth.”

Before anyone could comment further, a low rumble echoed through the chamber, and the glowing symbols on the altar began to pulse.

____

The chamber was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of energy resonating from the glowing symbols on the altar. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing softly off the smooth stone floor.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, studying the carvings etched into the towering pillars. Her fingers traced the lines of the ancient symbols, their glow pulsing faintly under her touch. “These are definitely not from the same era as the city above,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is... older. Much older.”

Tribbie wandered toward the walls, tapping her staff lightly against the stone. “Well, it looks cool. Creepy, but cool.”

“Cool and creepy are rarely good combinations,” Mydei said, standing by the entrance with his arms crossed. He scanned the room with his usual skeptical frown, his gaze lingering on the darker corners.

Phainon, meanwhile, hovered near Y/N, watching her examine the carvings with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you think it’s some kind of warning?” he asked, pointing to a set of jagged symbols that spiraled outward from the altar.

“Could be,” Y/N replied, her brow furrowing as she knelt to inspect the markings on the floor. “Or it might be a map... or instructions.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” Mydei asked, smirking faintly.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure it out,” Y/N shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Phainon crouched beside her, peering at the symbols with a thoughtful expression. “You’re really good at this, Y/N. Like, way smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s kind of amazing.”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Phainon.”

Tribbie snickered from across the room. “He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Phainon asked, his grin faltering slightly.

“The thing where you turn into a lovesick puppy,” Tribbie teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Am not!” Phainon protested, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He quickly stood, clearing his throat.

Y/N, oblivious as ever, was already back to examining the symbols. She stepped closer to the altar, her focus narrowing on a particularly intricate carving. “There’s something strange about this part,” she murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

Phainon stepped forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm. “Uh, careful—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath Y/N’s feet gave a sudden, ominous crack.

“Y/N!” Phainon shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The floor crumbled away in an instant, and Y/N disappeared into the darkness below.

Tribbie screamed, dropping her staff as she ran toward the edge of the newly formed pit. Mydei was already there, his sharp reflexes keeping him from tumbling in himself. He grabbed Tribbie by the shoulder to keep her from getting too close.

“Y/N!” Phainon called, his voice echoing down the dark abyss. He dropped to his knees, peering into the void with wide, panicked eyes.

There was no sound except for the faint crumble of debris.

“Is she—” Tribbie started, her voice trembling.

“She’s alive,” Mydei interrupted, his tone firm as he scanned the edge of the pit. “There’s no way she’d go down that easily.”

Phainon clenched his fists, his usual smile completely gone. “We have to get to her. Now.”

[m1stm3]

umm i don’t have a name for this one!! no cw’s other than some angst and fem! reader (reader is referred to as a woman and uses she/her pronouns) :]

word count: 916 (my longest posted yet!!!)

imagining shigaraki who announces to the league that he found a temporary place to stay a few weeks after the base gets destroyed, answering zero questions as to how exactly he found a place for a group of villains to stay after they had seemingly exhausted all of their options (“someone owed me a favor” was all he had said. none of them believed him).

they’re all confused when they arrive at a relatively residential neighborhood. they’re even more confused when their boss walks up to the front door of a random house as if he’s done it a thousand times before (he has. he’d always crawl back to this doorstep, always looking a little small and wounded).

and — not to be repetitive — but imagine their shock when the sweetest looking woman opens the door. you. you’re all smiles and sugar, giving their boss a wide smile before greeting the rest of them and inviting them inside. they’re practically gawking at the way you dote on them as if they’re normal houseguests and not a group of strangely dressed villains.

the blonde girl and the two men in masks are the only ones that introduce themselves (himiko, jin, and ‘compress’. you recognized them from tomuras previous explanations. he thought they were all pains in their own right, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree). the others stay close by tomura, allowing him to guide them through the new environment (as if they had much of a choice). he hadn’t said a word since the nice woman opened the door, even ignoring spinners insistent, whispered questions.

tomura suddenly stops, gesturing to three doors. “we’re taking up these two rooms, the garage, and the living room.” he points to the last door in the hallway. “that’s the bathroom. figure it out amongst yourselves.” he explained flatly, making his way back to the main area of the house with nothing else said. they were left with more questions than when they had initially gotten there.

their boss had settled into a couch by the time they wandered back into the main area, slouched against an armrest with that blank look he wore whenever he was lost in thought. you had taken to the more talkative three, smiling softly as you answered their questions while offering them mugs of something warm (you couldn’t help the softened look in your eyes when you saw the brief shock in their expressions at the gesture).

it was quiet for a while after that. peaceful, even… until you dropped a mug while trying to tidy up your kitchen. it had been a while since the league had seen their boss suddenly so alert, no hesitation in his movements when he briskly made his way into the kitchen. they had braced themselves to hear yelling or some form of harshness. anything to express his displeasure towards the sudden interruption to his thoughts. only, that’s not what happened. at all, actually.

you were a little more frantic, murmuring soft apologies while crouched down and picking up the larger shards of ceramic. only the three at the table could see what was going on, but the quiet way everything was handled was enough for everyone to connect some dots. tomura hadn’t said anything, simply moving down to your level to help you pick up the bigger shards.

when he finally spoke, it was like witnessing a different person. ‘soft’ was an adjective the league wasn’t familiar with. they didn’t have the privilege of really knowing what that word meant… they understood it better now though, with the way their boss was reassuring you in a quiet voice. his words were scolding as per usual, (even you weren’t immune to his small lectures urging you to ‘be more careful’) but he said them with a lightness none of them had heard before.

and then you touched him and suddenly they understood (those who witnessed it, of course). the contact was brief, just a small, grateful squeeze to his shoulder. something so easily overlooked by the general population… but they knew their boss well. they knew the weight of the small gesture. it was so painfully normal, he didn’t even blink an eye at the small touch.

the three at the table — who usually had had so much to say — could only spare each other small, knowing glances. the others that had settled on the couch still looked expectant, as if waiting for the storm that was soon to come pouring down (they could’ve waited years, it was never going to happen).

the league stood at your house for two weeks after that, the interactions between you and the members short but sweet. tomura had bunked in the garage, walking into the house throughout the night with the weak excuse of having to use the bathroom.

they decided not to call him out on his lie.

you remained kind even as they were leaving, wishing them well and softly urging them to stay safe. only himiko noticed the look you and tomura shared as he walked past you. a secret something she was sure only the two of you knew the meaning of. she found herself foolishly hoping that the pretty lady who had taken care of them would be okay.

you found yourself foolishly hoping to see them again (in another life, maybe. things would be better then.)

[scarletwinterxx]

drowning in the deepest of truths, I think I'm falling for you - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo ~ so it's been a while... few things to address😅 i saw svt recently and i can confirm i cried hahah and second thing, a certain mr. seungcheol choi bias wrecked me so we're here. say thank u to him🤣

THIS ISTG TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE. if you've been here for a long time, i think it's obvious i love a good friends-to-lovers storyline. i wanna give myself a pat on the back for writing this😅hope you like it too!!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve been friends with Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. He’s the dependable guy, the one who shows up at your door with takeout when you’re upset, drives you to late-night emergencies, and threatens to "have a word" with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s also the same guy who will call you at 2 AM to complain about Jeonghan stealing his food or Seungkwan roasting his playlist choices.

It’s all very platonic.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But here’s the thing—platonic friends don’t always behave the way Seungcheol does with you.

Like how he always walks closest to the road when you’re together. You thought he did that for everyone until Jeonghan once teased him about being your personal bodyguard. “What, I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he’d grumbled, cheeks faintly red. You’d laughed it off, but now every time he switches sides to keep you away from traffic, your brain unhelpfully replays Jeonghan’s teasing.

Then there’s his car. His precious car. The one you’ve seen him ban people from for spilling a drink or even breathing too close to the upholstery. Yet, somehow, you’re the only one allowed to eat fries in it without getting scolded. “Because you’re neat,” he’d explained once, though you distinctly remember dropping ketchup on the seat that one time. He cleaned it up himself and still handed you another fry.

And don’t even get started on the hand thing. He always has a hand on your back—guiding you through crowds, steadying you when you wobble on uneven ground, or just casually resting it there when you’re walking side by side.

It’s warm, reassuring, and totally not something friends think about when they’re lying in bed at night.

You tried asking him about it once. “You’re very handsy, you know.”

“Would you rather I let you trip and fall?” he’d retorted with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

The problem is, Seungcheol seems completely unaffected by all this. He treats you like you’re just another one of his friends, albeit one he’s particularly protective of. You’ve heard him swear up and down to Jeonghan and Seungkwan that you’re just his friend. Jeonghan, of course, doesn’t believe him.

“Right, because you hold all your ‘friends’ like they’re a national treasure,” Jeonghan had said, earning himself a withering glare.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol had snapped, but his ears were noticeably pink.

Then there was Seungkwan, who once asked, “Why don’t you just marry her already? Save us all the suspense.”

“We’re friends,” Seungcheol had groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s honestly infuriating. Not because you want him to admit something else (okay, maybe you do, but only a little), but because it leaves you constantly second-guessing everything.

Like when he shows up to your apartment with soup because you mentioned a scratchy throat, or when he lingers outside your building after dropping you off just to make sure you’re inside safely.

Or—your personal favorite—when he softens. That big, tough guy act he puts on with everyone else melts the second he looks at you.

His voice gets gentler, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he’s suddenly the kind of guy who brushes hair out of your face without a second thought.

It’s maddening.

And apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan says one day, while you’re all sitting at a café. “Why are you two still dancing around each other? Just confess already.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What?! There’s nothing to confess!”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol agrees, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Jeonghan, drop it,” Seungcheol warns.

“Fine, fine.” Jeonghan smirks but doesn’t look convinced.

By the time you’re walking home together later, the conversation keeps replaying in your head. Seungcheol is quiet beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“...Nothing important.”

You don’t push, but as his hand finds its familiar place on your back when you cross the street, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was onto something.

You knew it was going to be a long day when your boss handed you that stack of papers at 4 PM. By the time you finally wrapped up, the office was practically empty, the night sky spilling across the windows.

A quick glance at your phone confirmed what you already dreaded—you’d missed the last bus. Groaning, you stuffed your things into your bag, resigning yourself to the long walk home.

It wasn’t that bad. Just… cold, dark, and slightly creepy. You’d be fine.

Totally fine.

But when you pushed through the lobby doors and stepped outside, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was.

Choi Seungcheol, leaning casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest like he’d been waiting all night. His head tilted up as soon as he heard the door open, and when he saw you, that familiar, infuriatingly soft smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, pushing off the car. “I thought you were going to sleep in there.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed, “What… what are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You frowned, confused. “How did you even know I was still here?”

“Your light was on when I drove by earlier.”

“You drove by?”

He had the audacity to look sheepish. “I figured you’d miss the bus. And I didn’t want you walking home alone.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sure you can,” he said, completely unfazed. “But humor me, okay? Get in the car.”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the cold wind nipping at your cheeks made the decision for you. “Fine,” you muttered, walking past him to the passenger door.

“Good choice,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for you.

The car was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne, and as you settled into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice the little things—how he’d adjusted the seat warmer on your side or how there was a blanket folded neatly in the backseat.

He climbed in and started the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Hungry?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You barely eat when you’re working late,” he said. “We can grab something on the way home.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Do you do this for all your friends?”

He smirked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do what?”

“Show up unannounced, wait in the cold, and then offer to feed them.”

“Only the ones who miss the last bus.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “So just me, then?”

“Just you,” he admitted, glancing at you again with a small smile.

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the city lights passing by making everything feel oddly intimate. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Thanks for… this,” you said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely.

“Anytime,” he said easily.

As you reached for the door handle, he stopped you. “Hey.”

You turned back, and his expression had softened, the playful smirk replaced with something quieter, more sincere.

“Text me next time, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Your chest tightened, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

You stepped out of the car, his eyes on you the entire time, and as you walked to your building, you couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t just a friend. Not to you, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just a friend to him either.

It was supposed to be a quiet night for Seungcheol. He’d gone out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and was planning to head home early. But somehow, he ended up back at Jeonghan’s place with Seungkwan sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of them looking far too smug for his liking.

They were up to something. They were always up to something.

“So,” Jeonghan started, drawing out the word like he had all the time in the world, “guess who’s out on a date right now?”

Seungcheol barely glanced up from his phone. “I don’t know. Who?”

“You,” Seungkwan deadpanned, then snorted. “Kidding. It’s her.”

Seungcheol’s fingers froze mid-scroll. “What?”

“You know who,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s on a date,” Seungkwan added, like he was explaining something to a toddler.

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait. What?”

“Why are you so shocked?” Jeonghan leaned back, looking like the cat that got the cream. “She’s a grown woman. She deserves to have a little fun.”

“She’s—she’s on a date?” Seungcheol repeated, his voice louder this time

“Yes, and he’s so handsome,” Seungkwan said dramatically, clasping his hands together like he was narrating a fairytale. “Tall, charming, great hair—”

“Wait a minute. You set her up?” Seungcheol cut in, his voice sharp

“Of course,” Jeonghan said breezily. “You weren’t making a move, so we figured someone else should.”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol started, then stopped, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t need you meddling in her life.”

“She seemed fine with it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Actually, she looked pretty excited.”

That sentence hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. You? Excited to go on a date with some random guy? The thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t get why you care so much,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, she’s just your friend, right?”

Seungcheol’s head snapped toward him, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw working furiously as he tried to come up with a response.

“Right?” Seungkwan pressed, leaning forward.

Jeonghan smirked. “You do seem awfully worked up for someone who’s ‘just a friend.’”

Seungcheol shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “She is my friend.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to track down this guy and challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m just… concerned.”

“About what?” Seungkwan asked innocently.

“About her,” Seungcheol snapped. “What if he’s some creep? What if he says something to upset her? What if—”

“Oh my God,” Jeonghan interrupted, laughing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you gripping the couch like it insulted your ancestors?” Seungkwan asked, gesturing to Seungcheol’s white-knuckled hands.

“I’m just protective,” he argued weakly.

“Right. Protective,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes. “Because that totally explains the vein popping out of your forehead right now.”

Seungcheol groaned again, sinking back into the couch. He hated how transparent he was, especially to these two.

“Look,” Jeonghan said, leaning forward, his tone suddenly serious. “If you don’t want her going on dates with other guys, then maybe you should finally admit how you feel.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try it,” Seungkwan cut in, holding up a hand. “We all know. She’s the only person you drop everything for. The only one you talk to with that stupid soft voice. You treat her like she’s your entire world, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because they were right. They were absolutely, infuriatingly right.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I feel something. But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Jeonghan snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s just as bad as you. She talks about you all the time, and don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you. You’re both idiots.”

Seungkwan nodded solemnly. “Big, dumb idiots.”

Seungcheol stared at them, his mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot.

“Where’s this date happening?” he asked suddenly.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, their smirks returning.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, feigning innocence.

Seungcheol stood, grabbing his jacket. “Because I’m about to fix this.”

“Finally,” Seungkwan muttered, shaking his head.

Jeonghan grinned. “Go get her, tiger.”

And with that, Seungcheol stormed out, determined to set things right—even if it meant crashing your date.

Meanwhile you were having a perfectly peaceful evening. The kind where the air was crisp, the stars were starting to peek out, and the banana milk you’d picked up from the convenience store was hitting just right. Strolling through your neighborhood, you took another long sip, savoring the sweetness.

And then, like something out of a drama, Seungcheol’s sleek black car zipped past you.

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But then the brake lights lit up, and the car slowed before making a sharp U-turn.

You stopped walking, half-expecting someone else to step out of the car. But, of course, it was Seungcheol.

He parked haphazardly by the curb and got out, looking a little disheveled, which was unusual for him. His jacket was slightly askew, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to you, his voice slightly breathless.

“Uh, hi?” you said, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, crossing his arms but not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m just walking,” you replied, holding up your banana milk as if to prove your innocence. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a second too long. “I was… driving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Driving? Around here?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… in the area.”

“In the area?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his eyes flickered to the drink in your hand, betraying his nerves.

You decided not to press him. Seungcheol acting weird wasn’t exactly new, but something about him tonight seemed different. Like he was on edge. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and he kept shifting from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He froze, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… stressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Work?” you guessed.

“Something like that,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You frowned, feeling a pang of concern. Without thinking, you held out your banana milk to him, your fingers curling around the straw as you offered it up. “Here. This always makes me feel better.”

He blinked at you, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Drink it,” you said, blinking up at him innocently. “It’ll help.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “You’re sharing your banana milk with me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled, cheeks warming.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours. He took a hesitant sip, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

“Not bad,” he said, handing it back to you.

“See? Instant stress relief,” you said lightly, though your chest felt tight for reasons you didn’t want to examine too closely.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel uncharacteristically shy. Finally, he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to do when you were younger. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing his hand away. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, something unspoken passing between you before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just a short walk—”

“Let me drive you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t sure why, but Seungcheol’s strange mood tugged at something deep inside you.

As you climbed into his car and he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his stress than he was letting on. And from the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time he glanced at you, you had a feeling he was thinking the exact same thing.

A few days later since that night. You're still wondering why Seungcheol was acting weird but you brush it off, thinking maybe he's just stressed because of work.

Now you're somewhere unfamiliar.

You sighed in frustration, staring at the unfamiliar street signs around you.

You were definitely lost.

The errand you thought would take twenty minutes had somehow turned into an hour-long disaster. To make matters worse, your phone signal had cut out just when you’d tried to pull up directions.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, your phone finally regained some service, and you immediately dialed Jeonghan’s number. He was your go-to for emergencies like this—always on his phone and annoyingly calm in situations where you were about ready to cry.

“Hello?” Jeonghan’s familiar voice answered on the first ring

“Jeonghan!” you practically wailed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed, sounding more amused than concerned. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, scanning the street for anything remotely familiar. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and then my phone lost signal, and now I have no idea where I am.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Relax. Describe your surroundings.”

You rattled off a description of the nearby buildings and street signs, and Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, I think I know where you are. Just stay put, and I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Wait—someone? Who?”

But before he could answer, the line disconnected.

Fifteen minutes later, as you sat on a bench scrolling through your now-working phone, your screen lit up with an incoming call from Seungcheol.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“What the hell?” was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

“What?” you asked, confused

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re lost, right? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” You paused, feeling slightly guilty. “I figured you’d be busy with work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated incredulously. “You think calling me when you’re lost is a bother?”

“I mean… kind of?” you said hesitantly. “You’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to distract you.”

There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost hurt. “You’re never a bother, you know that, right?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling small. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“You’re important,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your heart did a funny little flip at his words, but you tried to shake it off. “Jeonghan said he’d send someone to get me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, and that someone is me,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and then the line went dead.

True to his word, Seungcheol’s car pulled up exactly ten minutes later. He got out and strode toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sheepishly. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “Just… next time, call me first, okay? No matter what. I don’t care how busy I am.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Okay. I will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to flick your forehead gently. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. “You scared me.”

You smiled up at him, clutching your phone tightly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And with that, he opened the car door for you, muttering something about making sure you had a proper map app installed while you slid into the passenger seat, feeling safer than you’d felt all day.

The car was quiet save for the low hum of the engine as Seungcheol drove. You sat in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at him every now and then. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was still annoyed—though more at himself than at you—but the silence was starting to get to you.

“Are you really mad?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper

He didn’t answer right away, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. You shifted in your seat, feeling a small pang of guilt.

“Cheol?” you tried again, a little louder this time

Finally, he glanced at you, just for a second, and that’s when he saw it—the faint pout on your lips, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

Whatever lingering annoyance he felt melted away instantly.

How could he ever stay mad at you?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked. He’d always known he cared about you, but this was different.

This was deeper.

The way his chest ached at the thought of you being lost, the way he couldn’t focus on anything else until he knew you were safe—it all made sense now.

He was in deep. Really, truly in deep.

But he kept that realization buried, locking it away for now. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined what you already had?

So instead of saying what was really on his mind, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. “No, I’m not mad,” he said softly, his voice losing all the sharpness from earlier.

“Really?” you asked, your pout disappearing as a hopeful smile crept onto your face.

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Really. Just… call me next time, okay? No matter what.”

“Okay,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying his amusement at how eager you were to ease his worries.

And as you settled back into your seat, sipping the banana milk you’d insisted on bringing with you, Seungcheol kept driving, silently grappling with the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger—and you didn’t even know it.

It’s not something you consciously think about, but Seungcheol is the first person you instinctively search for in every situation.

Whether it’s at a gathering, in a crowded room, or even during simple moments like deciding where to sit, your eyes always find him first. And it’s always easy to spot him—because, without fail, he leaves a space open beside him, like he’s silently saving it just for you.

He never says anything about it, but you’ve come to notice how it’s always you in the passenger seat of his car, you who gets the last fry from his plate, and you who he lets get away with things no one else can.

One day, after an especially long week at work, you found yourself riding home with him again. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

“Cheol,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you being such a good friend?”

He frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I mean…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “You do so much for me. I feel like I’m always leaning on you, and maybe—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, pulling the car to a gentle stop at a red light. He turned to look at you, his expression soft but serious. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in that way that always made your breath catch.

“I wouldn’t do any of it if I didn’t want to,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take advantage of me all you want.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the car had faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble.

There was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just saying you could rely on him, but something deeper—something more.

But you didn’t push it, didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Instead, you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Cheol.”

He nodded, turning back to the road as the light turned green, but his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if he was trying to shake off whatever had just passed between you.

And though neither of you said it out loud, his words lingered in the air between you, unspoken but clear.

Take advantage of me all you want.

It sounded an awful lot like he was saying, I’m yours.

The music was loud, the kind that vibrated through your chest and made regular conversation impossible.

You were at yet another one of Seungkwan’s chaotic gatherings, where everyone was laughing, shouting, and dancing all at once. You were trying to tell Seungcheol something, but no matter how loud you spoke, your voice barely reached him over the noise.

Finally, with a little huff of frustration, you stepped closer to him. So close that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, amused but curious, as if to ask, What’s up?

Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes, your hand lightly gripping his arm for balance. Leaning in, you brought your lips close to his ear and whispered the words you’d been trying to say.

His reaction was immediate. You felt his hands gently rest on your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. His touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of the room.

“What?” he asked, turning his head slightly so his lips were near your ear now, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You repeated yourself, barely able to focus with how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one of his hands down from your waist and took your hand in his.

Your breath hitched when his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and he gave your hand a little squeeze, as if to silently say, I hear you now.

The moment stretched between you, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stared up at him. His eyes were warm, his smile soft, and for a second, you felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you managed a small smile. “Better.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

As the night wore on, you and Seungcheol gravitated toward each other like magnets. Even in the chaos of the party, you never strayed far, and he made no effort to hide how closely he kept you by his side.

At one point, you found yourself standing in front of him, tucked neatly into the protective circle of his arms. His broad frame loomed behind you, shielding your much smaller figure from the crowd. It was a natural thing, the way his arms rested lightly around your waist, his hands occasionally brushing against your sides.

You weren’t sure when you had become so glued to each other, but you didn’t mind. You felt safe there, cocooned in his warmth, the noise of the party fading into the background as you leaned into his steady presence.

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, his chin nearly brushing the top of your head as he murmured, “You okay?”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m fine as long as I stay right here,” you replied without thinking, and you felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter behind you.

“Yeah?” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You planning to stick to me all night?”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

His laugh softened, and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

From the other side of the room, Seungkwan and Jeonghan stood together, sipping their drinks and watching the scene unfold like it was a live drama.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol. “You seeing this?” he murmured, just loud enough for Seungkwan to hear over the noise.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Seungkwan replied, trying his best to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His grin threatened to split his face in two as he watched Seungcheol pull you closer, his arms tightening protectively around you.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Should we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan interrupted, though he looked like he was barely holding himself back. “You saw the look he gave us earlier. He’ll kill us if we say anything.”

Just then, Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and warning. It was a look that screamed, Don’t. You. Dare.

Jeonghan, of course, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. He raised his glass in a mock toast, tilting his head slightly as if to say, Oh, we’ll see about that.

Seungcheol’s glare darkened, and he subtly mouthed, Don’t.

Seungkwan elbowed Jeonghan, barely stifling his laughter. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan whispered back, smirking. “It’s too good not to say something. Look at them. She’s practically in his arms, and he’s acting like she’s the only person in the room.”

“I know, but...” Seungkwan hesitated, glancing back at Seungcheol, who had now fully turned his body to shield you from the crowd. “He’s terrifying when it comes to her.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, his smirk widening. “Which makes this even more fun.”

Before either of them could act on their instincts, Seungcheol shot them another glare—this one so intense that even Jeonghan momentarily reconsidered his life choices.

Seungkwan cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yeah, nope. Not worth it. I like being alive.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but even he backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll let him have his moment. For now.”

But as they watched you and Seungcheol disappear into the night, Jeonghan leaned over to Seungkwan with a glint in his eye. “We’re never letting him live this down, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Seungkwan agreed, grinning. “We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

And with that, the two of them shared a conspiratorial laugh, already plotting how they’d tease Seungcheol later—if they lived to tell the tale.

The quiet of the car was a stark contrast to the laughter and energy of the night. It was just the two of you now, the hum of the engine and the soft rush of air outside the windows filling the space between your thoughts.

Seungcheol’s eyes were on the road, his focus steady, but there was something different in the air tonight. It felt like the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been lingering on your mind.

"Cheol?" you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your thoughts making your chest tighten just a little. "We're not just friends, are we?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You had been wondering for a while now, but it felt like the right time to ask.

Seungcheol didn’t immediately respond. The car continued on its path, the sound of the engine filling the space. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a quiet, almost amused undertone to it.

"Whatever you want me to be, I'll be that," he said simply, his eyes still on the road, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, processing his words. "What does that mean?" you asked, voice quieter now, trying to decipher his meaning.

"It means," he began, "if you want me to be more than a friend, then that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to be something else, I’ll be that too."

You felt your chest tighten, the air between you both thick with unspoken things.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted, that the line between just friends and something more was now more blurred than ever before.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, unable to hold back a small smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Anytime,".

The boys had decided it was time for a beach day—a full day of sun, sand, and chaos. Naturally, Seungcheol insisted you join, claiming it wouldn’t be the same without you. So here you were, walking down the sandy shore with a tote bag slung over your shoulder while the boys argued over the best spot to set up.

Jeonghan, of course, found the shadiest area and claimed it before anyone could argue, while Seungkwan bickered about who had to blow up the inflatable. Meanwhile, Seungcheol carried your beach chair and umbrella, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up.

When everything was set up, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the water, the cool waves splashing against your feet. The boys stayed back for a while, caught up in their own antics, until Jeonghan called out to Seungcheol.

“Hey, big guy! You’re really just going to let her wander off alone?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but still got up, his protective instincts kicking in almost immediately. He strolled down the beach after you, arms crossed casually over his chest, his broad shoulders drawing attention from passersby.

You were completely oblivious, laughing as you dipped your toes into the waves. That is, until a couple of guys sidled up to you, grinning and trying to make small talk.

“Hey, you here alone?” one of them asked, his tone far too confident for his own good.

“No,” you replied politely but firmly, already taking a step back.

“Come on, just a little chat—”

“Is there a problem here?”

That voice. Low, firm, and unmistakably Seungcheol’s.

The guys froze, their smiles faltering as they turned to see him standing there. His towering frame, sharp jawline, and intense gaze were enough to make them instantly reconsider their life choices.

“N-no, man, we were just—”

“Leaving,” Seungcheol finished for them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They didn’t need to be told twice, muttering apologies as they shuffled away.

You turned to Seungcheol, your eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t necessary. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at you. “But why should you have to?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “My knight in shining board shorts.”

Seungcheol chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

The two of you made your way back to the group, where Jeonghan and Seungkwan were snickering.

“Cheol scared off some beach bros, didn’t he?” Jeonghan guessed, smirking.

“Didn’t even have to try,” Seungkwan added. “He just exists, and they run for their lives.”

Seungcheol ignored them, guiding you to your chair and handing you a bottle of water. “Drink up,” he said, his hand brushing against yours briefly.

You didn’t miss the way his touch lingered or the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. And while the boys continued to tease him relentlessly, he just sat back with a satisfied smirk, his protective streak in full swing.

By the end of the day, no one even thought about approaching you again—not when Seungcheol made it very clear, without saying a word, that you weren’t alone.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was quieter now, the once-loud waves now lapping gently at the shore. Seungcheol crouched down in front of you, his back turned as he gestured for you to hop on.

“Come on, before the sun sets,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin.

“Why do I have to be the one on your back?” you teased, but you didn’t hesitate to climb on, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands secured your legs.

“Because I’d crush you if it were the other way around,” he shot back, standing effortlessly with you in tow.

He started walking along the shoreline, the sand soft beneath his feet. You leaned your cheek against his, your fingers lightly tapping against his chest as you spoke.

“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s called a raft. Isn’t that cute?”

“Almost as cute as you randomly spitting out facts,” he said with a chuckle, glancing sideways at you.

You ignored him, continuing your stream of trivia. “Oh! And dolphins have names for each other. Like, they have a specific whistle for every dolphin in their pod.”

“Do they have a whistle for their favorite dolphin?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Obviously,” you said, squishing your cheek harder against his. “If I were a dolphin, you’d have a whistle just for me.”

“I already do,” he murmured, his words so soft that you almost didn’t catch them over the sound of the waves.

You paused for a moment, the warm breeze brushing past the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, you whispered, “I love you.”

Seungcheol froze mid-step, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his cheek brushing against yours.

“I was hoping I’d say it first,” he said with a soft laugh, his dimples deepening as he smiled at you.

Your heart swelled at the sight, and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Guess you’re too slow, Cheol.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. Then, without putting you down, he turned to face the sunset.

“Say it again,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

“I love you,” you said, softer this time, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

He let out a content sigh, his hands tightening slightly on your legs as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice carrying all the tenderness he’d been holding back for so long.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you stayed there, clinging to each other, both knowing you had everything you could ever need right in that moment.

[crsssie]

convincing - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"I need you to get him in an open spot." You stare at Hotch when he nods, and you set up the rifle in the backyard with Rossi.

"Will you get a shot?"

"As long as you're clear. Blink twice if I can take a shot. I'll aim for non-fatal, but no guarantee in a situation like this." You squint at the glass on the door.

Rossi holds his hand down as you set the gun up in the backyard, staring through the scope to get a steady aim.

"I need Seaver out the way." You mumble.

You watch her sway to the side slowly, meeting eyes with Hotch as he blinks twice.

The bullet blasts through the glass in the backyard, shattering the unsub's hand as Hotch tackles the man, wrists clasped behind his back with cuffs as you pull out your handgun.

Spencer's voice rings in your ear as you step out of the front door. "You safe?"

"I'm all good." You laugh, thumb brushing Spencer's cheek as he rests his forehead on yours.

"Good. He didn't see you at all?"

"No." You laugh. "Though, I will say. I don't appreciate how I look right now."

"Ratty?"

You feign hurt on your face, holding a hand to your chest as you open your mouth to holler for Rossi.

"Hey, I was just—"

"I can't believe you would say that to me. Aren't I supposed to be the most gorgeous person on this planet earth to you? Aren't I supposed to be spe—"

"You're the most wonderful person in this awful world to me." Spencer deadpans.

"Can you at least try to sound more convincing?" You huff, getting into the car.

"I can think of other ways to convince y—"

"DOCTOR SPENCER REID." You make a face at him, and you watch as the corner of his lip quirks up in amusement. "I want a divorce."

"You know, you can't legally request that considering that we’re not—"

"Yeah, consider this my ticket in advance for the next time you say something this absurd. Why is it always at work?" You shudder, reaching for your seatbelt. "You're driving us home when we finish up."

"No insurance."

"Won't stop me."

You watch him shake his head.

"Worth a try."

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[novaursa]

Caught by Fire (the meddling)

- Summary: A story where Daemon's daughter falls from the sky. And by some strange events orchestrated by fate, Otto catches you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the gem

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The gardens of the Red Keep were alive with the soft sounds of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The sun shone brightly, its warm light filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone paths. You sat beneath a sprawling lemon tree with Princess Rhaenyra, a small table between you laden with a pitcher of chilled wine and two goblets. A faint floral scent hung in the air, mingling with the crisp citrus tang of the nearby blossoms.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her goblet with a lazy hand. Her silver hair, always meticulously arranged for court, was looser now, the soft waves framing her face. She looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“So,” she began, her tone teasing, “how many lords have declared their undying love for you today?”

You laughed softly, setting your own goblet down on the table. “Only three. I must be losing my charm.”

“Only three?” Rhaenyra said, feigning shock. “You’ll have to try harder. I had at least five this morning alone.”

“Were they all trying to outdo each other in their flattery?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “Or was it a competition to see who could bow the lowest?”

“Both,” Rhaenyra replied with a laugh. “One of them compared my eyes to the stars. I nearly told him he should spend less time stargazing and more time improving his swordsmanship.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “They’re all the same, aren’t they? Empty words, grand gestures, and nothing of substance.”

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Exactly. It’s as if they think we’re prizes to be won rather than people with minds of our own.”

“Perhaps they’re afraid of our minds,” you suggested, your tone light but with a trace of bitterness beneath it. “After all, a clever woman is far more dangerous than a sharp sword.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “True enough. But it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Having to listen to the same rehearsed speeches over and over again.”

“Exhausting doesn’t even begin to describe it,” you said, reaching for your goblet again. “I’ve started to wonder if any of them see us as more than Targaryens. Do they care about who we are, or just what we represent?”

Rhaenyra’s smile faded slightly, her expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder the same. Do they want me, or do they want the Iron Throne? Do they want you, or do they want to tie themselves to our House?”

You nodded, the weight of her words settling over you. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? But I suppose that’s the game we’re meant to play. Smile, nod, let them think they’re winning us over.”

“For the sake of the realm,” Rhaenyra said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“For the sake of the realm,” you echoed, your voice dry.

There was a pause as you both sipped your wine, the comfortable silence broken only by the gentle hum of the gardens. Finally, Rhaenyra spoke again, her voice quieter now.

“Have you ever considered what it would be like… to marry for love?” she asked, glancing at you from beneath her lashes.

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. “I have. But it feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Something we’re not allowed to have.”

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sometimes I envy the smallfolk. They don’t have to deal with all this—alliances, politics, endless suitors. They can choose who they want, without worrying about the consequences.”

“Or they have no choice at all,” you pointed out gently. “Their lives are hardly free.”

“True,” Rhaenyra conceded, a faint smile returning to her lips. “But at least they’re spared the poetry.”

You laughed, raising your goblet in a mock toast. “To freedom from bad poetry.”

“To freedom from bad poetry,” Rhaenyra echoed, clinking her goblet against yours.

The two of you shared a laugh, the tension of the conversation easing for the moment. But as you sat together beneath the lemon tree, the weight of your shared reality lingered, unspoken yet undeniable. You both knew that your futures were not entirely your own, that the choices ahead would be dictated by the needs of the realm rather than the desires of your hearts.

Still, in that moment, it was enough to share the burden with someone who understood.

The Tower of the Hand was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Otto Hightower sat at his desk, his hands clasped together tightly, staring down at an untouched goblet of wine. His usually immaculate desk was cluttered—scrolls askew, ink stains smudging the corners of his notes. The precise order he prided himself on was unraveling, much like his thoughts.

He exhaled deeply, pressing his fingertips to his temples. His mind raced, a chaotic storm of questions and self-recriminations. How had it come to this? When had he allowed himself to be so… distracted? It wasn’t supposed to happen—not to him. He was Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, the steady anchor of the realm.

And yet, here he was, a man brought to the brink of madness over a princess he had no right to even think about.

The knock on his door came too soon, shattering the fragile quiet he’d managed to build around himself. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

The door creaked open, and in sauntered Jasper Wylde, his face alight with mischief. He didn’t bother to wait for an invitation, plopping down into the chair opposite Otto’s desk with all the grace of a man entirely too pleased with himself.

“Well, well,” Jasper began, leaning back casually. “I thought I’d find you here, wallowing in your thoughts. And judging by the look on your face, I was right.”

Otto’s glare could have cut stone. “If you’ve come to gloat, Lord Wylde, spare me the theatrics. I’m not in the mood.”

Jasper grinned, unbothered by Otto’s irritation. “Oh, I can see that. The great Otto Hightower, undone by a silver-haired princess. Truly, the gods have a sense of humor.”

Otto groaned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “You are insufferable.”

“I prefer the term ‘perceptive,’” Jasper quipped, gesturing to the wine. “You should drink that. Might loosen you up a bit.”

“I don’t need to be loosened,” Otto snapped. “I need the realm to stop conspiring against me.”

Jasper chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “The realm isn’t conspiring, Otto. It’s you. You’ve spent so many years focusing on duty and propriety that you’ve forgotten you’re human. And now, one spirited princess comes along, and suddenly you’re questioning everything.”

Otto’s jaw tightened. “I am not questioning everything.”

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Jasper said, his grin widening. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like a man seeing sunlight for the first time. It’s almost poetic.”

“This is not amusing,” Otto growled, his voice low. “If Daemon—or worse, Viserys—suspected even a fraction of what you’re insinuating, it would mean disaster.”

Jasper shrugged. “Then don’t let them find out. But you can’t sit here pretending you don’t care. You’ve already sent her a gift. You’re already in deeper than you want to admit.”

“That was a gesture of gratitude,” Otto said firmly, though the words rang hollow even to his own ears.

“Gratitude?” Jasper snorted. “Please. That hairpin was practically a love letter.”

Otto shot him a withering glare. “If you value your position, you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone,” Jasper said, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy watching you squirm.”

Otto groaned again, his head falling into his hands. “Seven hells, why am I even entertaining this conversation?”

“Because deep down, you know I’m right,” Jasper said smugly. “You’re in the middle of a crisis, Otto. And it’s glorious.”

Otto sat up, fixing Jasper with a look of pure exasperation. “I am not in the middle of a crisis.”

“You’re brooding in your tower, snapping at everyone, and questioning your very existence over a woman,” Jasper said, ticking off each point on his fingers. “If that’s not a crisis, I don’t know what is.”

Otto stared at him, his patience hanging by a thread. “What do you suggest I do, then, Lord Wylde? Profess my undying affection and hope for the best?”

Jasper laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Gods, no. You’d terrify her. Just… let it play out. Stop trying to control everything for once in your life.”

Otto scowled, but the words lingered uncomfortably in his mind. “Your advice is bleak,” he muttered again.

“And you’re hopeless,” Jasper countered, standing and clapping Otto on the shoulder. “But that’s what makes this so entertaining. Good luck, my friend. You’re going to need it.”

With that, Jasper left, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Otto sat in silence, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. He stared at the goblet of wine, considering Jasper’s words even as he tried to dismiss them.

The gods, it seemed, had decided to make him the punchline of their grand joke. And he hated that part of him—small and traitorous though it was—didn’t entirely mind.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with the quiet murmur of courtiers and the occasional clink of goblets. The day’s business was light, and the nobles of King’s Landing milled about in clusters, exchanging pleasantries and gossip. Otto Hightower stood near one of the tall windows, his posture as rigid as ever, though his mind was anything but.

He had spotted you earlier, a flash of silver hair and a vibrant blue gown catching his attention as you entered the hall. You moved with an effortless grace, your presence commanding attention without even trying. Otto, against his better judgment, saw an opportunity—a rare moment when you weren’t surrounded by Rhaenyra or a gaggle of noble ladies.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward you, rehearsing his words in his mind. Casual. Polite. Nothing more than a conversation, he reminded himself.

You stood near one of the side tables, inspecting a goblet of wine with a faintly amused expression. As he approached, you glanced up, your eyes meeting his.

“Lord Hightower,” you greeted, inclining your head. “I didn’t expect to see you among the courtiers today.”

Otto offered a faint smile, bowing his head slightly. “Even the Hand of the King must indulge in lighter company from time to time.”

You arched a brow, a trace of amusement in your expression. “And here I thought you thrived on the weighty matters of state.”

“Perhaps I do,” Otto replied smoothly, “but even the most steadfast ship requires calm waters now and then.”

Your smile widened, and you gestured to the goblet in your hand. “Do you indulge in wine, my lord, or is that too frivolous for the Hand of the King?”

“On occasion,” he admitted, a flicker of warmth in his tone. “Though I find my indulgences lean more toward conversation.”

“Then I’m honored to provide it,” you said lightly, setting the goblet down. “What shall we discuss, Lord Hightower? The state of the realm? Or perhaps the poetry of the Reach?”

“Whatever pleases you, Princess,” Otto said, his voice steady despite the faint flutter in his chest.

Before the conversation could deepen, a young lord approached—Lord Gawen Corbray, his dark hair neatly combed and his tunic embroidered with the sigil of House Corbray. He bowed deeply, a practiced smile on his lips.

“Princess,” Gawen said, his tone warm and confident. “It is an honor to see you gracing the court today.”

You returned his bow with a polite nod. “Lord Corbray. How kind of you to say.”

Gawen’s gaze flicked briefly to Otto, his smile tightening ever so slightly. “Lord Hightower,” he said with a nod, his tone respectful but pointed.

“Lord Corbray,” Otto replied evenly, his expression unreadable.

Gawen turned his attention back to you, his confidence returning. “I was just speaking with my father about the recent tourneys. Have you had the chance to attend any, Princess? There have been some truly spectacular displays of skill.”

“I have not,” you admitted, your tone polite but distant. “Though I’ve heard the tales.”

“Ah, a shame,” Gawen said, his smile widening. “Perhaps the next one, then. I’d be honored to escort you—if you would permit it, of course.”

Before you could respond, Otto spoke, his tone measured. “The princess’s time is often occupied with matters of far greater import than tourneys, Lord Corbray. Though your offer is… thoughtful.”

The subtle weight in Otto’s words was not lost on Gawen, who straightened slightly, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Of course, Lord Hightower. But surely even a princess deserves moments of levity.”

“And yet,” Otto said smoothly, his gaze unwavering, “it is the princess herself who decides how best to spend her time.”

You glanced between the two men, sensing the unspoken hostility. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you addressed Gawen. “Your offer is most gracious, my lord. I shall keep it in mind.”

Gawen’s smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am at your service, Princess.” He hesitated, then added, “Lord Hightower, I’m sure the matters of the realm demand your attention. Perhaps I might have a moment with the princess to discuss… lighter matters?”

Otto’s expression remained composed, but his eyes sharpened. “The princess and I were already engaged in conversation. I trust she will let us know when she wishes to change the subject—or company.”

Gawen’s jaw tightened, though he quickly masked it with a bow. “Of course. My apologies, Princess Y/N, Lord Hightower. I shall take my leave for now.”

As Gawen retreated, Otto allowed himself a small, satisfied exhale. You turned back to him, your expression unreadable.

“That was… bracing,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“My apologies if I overstepped,” Otto said, his tone measured. “I only wished to ensure you weren’t subjected to unnecessary… distractions.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Is that what he was? A distraction?”

Otto met your gaze, his composure steady. “I would never presume to speak for you, Princess. But I value a conversation of substance over empty flattery.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile. “As do I, Lord Hightower. As do I.”

The conversation resumed, the earlier tension fading as you discussed lighter topics—the gardens, the history of the Keep, even a brief exchange about your shared admiration for Oldtown’s architecture. But as you spoke, Otto couldn’t shake the lingering warmth in his chest—a quiet, insistent reminder of the treacherous path he was treading.

The royal solar of the Red Keep was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft clink of goblets on the table. King Viserys sat in his high-backed chair, swirling the wine in his cup with an air of exasperation. Across from him, his brother, Daemon Targaryen, lounged in his chair with his usual blend of arrogance and ease.

Viserys studied his younger brother for a long moment, his expression a mixture of weariness and frustration. Daemon, as always, seemed entirely unbothered, his silver hair loose and falling over his shoulders, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

“You know why I’ve asked you here,” Viserys began, his tone heavy with the weight of responsibility.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Daemon drawled, taking a slow sip from his goblet. “The same tiresome subject you’ve been hounding me about for weeks.”

“Because it’s important,” Viserys said sharply, setting his goblet down with a thud. “She’s your daughter, Daemon. Her future is not something you can dismiss with a wave of your hand.”

“And yet, that’s exactly what I intend to do,” Daemon replied, leaning back in his chair. “The so-called lords of the realm have no claim to her.”

Viserys let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples. “You can’t keep rejecting every proposal. These are not petty knights or minor houses, Daemon. These are paramount lords—Lannisters, Tyrells, Baratheons. Marrying her to one of them could strengthen the realm.”

“And weaken her,” Daemon countered, his tone calm but firm. “Do you think she’d thrive as the lady of Storm’s End? Or Casterly Rock? Tied to some lord who sees her as little more than a broodmare?”

Viserys frowned, his fingers drumming against the table. “You’re being unreasonable. A match with one of these houses would elevate her, protect her. It’s what’s best for her.”

“What’s best for her,” Daemon said, his voice taking on an edge, “is to remain where she is, with her family. Not shackled to some pompous lord who only wants her for her name and her blood.”

Viserys sat forward, his frustration boiling over. “She’s not a child, Daemon! She’s a woman grown, and the longer you keep her unwed, the more chaos it invites. The court is already teeming with whispers about her suitors, and every rejection you make only fuels the fire.”

Daemon smirked, clearly unfazed. “Let them whisper. What do I care for their idle tongues?”

“You should care,” Viserys said, his tone rising. “The realm needs stability, and her marriage could bring that. Or would you prefer her name to be dragged through the mud, her reputation tarnished because you refused to act?”

Daemon’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t care about her reputation? About her future? I would burn this castle to the ground before I let anyone harm her.”

“Then stop treating her like a pawn in your game against the lords of the realm,” Viserys shot back. “You’re not protecting her, Daemon. You’re isolating her.”

For a moment, the two brothers stared at each other, the tension between them thick and heavy. Finally, Daemon leaned forward, his tone quieter but no less firm.

“Do you know what she said to me the other day?” he asked, his voice almost conversational.

Viserys frowned, caught off guard. “What?”

“She told me she’d rather have no husband at all than be married to one of these fools who parade themselves before her,” Daemon said, his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. “She sees through them, brother. Every flowery word, every empty promise. And she despises it.”

Viserys’s expression softened slightly, though his frustration remained. “She’s young, Daemon. She doesn’t understand what’s at stake.”

“She understands more than you think,” Daemon said, standing and pacing to the window. He looked out over the city, his hands clasped behind his back. “She has her mother’s spirit. Wild, untamed. You can’t cage that, Viserys. You shouldn’t try.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “So what, then? You’d have her remain unwed forever? What kind of future is that for her?”

Daemon turned, his expression hard. “One where she’s free. Free to choose her own path. Free to decide what she wants.”

“And what if what she wants is something you can’t give her?” Viserys asked quietly.

Daemon hesitated, the question striking a nerve. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Viserys stood, stepping closer to his brother. “I know you love her, Daemon. I know you want what’s best for her. But you can’t shield her from the world forever. Sooner or later, she’ll have to face it—and you need to let her.”

Daemon’s gaze dropped to the floor, his hands tightening into fists. After a long moment, he looked up, his dark violet eyes burning with determination. “If she faces the world, she’ll do it on her terms. Not yours. Not mine. Hers.”

Viserys studied him for a moment, his frustration giving way to resignation. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Daemon said with a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

The king sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to the table. “We’ll revisit this conversation soon. Until then, I hope you’ll think on what I’ve said.”

Daemon said nothing, his gaze returning to the city below. As Viserys left the solar, the silence that followed felt heavier than before, filled with unspoken fears and unresolved tension.

Daemon stood alone, staring out over the city as the sunlight faded into the haze of the horizon. Whatever the future held, he knew one thing for certain: he would do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant defying the realm itself.

The gardens of the Red Keep were quiet in the early morning, the dew still clinging to the petals of roses and the air fresh with the scent of lavender and lemon blossoms. You sat on a stone bench near the edge of the fountain, a book open in your lap, though your eyes were more focused on the rippling water than the words on the page. The tranquility of the moment was a welcome reprieve from the bustling chaos of court life.

The sound of soft footsteps drew your attention, and you glanced up to see Queen Alicent approaching. She was dressed in a gown of emerald green, her auburn hair falling in neat waves over her shoulders. Her expression was warm, but there was a trace of hesitation in her eyes as she drew closer.

“Good morning, Princess,” Alicent greeted with a small smile, her voice soft.

“Your Grace,” you replied, closing your book and standing to curtsy. “You honor me with your presence.”

Alicent waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for you to sit. “Please, no need for formality. I thought I might join you for a while. The gardens are much more inviting than the throne room at this hour.”

You nodded, resuming your seat as Alicent settled beside you on the bench. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the gentle bubbling of the fountain filling the space between you.

“You’ve been the subject of much conversation lately,” Alicent said after a pause, her tone casual.

You arched a brow, glancing at her. “Have I? That’s hardly unusual for a Targaryen at court.”

“True,” Alicent admitted with a faint laugh. “But even among our family, you’ve drawn considerable attention. The lords seem particularly… enamored.”

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “If by ‘enamored,’ you mean relentless, then yes, I suppose they are.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something more serious in her eyes. “And yet, you don’t seem impressed by any of them.”

“Should I be?” you asked lightly. “Most of them seem more interested in my bloodline than in me.”

Alicent tilted her head, studying you for a moment. “You’re perceptive. It’s no wonder my father admires you.”

The mention of Otto caught you off guard, though you quickly masked your surprise. “Lord Hightower has been kind,” you said carefully. “He’s a man of great wisdom.”

“Wisdom, yes,” Alicent said, her gaze drifting to the fountain. “But he’s also a man who carries many burdens. Sometimes I wonder if he ever allows himself to set them down.���

You hesitated, unsure where the conversation was leading. “He does seem… dedicated.”

“He is,” Alicent said, her voice quieter now. “Ever since my mother passed, he’s poured himself into his duties. The realm has always come first for him, even at great cost to himself.”

You turned to her, sensing the shift in her tone. “That must have been difficult—for both of you.”

Alicent nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “It was. He was all I had after she was gone. And while I know he loved her, I think her death left a void he’s never truly filled.”

The vulnerability in her voice caught you off guard. Alicent was always composed, always measured. To hear her speak so openly felt almost… intimate.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked gently.

Alicent hesitated, her hands clasping in her lap. “Because I see how he looks at you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I see how he’s changed since you came to court. He’s… different.”

You blinked, startled by her candor. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alicent said quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I just… I suppose I wanted to understand. What do you think of him?”

The question hung in the air, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “He’s… complex,” you said finally. “He has a keen mind and a steady presence. But he’s also distant, guarded. It’s hard to know what lies beneath the surface.”

Alicent smiled faintly. “That’s fair. He’s always been that way. But I think, deep down, he feels more than he lets on.”

You glanced at her, studying her expression. “And what do you think of this, Your Grace? This… interest he has?”

Alicent sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know. It feels strange to even speak of it. He’s my father, and I never imagined… But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is rarely as simple as we wish it to be.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts swirling. “It’s a complicated matter, to say the least.”

“More than complicated,” Alicent said with a soft laugh. “But I thought you deserved to know. Whatever comes of it, I only hope… I only hope he finds some measure of happiness.”

The vulnerability in her words struck a chord, and you found yourself seeing Alicent—and her father—in a new light. The weight of duty and expectation pressed heavily on all of you, and in that moment, you realized just how deeply it shaped your lives.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said quietly. “It means more than you know.”

Alicent reached out, briefly touching your hand. “You’re a remarkable person, Princess Y/N. And I think… my father sees that more clearly than anyone.”

With that, she rose gracefully, smoothing her gown as she prepared to leave. “Enjoy the gardens. They’re far more peaceful than what awaits us inside.”

You watched her go, her words lingering in your mind like the faint scent of roses in the air. The morning sun continued to shine, but the warmth it brought felt strangely distant as you turned back to the fountain, lost in thought.

Otto Hightower sat in his chamber. His desk was meticulously organized, as always, though his mind was far from calm. Reports from the Reach lay before him, but he hadn’t truly read them. His thoughts were elsewhere—always elsewhere these days, and he hated himself for it.

A soft knock at the door broke his reverie. He looked up, straightening his posture. “Enter.”

The door creaked open, and Alicent stepped in, her movements graceful yet hesitant and her expression was uncharacteristically nervous. Otto immediately noticed the tension in her posture.

“Alicent,” he greeted, his tone curious. “What brings you here at this hour?”

She closed the door behind her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I… I need to speak with you, Father. About something important.”

Otto’s brow furrowed as he gestured for her to sit. “Very well. What is it?”

Alicent hesitated, then crossed the room to take the chair opposite him. For a moment, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts, her gaze fixed on her hands. Otto’s frown deepened. Alicent was not usually one to mince words with him.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, his tone softening slightly.

“I spoke to her,” Alicent blurted out, looking up at him.

Otto blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “To whom?”

“To Princess Y/N,” Alicent clarified, her voice quieter now.

The blood drained from Otto’s face. He leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. “What exactly did you say?”

“I… I asked her what she thought of you,” Alicent admitted, her cheeks flushing. “And I told her about you. About how you’ve been since Mother died.”

For a long moment, Otto was silent, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. “Alicent. Please tell me you’re jesting.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, leaning forward. “I thought she should know, Father. I know what I’ve said before, about pursuing her not to be a wise choice. But you’re clearly… invested in her. And she has a right to understand—”

Otto stood abruptly, pacing to the window as he ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair. “Gods above, Alicent. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I was trying to help!” Alicent protested, rising to her feet. “You’ve been so… different lately. I thought if I spoke to her, if she understood, it might—”

“Might what?” Otto snapped, turning to face her. “Encourage her to pity me? To humor my foolishness? This is not some courtly game, Alicent. This is a matter that could destroy everything I’ve built.”

Alicent flinched at his tone but held her ground. “You care for her. Don’t deny it.”

“That is irrelevant,” Otto said sharply. “She is Daemon’s daughter. A Targaryen princess. Whatever… feelings I may have are entirely inappropriate.”

“Father,” Alicent said, her voice softening. “You deserve happiness. You’ve given so much to the realm, to all of us. If there’s even a chance—”

“There is no chance,” Otto interrupted, his tone cold. “Do you think Daemon would ever allow it? Do you think Viserys would? The very idea is absurd.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with frustration. “Why must you always think of duty above all else? You’re a man, Father. Not a machine. You’re allowed to feel.”

Otto exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the windowsill. “Feeling has no place in politics, Alicent. It’s a luxury I cannot afford.”

“And yet, you feel,” Alicent said quietly, stepping closer. “I see it every time you look at her. You’re not as cold as you want the world to believe, Father.”

Otto turned to her, his expression weary. “What did she say? The princess—how did she respond to your… meddling?”

Alicent hesitated, then sighed. “She didn’t say much. She was surprised, of course. But I think she… understood.”

Otto groaned, rubbing his temples. “Understood? Gods, this is a disaster.”

“It’s not,” Alicent insisted. “She didn’t reject the idea outright. If anything, I think she admires you.”

Otto gave her a sharp look. “Admiration is not the same as affection. And even if it were, it doesn’t matter. The consequences—”

“The consequences are worth the risk,” Alicent said firmly. “For once, think of yourself, Father. Not the realm. Not the court. You.”

Otto stared at her, his chest tight with conflicting emotions. He wanted to lash out, to tell her she had overstepped. But beneath his anger was something else—a flicker of hope he despised himself for feeling.

Finally, he turned away, his voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Perhaps not,” Alicent admitted. “But I couldn’t stand by and watch you suffer in silence. You’ve done so much for everyone else, Father. You deserve something for yourself.”

Otto closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. He hated the vulnerability they stirred within him, the dangerous yearning they awakened.

“Leave me,” he said quietly.

“Father—”

“Please,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm.

Alicent hesitated, then nodded. “As you wish.”

She left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Otto remained by the window, staring out at the fading light of the evening. His thoughts were a tempest, and for the first time in years, he felt truly uncertain.

[cherrylibby]

Between Life and Love

The last thing you remember is shouting—urgent voices rising above the chaos, a cacophony of fear and desperation. Then, the sharp, searing pain as a bullet tears through your abdomen. The ground rushes up to meet you, cold and unyielding.

The world blurs around you, colors and sounds fading as your body grows heavy. Through the haze, you catch a glimpse of Spencer Reid. He’s rushing toward you, panic etched into every line of his face.

"Y/N!" he shouts, his voice cracking. He drops to his knees beside you, his trembling hands pressing down on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice a mixture of panic and determination. "Please, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay."

His normally steady hands shake as he tries to control the blood gushing from your wound. Tears well in his wide hazel eyes, threatening to spill over as he stares down at you.

You want to say something, to tell him it’s not his fault, but the words don’t come. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and his voice grows distant, like a fading echo.

When you wake, the world feels strangely quiet. The harsh fluorescent lights above you cast a sterile glow, and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor is the first sound you register.

Your body feels heavy, the dull ache in your abdomen a reminder of what happened. Blinking, you manage to focus on your surroundings. You’re in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV.

At your bedside, Spencer sits slumped forward, his head resting on the edge of the mattress. His usually neat hair is disheveled, and the dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept in days.

"Spence," you croak, your voice hoarse and weak.

His head snaps up, and for a moment, he just stares at you, as if he can’t believe you’re really awake. Then, relief floods his features, and he quickly leans closer.

"Y/N," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re awake."

Before you can respond, the door opens, and the rest of the team files in. Emily is the first to approach, her expression a mix of relief and gentle reprimand.

"You really know how to scare us, don’t you?" she says, brushing a hand lightly over your arm.

Morgan stands next to her, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "You’ve got to stop putting yourself in the line of fire like this. We’re getting too old for these kinds of scares."

JJ and Rossi linger near the foot of the bed, offering soft words of encouragement and teasing remarks to lighten the mood. Their presence is comforting, a reminder of the bond you all share.

But through it all, Spencer stays quiet, his eyes never leaving you.

Eventually, the team begins to trickle out, giving you space to rest. Emily glances at Spencer before leaving, her gaze lingering for a moment as if to say, This is your chance.

Now, it’s just the two of you.

Spencer pulls his chair closer, his long fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of his sweater. He hesitates, the silence stretching between you.

"Spence," you say softly, breaking the tension.

He looks up at you, his hazel eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I thought I lost you," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I’ve seen so many terrible things in this job, but nothing… nothing has ever scared me like that. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I never told you."

He swallows hard, his hands clenching into fists as he gathers his courage. "Y/N, you mean so much to me. More than I’ve ever let on. You’re the one person who makes me feel like I’m more than just statistics and facts. You make me feel… human."

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I’ve always been afraid to say anything, afraid of ruining what we have. But after seeing you like that, I realized��� I can’t keep this to myself anymore."

He lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes. "I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time."

The raw vulnerability in his confession leaves you speechless for a moment. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. He takes your hand in his, holding it tightly, as if afraid to let go.

"I love you too, Spence," you say, your voice soft but steady.

A tear slips down his cheek, and he lets out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I’m going to be here for you. Always."

And for the first time since waking up, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.

[roselilies]

WEST SIDE ⟢ GOJO SATORU

╭┈─ Pairing ⺌ ፧ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

╰╮⺌ Synopsis: Inspired by “West Side” by Ariana Grande, Gojo Satoru just wants to feel and pull you away from your busy day. No thinking, no distractions, just time with him.

─── ⌕𓈒 Genre, Word count: needygojoneedygojo, 1.7k

“Y/n,” he greeted, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “You’ve been at it for hours, you’re not gonna stop for a break?”

You were in the middle of explaining a technique to Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara when the door to the classroom creaked open. You looked up instinctively, eyes narrowing at the interruption.

Gojo Satoru stood there, framed by the doorway with his usual swagger, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his uniform. His blindfold was in place, as always, but you could tell by the tilt of his head and the way his body seemed to hum with energy that he wasn’t here for anything professional.

You shot him a look that conveyed your irritation, but Gojo was used to it. You’d been in the middle of a lesson, one that required undivided attention, and you didn’t need Gojo coming in to stir things up.

“I’m working, Gojo,” you replied firmly, turning back to the chalkboard, your hand still moving as you continued your lesson with the students. “We’re not done yet.”

Gojo, however, wasn’t deterred. He leaned against the doorway, his smirk widening under his blindfold, like he was enjoying how you were trying to remain focused despite him being a very obvious distraction.

“C’mon, Y/n. You’ve been at it all morning.” He stepped into the classroom without waiting for an invitation. “I’m sure your students can survive without you for a little while.”

Yuji, ever the eager one, glanced between you and Gojo, picking up on the subtle tension. “Is everything okay, Y/n-sensei? He looks like he’s gonna drag you away,” he teased.

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you two like this. You sure you’re not getting a little too comfortable?”

You shot them both a warning look. “Class is still in session,” you said, trying to steer the focus back to the lesson. But Gojo’s presence was undeniable. His confidence filled the room, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere.

Gojo walked over to you, his presence now filling up the space between you and your students. He was impossibly close, his body just a hair away from yours as he reached out, lightly tapping your chin with a playful finger. “You know, you’re all work and no play. Come on, just a little break,” he urged, voice lowering slightly, his playful tone laced with an underlying softness that only you could catch.

Megumi, who had been mostly silent until now, finally spoke up, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we really going to have to deal with this during class?”

Gojo glanced at him, his smile widening even more. “What? Can’t a teacher enjoy some one-on-one time with their colleague?” He winked at you. “Or do you need me to officially interrupt the class to get your attention?”

You sighed, looking at your students, who were clearly entertained by Gojo’s antics. Despite their distractions, they were still attentive enough to learn, but you could feel your own focus starting to wane under Gojo’s intense attention.

Your eyes flicked back to Gojo, and you couldn’t hold back a sigh of exasperation. “Gojo,” you said, your voice losing some of its edge as you realized he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, “We can talk after class. I’m busy.”

Gojo’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. His touch was light but confident, grounding you despite the chaos he’d caused in the classroom. “You’ve been ‘busy’ all day, Y/n. I’m not gonna let you stay all stressed out while I’m here.”

Your students had long since abandoned their attempts at focusing on the lesson, watching the interaction between you two like it was some kind of show.

Gojo turned his head slightly, speaking directly to your students with a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, kids. Your sensei’s gonna take a break. I’ll take her off your hands for a bit.”

He looked back at you, a knowing gleam in his blindfolded eyes. “C’mon, don’t make me drag you away from these kids. They’re fine without you for a while.”

With a frustrated but fond sigh, you turned back to your students. “Alright, class is dismissed for today. Go ahead and review the techniques we went over. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Nobara, always the cheeky one, smirked at you. “Well, guess you two are heading out for some quality time then. Have fun.”

You shot her a look, but Gojo didn’t give you the chance to reply. He was already pulling you toward the door with that signature grin of his, his arm casually around your shoulder as he tugged you away from the classroom and into the hallway.

“See?” he said softly, as if the world had just been waiting for you two to be alone. “Was that so hard?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Gojo just laughed, his voice warm and genuine. “Impossible? Nah, I’m just persistent. Now let’s go. I’m not sharing you with anyone else today.”

As you walked out of the classroom with him, you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Despite how stubborn and needy he was, you had to admit, you couldn’t quite resist Gojo’s way of pulling you into his orbit.

Gojo continued to tug you along, his grip on your shoulder firm but easy, like he knew exactly how to pull you into his world. You could feel the weight of his presence, the playful energy radiating off him as he led you through the halls of Jujutsu High.

You both turned a corner, heading down a hallway you didn’t recognize. Before you could ask where you were going, Gojo stopped at a door and opened it with a simple push, pulling you inside. The room was dimly lit, cozy, and quiet, far different from the bustling halls outside. A small sofa sat against one wall, and the windows were partially open, letting the soft breeze in.

Gojo closed the door behind you with a quiet click, his hand lingering at the knob before his focus shifted entirely to you. The air in the room felt different—charged with the energy that only he could bring. You’d been running around all day, attending to your duties as a teacher and sorcerer, but now, with Gojo in front of you, everything else faded.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice low and playful, though there was an edge of something else there—something more intense, more focused. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that was rare for him. “But I haven’t had you to myself all day. I think I deserve a little of your time.”

You were about to protest, to remind him of the work you both had, but Gojo wasn’t having it. He stepped closer, his large frame easily closing the distance between you. Before you could say a word, his hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you in closer until you could feel the heat of his body against yours.

“Don’t think,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head, “just let yourself be with me for a while. That’s all I want.”

The intensity in his voice left little room for argument, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, letting yourself be pulled into his orbit. You knew better than anyone how stubborn Gojo could be, but there was something about the way he held you, the way he looked at you like he couldn’t be anywhere else, that made it impossible to resist.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes softening beneath his blindfold. “You’re always so focused on everyone else, but right now? Just let me have you.”

His words were a quiet request, but you could feel the weight of his need, the pull in his words that urged you to drop your guard. The way he was so intent on being with you now. It was unlike him, in a way, but it felt right. He was always so self-assured, so confident, that when he was this earnest, it hit differently.

You took a step forward, your hands finding his chest, pushing lightly as you tried to regain some control. But Gojo wasn’t having it. His grip tightened on your waist, pulling you back into him with a gentle but firm force. His lips hovered above your ear as he spoke again.

“I don’t want to wait anymore, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. “I just want you.”

There was a vulnerability there that you hadn’t expected—a softness beneath the usual teasing and bravado. It was the Gojo you rarely saw, the one who didn’t have to be the strongest, the most invincible sorcerer in the room. Here, with you, he was simply someone who wanted to be close, who wanted your attention.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you looked up at him. He hadn’t broken his usual playful grin, but the way he held you, so close, so sure, told you everything. He wasn’t going to let go of this moment, of this chance to have you all to himself.

“I’m right here, Gojo,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, matching the energy between you. “No distractions.”

He smiled, the tension in his body releasing slightly as he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t forced. It was exactly what you both needed.

The kiss deepened, Gojo’s hands moving to frame your face, holding you close as if he was afraid you might slip away if he let go for even a second. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against your chest as he pulled you closer still, the world outside this room forgotten for now.

For once, neither of you had to say a word. You were just there, together, with nothing else but each other.

End note: casually hyper-fixating on Gojo Satoru

[keehendrixx]

Forbidden Syllabus

College Professor!Terry x Black Woman!OC

Warnings: None

Cree almost sprinted to class, she couldn’t believe she was late for the first day of school. She almost broke her heels trying to walk halfway across campus. Finally making it to the lecture hall, she was faced with another problem, she couldn’t find the right classroom.

“Fuck!” She muttered. She checked her schedule and found it. After mentally preparing herself for the embarrassment she’d probably receive, she opened the door to find a wave of students looking at her & a professor who was in the middle of his lecture.

Cree walked inside and looked around.

“Ms. Miller, I suppose? It’s nice that you could join us.” The professor said with a hint of sarcasm. “Now, have a seat.”

“I’m sorry for my tardiness, Professor.” Cree said as she walked to the back of the classroom, taking a seat at an empty desk.

“Apology accepted, but I don’t take well to my students being late or missing out on an important lesson.”

With that he turned around to the board, continuing to write on it.

Even though she was sitting at the back of the class, Cree couldn’t help but to notice the way he moved with great ease and confidence.

Dazed, she hadn’t realized that he had been calling her name. Cree snapped out of her little trance, focusing her attention on him.

“Cree, that’s your name right?”

“Yes, sir.” Cree swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’d suggest that you start paying attention Ms. Miller. First, you were late. Now, you’re not focusing on me. That’s something I don’t tolerate.” He said walking in her direction.

Oh, he was a commanding dom indeed.

He stood at the foot of her desk, leaning down. “How do you think you can pass this semester if you can’t even pay attention to anything I’m saying?”

“I’m-”

“If you’re apologizing, I heard that already. From way too many students.”

He effortlessly walked back to the front and Cree slumped down in the desk.

She could feel the dominance radiating from him. This was indeed going to be a long semester for her. Especially with this fine specimen of a man as her professor.

Class came to an end and Cree grabbed her things, about to head out when he called out for her. “Ms. Miller, a word please?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“I care deeply about my students, even more about the ones I can see a great future in. It’s the first day and I think you’ve already gotten off to a bad start.”

“I understand. I just woke up a little late, that’s all. It won’t happen again. I’ll be here bright and bushy-tailed from now on.”

Professor Richmond chuckled. “That’s the spirit!”

“How about we overlook this one mistake? A fresh start?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can see great potential in you Cree, I see you being a great doctor, lawyer, or whatever you desire to be. But as I said before, I won’t tolerate tardiness or anything else in that nature.”

Cree looked down at the floor. His hand slipped under her chin as he lifted her head up.

“My attention is up here, not on the floor.”

OH!

“My apologies Professor Richmond.”

“Terry. I think we’re passed the formalities now.”

If Cree said her stomach wasn’t doing cartwheels by now, she’d be lying because it definitely was.

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll sit in the front of the class. I want to be able to engage with you. Get your undivided attention and hear your thoughts on the subject matters.”

“Yes, sir. I mean Terry.”

Terry’s eyes scanned her down like a predator, taking in every single detail of her outfit. The way she wore it like she owned a room made him feel some type of way. He instantly let out a low hum to himself.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning Cree, enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, professor.”

Cree started to walk towards the door but his voice caught her attention as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Wear something comfortable tomorrow, I’m starting to think you were really late trying to find something pretty to wear today.”

She couldn’t do anything but laugh. “I wanted to make a good impression, I think my outfit is decent enough.”

“Oh sweetheart, you’ve made quite the impression already on me.” His voice got a little deeper than his usual deep baritone.

@kimuzostar @nayaesworld @pocketsizedpanther @theereina @episodes-ff @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn

[pankowcrumbs]

Little Nap X Rudy Pankow (requested)

The van rumbled along the open highway, the sound of tires on asphalt mixing with the faint hum of music from the van’s speakers. JD, sat in the driver’s seat, humming along to a tune while everyone else lounged around, enjoying the road trip vibes. The Outer Banks cast had decided to take a rare day off from filming and embark on a road trip together. It was supposed to be a day of bonding, laughter, and memories—and it was already shaping up to be just that.

I sat beside Rudy in the backseat, leaning against the window as the warm afternoon sun streamed through the glass. Rudy was beside me, scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing me memes or funny videos. His laughter was contagious, and I found myself giggling at things I might not have otherwise found funny. There was just something about his energy that made everything brighter.

“Alright, pit stop time!” JD announced, pulling into a rest area. The van came to a halt, and everyone groaned as they stretched and climbed out. The rest stop was a quaint little spot with picnic tables, a few vending machines, and a decent view of rolling green hills.

“Finally,” Madison Bailey said, hopping out and immediately heading for the vending machines. “I need snacks, stat.”

I stayed back, feeling the fatigue of the long drive settling in. Rudy noticed and nudged me gently. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, just tired,” I admitted, offering him a small smile.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out a hand to me. “Let’s stretch our legs.”

Reluctantly, I took his hand, and we stepped out into the crisp air. Rudy kept a steady hand on my back as we walked toward the others. We didn’t go far, just enough to loosen up before making our way back to the van.

“Hey, I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit,” I said once we were back in our seats. The soft hum of the van and the warmth of the sun made it impossible to fight the sleepiness.

“Me too,” Rudy said, leaning back. “Wake me up if anything interesting happens.”

Before I knew it, my head had drifted onto Rudy’s shoulder, and he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I faintly registered him leaning his head against mine as we both fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was being roused by muffled laughter. I blinked my eyes open to find Chase Stokes and Madelyn Cline standing outside the van, their phones pointed directly at us. Drew Starkey was grinning from ear to ear, and JD was smirking mischievously.

“What’s so funny?” I mumbled groggily, lifting my head from Rudy’s shoulder. Rudy stirred beside me, looking equally confused.

“Oh, nothing,” JD said, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “You two just looked so cute, we had to capture the moment.”

I groaned, my cheeks flushing as I realized what they meant. Rudy looked down at me, his own face turning a shade of pink. “Oh, great,” he muttered. “Now we’re gonna end up all over Instagram.”

“Too late for that,” Madison said, holding up her phone. “This is definitely going on the group chat.”

“You guys are the worst,” I said, laughing despite myself. Rudy chuckled beside me, running a hand through his messy hair.

JD, ever the prankster, wasn’t done yet. “Alright, time to wake them up properly,” he announced, stepping forward with a devious grin.

“JD, don’t you dare,” I warned, though my tone lacked any real menace. I was still half-asleep, and the thought of whatever he had planned was too much effort to fight against.

“Too late!” JD said, reaching into the van and grabbing water bottle and held it over Rudy and me.

“JD, no!” Rudy exclaimed, now fully awake and trying to shield me with his hands. But JD was faster, and before we knew it, a splash of cold water hit us both.

“JD!” I shrieked, laughing as the coldness jolted me awake. Rudy was laughing too, shaking water from his hair like a dog.

“That’s what you get for napping on the job,” JD said, looking far too pleased with himself.

“You’re so dead,” Rudy said, lunging at JD. The two of them broke into a playful chase around the rest area, leaving the rest of us in stitches.

As the laughter died down and we all piled back into the van, Rudy leaned over to me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, smiling at him. “Thanks for asking, though. You’re always looking out for me.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes soft. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

The rest of the drive was filled with laughter and teasing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Rudy had been so protective of me. It was just one of the many things I adored about him. As the sun began to set and the van rolled on, I leaned my head back on Rudy’s shoulder, this time wide awake and feeling completely at ease.

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty : a 'who' reason

*written*

word count : 1k

warnings : nothing. She feels a little fuzzy and a bit of a ‘i love the people in my life’ vibe. Drinking. Not proofread. Also forgave him way too easily but anyways….

He had kissed you this morning, apology on his lips enough to imprint you for the rest of the day.

The kiss itself was sweet, but the way he pressed you into the wall wasn’t. The way he fucked you into your mattress wasn’t. The way you went on for hours wasn’t. 

The way you wanted him to stay, although sweet, was terrifying. 

“You look so good,” Wendy complimented as she pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

“Thanks,” You goofed, not taking it seriously. 

“I mean it, you look fucking gorgeous,” Wendy shrugged. 

Yeri smirked, “There’s probably a ‘who’ reason.” 

You shoved her. Out of all of Joy’s friends, you normally gravitated to Yeri. She was originally a workmate of Joy but she was closest in age to you. The dynamics were sometimes a little weird, and a bit confusing at times but ultimately they worked, you loved her. You loved Irene, who you could settle down with and who watched over you when you needed it. You loved Wendy, who would compliment you and who’d always let you experiment using her kitchen utensils and the like. Who didn’t particularly have any attachment towards anything she owned except her plants and cute dog. You loved Seulgi who was always willing to hang out with you. Always. Who took you somewhere even without Joy around. Or Yeri. Like another older sister. 

Joy made a lot of girl friends, and liked to drag you along to any event, disliking the amount of men you were surrounded by, but not disliking the men themselves. She actually liked them, almost preying on their need to make her like them. Whereas she loved to share you with her friends, you hated doing the same. 

You liked that they were your friends. 

Yours. 

So whilst you loved the feeling of their precision when they cut your nails and the trained gentleness when rubbing moisturising cream to your skin. You couldn’t wait to see your boys again, see the way their faces changed into a wide smile. 

You bring the champagne and they fuss over your hair and your nails, pleasantly surprised and threading your hands together, loving the softness of your skin. 

“Y/N,” Chenle shouted from the couch, falling over in an attempt to reach you as you wrapped your arms around him, “And you brought champagne!” 

You notice quickly that the boy from this morning isn’t there (he was spending the day with his mother but would make an effort to come back before the day was over) but the atmosphere didn’t let her disappointment nor longing linger for too long. 

For hours, you played games that made you bicker with each other. Bicker over who cheated. Bicker over who won. Bicker over how unfair it was. They laughed at your inability to pick up cards with your new nails and one of the boys would pick it up for you. 

You made the shit decision to down a couple shots each, because you were all so drunk nobody played the role of mother hen, finding the confines of Jaemin’s apartment safe enough to do so. 

“I need to go to the toilet,” Jisung mutters drunkenly, and with a cacophony of loud refusals, all five of you stumble after him. Mark, being responsible, covers your eyes from the sight of Jisung sitting on the toilet, a folded pile of toilet paper in his grasp and sleep in his eyes. 

“Let’s hop in the bath!” You exclaim, to which the boys follow after you. It makes you feel like the ringleader in ‘We’re Going On A Lion Hunt’ and it makes your cheeks crack with the grin that overtakes your face. 

You giggle together, conversing about god knows what. You don’t even know what you’re talking about and you’re pretty sure the boys don’t either. But they nod relentlessly at your drunken rant like yes boys. 

Mark wraps his arms around Jisung and Jaemin, Chenle cuddling into Jaemin’s body and you hang off Jisung - if someone were to take a picture it’d be the kind you’d hang on your fridge with a cheesy caption. 

But ultimately, when Haechan does arrive and he follows the noise he finds the five of you struggling to help Jaemin out of the bath, he can’t help the exasperated sigh that escapes his lips. 

“Can’t leave you guys anywhere, can I?” He scoffs, you all let out a cartoonish gasp, all turning to him before he’s smothered in limbs and gibberish. 

Jaemin trips the rest of the way out of the bath, giving Haechan’s ankle a kiss as he attempts to get up. Haechan’s lips curl in disgust as Mark, Chenle and Jisung all give their own wet and uncomfortably airy kisses. 

“Get the fuck off me,” He hisses, without the venom. 

“He likes it,” Jaemin grunts, rising from the ground with a stumble. 

“Out of the bath, Princess,” Haechan snorts at you, staring at him with wide innocent eyes. 

You shake your head solemnly, “I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

Before you dare shake your head again, Haechan walks forward, knees hitting against the wall of the bath, “You’re a pain.” 

Defiantly, you hold out both hands and Haechan can’t get a grip on the laugh that rebounds against the bathroom walls, bending slightly to support your weight as you lift out of the bath and wrap your arms around him to ‘rest’. 

“Hey, you brought champagne too!” 

Haechan’s lips curl with amusement, “I only brought it cause you were already drinking it, Princess.” 

Mark turns to the scene, his arms hanging over the barricade the rest of the boys make with their bodies, “Bruh, I’m saying there’s something between them-” 

Truthfully, you both heard what he said and if he wanted to be honest, Haechan smiled like it was nothing but the truth. Like the way his heart was acting was considered normal and the almost fluttery feeling in his body was just part of your body butter smell. He leaned a little closer to you, close enough to count every eyelash you had and close enough to question whether the warmth he felt came from your waist or his fingertips. 

You…you smiled too. But…. you only smiled because he did. 

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter twenty : a 'who' reason

masterlist | prev | next

author's note : it's my birthday! i'm officially in my mid 20's now. scary.

taglist : @harunade @yukisroom97 @haesluvr @choizzn @lovetyong @kukkurookkoo @t-102 @jeonghansshitester @haechansssun @miniature-tragedy @nctdreamchaser @tenjyucat @chan-yeoldelling @ant-onie @toroufriteh @queenrachelpink @tywritesstuff @meowtella @gomdoleemyson @karmasbestie @berries-n-blues @sundamariis @minkyuncutie @kodasity @bbambidorii

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

First thing the next morning, one thing was absolutely certain – it was freezing. Ashlynn huddled under her blankets in every clothing layer she possessed and still she was insufferably cold.

Were her thoughts occupied with the dangers of her interaction with the three brothers last night?

No.

Was she thinking about how to keep herself safe and to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with the three humans she had decided to trust?

No.

Was she considering the possibility of returning?

No.

All she could think about was how cold it was.

What on earth is going on? It’s absolutely frigid! Did Soren turn off the heat? Is there something wrong with the heater? Is this some kind of human ploy to get me out of the walls? What time is it even?

Ashlynn dared to poke her head out from under her layered blankets, brow and eyes instantly stiff with an unforgivable chill, as she looked around her home. It was here that something caught her eye – her lights weren’t on. The little lights she’d tapped into and borrowed from the neighboring apartments were completely out.

That’s weird. The chances of this being a simple fix dwindled fast. What made it weird was that the power for the lights came from lots of different places. If there was a short or something along those lines, just one strand would be affected. Did this mean something happened to the power in all of these places?

It was with regret and reluctance that Ashlynn bundled up and hauled herself out of her bed, the imprint of warmth left behind in a perfect silhouette of her body. She shuffled over to the plugs and places she’d wired together just in case, but found nothing in the light of her hip lamp that indicated that the wires were bad or that something had burned out. Bulbs tested. Wires checked.

Ashlynn watched her breath form a steaming fog with every breath out, and every breath in felt like she little icicles were jabbing her lungs from the inside. She quickly retreated back to the warmth and safety of her bed, relieved her warm spot was waiting for her, and extinguished her lamp.

Just a few minutes longer, and then if nothing happens I’ll go check and see if the boys are here. Maybe Soren is doing something with the electricity. Then again, I haven’t heard them all morning. Hope everything’s okay…

~~~^*^*^~~~

And, for the boys, everything was more than okay. It was great!

First thing, early in the morning, Soren woke up his brothers and showed them the fresh layer of snow spread across the yards. Layers and layers of gray snow already scraped from the road was once again concealed by a duvet of white, frozen flakes. He usually let his brothers sleep, but sledding on Christmas Eve day was too good to pass up.

So, he picked out the warmest clothes they had and bundled them up into the car to go to his favorite secret sledding spot. It was a treasured place. Sometimes hard to get to, and rarely visited since everything happened, but it didn’t diminish the special meaning it had for Soren.

The trio set out into the snow, unaware that moments after they left that the power would go out for them and the rest of their neighborhood.

“Soren? Where are we going?” asked Dorian, interrupted momentarily by a yawn, as he peered out the window.

“Sledding. I told you that,” reminded Soren as he glanced back at his brother.

“I know, but… you turn left to go to the part; or we walk. You… see? You took a right,” pointed out Dorian. Rey’s eyes gleamed as he attempted to bounce and squirm. His efforts were severely thwarted from his layers of puffy winter coats and the seatbelt protecting him.

“Oh! OH! I know! I know! We’re going to The Hill, right?” grinned the youngest brother. Soren couldn’t hide his smile.

“Maybe.”

“Oh! I knew it!” cheered Rey.

“Wait. The Hill? Really?” Dorian chimed in eagerly.

The Hill, as Soren called it, was a place that he and his parents used to go to whenever it snowed because it had the best hills, hence the name. There was a park he and his parents used to enjoy when he was younger right next to a thick, wooded area. The park was an old-fashioned one, with rusted spring bound horses and metal slides. The swing set rocked back and forth due to years of abuse and the earth leveling beneath it.

It also had the best places to sled down. Old trails took you to several quiet, steep hills. It was here that Soren and his father, Aaron, had the all-time record for hills to jump. If you started at the top of one, you could crest over some of the smaller ones beside it, and Soren and his dad had managed to make it all the way to the end during one particularly icy snowfall.

That was before he got sick…

As if the brothers behind him could read his mind, Dorian asked, “Isn’t this the place your dad brought you to?”

Soren had to clear the tension in his throat before responding, “Yes, it is.” His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror to see Rey and Dorian exchanging elated glances.

“Just like you’re dad took you!” Rey smiled. Soren swallowed hard and continued to nod rather than respond.

“But you’re not our dad,” stated Dorian in a matter-of-fact tone. It made Soren chuckle.

“No, I’m not. I’m something better – your pesky older brother,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. Rey started giggling before going off into his own side tangent.

“Soren? Soren? Do… wasn’t that so funny yesterday? When Ashlynn was like, ‘Isn’t Soren your dad?’ And! And…”

“That definitely was interesting,” admitted Soren. In a way, Ashlynn wasn’t wrong to guess Soren’s roll here in the family. He had taken on quite the heavy mantle after the accident with the boys’ father and their mother. It still made his blood boil, the way it all had to happen.

Brady should’ve never been behind the wheel. Soren’s grip tightened on the wheel. Serves him right. Drunken scumbag.

He was so focused on his loathing that Soren almost missed the turn. Quick jerk to the left with a little skidding that made the boys giggle and squeal and, all of a sudden, Soren felt like he was back in a memory. He followed the unplowed road through the arcing trees up one road and down the next before, just like before, he saw the all-too-familiar sight of the place he’d adored as a child.

“We’re here!” the boys cheered in tandem.

Yes… yes we are.

“Alright you two, unbuckle and let’s get going. We have some sledding to do.”

Soren hoisted the sleds onto his back and led the way around the park, over the creek, and then began the trudge up the series of small hills. He and his brothers paused frequently, mostly because of Rey wanting to eat icicles and draw smiley faces in the undisturbed winter around them, until they saw it.

The Hill.

It towered over them, a mass of white that made both boys pause and look up with their entire bodies since their bundled bodies couldn’t simply move their neck. The motion reminded Soren of the original Batman costume, but the reference would be lost on his brothers.

Maybe we’ll watch that if they don’t want to watch something else more Christmas themed tonight. Soren thought.

“Alright. Final push, and then we slide down,” huffed Soren.

“Soren? I’m tired. Could you carry me?” asked Rey. Soren looked over his shoulder to see his brother standing pitifully in snow almost to his knees with his lower lip puckered out. Whether Rey knew it or not, Soren could never say no when his brother made that face.

“Alright. Get on,” he relented as he knelt in the snow.

“Hey! Can I go too?” Dorian asked.

Figures. I knew this would happen. I did the same thing at their ages.

“Pile on!”

It took some finagling, but Soren managed to get both his brothers onto his back while dragging the sled behind. With both boys secure and Soren realizing this was going to be quite the challenge, the eldest forced his quaking knees to push him upright as he began the climb. The boys knew better than to flail and bounce. They knew Soren would make them walk if they weren’t going to behave themselves, so they remained motionless and fastened tight, clutching onto Soren’s shoulders for dear life.

Step after step, Soren ascended The Hill.

Each step made Soren feel stationary. No matter how much he pumped his legs, the top was nowhere to be found. He didn’t relent. Everything worth having was worth working for, and his brothers deserved this. Finally, out of breath and a bit achy, Soren crested over the top and partially as a joke and partially because his legs were screaming in protest, fell face first in the snow.

“Soren! Are you okay?” Rey squeaked.

“Did you get hurt?” asked Dorian immediately after. Soren rolled over and, in the blink of an eye, had grabbed his brothers and rolled them into the snow. The chorus of laughter erupted as the three were now covered in snow.

“Ugh, just crushed by you two. When did you decide to get so big?” groaned Soren as their laughter died down. The boys opened their mouths to protest, but paused as they saw the look in their brother’s eyes. It was unidentifiable for the youngsters, but it was unlike any way he’d looked at them before. Pride? Nostalgia? Realization?

Their mom had that look a few times…

As fast as the moment came, it went and soon Soren was on his feet and setting up their three person sled.

“Okay, Rey first, Dorian, and then me. Let’s go!” Soren’s commanding voice set the boys to action immediately. If only I could get them to do chores that easily, thought Soren sarcastically. Snow crunched under their feet as they assumed the correct order. The oldest remembered how his father did it, and now he was going to do the same. “Alright. Hang on tight and don’t lean, bounce, or let your feet drag. Ready? Set!” On “Go,” Soren pulled the sled back and ran with it, only jumping on at the last moment as it careened off of the edge.

The boys’ squeals were caught in the top of their throat as the frigid wind whipped past their faces. They held on tight, death gripping the edge of the sled by the improvised handles Soren made for them last Christmas. The weightlessness carried them down the hill and over the first two bumps before sliding to a stop on the third.

Almost! Thought Soren. Gotta get the record though. Not worth the trip without it.

He turned around and, using the handle, began dragging his brothers back up the series of hills. Thankfully, the boys didn’t make the next few climbs difficult, stomping through the snow beside Soren instead of getting a free ride off of his back. It wasn’t until the fifth try that, finally, the snow was flat enough for them to make a proper run of it.

“Ready? Set! GO!” Soren sprinted as he pushed the sled, his muscles aching in the cold, as he leapt on at the last moment. They soared over the first hill and the second, caught air on the third, and coasted through the last one all the way to the tree line before coming to a skidding stop right before the creek.

“We did it! We did it!” cheered Rey, bounding like a puppy in the snow with Dorian cheering right beside him.

Yeah… we did. See that mom? Dad? Keeping the tradition alive.

“Ready for another round?”

“Yeah!”

~~~^*^*^~~~

Hours passed in the freezing cold before, finally, the boys returned home. Everything felt numb, but neither boy could stop talking about what an awesome time they had. Now, a promise of hot chocolate and a warm bath lured them back to the car to make the drive home.

Soren had to admit that he could also use some time in a nice hot shower, but hot chocolate and getting the boys warm took precedent. They would pass out like played out puppies and nap the moment Soren left them alone for more than a minute, and it would be better if they were already PJ’d up and ready for a night in than trying to wake them later.

They rounded the final corner to their neighborhood and up to their place. Soren tapped the garage door and, to their surprise, nothing happened. Twice. Three times. Nothing. Soren put the car in park and stepped up to the keypad to press the frozen through buttons when he noticed the light failed to come on.

“Oh no,” he grumbled. This wasn’t good. He tried once more, just to be safe, and sadly received the same result.

The power was out.

How long has it been out? We’ve been gone for a while. Please tell me the pipes haven’t frozen. Looks like it’s improv time.

“Soren? Is everything okay?” Dorian had unbuckled himself and was leaning out of the car, concern etching its way into his thawing features.

“Maybe. I think the power’s out. Storm must’ve taken out the power lines and the generators,” replied Soren, who returned to the car and shut it off. “We’ll have to go in through the front. Come on.”

He guided the boys inside and, to keep them from tracking in snow, quickly undressed at the front door step so he was in nothing but his long pants and long sleeved shirt before picking up one boy and then the next, shoving them in the garage to rid themselves of their snow covered gear. The moment he stepped inside, Soren could’ve sworn he could see his breath. Evidently, the power had been out for a while, and that wasn’t good. The emergency flashlights flooded the room with small beacons of light, but that was all with the blinds closed and curtains drawn.

At least I remembered to keep the curtains sealed. It would be unbearable if I’d thrown open the blinds first thing.

He was prepared, as always, for emergencies, but it would add time and, sadly, the boys wouldn’t be getting a bath today unless the power came back on. Jammies on the boys and his own gear drying in the garage, Soren set to work.

“Soren? Why is it so cold in here?” asked Rey as he shivered and pulled his sleeves over his fingers.

“Well,” sighed Soren as he grabbed one of his own jackets and slid it onto his brother, instantly dwarfing the youngster, before pulling up the hood to cover his head. “When the power goes out, that means there’s no electricity. The heater runs off of electricity, so no power means no heat.” Soren pulled Dorian closer and slipped one of his jackets on him, zipping up the front all the way to Dorian’s chin.

“So… does that mean…” Soren knew where Rey was going with this.

“Yes. Operation Survival. You know where the flashlights are,” grinned Soren, biting back a shiver as he pulled a hoodie over his head.

“Yeah! Tent city! Campfire burner! Candles and fire! Let’s go!” Dorian cheered as he and Rey scampered off.

“Flashlights first!” Soren called. He rolled his eyes and stared at the kitchen sink, daring to reach forward and flicking the tap on.

Nothing.

Curses. Either the pipes are frozen or the backup generator is out too.

Soren crouched and opened the cabinet to see if he could find any signs of freezing pipes when he heard something on top of the counter directly behind him.

“S-s-soren?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Ashlynn bundled in blankets to the point he could only make out part of her face.

“Ashlynn, hey,” he breathed.

“Wh-what’s g-going on?” Ashlynn’s teeth were chattering hard. “Is the p-power out?” A million things were going on in his mind to help get everything prepared for a potential power outage long haul, but pausing for a second to explain wouldn’t do any harm.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Soren grumbled. “Usually, there are generators and stuff to kick everything back on, but this snow storm must be hitting a lot of people all at once. So, we’re going into what myself and the boys affectionately call ‘Survival mode.’ We’ve also called it pioneer night, but operation survival motivates the boys.”

“Ah, I s-s-see,” muttered Ashlynn. “Explains the c-cold.”

“Oh… oh yeah, wow. So… gosh yeah, that would probably affect you more than any of us since you probably don’t have access to direct heat, huh.” Soren saw the small woman nod sheepishly. I couldn’t imagine not having access to electricity and modern tech. Basically every night is like pioneer night for someone like her. Soren shuddered to think of what it would be like to have to take care of him and his brothers if he were Ashlynn’s size with basically nothing to his name.

It made his heart ache, but then an idea hit him.

“Well, I don’t know what your plans are for the evening, but you’re welcome to join us. Dorian and Rey are going to be back here in a second and I’m going to set them on tent duty, which is basically a giant fort made of blankets so we can all be together and keep warm if the power doesn’t come back on. If you want to join them, I’m sure they’d love to have you,” suggested Soren. “Or not. Whatever you prefer. You might’ve just come down to figure out what was going on.”

“And… what are you doing?” asked Ashlynn.

“Me? Checking for leaks and breaks in the water pipes, but I don’t see any here and I can’t do much else except wait and see if there are any leaks,” replied Soren as he ducked back into the cabinet and, using his keen eyes, started seeking for any seam splits.

“Why can’t you do much else? Why wait?” asked Ashlynn, who knew the dangers of water leaking for more reasons than one. If there was a leak in the pipes, walls and floors were instantly torn up. She’d seen it happen to a friend’s family when they were growing up, and they had to move shortly after. The damage water could do was also dangerous. It could lead to mold and would ruin everything if not dealt with properly.

“Well, a lot of that stuff is either under the house where I can’t reach it right now or it’s in the walls,” explained Soren. It was like a bolt of lightning struck them both, giving the same idea at the same time. “Ashlynn…”

“Soren… er…” They accidentally started talking at the same time. They both chuckled as Soren gestured for Ashlynn to go first. “Well… if you need someone to check the walls, I could do that. It’s easy enough. I’ve already mapped out most of the pipes and stuff. It’s how I… well… er… let’s just say I know how to check for that kind of stuff.”

Soren’s smile was nearly from ear to ear.

“That would be great. Seriously, Ashlynn, thank you.” It felt like a boulder had been lifted off of Soren’s chest. With Ashlynn checking the walls, I can get everything else going. If she finds something, it’ll be a quick fix. If not, I’ll know it’s a generator. “Come back as soon as you’re done.”

“Sure,” Ashlynn replied. It was the first time she actually felt useful, like she was paying back a debt that wasn’t being asked for.

She’d almost made it to the walls when she heard Soren’s soft, “Oh.” She paused and looked back at him. “By the way, what kind of hot chocolate do you like? Have you… had it before?” Ashlynn had heard of this drink, but had never had a chance to borrow any. So, she shook her head. “Little of a few different ones then. Good to know. Thanks.”

Ashlynn clicked on her hip lamp and, like the shadow she was, slipped into the darkness in search of a leak.

Soren, in the meantime, gathered up a few pots and set them on the gas stove to start boiling snow for hand washing and other miscellaneous things. He had drinking water reserved in the closet and the garage. He retrieved the electric generators from the shelves and set to work making a big bowl of ramen for lunch and then soup for dinner.

When he told the boys Ashlynn would be joining them, they just about lost their minds.

“Twice? In two days!” They cheered as they set to work on the tent, saying, “Let’s make this one the best one ever so Ashlynn will be impressed. She’s probably never been in a fort before.”

Ashlynn determinedly began scouring the walls for every water pipe she could remember in the apartment. Up walls. Down corridors. She placed her hands on each frigid pipe and examined it up one side and down the other looking for bulges or poking out ice. She even made sure her area was secure before snagging a few things she would need if she was going to spend the evening with Soren and his brothers.

Brothers. Ridiculous. I should’ve seen it. They just… whatever. They look related, but not by much. Dorian and Rey must take after their actual father or Soren just really takes after his. Ashlynn crouched and flipped over some of the nearby pipes when she heard something.

*Hiss… Drip… Drip…. Drip…*

Everything stopped. She held her breath. Every little motion froze in place. Ashlynn listened as hard as she could, turning her head one way and then the other to tell where it was coming from. She picked up the pace, following the sound down one corridor and having to crawl on all fours under a support beam, but still finding nothing.

“Well, shoot,” she muttered, hands on her hips and reaching up to scratch the back of her neck. “Where are you? Sounds like it’s coming from… hm…”

She had an idea.

Ashlynn had a good sense of direction, and she knew this part of the house was near the outside of the house. If I’m right… Ashlynn slid down a line she’d secured when she first arrived in case of emergencies and, instantly, felt the bitter cold freezing her solid. It was the passage that led to the outside, and she was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

Just a peak. Just a pe-AK! Ashlynn was halfway down the line when, suddenly, her foot hit solid ice. The jolt made her lose her grip and, as she slid down the rest of the line, she saw the culprit.

The water hose on the outside had indeed burst, and the spray had coated her emergency line in a thin coating of ice. Ashlynn plummeted straight down into a frozen mud pit, water spraying over her and into her hair. The wind kicked up again, sending millions of tiny snowflakes rushing right past her. The frigid air nearly brought Ashlynn to her knees once she was upright again.

Shoot! This is bad. Curses! Of course this happens to me. Ashlynn thought as she wiped the mud on her pants. She thanked her lucky stars she had her spare line and didn’t have to spend any time knocking the ice off of her safety line. It was that one more second that she needed to get inside instead of sitting outside freezing to death.

Though it took a bit longer to get inside because of her mud slicked hands and pants, Ashlynn was finally back inside and certain the pipes were alright.

“Great. Now I just have to get back and be a muddy mess for the rest of the night,” mumbled Ashlynn as she made the long slog back to her bag and the electrical cover on the counter.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“What happened?!” Soren’s voice was saturated with concern as he watched Ashlynn march back onto the counter, mud and ice on her clothes and in her hair. “Are you okay? Did you find a leak? Gosh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, Soren,” Ashlynn interrupted, feeling a bit flustered that Soren was fussing over her so much; not that she minded. In fact, she kind of liked it. She reached up and scratched the back of her neck, body still shivering from her exposure to the outside world. “Really. I just need to change and I’ll be good. On the positive side, at least we know it’s just a split hose outside and not something in the house.”

Soren sighed, right hand reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, before glancing over at the lit stove where he had successfully melted several bowls of snow.

“Well, at the very least you can wash off that mud if you want. I’ve got some warm water here, and we’ll give you the bathroom to get changed and everything,” said Soren. The mention of warm water instantly made Ashlynn’s body tingle. She’d only ever had warm baths here, and she liked the experience. “Though technically, if you’re cold, it’s skin to skin that is recommended, but…”

Ashlynn didn’t hear the rest. Her ears instantly started ringing and her cheeks began burning hotter than her candle burning stove at the thought of skin to skin with Soren. Gosh! What’s wrong with me?!

“Ashlynn?”

The Borrower woman startled as she suddenly realized Soren’s hand was only a few inches from her. She looked down at his hand and then back up to his features, only now noticing the bowl of steaming water in his left hand.

“Is that… something you’d like?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and, realizing he was talking about the bath, nodded bashfully and stepped onto his fingers as she snagged her bag with her spare clothes in it. The heat radiating off of his palm was soothing, and she was tempted to see if she could just sit there and keep warm. The Borrower thought better of it and let Soren carry her to the bathroom, which was lit with candles.

“Um… there’s soap here and give a shout or come into the living room when you’re done. I’ll leave the door open a crack for you,” stated Soren as his hand glided down to the surface of the countertop to set her down.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled as she disembarked and watched Soren go. Good grief! I can’t blank out and think about something as ridiculous as skin to skin with a human! What on earth is wrong with me?! Even if I took him up on that, he probably is treating me like he would a little sister. He treats his brothers with this same care. Good grief! What am I even thinking?

Ashlynn stripped and slid into the warm water, dunking herself in the hopes that warm water would cool her head.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Twenty or so minutes later, Ashlynn was squeaky clean with fresh clothes and clean ones drying on the edge of the sink. After getting clean, she scrubbed her clothes free of mud and set them out so she’d have something to get into later if she had another wardrobe malfunction.

Then, she wandered into the living room to see what exactly this “fort” was supposed to look like; and, in all actuality, it looked like a Borrower fort. The blankets were ramshackle and pinned in every which way between the two couches, which were now facing one another instead of being perpendicular. Other blankets and something that looked like foam were on the ground in between the two couches. There were also miscellaneous games and padded boxes that Ashlynn didn’t recognize, but one thing she did know for certain.

Heat was coming from somewhere. Based on the mild glow and the cord going from it to one of those padded boxes, Ashlynn guessed it was the reason there was any semblance of warmth anywhere here.

“Ashlynn!” Dorian’s face peered out from under one of the blankets on the couch as he gave a little wave. “Do you like it? It’s not done, but it will be. Want a grand tour?” Ashlynn spotted Soren not too far away unrolling some kind of plastic thing, so she elected to nod.

Dorian slipped out from the blankets and was at her side in a few simple steps, something Ashlynn would’ve had to short distance sprint to cross in the same amount of time.

“Okay, here you have the grand foyer. This is where we’ll have food and play some games and where the heater is pointed. That’s that thing over there,” Dorian explained.

“Heater? I thought…” Ashlynn’s confusion was evident and Rey, who was carrying in more blankets from Soren’s room, dropped everything to answer.

“Yeah! It needs electricity, but Soren has that covered. This thing here. It’s called a generator. It is like a big battery that Soren keeps charged in case we lose power. It also plays music and can make emergency Morse code signals if we’re in danger.” Rey was beaming with pride at his concise answer, and it earned him a scrutinized look from his brother.

“I was gonna explain that,” complained Dorian. “Any-who! That one there is my couch, so that’s where I’ll sleep. And that one there is Rey’s couch. That’s where he’ll sleep. He’ll probably also lose some of his toys in there because he always loses his toys in the couch.”

“I do not! Not always,” Rey claimed indignantly. “I can’t help it if I like working on my inventions before bed and… well… sometimes I fall asleep and sometimes things fall out of my hands, but that’s part of being an inventor, which… OH! It’s Christmas Eve! We can give you your thing!”

Rey scampered off while Dorian continued to talk about the entrance and how it’s important to have blankets in a particular order because, otherwise, you’ll still be cold even under a mountain of blankets. To Ashlynn’s surprise, she actually found this useful.

By the time Rey returned, Soren had lunch in bowls for all of them, even Ashlynn, as well as a cup of hot chocolate for each of them. It was the first time Ashlynn ever had anything like it. It was warm and sweet and made her insides toasty like warm soup. And then adding marshmallows? Something else she’d never tried?

A Borrower could die happy if this was their last meal.

They finished lunch and played a few games, which Dorian and Rey barely made it through because they were exhausted from sledding, and then decided to lay down while Soren cleaned up. It was admirable, seeing the way Soren diligently tended to his brothers, and Ashlynn couldn’t stop herself from staring as Soren came back and practically collapsed onto something they called an “air mattress.”

But it’s not made of air… just filled with it… whatever.

It was when they woke up that the real, as Rey called them, “reindeer games” actually started. They took turns having Ashlynn on their team as they played things like “Cadoo,” more Pictionary, Jenga which Ashlynn was especially good at since she could climb and maneuver the pieces so well, and a few others Ashlynn hadn’t heard of.

It was only after dinner, yet another meal Ashlynn found herself groaning over, that they celebrated Christmas Eve. Soren did something called praying, which Ashlynn had seen some other humans do, before he retrieved several boxes from under the tree, each wrapped in green or red wrapping paper. He handed three each to the boys and, to Ashlynn’s surprise, one to her.

“Sorry I don’t have the same to give like I do the boys,” apologized Soren. “It’s what I could come up with in time.” It was a beautifully wrapped blue package that was about as tall and as wide as herself. She worried it would be too big to bring back to her own home, but banished those thoughts as she poked a hole in the paper and tore away the sides.

It was a massive, fuzzy blanket with an elegant “A” stitched into the side which was about the size of her hand. One side was a blue checkered flannel and the other was a cloud like fluffy material that was softer than anything Ashlynn had ever touched before in her life.

“Y-you… made this? For me?” she asked, craning her neck to look up into Soren’s golden hazel eyes. The illumination of the flashlights and candles only accentuated the flecks of green in them.

“Yeah,” Soren muttered as he reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s not much. But…”

“I love it. I… I just…”

“Wait! What about ours!” Rey interrupted as he quickly snagged a flashlight and darted into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Mine too!” Dorian called as he raced after his brother.

Soren chuckled, completely unaware that they’d managed to pull something together, when he heard a little sniff by his knee. He honed in his attention onto Ashlynn, who was clutching the blanket to her chest and shivering slightly.

“Hey… Ashlynn. Are you okay? Did we… do something wrong?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and along her sleeve. Her voice barely carried through the air, and Soren had to leave over to hear Ashlynn’s mumblings.

“I just… I haven’t don’t anything to deserve this. You’re all just being… being so kind. It’s something I would never have thought a human would do for a B…” Ashlynn stopped herself short before continuing, not finishing the word she had in mind. “You know? You hear these stories about others getting captured or killed. It just makes you so afraid, and then someone like you comes along… all three of you… it’s just…”

“It’s a lot?” Soren ventured a guess after Ashlynn was silent for a minute. When she nodded, he continued. “Yeah, I can understand that. And, please, if this is too much all at once you can just tell us. It’s okay.”

“See? Stuff like that. You’re all just so understanding. I just… I wish there were more humans out there like you. I’d even take more like you for my kind if I’m being honest.” Soren felt a rush of flattery making the tips of his ears burn. It was nice to know his efforts were worth it and that she wasn’t feeling hostile or as secretive anymore.

“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, you’re always welcome. It’s quick, but it definitely feels like you’ve joined the crew, if that’s what you want,” offered Soren. Ashlynn, emotions running wild like a rampant tornado in a jar, found herself nodding. It had been so long since she’d been a part of something – part of a family – and having it happen so quickly only affirmed in her mind that it was meant to be.

“We’re back! Here, Ashlynn! Open mine first.”

“No, me!”

Dorian and Rey both presented their gifts, which were, at the very least, good efforts that showcased the boys’ charm. Dorian had made something that looked like a coat rack out of some pencils and rubber bands. He also claimed it could function as a makeshift tent as he draped a blanket over the edges.

Rey, on the other hand, had managed to create a type of “quick descending” device using a skillcraft lanyard zip and some extra fishing hooks. He was also working on a quick ascension device, but he was having trouble getting it to not lock up.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” It was true. Ashlynn felt at a loss for words to show her gratitude, but an idea came to mind that she knew she had to act on. She stood and, to each of the boys, she went over and hugged their fingers, seeing that was the only part of them she could actually get her hands around. Despite her body shaking with excitement and so many other emotions, she managed to hug and thank each of the brothers.

Soren’s gifts to the boys included one toy they’d both been asking for separately, which was a Lego set of their choosing, something that interested them independently, music box mixing for Dorian and an electronics kit for Rey, and something they could do together, which was two new card games. In exchange, Dorian gave Soren a tool kit with medical and practical supplies, which Soren knew he was getting since he purchased it, and Rey gifted him some homemade flashlight gloves and matching head mount for his flashlights.

So… this is Christmas. I like it, Ashlynn thought as she watched the brothers hug. They crawled into their prospective beds not too long after and, using her new “tent,” Ashlynn found herself turning in for bed too. Both Dorian and Rey were breathing softly in their makeshift beds under a warmed tent, obviously knocked out from the events of the day. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Her eyes were just beginning to unfocus when she heard Soren’s signature cough.

“Hey, Ashlynn? You awake?” asked Soren.

“Mm-hmm, yeah,” she replied, sleep saturating her voice. How much time had passed since the boys had fallen asleep? Was Ashlynn asleep? Or that odd twilight between awake and not?

“Thanks for spending Christmas with us, and thanks for checking out the house. You really saved a lot of time and eased my mind at least, and I know the boys would say they had a great time with you tonight. So, thanks.”

Soren’s voice was growing fainter with each passing word until he completely drifted off to sleep. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Sleep played at the edges of her vision, eyelids lulling like shades that wouldn’t pull down. Up. Down. Further down. Up again. Closed. Up.

Sleep beckoned her with open arms as she nestled deeper into the cocoon she’d made from the blanket Soren gifted to her. Weightless. Effortless.

It was everything she’d always wanted – to be part of a fam-…

*WHAM*

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[adumbratrapedme]

Kenma x reader | teen pregnancy. | Friends and family.

Synopsis. scenario on how the team / family found out of the pregnancy / baby and their reactions <3

wc. 3,5k words aprox. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentiones, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! THIS one is divided in 2 parts (both on the same post) since you got pregnant on your first year.... but i still wanted to add lev's reaction (when you are already a 2nd year and the baby is a little bit older)

The sound of volleyballs thudding against the floor filled Nekoma’s gym as practice wrapped up for the day. Kuroo wiped his forehead with a towel and made his way toward Kenma, who sat in the corner, focused on his Nintendo DS.

“Kenma,” Kuroo started, plopping down beside him, “we’ve been talking.”

Kenma didn’t look up, his fingers tapping buttons rapidly. “About what?”

“You,” Kuroo said smugly. “And your ‘secret’ girlfriend.”

Kenma’s thumbs froze for half a second, but he quickly resumed his game. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo pressed, throwing an arm over Kenma’s shoulders. “We’re not stupid. You’ve been smiling more to the phone. Less grumpy. And you sneak off to ‘study’ way too often.”

Yaku jogged over, overhearing the conversation. “Seriously, Kenma, who is she? Is it someone from another school? Or—”

“It’s no one,” Kenma muttered, slipping the DS into his bag.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Kuroo teased, grinning. “What, you don’t trust your team? We’ll be nice to her!”

“Yeah, we promise not to scare her off!” Yaku added, smirking.

Kenma groaned, standing to escape the conversation. But before he could bolt, the gym doors creaked open, and you stepped inside hesitantly.

“Kenma?” you called softly, clutching a small bag.

The entire team turned to look at you.

“Oh,” Yaku said in surprise. “It’s Y/N.”

“What brings you here?” Kuroo asked, a slight smirk appearing on his face.

Kenma froze in place, panic flashing across his face. “Y/N, why—”

“You forgot your phone at my house,” you said, holding up the bag.

The room went silent.

“…Your house?” Kuroo repeated slowly, his grin turning absolutely wicked.

“w-we had a study ses-,” Kenma tried to lie quickly, but the damage was already done. “LIAR.” yamamoto barked

Yaku’s jaw dropped. “Wait a second. Are you saying…”

Kuroo pointed an accusing finger at you. “YOU’RE the secret girlfriend?!”

Kenma sighed, slumping in defeat. “…Yeah.”

“NO WAY!” Yaku shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “You’ve been right in front of us this whole time?!”

But before anyone could fully process, Yamamoto practically exploded. “KENMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND?!” he yelled, eyes wide with disbelief. “NO WAY KENMA IS NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE?! WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!” 

Kuroo doubled over, cackling, while Yaku stumbled backward, laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

“Shut up, Yamamoto!” Kenma snapped, his face burning red.

Fukunaga, who had been quietly munching on a bag of chips in the corner, froze mid-bite as the chaos erupted around him. He blinked, slowly lowering the chip he was about to eat. His gaze flicked between Kenma, who looked like he wanted to melt into the floor, and Yamamoto, who was on the verge of an existential crisis.

With impeccable comedic timing, Fukunaga cleared his throat and deadpanned, "Wait, so does this mean Kenma's been getting gamer perks this whole time?" He raised an eyebrow at Kenma, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "You could’ve at least shared some cheat codes with the rest of us."

The room fell silent for a beat before Kai groaned loudly, "Fukunaga, now is not the time for your jokes!"

But Fukunaga, completely unfazed, shrugged and popped the chip into his mouth, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “I’m just saying… maybe we should start asking for dating advice from Kenma now. Guy’s clearly got a secret strat.”

Kenma buried his face in his hands. "I hate all of you."

“Oh, my god,” Kuroo wheezed. “Kenma—our quiet, introverted Kenma—has been holding out on us. I’m actually impressed.”

Yaku recovered enough to grin at you. “So, Y/N, how long has this been going on?”

“Uh… a year,” you admitted sheepishly, feeling the weight of their stares.

“A YEAR?!” Yamamoto screamed. “WHAT AM I EVEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?!” he yelled falling to the ground

Kenma buried his face in his hands. “This is why I didn’t tell you guys.”

“Wait,” Kuroo interrupted, holding up a hand as if something just clicked. “If it’s been a year… does that mean you guys—”

Before he could finish, something fell out of your bag while you searched for kenma’s phone (the damn reason why you were here). A small, folded envelope hit the ground.

“Let me pick it up for you” Yaku said, leaning down to pick it up before you could stop him. His eyes scanned the writing on the front. “Wait… OBGYN?”

The room went dead silent.

Kuroo froze mid-laugh, his eyes widening. “what?.” 

“what does OBGYN stands for?” yamamoto said genuinely curious 

“Don’t,” Kenma said quickly, stepping forward, but it was too late. Yaku unfolded the paper inside, his face going pale as he read it.

“Holy crap,” Yaku said. “Kenma, are you… gonna be a dad?!”

The silence that followed lasted half a second before Yamamoto screamed at the top of his lungs: “KENMA IS HAVING A BABY BEFORE ME?! HOW?!”

Kuroo stayed still, unable to fully process this, while Yaku smacked Kenma’s shoulder repeatedly. “Dude! aren’t you first years supposed to have a class on HOW TO PREVENT THIS?! —oh my god, I can’t believe this!”

Kenma groaned louder than ever, turning to you. “See? This is why I don’t tell them anything.”

Yamamoto grabbed Kuroo by the shoulders, shaking him. “HOW DID HE PULL THIS OFF BEFORE ME?!”

“Yamamoto, im sure you don’t want to be in this position” Kuroo gasped between fits of laughter. “But I’m never letting him live it down.”

Meanwhile, you stood there awkwardly, wishing you’d just mailed Kenma’s phone instead…

PLEASE MAKE SURE U READED KENMA'S GENDER REVEAL (ALREADY POSTED, CLICK HERE) so u don't get spoiled by this part  ↓

Lev’s reaction since well… you got pregnant on your first year so he was obviously not in nekoma yet!!

The gym was bustling with energy as usual. You stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, (for your second year you and kenma decided for you to join as a manager, yk just to spend some extra time together <3) keeping track of drills while occasionally glancing at the small playpen set up in the corner of the gym. Inside sat your one-year-old baby, happily smacking a toy volleyball.

“Thanks for letting me bring her today,” you said to Kuroo, who was stretching nearby. “Daycare had a scheduling mix-up, and I didn’t want to miss practice.”

“No problem,” Kuroo replied, grinning. “Honestly, she’s kind of like our team mascot now. Right, Kenma?”

Kenma, who was sitting next to the playpen, looked up from where he was handing your baby a new toy. “She’s not a pet Kuroo” he groaned “but I guess we could call her like that.” His tone was indifferent, but the small smile on his face betrayed how much he loved these moments.

“Alright, everyone, gather up!” Yaku called, clapping his hands.

As the team began to assemble, the gym doors swung open with a loud bang, and in strolled Lev, Nekoma’s enthusiastic (and very tall) new first-year.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” Lev shouted, jogging in. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the playpen in the corner—and the sight of Kenma crouched beside it. His footsteps faltered.

“Uh… what’s going on?” Lev asked, blinking in confusion. He pointed a long finger toward Kenma and the baby. “Kenma-senpai, why are you playing with a kid?”

(Lets make a little pause. I mean you guys weren’t trying to hide your baby??? like, you werent ashamed of it! but people never asked so,,,)

Kenma sighed, already anticipating where this was going. “Because it’s my kid.”

Lev’s jaw dropped. “Wait… what?!”

“Yeah, he’s a dad,” Kuroo said casually, trying not to laugh as he watched Lev’s face morph into absolute bewilderment.

Lev stared at the baby, then at Kenma, then back at the baby. He threw his hands up in disbelief. “YOU STOLE A KID?! SENPAI, THAT’S ILLEGAL!”

The entire team burst out laughing.

“What?!” Lev demanded, looking around wildly. “Why are you all laughing? This is serious! We’re gonna have to call the cops or something!”

“I didn’t steal her, you idiot,” Kenma said flatly, standing up. “She’s mine.”

Lev’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “But… how?!”

Yaku smacked him on the back of the head. “How do you think, you moron?”

Lev rubbed his head, still looking lost. “But Kenma-senpai’s always so quiet! And… and small! I didn’t think he—”

“Lev,” Kuroo interrupted, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. “Kenma didn’t steal the baby. He has a girlfriend—Y/N, our manager—and they had her last year. Keep up, man.”

Lev’s wide eyes slowly turned toward you, standing awkwardly with the clipboard. “Wait. You’re… you’re Kenma-senpai’s girlfriend?!”

You nodded. “Yeah. And the baby is ours.”

Lev’s brain short-circuited for a moment before he gasped dramatically. “NO WAY. Kenma-senpai, you’re my hero! Teach me your ways!”

Kenma groaned. “I’m not teaching you anything and i’m not a hero.”

The baby babbled from the playpen, waving her tiny fists, and Lev crouched down to her level, still in awe. “She looks just like you, Senpai. But, like… cuter. No offense.”

“Why would I take offense to that?” Kenma muttered.

Lev grinned and gently poked the baby’s cheek. “Hey, little Kenma! Are you gonna play volleyball like your dad?”

“She’s not even old enough to walk yet,” Yaku said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying, we could start training her early!” Lev replied enthusiastically. He turned to Kenma again, his expression completely serious. “Senpai, I need to know. Was it the video games? Did video games get you a girlfriend? Tell me your secret!”

Kuroo practically fell over laughing, while Yaku facepalmed.

Kenma sighed, picking up the baby as she reached for him. “This is why I don’t talk to him.”

Lev, still starstruck, followed him like a puppy. “Come on, Senpai! You’ve gotta tell me! I need help!”

As Lev continued to pester Kenma, Kuroo leaned over to you, smirking. “You sure you’re ready to deal with this every day as our manager?”

You chuckled, watching as Kenma tried (and failed) to escape Lev’s endless questions. “I think I’ll survive. Barely.”

-

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! <3 tysm for ur support guysehehrbe

[zolica-ao3]

pirate au fic has me SAT‼️‼️😍😍😍 i actually have gone back to read the snippet you posted like four times (i had to seach for it specifically every time) because it has a different kind of swag on god i will be there on the 4th the way i am so appreciative of your writing AS WELL AS this fic specifically should be studied because i am eating that UP‼️🗣️ if this fic has 0 people anticipating its release i am dead you are doing the citizens of landoscar a great service (not that id ever want to make you feel pressured or whatever else is not very good 💖🙂‍↕️)

This ask made me kick my feet and giggle happily! 😊 I'm glad you like it so much! Thank youuuu! <3

I hope the first snippet doesn't make Lando look like some sort of dark guy, because he is actually super sweet. Oscar needs some time to believe it though. Honestly, in this story, Lando is pining like hell and it takes Oscar ages to figure out his feelings. It's a fluffy slowburn with lots of angst.

I can't wait to show it to you all. This thing is massive...

I'm 36K words in now. And I'm not done yet. I hope to finish it before the deadline (4th of Feb), but I highly doubt it, so I will probably be cutting it in parts.

Have another snippet for now! The last one until the release on the 10th of February:

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Lando swings the backpack over his own shoulder. “Come on, let’s bring Charlotte her stuff. And then you’re going to go rest until we’re leaving port.”

Oscar is about to protest, but the Captain raises his eyebrows at him. The swordman closes his mouth, seeing the warning for what it is.

He follows the Captain to the common room, where they find Charlotte. She looks up from the wooden compass she is carving.

“And he’s alive! I told you he would be fine,” the blond woman says. Lando puts the backpack down on the table in front of her.

“He is injured and you let him go out,” the Captain grumbles. Oscar grimaces at the frustrated tone in his voice.

“He said he was fine,” Charlotte says.

“And you listened?” Lando grits out.

Oscar doesn’t like the charged conversation. Charlotte didn’t do anything wrong. If the Captain is angry at him, he should lash out at Oscar, and not at Charlotte.

He places a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at her… She told me not to go. I persuaded her…”

The tension bleeds out of the Captain, and at the same time he freezes. “I- you-” His shoulders sag in defeat. Charlotte is staring at them with wide eyes.

And then Oscar realizes he touched the Captain without thinking. He takes his hand off and awkwardly hangs it by his side. He didn’t mean to do that.

All the anger is suddenly gone from Lando’s body. It’s interesting to watch the change in behavior.

“I’m getting a snack,” he says with a tight voice, before leaving Oscar and Charlotte behind to go to the kitchen. The swordman watches him go with a confused frown.

The blond woman giggles.

Oscar sits down opposite of her. “Is he alright?” he asks Charlotte softly. “He’s just having a little crisis. He needs a moment,” she says with a smile.

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The tales they tell about us - WIP - part of the Landoscar Fest 2024-2025. Prompt: Pirate AU