#i swear every time i start writing something i’m like ‘’THIS TIME i won’t babble okay it’s gonna be short and sweet and i’ll be straight to

[theflyingfeeling]

just uploaded my new fic titled tumbling in the hay on AO3, a little Midsummer treat for y'all, I hope you like it <3 🌿

(please read the tags (both on AO3 and here below) as well as the author's notes <3)

[httpscomexe]

Muzzle

Summary: Barnes figures out how to shut you up and end your sarcastic comments, and you’re sure he’ll use it against you in the future.

(Find what I'm currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: (My English can be kinda bad) Bad language, weapons, violence, attempted smut. There will be individual warnings every chapter.

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

Word Count: 2522 (Find all chapters here) Discontinued

Okay, so what if you accidentally brainwashed the Winter Soldier? You wouldn’t have even known you had done that unless he told you. You didn’t know he would be absolutely obsessed with you, you didn’t know he was stalking you, and you definitely didn’t expect him to want YOU of all people. You’ve read the news lately, and you’ve watched it too of course, you weren’t a weirdo, you’re living in the 21st century after all. But you expected him to stalk someone more like him or someone who isn’t just a normal civilian, or at least everyone thought you were a normal citizen.

“So be honest.” He tells you as he sits next to you on the couch. “You told me your real name, which is Y/N. Then you told me your friends call you ‘Bee.’ Why do they call you that?”

“I told you why.”

“Well after staying with you for the last 8 hours, I’m starting to think that they don’t call you that just because you’re happy. I haven’t seen you smile once.”

“Well also my friends don’t call me that, it’s more like the people I don’t like.”

“Yea?”

“Yea, and it's not Bee, it’s The Black Bee.” You sigh. “It’s a stupid name, it’s meant to be said in Russian but the damned Avengers keep saying it in English, it’s lame.”

“You… are the Chernaya Pchela?” He asks you in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why is that hard to believe?”

“Look at you…” He nods his head towards you while you take a big scoop of the jell-o you had been slurping up this entire conversation.

“Hey if you’re gonna try and make a point, do it while I’m doing something cool.” You tell him sarcastically.

“That's besides the point.”

“Not for me.”

“There’s no way you’re one of the Avengers' threats.”

“Oh come on, look at you.” You nod towards him this time, his lap was covered by the fluffy My Little Pony blanket that he found folded in your closet.

“The difference between me and you is you’re a threat, I’m an asset.”

“Same difference.”

“No, because I’m important to them, while you on the other hand, they’re just annoyed by you.”

“They’re also interested in me.”

“They are not.”

“They are because I have more knowledge in nanotech than my dad does.”

“And who's your dad?”

“Now that? That’s besides the point.” You tell him, pointing your spoon at him. “Besides, they don’t know my identity, or at least not the identity behind the mask.”

“Well clearly they do if they took you from your dorm and locked you in the tower for a week.”

“No, they did that because they think I control you.”

“And you do.”

“Don’t tell them that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t even know how to brainwash you.” You raise your voice a little.

“I can show you.”

“I’d rather stay in the dark. You should know how peaceful the dark is.” You mumble the last part, but he obviously hears it as you witness his head shake in annoyance.

“You are… in control of me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“Then get the fuck out of my dorm.”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.” You say with pride as you turn away and hear him groaning behind you, a quiet “Whatever” leaving his lips. “So are you gonna get out? Why are you still here?”

“I feel like I should be.”

“I swear to God, if you start babbling about destiny and fate and all that crap then you need to go across the hall to Jada, she’s the one with all the little rocks that she claims gives her emotional stability.” His stomach moves in a way that makes your cheeks heat up as he chuckles and stands up from the couch.

“Listen. I think something is going on-”

“Yea I’ve got the Winter Soldier in my dorm and he won’t leave.”

“Y/N.” He dares, stepping closer to you, close enough for you to be able to smell the soap off his hair from the shower he’d taken earlier. “Say one more fucking sarcastic remark and I’ll make you regret it.” He grits his teeth and you watch as his hands clenched into fists. You go quiet, but the outside doesn’t.

You both turn your heads as you hear multiple engines pull into the schools parking lot, and you would look out your window, but that dumbass tree is in the view.

“Let’s go, I’m sure they’re looking for you.” Barnes walks past you and towards your door.

“Wait.” You tell him, then you run to the side of your bed before getting down on your knees and pulling a large bag out from under your bed which you throw over your shoulders.

“Extra weight.”

“It’s important.” You tell him as you leave the room and head to the right.

“There she is!” You pause, and about five men run in your direction.

“Those aren’t S.H.I.E.L.D agents.” You spit out before turning in the opposite direction, and you could hear the Winter Soldiers footsteps following close behind you.

“They’ll be all over outside, we can’t just go downstairs!” He shouts as you both continue your run down the hall.

“Who said we were going down?” You shout back as a tranq dart zooms past you, grazing your arm as you reach for the doorknob of the stairs, swinging it open and quickly running up the stairs, not stopping until you were on the roof level, and you could hear more men as they all began to chase you both up.

“Stop running or we will be forced to sedate you Ms. Stark and Mr. Barnes!” One of the men yells from about two stories beneath you, and you finally reach the door to the roof which Barnes quickly kicks open before you slam it back behind you both and lock it from the outside.

“Okay we have probably like two minutes before they figure out the key is hanging on the wall next to the door.” You tell Barnes as you remove your bag and throw it to the floor.

“Can’t be that important if you’re just gonna fucking throw it to the floor-” His voice stops in his throat as you tap away at your watch and the bag quickly takes form into a motorcycle. “I’m driving.” He says quickly as he approaches the bike.

“What? No! This is my bike! Find your own!” You yell and get in front of him, but a gasp leaves your lips as his hand suddenly wraps around your throat in a warning, no words spoken. “Got it, you’re driving.” You choke out before you both get on the bike, and he wastes no time in turning it around and driving it straight towards the edge of the building.

“Hold on tight!” He shouts.

“I’m not touching you!” You shout back, then the front wheel leaves solid ground, then the back wheel as you both become airborne, the bike flying through the air for barely five second before it started falling, just barely missing the security fence as the wheels hit the sidewalk outside of the school and you watch as Hydra agents fill their cars while Barnes quickly continues his escape, the bike moving much faster than Hydras cars and trucks as he turns the bike to zip through traffick.

All was fine until you heard the unmistakable sound of more fucking motorcycles. It was all happening in a movie, hell you were surprised you two didn’t fall in slow motion from the building.

You turn on the motorcycle, your back to Barnes’ back as you reach down and unclasp two pistols that were concealed on the bike, and you aim them up, shooting without aiming, not that it would be easy to aim while Barnes takes every possible turn and twist he possibly could.

“Damn it could you hold still!” You shout, missing one of the agents but still accidentally hitting another.

“Oh yea sorry let me just slow the fuck down so they can kill us!”

“They’re not gonna kill us you moron, they wanna enslave us, theres a difference!”

“Not to my conscience!” He yells just before taking another turn, the ride becomes bumpy as he takes your motorcycle down a long ass flight of stairs, stopping the car chase, but some motorcycles still don’t give in as you watch a few bad drivers fall off their bikes, leaving only a few more to take care of.

“They’re really persistent!”

“You fucking think?!” He leans forward as you turn back around on the bike. “Now you should really hold on!”

“Why?” You ask, and look ahead. This moron. “NO! I just painted this fucking bike!”

“Yea and you went with fucking pink!” He yells back before you both once again go airborne. Time actually felt like it had stopped as the wheels left the ground and you felt weightless, like your organs were made of helium as some little birds left the leaves of the trees under you. You weren’t sure what his plan was. Jumping off a bridge and over nature to escape some motorcyclists who by the way, were completely set on NOT following you. As a matter of fact, if you had the choice, you probably would’ve chosen to go with Hydra, rather than jumping off a bridge, or what seemed like a cliff, with no clear escape plan, or at least parachute.

“Open your eyes!” Ezekiel yells in your face, his spit getting on your skin. “You’re nothing to me! You’re nothing, you hear me!” His voice is distant, like it’s all in your head. It felt like it all was, and every child and parent wouldn’t wish it upon the world what happened to you. It was like a horror film, tortured everyday. Tortured until there was nothing to torture you about. “It stings! It hurts so bad papa!” You scream, crying to the man you had called your father. “I don’t care! Just open your fucking eyes! You useless piece of shit!” He yells even louder, grabbing your face and pushing your little head against the wall. “Now open you fucking eyes before I make you, you little shit!”

“Open your eyes!”

“Open them!”

“Open your eyes…”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up damnit…” Was the first thing you heard as you snapped out of your head, and you immediately gasp for air, feeling like you’d been drawing underwater. You quickly sit up, and scoot back until your back collides with something, you turn around to see a tree and turn back around to see Barnes crouched down at your level and staring into your eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking!” You scream, some birds flying away as they hear your voice and you stand up to approach him angrily but quickly lose your balance, stumbling right onto him.

“Woah there…” He says softly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t music to your ears hearing him speak to you like that. “What are you talking about?” He gently holds you by your arms.

“Riding off a cliff on my bike! Where is my bike?” You look around frantically, and your eyes land on a heap of pink metal that was once your bike.

“You can replace it-”

“My bike!” You shout, making a slow jog towards it. It was completely ruined.

Beyond fucking repair. “Oh come on, I worked so fucking hard on this…” You mumble to yourself, hoping you could at least find the chip that brings the whole thing together, and your eyes lighten up when you spot the little square which you immediately snatch up and shove into your pockets, which you quickly zip up. You could deal with it later, but right now… “God you’re an absolute imbecile!” You yell at him, stomping towards where he was now standing.

“Calm down…”

“Calm down!? How am I supposed to calm down? You just jumped off a cliff-”

“A bridge.”

“You’re so-” You twist your tongue trying to find the right words. “So-” He steps closer and you lower your tone. “So…”

“So?”

You groan, slumping your shoulders and not knowing what to say. You knew you wouldn’t be able to offend him anyways.

“Listen.” He says gently. “All that matters is that you’re alright.”

“My bike…” You mumble.

“Y/N, forget about the bike.” He warns.

“My bike!”

“I’m just about done with your attitude…” He grits his teeth, and gets up in your face, backing you up against a tree. “One more fucking word and I swear I-”

“Bite me.”

“Is that a promise, doll?” He gently places his index finger under your chin, and lifts your face so your eyes are level with his. “Cause with that fucking attitude you won’t let up, I’m starting to think that’s the only thing that’ll get you to shut the fuck up.” He begins to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger. “So I think I might just have to take up on your offer for once…” He tells you, getting impossibly closer as he presses his body against you. “I’ve tried for way too long to hold back, I can’t do it anymore…” He grumbles before his lips crash onto yours and only then do you realise you haven’t said a word to him since he’s starting speaking.

His lips move softly against yours, his tongue licking your lips as he tries to get closer to you. His hands move from your face down to your waist and you feel the coldness on your waist as his left hand moves up your shirt. “So it's been this easy the entire time…?” He asks rhetorically, leaning in closer to you as his lips find the skin on your neck as you open your mouth to protest but you simply moan, your actions defying your thoughts as you rock your hips against him. “Careful there princess…” He whispers in your ear, his breath fanning your skin as you feel his hand reach around you, grasping your ass and lifting you gently, holding you between his body and a tree, his erection pressing against your centre through his jeans and your shorts.

“Please…”

“What’s that?” He trails his lips up from your neck to your lips, his hands moving to slowly undo your pants.

“Please… I…” You pause, regretting what you say before it even comes out of your mouth. “I need you…” You moan as he grinds against you, slowly.

“You want me?” He breathes out.

“Yes… Please…”

“Well… that’s too bad…” Whispers in your ear, then gently puts you back down on your feet. “We should get going, I’m sure they’ve been searching for us all day.” He groans like an old man as he reaches down and picks up one of his weapons. “We can’t stay in one place for too long, now can we?”

He continues walking away and you awkwardly find yourself buttoning your pants back up and following behind him.

What the fuck was that…?

[writing-abt-headspaces]

Mishap At The Moth’s Studio

A/N: Okay, so. I hate Val, but love his character outside of the Angel stuff. So, I’ll give you guys a warning first.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: Valentino will not always be portrayed the same, in every agere fic he’s written in. Depending on how I want to portray him in a fic, he will either be Good or Bad, Better or Worse, or in between.

And here, in this fic, he’s in between. —The same goes for the other Vees too, btw. They won’t hurt Angel, but they will act like amateur babysitters. There’s also swearing.

Forgive me, for I’m not used to writing for agere. I’m just starting, so I might be a bit sloppy.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Angel sat in his chair as the minutes ticked closer to shooting the next scene.

However, he was feeling uncharacteristically anxious.

Why?

Well, he had only recorded three scenes, and his mind already started feeling fuzzy from exhaustion, plunging him into a state of fear and vulnerability. He couldn’t let anyone outisde of the hotel —let alone, anyone at Val’s studio and Val himself!— see him regressing!

However, being surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the hustle and bustle of the studio, Angel's senses were overwhelmed, and he couldn't contain his distress. He couldn’t stay big.

He eventually started slipping.

Tears streamed down his face as he cried out, drawing attention from the crew members and actors preparing for the next shoot. Their confused and concerned stares only added to Angel's anxiety.

The looks from multiple eyes, scared and prompted Angel to seek refuge under the nearby bed he had just finished recording on.

Valentino, normally quick to anger, was taken aback by Angel's behavior and quirked an eyebrow at the spider’s sudden action.

He’s seen Angel scared before, sure. But, for him to suddenly start bawling like a child, then hiding under the bed? That’s not something you see everyday.

Valentino walked towards the bed, and crouched down to meet eye to eye with the cowering spider. “Angel, what the fuck are you doing under there?" The moth questioned, slight irritation evident in his tone.

Angel whimpered and covered his ears, his speech reduced to childish babbling. "No no! Bad words are bad!" he protested, his voice trembling with fear.

Valentino, completely baffled by Angel's sudden change behavior, could only blink in disbelief.

“What the hell...?" he muttered under his breath, but Angel heard him loud and clear. In response, he burrowed even deeper under the bed, seeking refuge from Valentino's confusion.

Growing increasingly irritated, Valentino sternly commanded Angel to come out from his hiding spot, his words laced with curses. “Alright, Angel! Enough with this game! Cut the horseshit and get the fuck out of there! Don’t make me tell you again, you little mocoso!”

But instead of complying, Angel shrank further into the shadows, his fear of Valentino consuming him entirely.

Valentino stood up with gritted teeth, as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He held it up to his face, glaring at Angel's trembling form still hidden beneath the bed.

Vox answered the video call. On the other side of the screen, the TV demon rolled his eyes dramatically. "What did Angel do to piss you off this time, Val?" he quipped, his attention focused on something off-screen.

Valentino scowled at Vox's nonchalant attitude. "How'd you know this was about Angel?"

Vox finally glanced at Valentino through the video call. "You're always bitching about Angel. So spill, what's the latest drama between you two?"

Valentino angled the phone's camera towards the bed, revealing Angel's tear-streaked face as he cowered beneath the bedcovers, all four of his arms shielding his eyes from the world.

“Angel's acting like a damn toddler. Won't come out from under the bed, crying and whining like a little brat." The moth explained.

Vox's expression shifted from amusement to curiosity as he watched Angel's distressed state, raising a brow.

Valentino asks, “Any ideas on what type of high the bitch is on?”

“Potty mouth!” Angel points at Valentino.

“SO ARE YOU!”

Ignoring the banter, Vox turns away, “Hang on. I think I’ve seen this before. Give me a sec…” Quietly, he began typing on his keyboard, searching for information on the ‘symptoms’ he was witnessing.

After a moment of silence, Vox looked back at Valentino, his demeanor more serious now. "Val, I think Angel might be experiencing something called ‘age regression’…”

He explained, his voice softer than before. "It's a coping mechanism where someone reverts to a childlike state in times of stress or trauma."

Valentino's frustration subsided as he process the information given. "So, what do I do?

Vox rubbed the space on his screen between his eyes. “I don’t normally care about this stuff… But, if anyone knew a regressor was hired as one of your ‘stars’…. Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t like what caregivers would do to you.”

He leaned closer to the camera, his gaze serious. "You need to approach him gently and calmly, like you would with a scared child. Try to reassure him that he's safe and that you're here to help," he advised, his tone firm.

Valentino's brows furrowed at the given instructions, "I'm a pimp, Vox. Not a babysitter!" He yelled into the phone.

Vox raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Valentino's outburst. "Well, your favorite boy toy isn't gonna perform properly until he's done regressing. And we can’t take him out of the V Tower, in that state. Witnesses are everywhere. ‘Cause unless you know the passcode to his phone, and call up anyone from the hotel, the only option is to take care of him, until he’s big enough to walk home by himself.

He looked at the moth dead in the eye, his tone unyielding. "Suck it up and deal with it."

"Ugh! Fine! Whatever!" Valentino grumbled, his frustration evident as he muttered curses in Spanish under his breath. "But how the hell do you propose I get him out from under the damn bed?"

Vox leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Try offering him something comforting, like a plush toy or a blanket," he suggested. "And speak to him gently, like you actually give a damn. It might just do the trick."

“I’ll consider the sweet talking, but I don’t have any of those type of toys! What industry do you think I’m in charge of!?” Valentino snapped at the flat faced demon.

“Well then…! I don’t know!? Use your wings!” Vox yelled back.

Valentino blinked, taken aback by Vox's unconventional suggestion. "My wings?" he repeated.

Vox nodded, "Yeah, they're pretty fancy looking for a kid’s liking. Turn your back to Angel, spread your wings out, and flutter them up and down to attract his attention. Get him to chase you like a butterfly," he explained, biting back a laugh at his own suggestion.

"I'm a moth," He pointed out, feeling the need to clarify.

"Same difference! Just fucking do it," Vox insisted. “And get on all fours. You’re ten feet tall, you’re height’s probably scaring him.”

Valentino sighed, realizing he had little choice but to trust Vox's advice. So, he set the phone on a nearby desk, so Vox can still see them.

With a resigned shrug, Valentino positioned himself with his back to Angel, getting down on all fours to be at his level once more, and spread his wings out wide. With a tentative flutter, he began to move them up and down, hoping to catch Angel's attention and coax him out from his hiding spot beneath the bed.

Vox struggled to contain his laughter as he watched Valentino reluctantly follow his instructions. "Pfft…! O-Okay, keep doing that with your wings.” A snort slipped out of him.

“Now, crawl away from him. Get him to crawl after you," he instructed, barely able to stifle his amusement.

Valentino shot Vox a glare, his patience wearing thin. "Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, careful not to startle Angel again. Because, he was apparently sensitive to profanity in this state. Oh the irony.

But Vox couldn't help himself. "It's working, isn't it?" he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Now, try to coax him in a baby voice. Lure him out by cooing at him."

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Valentino let out an exasperated groan and facepalmed, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Fuck my life….”

Ignoring Vox's laughter, he continued to flap his wings and lure Angel out from under the bed. "Here, Angel... Come here, Angelcakes. Pspspss…” He cooed, his voice strained with humiliation.

"BWAHAHAHAHA—"

"Shut the hell up, Voxxy!" Valentino snapped, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I swear to hell, I’m going to hang up!”

Meanwhile, the rest of the set crew struggled to contain their own laughter, the scene unfolding before them more amusing than any script they had ever read. But, they all knew they needed to keep to themselves, unless they wanted to feel thwarted wrath of their later.

Thankfully, the stupid strategy Vox came up with, seemed to worked. Angel, started crawling out of his hiding spot. His eyes shimmered with awe as he stared at the fluttering wings.

“Oooh!” Angel gasped with fascination. “Butte’fwy!”

A tick mark formed on the Val’s head. “I’M NOT A—“ He groaned, and decided to just accept it. “Yes… Butterfly! Follow the pretty butter—OOF!”

The moth fell right on his face, his glasses slightly cracked, when Angel had suddenly leaped and tackled him to the ground.

Angel fiddled with the moth’s wings and fluff. “Mr. Butte’fwy is ‘o pwetty!”

Valentino sighed, as he slowly pushed himself up from the ground, taking off his glasses and setting them on the same desk as his phone where a hysterical Vox was.

“Ohohoho This is tohoho good! I can’t wait to send this to Velvette!” Vox cackled, wiping a tear from his eye.

The moth glared at him, “You were recording us!?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Bwahahaha—WHOA!” Vox fell off his chair in a loud crash.

After 3 seconds of spewing out some colorful words, he picked himself back up.

Valentino rubbed his temples, as he tried to maintain his balance, while a hyper Angel Dust was crawling up his back and harshly pulling at his wings. “Look… could you come over here…? I don’t if you’ve heard Voxxy, but ‘child friendly’ isn’t really the rating I specialize in.”

“You think I’D know how to handle a child, let alone someone in their little headspace?” Vox asked, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. “Vel may call me in all the time, to calm your temper tantrums, but that doesn’t mean I know how to change a diaper.”

Then the realization dawned on Valentino. “H-He… doesn’t actually need a diaper��� right?”

Vox gave him a smug, shit eating grin. “That depends on what age range he’s regressed into.”

Then he turned his eyes to Angel, “Hey, Angie!” The TV demon, called to the spider, using his friendly showman voice. “How old are you, huh sport?”

Angel paused in his self-entertainment, and looked at Vox with doe eyes. He then looked at the ceiling, and bit his finger while thinking.

Then, he held up three fingers and enthusiastically answered, “This much!”

Vox looked back at a petrified moth, and smirked. “Good luck. Better pray to hell, he doesn’t need to go.”

Valentino, snatched his phone from the desk. “Vo—“

The call ended.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I decided to stop here, for now.

The next part will have Velvette, and Vox will show up in person.

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

[wallflowerimagines]

Hi! I looove your posts! Thank you so much for sharing your writing!

I was wondering… could you maybe write about the Four Lords with a shy S/O that gets bold and defensive when someone insults the lords? or calls them names? And the Lord’s reaction to the S/O acting different? Dk if im explaining myself >.<

Again! Love your work! Have a great day!

We stan protective partners on this blog!!

Warnings: uh...insults? They're pretty over the top😅 Also swearing.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Honestly, Alcina is more than able to defend herself.

She's got a tongue like a viper, and the thickest skin imaginable. If you really want to hurt her feelings, you have to be someone whom she already respects to a certain degree, or she won't even be phased.

Still, when she leaves a room, there's always some idiot that thinks it's a smart idea to talk shit.

Maybe it's a maid, maybe it's a guest in the Castle, but either way you're not having it.

"God, you're annoying." There was a pause before they opened their mouth again, and you rolled your eyes. "No please, by all means, continue to share your lack of taste with the rest of us."

You disassemble this dumbass, starting small with comments about their personality (trying to keep it classy), but escalating the more they choose to double down on the comments.

Alcina comes back into the room to find you practically screaming at this asshole.

"Look, all you have accomplished here today is revealing that you are a fundamental disappointment on every possible level. My life is worse now that I've heard you open your mouth, you disrespectful, shit licking worm fucker."

Alcina is stunned. You do not give off "aggressive guard dog" vibes at all, yet here you are defending her tooth and nail. While she had seen brief moments of your inner strength and protective streak (mostly towards her daughters) she just...never thought you would do the same for her.

It's not because she doesn't trust you or love you! But nobody has ever done something like this for her before? Ever? She's never had anyone try to protect her--not physically, and not even verbally. She's been so independent for so long that it's... Strange to see you support her so openly.

She doesn't need you to do this for her, she doesn't even expect it, but you do it anyway for no other reason than the fact that you love her. You want people to give her the respect she deserves.

I'm going to be real here: Alcina has never been closer to swooning before in her life. You're overcoming your shyness because you believe in her so much-- it's not a gesture meant to be romantic, but Alcina can't help but see this as a massive statement of your commitment to her.

Seriously. This is such a massive thing for her that if proposals weren't already on her mind, she is mentally picking out a ring for you the minute this happens.

Then, of course, she glides into the room, kisses you until you're breathless and babbling, and smirks at the unfortunate peon who thought they could get away with insulting House Dimitrescu.

She's in such a good mood that she's considering going easy on the idiot. Maybe removing their tongue would be enough of a warning?

Donna Dimitrescu

You don't really know how it's possible but apparently some people don't like Donna Beneviento? Some people think she's scary and unpleasant????

Wild. Can't imagine what that's like.

The two of you are honestly the sweetest, most toothrottingly adorable couple-- blushing when you hold each other's hands, sneaking glances at each other across rooms, giving each other kisses and forgetting whatever was on your mind...

Honestly, anybody who's critical of your relationship with your girlfriend is just a hater. Fuckers can pound sand😤

Still, you are pretty shy, so it takes a lot for you to defend yourself if someone comments about you. It can take a lot of courage to stand up against rude remarks, and sometimes it's easier to walk away.

Defending Donna, on the other hand?

The minute someone even thinks about dismissing her, you are ready to throw hands.

"My lovely girlfriend already said no, meaning you're either deaf or too stupid to pick up on simple social cues," you purse your lips and give the rude and pushy Villager a patronizing once over. "You and your opinion are equally useless. Get the fuck away from us."

Donna blinks.

She... Was not expecting this??? At all?? You're so nice! You always tell her about your attempts to avoid confrontation! What's going on??? How did you get the guts to say what she's always wanted to say?

Meanwhile, Angie is LIVING.

The little doll chimes in to assist you with the verbal homicide, working as a tag team to absolutely murder this moron. She's half partner, half hype man, and is so excited to do this with you. Normally, she has to protect Donna all by herself, but she's relieved and reassured that you stepped in first.

'USELESS IS TOO NICE, THOUGH! THAT IMPLIES THEY AREN'T A POINTLESS, RANCID, LONELY FREAK. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY CRY WHEN THEY MASTURBATE.'

You high five Angie, still glaring daggers at the unfortunate villager.

The two of you continue to ream into the villager, while Donna hovers nearby.

As surprised as she is, she's also grateful. She's only really ever had Angie to help shield her from insults and disrespect (and occasionally inducing horrifying hallucinations that make people claw off their own skin), but having you in her corner makes her feel safe.

Not to get totally sappy, but you're like her knight in shining armor in a lot of ways. And the fact you two are so similar is really motivating-- She wants to one day be confident enough to return the favor. Until then, she's happy to watch her two favorite people have fun insulting some stranger ❤️

Salvatore Moreau

With you being so shy, Salvatore is surprised how often he takes the lead in your relationship.

He's not normally all that outgoing, but you seem to bring out a side of him that's very protective. Whenever you have a bad day he wants to bundle you up and keep you safe from the world.

If he so much as holds your hand you start stuttering and avert your gaze. It creates a feedback loop where you both get flustered, but Moreau has never felt steadier. Despite your shyness, you make sure he knows how much you love him.

You're sweet as pie and twice as kind--Salvatore is the luckiest man in the world, nobody can convince him otherwise 💕💕

So it comes as a total shock that when a passing fisherman spits in your path and calls him a freak, your entire demeanor does a 180.

Your posture straightens and you look the villager dead in the eye, "I don't believe anyone asked your opinion."

Salvatore: 😳

This is not the time, and he totally knows it, but, uh, something about your tone??? Really does it for him???

While he's attempting to process why exactly he's starting to short circuit, you proceed to verbally shred this person to bits with clinical efficiency-- nothing is off limits.

They might try to defend themselves, but it's useless. You do not let up.

"Ugly? Monster? Bitch your teeth are throwing gang signs, don't throw stones from your shining glass house."

You insult their appearance, what they're holding, their smell-- you get so fucking mean that you might even make them cry.

Moreau is just lost right now, trying hard to figure out how exactly you were able to gain all of this confidence so quickly.

He's not upset! In fact he's very flattered! But, he also doesn't want you to get into a fight with some unimportant stranger. (After all, if they so much as throw a punch, they're straight up dead. Moreau is a patient man, but he's not that patient. You do not hurt his partner and live to tell the tale.)

He may a healer but...

Eventually he steps between you and the fisherman in an attempt to deescalate the situation, but you just kiss him on the cheek and step around him, determined to make your point.

Blushing hard, Moreau lets you do what you want. What can he say? Fish man likes himself a protective partner 💞

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is not the most social guy to begin with, so any opportunities you have to stick up for him are already pretty slim.

He mostly knows you as the shy, sweet, easily flustered partner that lets out a cute squeak every time he sneaks up to hug you from behind.

Karl's honestly happy just to spend time with you all alone in the Factory. It's not the best or healthiest mindset, but he'd be perfectly content to only ever see you for the rest of his life. Spending time with anybody else feels like a boring waste in comparison.

But occasionally, you do head out into town with him. Heisenberg wants you to be safe so he doesn't do it often, but running errands with you is a weakness of his. It's domestic in a way that he's never experienced before.

He likes it ❤️

What he does not like is the shopkeeper starting to give their opinions on the quality of your relationship with him.

Most insults Karl will let slide because he doesn't particularly care. However if anyone makes a comment on how scared (shy) you look around him, how you must be being threatened into being with him, how poorly Lord Heisenberg is treating you...he won't stand for it.

But before his fingers can even twitch towards his hammer, you snap.

"You're clearly the blindest cocksucker I've ever met--so wipe the cum out of eyes and mind your own fucking business."

Karl does a double take.

He's heard you curse before, but quietly. The words coming out of your mouth are WILD right now, he has NEVER seen you so angry. You're defending him with the aggression of a wild animal, and it's simultaneously HILARIOUS, but for some reason he's also getting a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest?

He doesn't need you to protect him like this, but seeing you blatantly argue how much you love and cherish him in public reassures him in a way he didn't know he needed.

Still, hearing you call the shopkeeper "shit for brains" is the funniest thing that's happened in years.

Heisenberg starts laughing, and the more you shout at the idiot, the harder he laughs. Is it weird how hard he wants to kiss you right now?

Eventually, he just has to drag you away, cackling as you continue to shout insults at the unfortunate shopkeep. There's got to be an alley around here for some good old fashioned privacy 💕

[ethvn-torchio]

Dom but kind Anakin and virgin reader? Nice and slow and Anakin is equally vocal?

HHSHHSHSSHDHSHDHSDHHSDHS???? OK MISS GIRL NOW IK U TRYNA KILL ME 🥵🥵 DAMN OKAY HERE WE GO

here ya go baebee, have an Anakin x fem! reader blurb 😏 (also taglist at le bottom;0)

warnings: smut (obv), cunnilingus (oh yes bitches, we’re goin there™), p in v sex, unprotected sex, soft!dom anakin

word count: 1238 ;)

Also yay for gifs this time!!

"But you've never-...are you sure? This is totally up to you-" he starts.

"I want this, Ani. I trust you," you say softly.

Anakin kisses you gently as his hands move around you, pulling you close.

The light kiss turns into something more, and you feel his hands move down to your hips. His hands grow more forceful, gripping you tightly.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispers in a deep voice that makes you shiver. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. It feels right having him hold you. Anakin's lips move to yours, kissing you deeper. 

He fumbles with the button on your pants, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your lips when he unbuttons the top button. He impatiently undresses you, unfastening your pants and sliding them off into the cold night air. He pulls away from you, peppering kisses from your neck to your torso. He kisses lower, dangerously close to the top of your exposed thigh.

"Please," you whisper.

"Please, what?" he asks, teasingly.

"Could you- I-" you struggle to get your meaning across. Thankfully, it seems as if he knows what you mean. He hooks his fingers in your underwear, sliding it off of you.

His finger circles your entrance, sliding a finger in with ease. “This okay?”

You weren’t a stranger to the sensation of being fingered - you had done it to yourself many times over the years. You were anxious to take it further. “Y-yes. More, please.” you keen.

"You're soaked," he mutters. "All because of me, hmm?" 

"I….I need you to-" you trail off as he curls his finger. 

"What was that, again? You didn't finish your sentence," he smiles wryly.

"M-more, please...I need more," you beg.

"More what?"

He wanted you to say it. You whine in frustration. "I...Maker, more fingers? O-or…" you trail off.

He slides a second finger in easily; curling and pumping them just right. "Or what? Go on, finish your sentence, Angel." He chuckles.

You blank on words for a solid moment there. "...I- you can read minds, I can't describe-!" you arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut as he hits your G-spot.

Anakin says nothing in reply. You can hear him moving, and when you open your eyes you see him between your legs. 

You automatically part your legs for him more to allow him better access.

"So beautiful," he mutters, his voice becoming impossibly low. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, kissing the other one next, taking his time.

Finally, he presses a kiss directly on your clit. Your breath hitches.

He drags his tongue along your folds, tasting you. 

You hiss, hands finding their way to his hair, and you accidentally pull on his hair in a silent demand for more, though he doesn’t seem to mind. 

"You taste so good," he says, quickly resuming his exploration.

He plunges his fingers inside your cunt right as he sucks on your clit, and you swear you see stars from that alone. Your back is arched impossibly high, mouth wide open in a silent scream.

You attempt to buck your hips, but nothing happens. Confused, you glance down at Anakin, who has your lower half pinned with the Force. 

Anakin Skywalker was going to be the death of you.

"I- Ani, faster, please," you babble.

You swear you hear him fucking chuckle - and you can feel the vibration. He swirls his tongue on your clit, faster and faster, electric waves of pleasure washing over you.

You clamp around his fingers, the distinct feeling of an orgasm approaching. 

Your breath comes in quickened, frantic breaths. “Ani,” you whimper.

He merely winks at you. Anakin’s fingers move faster, hitting your G-spot every time. 

He sucks on your clit once again, his mouth oh-so-hot and wet. He lightly grazes your clit with his teeth, and that action alone makes you cum, gripping at the sheets and cursing. 

He helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, greedily cleaning you with nothing but his tongue.

You pant as you come back to reality, so to speak. Your legs are still shaking.

“You did so good for me, Angel,” he praises. And then he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his lips.

You two begin lazily making out. At some point, he takes his pants off. 

“Are we still…?” You ask.

“That’s totally up to you, baby. Are you feeling up to it?” he asks, sincerely.

Your cheeks redden. “I really want you to…”

“To…?” he prompts.

"Ani...I need..." you trail off.

“Say it, Angel,” Anakin purrs in your ear, fingertips ghosting over your still-oversensitive clit- far too little pressure to actually mean something. “Tell me what you need,”

You ache with need, and your cheeks burn hot with heat. “I...I need you,” you breathe.

“You need my what? "I need you to use your words," Anakin teases, his blue eyes fixed on you. “What do you need?”

"I...please fuck me, Ani," you relent, most of your sense of shame long thrown out the window. "Please, I n-need you to fuck my pussy."

"Good girl," Anakin praises, and you can feel the head of his cock at your entrance.

He pauses, presumably to keep you in suspense because of course, he would, and you’re just about to open your mouth to say something when he slowly, finally, enters you. You moan at the sensation; the delicious stretch. You had expected it to hurt; instead, you feel pleasantly full.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “You s-still with me?” You distantly hear him ask.

You nod, unable to form words at the moment. 

He sets a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts. “I want to hear you, Baby. Use your words.” his voice drops to a near-growl.

You moan, your breath coming out in quick, short puffs. “Yes-!” you whine. “Anakin, yes,” 

His metal hand finds your clit, and the contrast of the cold metal on your hot, aching, oversensitive clit made you clench around him. A strangled noise escapes your lips.

“Say it again. Say my name again,” he demands, and you can feel his breath on your neck, lips occasionally peppering kisses on your shoulder and neck.

You scream his name in reply.

“Fuck. My good girl. So wet for me. You’re- you’re taking me so well,” he murmurs filthy praises in your ear, his thrusts gradually becoming erratic. 

His cool fingers circle your clit, and it doesn’t take long before you’re on the verge of orgasm for the second time today.

He moans your name as you clench around him once again, desperate for his touch.

His fingers circle your clit once again. “Y-you gonna cum again? Cum for me. Go ahead, Angel.” his fingers move at fast pace, rubbing tight circles. 

“Cum,” he says simply, and your body reacts to his command. You cry out his name, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast.

He soon follows, muttering your name, kissing you any and everywhere he can, burying himself inside you.

He rolls off of you, and you quickly snuggle up to him. “Thank you,” you sigh.

“What for?”

“That was...really good.” you blurt. “I- I mean, I really liked it. I want to do it again sometime soon.”

Anakin presses a kiss to your forehead. “Any time, Angel.”

----------

whoops, i didn’t mean to make this as long as it ended up. it was just gonna b a lil blurb and then i went “pussy eating go brr”. oopsie ;)

taglist ;p

@soveryhowvery @cr-uelsummer @haydens-moles @anakinswhore @anakin-railme @hansonveggieclub @itsmentalillness @passable-talent @missyatrocious and also motherfuckingstargirl10, but she was the one who asked so she got notified anyway.

anyway damnb i really struggled to write the scene where anakin eats pussy and it probably shows won’t lie. like ohmygod i was stuck on the pussyeating scene for like a whole ass day bc i couldn’t figure out how to describe that feeling you get when ur about to cum???? and i’m too stupid to google??

thx for reading tho ;00 rb or comment if you enjoyed ;) and don’t forget requests are open, so send em over babes <3

[chockfullofsecrets]

"If I'm not careful I'm gonna end up writing content for a character who literally never appears in 141 episodes"

I mean, you are more than welcome to. In fact, we will gratefully encourage this.

you encourage chock? you encourage chock like the author? oh! oh! tk fic for anon! tk fic for anon for Two Thousand Words!

(also, heads up that i am moving next week! have been working on Importance of Timing when i can, but the first chapter probably won't be here for another two weeks at least.)

---

Verin Thelyss, Essek knows, is a seasoned battle commander and strategist.

He’s also in possession of the instinct to tackle people when he’s excited, so Essek is well aware that it’s only those decades of training and experience that have his little brother pausing for the briefest instant as Caleb and Jester teleport him into the hold of the Nein Heroez before he launches himself at Essek in a dead run.

Veth and Caduceus are at their respective homes, Kingsley watching over the ship, but he is far from alone - Yasha and Fjord each have a supportive hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance from the tense minutes waiting for their friends to return from Bazzoxan. They swear in unison and scramble for their weapons as Verin screeches to a halt just shy of shunting Essek straight though the hull and yanks him into a rib-crushing hug.

He burrows into the junction of Essek’s neck and shoulder, made possible only by virtue of the activated floating spell that puts the coiffed swoop of his hair a full inch above Verin’s. “Thank the fucking Light, you’re not actually dead.”

“What the fuck, he’s like a swearing puppy,” Beau hisses. There’s a soft thwap as Fjord gently smacks her across the back of the head.

Essek is feeling out the edges of friendly intimacy, still, stumbling through every brush of fingers and shared look of exasperation, but even he does not need Jester’s frantic gesturing to prompt him to lift his arms and awkwardly wrap them around Verin’s shoulders.

It’s like wrapping a single thread of silk around one of Yasha’s biceps. Clearly he is not built for comforting.

Verin stiffens with a single sharp twitch of his ear against Essek’s collarbone . Essek’s thoughts flail wildly between an expectation of tears or a dagger to his ribs, but his brother just laughs, loud and hearty, and snuggles even further into his personal space. “I see someone’s finally taught you how to hug back - you should have written and told me, this is better news than any number of pages on den politics.”

Essek bristles. “Careful, or I will stop,” he huffs, somewhat more waspishly than he intends to.

Luckily, Verin has proven immune to his moods. “Oh, please don’t,” he insists, voice still crackling with glee. He grins, warm and wide enough that Essek can feel it against the side of his neck. “It just makes doing this that much easier.”

“Doing what,” Essek says reflexively, even as the tiny portion of his brain that he allows to remember his childhood starts to blare an alarm. “Verin-”

It’s far too late to realize that Verin’s hands have somehow been maliciously positioned just along the backs of his ribs.

Jester, standing with Caleb behind Verin, perks up in clear interest as the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. On second thought, Essek thinks he’d have preferred the dagger.

“Verin,” he hisses again, fighting back the anticipatory shiver crawling up his back. “Don’t - don’t you dare-”

It’s about then that Verin’s evil, evil fingers find the edges of his mantle’s arm slits and squeeze him even closer as they stretch to wriggle under his arms.

He snatches his arms back, but it’s too late - a dismayed giggle sneaks from his throat, then another, and then he’s beating helplessly at Verin’s shoulders as he dissolves into high, squeaking laughter.

Every single nerve between his armpits and his ribs squirms in unison - a bubbly, slippery sensation even more potent for how long it’s been since he last felt it. “No,” he shrieks. “I - ahaha! eeheee! - no tickling, no tickling, Verin-”

Jester looks thrilled - she’s bouncing on her toes, babbling something to Caleb that’s inaudible over the rush of his own laughter. Light, the Nein are going to tear him apart for this-

“Yes, tickling,” Verin protests, laughing right along with him. “All the tickling! You let me think you were dead! For months! I thought I was never going to get to watch my poor brother giggle himself to pieces ever again!”

He’s not, because Essek is going to kill him. “That - nahaha, hff, ahaaa! - that was - ha - it’s been decades - stop, stop, there’s people!”

“Yeah, people,” Beau says, loud and smug and far too close behind him. “Hey - Verin, was it? - does hotboi here have a worst spot?”

Oh no. Oh no. Essek squeezes his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to focus and does the only thing he can while laughing like an idiot.

With a shaky flick of his wrist, his floating dispels. Verin yelps in surprise as gravity takes Essek straight out of his grip.

The instant his boots hit the deck, Essek twists the rest of the way out of his grip and bolts.

There’s nowhere to go, really - the Nein have a room full of Counterspells, and Verin can run faster than he can, and he’s already tumbling halfway back into laughter in giddy anticipation of being caught. Still, it’s a surprise when he stumbles into a brick wall of leather and biceps that resolves itself into Yasha as she hoists him back into the air.

“Oh, where do you think you’re going?” She sounds admirably innocent given the soft, teasing smile she gives him.

“Noooo,” Essek giggles. Heat gathers in his cheeks as he tries to make himself stop - it doesn’t make sense, he’s not even being tickled anymore, but even the potential for it flutters light and fizzy at the bottom of his lungs. “I - I’m not ticklish anymore, I’m not-”

The Nein and Verin cluster around the two of them, bubbling with various levels of amusement. “Really?” Beau drawls. “It’s cute that you think denying it has a single fucking chance of working.”

The sarcasm helps him center himself, if only a little - he buries his face in Yasha’s arm and sucks in a deep breath that doesn’t do nearly enough to get rid of his blush.

He straightens as best he can while being bear hugged by a barbarian. “I am denying nothing,” he says carefully. Jester is still bouncing next to Beau, fingertips already twitching where they’re curled sweetly on her cheeks around a mischievous beaming smile, and Essek has to look away before the nervous snickers still wobbling on the back of his tongue can worm their way free. “I am well aware that Verin is - incorrigible-”

He hisses the last word in his brother’s direction - again, harsher than he intends, but he is so unused to being soft around him - and fails to contain a shy smile as Verin sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

Jester’s tail waves its way into the edge of his peripheral vision. He jumps and looks over at Fjord instead. “-but I, ah, I would ask for more respect from the rest of you-”

“You really shouldn’t,” Fjord says, grinning boyishly back at him. “I mean, you know us.”

And then, to Fjord’s right - “Essek?”

He’s been avoiding looking at Caleb. It is foolish, perhaps, to think that after all of the incredibly stupid things he knows Essek has done he will decide to judge him for this, but he cannot help the way his shoulders stiffen as he twists a little further to meet the gaze of the last link in their semicircle. “Yes?”

Caleb looks - focused, in an offhanded way, like he’s intent on something happening just slightly out of their current reality. Stunned might be a better word for it. He blinks for a moment before focusing those keen blue eyes somewhere near Essek’s eyebrows. “Ah - did you know that when you laugh, your ears -” He puts his hands up to his own ears and flaps them a little.

Drow do not run particularly warm, but that only makes it easier for Essek to feel the heat absolutely flood back into his face. “I-” he stammers. Nearly a century of politics is nowhere near enough to help him keep a straight face. “I - ah - eeh!-”

Caleb is close enough to reach out and run a questing fingertip over Essek’s left ear - it flicks wildly, trying to dislodge the unexpected tickle, but a surprised squeak still slips out.

There’s a moment of silence before Verin starts to snicker. “Oh, I like your friends,” he says merrily, beaming. “Go on, Light knows he doesn’t let himself laugh enough otherwise.”

“Don’t,” Essek gets out hastily, but Caleb is already reaching out for another go and Yasha’s grip is firm enough that all he can do is squeak again. “Wait - hm, hnn!”

Beau sidles up to Yasha’s side and gives him a self satisfied leer as she reaches out across their little group to pluck the feather from Fjord’s tricorn. “You got him, babe?”

“I do,” Yasha confirms and lets out a little squeak of her own as Beau reaches around her, no doubt squeezing something entirely inappropriate with company present.

“Hot,” Beau smirks, and reaches to flutter the feather over Essek’s right ear. “Aw, does that tickle? Thought you said you weren’t ticklish, man.”

Essek maintains some facsimile of composure for all of two seconds before his face crumples “Nnn - hehehe - eheehe - oh!”

His lungs are surely going to burst, with the way they’re shivering out desperate giggles as he shakes his head frantically between Caleb’s fingers and the teasing feather. He can’t move his arms, so he kicks his legs instead. “Please,” he begs, nearly incomprehensible even to his own ears. “Ah - aha, heeheehee! - tickles-”

Verin leans down and scoops his ankles up with one ridiculously sculpted arm. “Essek, you’re going to put a hole in someone with those boots.”

He looks up, raising his eyebrows teasingly, and Essek’s stomach drops like he’s cast something on it. “Here, I’ll fix that.”

Essek’s eyes, narrowed with laughter, shoot wide open. He doesn’t remember Verin being this evil - but then again, his brother’s never been egged on by five other people determined to render reports of his death more realistic.

“Verin, Verin, no-” he tries, but he’s giggling so hard that he can’t even get the words out. He twists as far away from Caleb and Beau as he can, flailing frantically, but Verin’s grip holds firm.

He pouts dramatically. “What? Is it my fault that my tiny, ticklish wizard brother insists on wearing metal-tipped boots that endanger everyone?”

Essek opens his mouth to reply and promptly dissolves into another frantic peal of laughter as Beau gets bored of his ears and shoves her feather in Caleb’s direction before jabbing a finger between his trapped arm and his chest to get at his armpit. “Your - shihihit, shit, ahahaaa, not there! - your arcanist brother is going to kill you just as soon as I can- hahaha!”

Verin just laughs, unlacing one of his boots and starting to slide it off. “Is that your attempt to convince me not to tickle your feet?”

Jester, practically vibrating, emits a sound that perhaps only weasels can hear. “Oh, that’s so cute! Can I have one of them?”

“One of his feet? Sure.” Verin hands over an ankle, grinning down at Jester. “You, I think you’re my favorite.”

As Essek gasps and struggles and falls further and further into a formless mirth that makes him feel so light he can hardly bear it, there’s a different sensation at his ear. A hazy portion of his brain identifies it as the rough bristle of chin scruff and an amused huff of breath.

“You don’t really want them to stop, do you,” Caleb murmurs. “I will help you, if you do.”

It’s quite unfair, Essek feels, to try and make him explain himself while he’s strung out and dizzy with laughter. He tries anyway, for a syllable or two, but Verin digs in between two of his toes and he ends up just tipping his cheek against Caleb’s and shaking, laughing too hard to make a single sound.

“Alright, then,” Caleb says. “In that case-”

He brandishes the feather with a flourish more suited to somatic casting, swooping it down the length of Essek’s nose before directing it back to his ear.

“Tickle, tickle...”

[mymommykinkismywholepersonality]

Sub! Yandere punishing his love

<Please take note I've never had interest in writing I just had this idea so I apologize if it sucks 😔😂>

Warning!!! Rape! And reader beats the yandere! Please don't read if those subjects make you uncomfortable <3

You could do whatever you wanted to him.

Yell at him.

Call him names.

Slap him, choke him, ʙᴇᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ until his skin had changed from a neutral tan to blue and purple. He would take it like a good boy should. I mean he knew the adjustment was hard on you and its not like he would delude himself into thinking he was worthy of you. Maybe that's why it ended up this way, because you seemed untouchable to him. But he needed you, so so ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ . He couldn't bare being without you.

"Y/n-"

"Don't call me that you waste of space" you growled, interrupting his plea.

"Right, Mistress. You can't keep doing this, I know you don't want to be here but I promise I can be a good servant! I can take care of you and please you, let me prove it!"

Getting on his knees he kissed the ground where you had stood not a moment before, never making eye contact per your instructions.

"I don't want you, I don't need you, and I sure as hell know a psychotic shit like you could never please me! I'll escape and when I do, you'll finally get your wish of being handcuffed but it won't be by me!"

Enunciating every word by grabbing his leash and yanking on it hoping it'd choke him out. But you didn't bother this time, knowing the crazy man before you adored any markings caused by you. The room was silent, even if it was underground with walls of concrete usually your captor would be crying by this time. You'd attempted to escape before and you had almost achieved your goal this time, it struck paralyzing fear into him. He didn't want to but he knew he had to come up with a consequence for you. Something to discourage you from running away.

You watched with uneasiness as his brown eyes squinted in concentration. Even though he had never laid a hand on you before, other than abducting you and dragging you back into captivity, you didn't trust him, obviously. Maybe he'd finally snapped and would kill you, the thought made your heart fill with a twisted hope of freedom. Without a word he crawled to the door and left you without his usual lecture so you lied on your bed and screamed into your pillow wishing the nightmare would end. Little did you know, it was just the beginning.

A few hours after he didn't bring you dinner, thinking he was trying to punish you, you fell asleep. To escape from your unfortunate predicament or to gain strength for your next escape strategy you didn't know. But when you woke up, you noticed the time on the clock was far earlier than when your internal alarm would usually wake you. You tried to sit up to see what had woken you up, well you knew what but you wanted to know why, only to find your hands chained to the bed by heavily padded cuffs. Anger coursed through your body until you realized your legs were chained and spread as well. That anger turned into fear at what he might be planning. In the beginning he usually kept your arms shackled in some form or another but never your legs.

"Oh Mistress! You're awake!" Snapping your head in the direction of his voice your face flushed with embarrassment then paled from the sight before you. He was just standing there. Cock in hand as he secured a ring around the base, preventing it from getting any harder than it already was. You felt like there was a boulder on top of you. Then pure rage took over.

"Don't you dare even think about putting that disgusting thing inside me!" You screamed at him, only to be met with a laugh infuriating and confusing you more.

"I would never do such a thing Mistress! Not unless you commanded me to of course. I know you may be mad right now but I'm gonna prove myself ok? I'm gonna make you feel so good, I'll be useful to you I swear! So just relax. Let me please you the way you deserve."

Sliding on the end of the bed your heart sped up when he brought out a knife.

"W-what are you doing?!" Instead of answering you he simply put his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion, carefully cutting off your pants. When you realized what he was going for you started shaking wildly in a desperate attempt to free yourself.

"No! Stop! You can't!" Your cries fell on deaf ears as he focused on removing your underwear without cutting you in the process.

His moment of triumph was your moment of doom. Without wasting any time he brought his face in between your legs. Experimentally he pushed his tongue in between your folds, vibrating your core with a moan. He knew the only satisfaction he should be getting was from bringing you pleasure but he found it impossible not to enjoy himself. On one hand he knew he was disobeying you and the guilt was eating at him, but you tasted better than anything he could recall! And he needed to show you he was capable. With that in mind he pointed his tongue to go further inside you and inhaled your scent.

You were making many different noises, some gasps for air, pleas for him to stop, until he angled his face just right. When his nose rubbed on a small bead at the top of your pussy, the noise you made was undeniably angelic to him. Knowing the treasure he'd found he brought his mouth up as he gave a gentle suck to the pearl.

"N-not there! Please!" at this point your fear had overcome your anger. You had screwed your eyes shut until you felt his warm mouth leave your clit, finding him crawling up to you. As he hovered over you, your anger returned but you couldn't stop the frustrated tears.

"You're so beautiful when you cry."

He stated lovingly, leaning down he starts to lick the tears off your cheeks, muttering something about not letting them got waste.

"Please stop, you've proven yourself, you're useful whatever! You don't have to let me go please just stop." You struggled to hold eye contact, his gaze being so intense.

"I'm sorry Mistress, I love you so much" you felt a moment of relief as he peppered your face with gentle kisses until he started to speak in between them "But I won't stop. Not until I make you cum."

More sobs racked through your body meanwhile he positioned his face near your heat again. This time he was relentless, licking and sucking on your most sensitive nerve, simultaneously scissoring you open with his slender fingers. You jolted when he found your g-spot, giving him all the instructions he needed. Eventually after what felt like years to you but seconds to him, your thighs spasmed. Quickly he replaced his fingers with an open mouth, tongue lolled out expectantly for your orgasm. He gently rubbed your clit until your legs had stopped shaking.

"S-stop! You said you'd stop! I did it! I came!" Babbling out your exhausted protests you could barely hear his response, still nestled in your opening.

"Can't waste! Gotta clean it all up, gonna clean Mistress up!"

Another ten minutes passed until he felt confident none of your pleasure juice had gone to waste he finally pulled away. Soon he unlocked you and braced himself, expecting you to hit him but to his dismay you just curled yourself in the corner of the bed.

"I'll replace your clothing Mistress, I'll even let you pick them out! Whatever you like is yours." He said kneeling at your side, smiling as though he'd won the lottery and hadn't just defiled you.

It took a good moment before you could speak and even then it wasn't audible to him who was barely a foot away.

"What Mistress?" he asked, eager to follow your command once again.

Without warning you began screaming at him, "Get out! Get out! Get out!" You started swinging at his face and when he fell back you tried to get off the bed to continue your attack but failed miserably still being sore. Only then did his expression change from lust to worry. Quickly he dove to your side and tried to help you up only for you to push him with all your might away.

"Mistress don't strain yourself, let me help!"

Struggling onto the bed you continued to shout at him until he started to leave. Hand on the knob, he turned to look at you but you were already boring holes into his head.

"I left dinner on your desk, please make sure to eat Mistress."

And with that he was gone, but you knew he'd be back. Eventually you regained the strength back into your legs and walked over to the desk littered with crayons. You quickly bunched up the note he always left on your meals and discarded it. Sitting, contemplating whether or not you should eat, when your stomach decided to speak up for you. You'd missed lunch due to your "break out" but at the same time you knew how genuinely distressed he'd get when you refused to eat. After mulling it over, you decided to listen to your body. After all, you were the only one you could rely on. Opening up the container you found your favorite meal. As you ate you wondered if this was his sick form of apologizing but it didn't matter. You couldn't give up.

<I don't know if this is good so feel free to leave a comment or whatever! 😬💞>

[theweasleysredhair]

Slipping Through My Fingers [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 3396

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: A series of snapshot memories through the years between Fred and his daughter. [Based on Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA].

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @gloryekaterina @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whiz-bangs78 @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @vivianweasley | message or send an ask to be removed! unfortunately, my taglist is closed until further notice due to hitting the max. amount allowed on one post!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: this is a fred x reader but focuses more on fred w your daughter bc i’m a simp for dad fred pls help

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

If you asked him, Fred would say his happiest day was the day he married you. Watching you walk up the aisle in your white dress, pretty smile on your face, was a sight engrained into Fred’s memory forever.

He was irrevocably in love with you, this he knew, and that day just made him fall for you even more - his heart had beat so fast when he saw you walking towards him, looking like an angel.

He didn’t think his life could get any better.

That was until the day he held his little baby girl in his arms for the first time. He felt an overwhelming feeling of adoration for the tiny infant whose whole hand could only just clasp around his finger. This little baby who depended on him so fully, his little bundle of joy wrapped in a pastel purple blanket, knitted by Molly.

He was wrapped around her finger from day one. She was a complete daddy’s girl, only settling to sleep when in her father’s arms, immediately stopping crying when being held by him. Often, he’d fall asleep with his baby girl laying on his chest, his hand holding her in place as she snuggled into his sweater.

He’d take her to his shop, holding her as he spoke to customers, whilst he served them at the tills, enjoying when they asked him questions about her - about his beautiful little baby who could barely open her eyes yet, but who owned his heart completely.

By the time she was a few months old, Fred insisted they were best friends, spending as much time as he could with her, looking after her whilst you went back to work. He was almost besotted - she was his soft spot, possibly the only person besides you who could get him to do whatever they wanted.

“Say dada! Come on, Evie! Say dada! Dada!” Fred stood in front of his little girl, who was sat in her high chair, giggling at the funny faces he was pulling at her.

She’d been making sounds for the last couple of weeks and you were both sure she was going to start speaking soon - something you were both excited about. Fred was determined that her first word would be dada, her being so fond of him and all, and couldn’t wait until she finally said it.

“Ba!” The baby announced excitedly, kicking her little legs in the chair. Fred grinned at her, “Yes darling, ba! But please say dada! Dada!”

At the silence, he sighed, “Fine, what about mama? Can you say mama?”

“Mmm?” The baby pursed her lips and blew a spit bubble at him.

“Are you trying to get her to speak again?”

Fred looked up at George, who entered the kitchen, and sighed again, “She’s gonna do it! I swear! She’ll say dada!”

George stepped into the baby’s eyeline and she began squirming in her seat, letting out a loud, happy squeal and banging on the tray in front of her.

She tried to point at the younger twin, who grinned at his niece and poked her cheek, making her giggle, “Hello darling! Someone’s happy to see me, aren’t they?”

She opened her mouth and Fred held his breath, hoping she would speak, before shaking his head fondly as she simply hiccuped, uninterested in saying anything at all.

“These things take time, she’ll say it eventually, you can’t rush it,” George reminded his twin, who leant against the fridge, not taking his eyes off the baby.

“I know,” he glanced up at George, “I just... I can’t for her to say-“

“Dada!”

Fred’s eyes widened, George nearly dropping the glass he’d gotten down from the cupboard.

“Did she just-“

“She did! My baby girl said- Oh Evie, my amazing, beautiful, smart little girl!” Fred lifted her from the chair and cradled her into his arms, “Did you say ‘Dada’?”

“Dada!” She cheered again.

“Y/n is gonna kill you for getting her to speak whilst she’s not here,” George said, amused.

But the words didn’t register to Fred, who was too busy lifting the baby up into the air and back down again as she squealed.

As she started getting closer to being able to walk, Fred made it his mission to baby-proof your home, ensuring she couldn’t hurt herself on anything. She was currently shuffling everywhere on her bottom, with the occasional attempt at holding the couch to help her stand up.

Every time she did this, you both encouraged her to try and move towards you, most of the time receiving blank stares or the occasional laugh.

This time, however, your little girl seemed more determined to move around by herself.

“Come on, come to dada!” Fred called to her with a reassuring smile. He glanced over at you, winking before his attention settled back on his daughter.

“Dada!” The infant babbled, grinning at Fred, who was crouching with his arms out around a metre distance away. Her wide eyes beamed at him as she let go of the couch and made a couple of wobbly steps towards Fred, her own little arms reaching out for him, before losing her balance and falling onto her bottom just in front of her dad.

“Evie, princess! Did my clever little girl just walk?” He cooed, clapping his hands together as the baby smiled at him. He scooped his daughter up and she clapped her little fists together copying his previous actions, before letting out a giggle - Fred swore he’d never heard something so adorable.

“You’re so smart, aren’t you baby girl?” You smiled, taking the baby as she held her arms out to you.

“Mama!”

Once she mastered walking, you found that you couldn’t get her to sit still for anything. A ball of energy just like her father, she happily ran around the place all day, especially enjoying when Fred would take her into work with him.

“We need to leave, come on Evie!” Fred held out her coat, watching as she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, “No! Don’ wanna!”

Fred sat beside her, “We’re going to daddy’s work though! Don’t you want to come?”

Her resolve relaxed a little as she raised her eyebrows, staring up at him, “Daddy wor’?”

“Yes princess, daddy’s work. And if you’re good, we could get you some ice cream before we go?”

She immediately stopped pouting, peering up at him through her dark lashes in excitement, and bouncing around in her seat, “Ice ‘eam?”

“Yes, ice cream!” Fred agreed, “Should we go?”

She nodded immediately and stood up, allowing him to put her shoes and coat on whilst she happily babbled out a story to him.

She grabbed his hand as they walked to Diagon Alley, stopping off for ice cream as promised, before she noticed the familiar orange building in the distance and suddenly let go of his hand, darting off through a couple of crowds of people.

“Wait, Evie, come back!” Fred called out, dodging people, running after his toddler, who was surprisingly fast when she wanted to be.

She ran through the doors of the joke shop and found George quickly, the latter busy restocking some shelves near the entrance, a box in his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he looked over and smiled softly at the little girl who had entered.

“Unca Geowge, I got ice ‘eam!” She announced happily to him, holding out the ice cream cone to him and ignoring the fact that ice cream was now running down her fist.

“Oh Merlin, you’ve got ice cream?” He faked his shock before noticing it was everywhere but in the actual cone, “Well you’ve definitely got it all over you haven’t you, darling?” He left the stock where it was, placing the box he was holding on the floor, grabbing the handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and crouching down to wipe her hands and cheeks.

“There we go, much better,” George nodded at her and she offered him a toothy grin.

“Tank you, Unca Geowge.”

He laughed as he watched an out-of-breath Fred nearly fall through the shop door, “No problem, sweetheart.”

“What did I say about running off, Evie?” Fred scolded her, though thankful that she had found the way to George without getting lost - he didn’t want to have to explain that he lost your daughter to you.

The little girl turned to her dad and dropped her head, pouting, “No’ to dwo it.”

Fred lifted her up and went to tell her off again, but stopped as he looked in her eyes, his face softening, “It’s okay baby, just don’t do it again, alright?”

She nodded, “I won’t.” Then, she turned away in his arms and dropped her ice cream cone onto the floor, before looking back up at her dad innocently, “I done wiv ice ‘eam now.”

“Evie,” he sighed, before placing her down on the floor and letting her run off towards George, who hid a laugh as Fred cleaned up the floor.

“You know what Mum would say,” George grinned, watching his brother pick up the cone and drop it into the bin beside the till counter.

Fred opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly there was a loud crash and the twins turned to where the noise came from, a stand of vials having fallen over.

Evie’s mouth was open as she pointed to the vials rolling across the floor, “Oopsie!”

“Karma,” Fred groaned, before moving off to clean up again after his daughter.

Wrapped around her finger, you always said. He’d do anything and everything his little girl asked of him, never being able to tell her ‘no’ without going back on his word once he saw her trembling bottom lip or puppy eyes.

You kicked off your heels as you entered your home, glad to finally be back after a long day.

“Hello?” You called out, rifling through the post that had been left on the table. You frowned when you didn’t receive a response, but the sound of giggling came from upstairs and you dropped the letters back where they were, going off to find your husband and daughter.

“What’s going on here?” You asked as you pushed the door to Evie’s room open, placing your bag down in the hallway and entering in. Fred looked up, and you stifled a laugh, noticing that your little girl had roped him into letting her do his makeup - if the lipstick on the cheeks and bright blue eyeshadow were anything to go by - a pink feather boa hanging round his neck, along with some costume jewellery clip-on earrings, a tiara and, your favourite, a way-too-small hot pink tutu around his waist as he sat at the little table in her room.

“Can’t you see, mummy?” Your daughter blinked up at you pointedly, “We’re having a tea party! I made daddy into a princess like in the stories you read to me!”

“He makes a very pretty princess, doesn’t he sweetie?” You grinned at Fred - who winked dramatically at you - before pressing a kiss to your daughter’s head as she nodded in agreement with you.

“Tea, daddy?” She asked, lifting her teapot and pouring her ‘tea’ into his cup without waiting for his answer. He raised the cup to his lips and stuck his pinky out, showing off the plastic rings he was also wearing.

“Delicious,” he confirmed as he placed the cup back down.

After spending nearly all their time together, Fred found it extremely difficult to say goodbye to his daughter on her first day at Hogwarts, not wanting to part from his little girl who he adored so much.

You walked along the platform, reminiscing about your own Hogwarts days, and hoping your daughter would make just as many happy memories as you watched families say goodbye to each other and friends reunite. Fred was holding her trunk, and she clutched your hand tightly.

“I’m scared,” you daughter admitted to you, looking around at all the Hogwarts students running around, laughing and boarding the train.

You lifted up the hand you were holding and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “You’re going to be just fine, baby. You’re gonna have an amazing time, and probably won’t even want to come home!”

She laughed, “I’ll always come home, Mum.”

You pulled her into a hug, “We’re only an owl away, you know that.” Evie nodded, “I know.”

“Gonna miss you sweetheart. Who am I supposed to prank your Mum with now? I’ve lost my partner in crime!” Fred grinned, laughing as Evie ran into his arms.

“You’ve got Uncle George,” she nodded over to where said younger twin was stood, saying goodbye to his eldest.

“Don’t tell him, but I prefer you.”

Evie giggled, before grabbing her trunk from Fred and bidding you both goodbye. She took a few steps towards the train, before turning back around, dropping her trunk and running back over to you, giving you another hug, before moving back into her dad’s arms.

“I love you both so much,” she mumbled, before heading to re-pick her trunk up.

“We love you too, princess,” Fred replied, watching as she headed towards the train. She settled into a compartment after a minute or so, and waved at you both through the window. You waved back, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Is it too late to have another one?” Fred joked, his hand snaking around your waist and sliding into your back pocket.

You slapped his arm playfully and let out a laugh, shaking your head at him. You watched the train leave, smiling sadly and waving again, before glancing at him, “What are we gonna do with an empty house?”

Fred winked as you began to head off the platform, “Oh I have a few ideas in mind.”

The goodbyes didn’t get easier each year, but the time apart was helped by the letters Evie sent to you, always keeping in touch where she could. You kept each of her letters, reading them when you missed her most.

Her latest letter held news you’d been waiting for since you’d sent her off, rushing to write her back as soon as you’d received it, and before Fred got home from work to help with the response.

“Did you read her letter? She’s going on a date!” He called through to you in the kitchen. The shock in his voice amused you, though you were expecting some kind of resistance to this new development in your daughter’s life.

“I know!” You replied cheerfully, stirring the food on the stove, “The boy sounds so lovely!”

“Y/n, love, I don’t think you understand,” Fred frowned as he entered the kitchen, heading over to press a kiss to your lips before continuing, “Our baby girl is going on a date with some pathetic thirteen year old boy. I was a thirteen year old boy once! I know how they think!”

“He sounds really nice! And Evie seems to really like him,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed another kiss to his lips, one he returned immediately, “Besides, you asked me on a date when we were thirteen, look how we’ve ended up!”

“That’s different.”

“How is that any different?” You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to stir the food again.

Fred pouted, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and leaning his chin on your shoulder, “Because that’s my baby girl.”

“Your baby girl who is going on her first date. It’s exciting!” You insisted, “And anyway, I may or may not have already written back to her saying you approve...”

Fred’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping comically, “You did what?!”

Fred was always going to be apprehensive about any boy Evie mentioned she was dating - you assumed that much - and the day she came home for Christmas, completely upset, did not help this matter.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Fred growled, his first clenching as he thought about the no-good boyfriend - well, ex boyfriend - of his little girl, who had thought it was a good idea to break up with her just before Christmas.

“Fred, no-“

“I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands.”

“Fred-“ You tried to calm him down, knowing that though his anger was justified, it wouldn’t make Evie feel any better.

“Look at our little girl! Look what he did to her!” His face softened as he glanced into the living room at his daughter, who was curled up in the corner of the sofa, eyes closed, tears staining her cheeks.

“Look, I’m angry too. But what she needs right now is a lot of chocolate, cuddles, and her parents’ support. She doesn’t need you yelling about the boy, okay?” You looked at him pointedly, waiting for him to nod at you. When he does, you smile at him and gesture towards the teen girl, “Go see if you can cheer her up, eh?”

“It’s what I’m best at.”

Eventually, much to yours and Fred’s delight, Evie found a man she ended up falling for completely after she graduated from Hogwarts.

He was kind, smart, definitely charming, and you took a liking to him immediately. Fred took a little while longer, however he eventually admitted he really liked the guy, and loved how happy he made Evie.

The day he came to you both asking for Evie’s hand in marriage, you agreed without hesitation, and when your daughter came to you to show you her ring, you’d screamed in happiness and starting talking weddings immediately, bringing out catalogues and deciding on a dress together.

“You’ll do my hair and makeup, right Mum?” She had asked.

“Of course I will baby!”

You sat her on your bed on the morning of the wedding, humming as you twirled her hair into an intricate style and applied her last minute makeup touches.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” you whispered, pressing your lips together as a few tears escaped your eyes.

She leaned over and wiped the tears away, pulling you into a hug, “Thank you, Mum.”

She stayed with you whilst you got yourself ready, laughing about old memories, and talking about the future, about memories you were yet to make.

You’d just finished getting dressed when Fred knocked on the door, bringing in your daughter’s wedding dress that Molly had been so kind as to alter for her.

He placed the dress down on the bed carefully, turning to look you up and down and whistling as you shook your head at him, before he turned to Evie, who was smiling up at him.

“When did my baby girl get so gorgeous, huh?” He grinned, leaning down to hug her.

She returned the hug with a laugh, “Dad, come on, stop it! You’re gonna make me cry, and Mum just finished helping me do my makeup.”

“I can’t help it. I look at you and I still see my little girl. But you’re all grown up now, I guess you’re not so little, huh?”

Evie smiled, pulling away from the hug to look at him, “I’ll always be your little girl, Dad.”

You finally ushered Fred out as you helped your daughter into her dress, adding last minute touches where needed.

“Where did the time go, eh?” You asked her, looking at her in the mirror, “I feel like you were a baby just yesterday.”

She smiled at your reflection, “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

When Fred saw his daughter in her wedding dress, he swallowed, feeling how he did when he had to say goodbye to her on Platform 9 3/4 every year - it was bittersweet, knowing she was leaving, but also just knowing she was going off to live her life, and make her own happy memories, made it all worth it.

“Ready to give me away?”

And as he looked down at his daughter, her excitement evident and barely fighting the grin that spread from ear to ear, he swallowed and couldn’t help but smile back at her.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He felt her cling onto his arm and smiled to himself softly.

No matter what, no matter where life took her, she would always be his little girl.

[calzona-ga]

In her unauthorized book, Lynette Rice explores the stories behind some of the ABC drama's biggest moments, including — in this exclusive excerpt — the factors that led to McDreamy's shocking death.

In How to Save a Life: The Inside Story of Grey’s Anatomy, author Lynette Rice recounts the ABC medical drama’s eventful 16-year history, revealing new details behind some of the show’s biggest departures. Included in the unauthorized, 320-page oral history (St. Martin’s Press, Sept. 21, $29.99) is a chapter that offers new insight into leading man Patrick Dempsey’s shocking exit in season 11 of the Shonda Rhimes-created drama. In the chapter, Rice speaks with Dempsey’s co-stars and exec producers who were present during filming of his final days on Grey’s Anatomy, and reveals claims of “HR issues” that contributed to the death of his alter-ego, Derek “McDreamy” Shepherd.

“There were HR issues. It wasn’t sexual in any way. He sort of was terrorizing the set. Some cast members had all sorts of PTSD with him,” recalls exec producer James D. Parriott, who was brought back to the series to oversee Dempsey’s exit.

In more than 80 interviews with current and former cast- and crewmembers, Rice, an editor-at-large at Entertainment Weekly, also explores the show’s early days, recounts the thinking behind some of its more polarizing storylines and offers exclusive details about the show’s behind-the-scenes culture.

“After 17 seasons, fans still can’t get enough of Grey’s Anatomy,” Rice tells THR. But what went down behind the scenes was just as dramatic as what viewers saw every Thursday. I’m excited for fans to read what I learned about those early days, along with what it was like to work for Shonda Rhimes, and why the drama was so freakin’ headline-prone.”

Below, The Hollywood Reporter shares an excerpt — the full eighth chapter — from How to Save a Life, and tune in Friday to TV’s Top 5 for an interview with Rice about her book and the other big reveals she uncovered in her reporting for it.

(Reps for ABC, ABC Signature, Shondaland, and Dempsey declined comment on the reveals in Rice’s book.)

“He’s Very Dreamy, but He’s Not the Sun,” Or, How Grey’s Anatomy Loved — Then Learned to Live Without — Patrick Dempsey Ellen Pompeo may have played the titular role, but for many fans over many years, Patrick Dempsey was the real draw to Grey’s Anatomy. Some of it had to do with his celebrity: Dempsey was the most famous member of the original cast at the time of the pilot and brought with him quite a cult following from his 1987 movie Can’t Buy Me Love. But a lot of it was due to the way Rhimes wrote her McDreamy and how Dempsey depicted him. James D. Parriott I would say, “The guy would never say that,” and Shonda would say, “He’s McDreamy. He’s the perfect man. He would say that.” I’d say, “Okay. It’s your show.” Eric Buchman Shonda had a very clear idea of how important it was to keep Derek as this almost idealized love interest, not just for Meredith but for the audience. Naturally, the writers—especially writers who had been working on one-hour dramas for a while—were like, “Well, maybe have McDreamy make a big mistake in surgery and kill somebody. Or he develops an addiction of some kind. What is his deep, dark secret?” Shonda was very insistent: that’s not the character we do that with. Even when you find out he’s married, that was done in a very sympathetic way that kept him being a hero. He was wronged by his spouse and in spite of it all he was still gonna give his marriage a second chance. Stacy McKee Shonda was protective of McDreamy, but it was really with an eye toward being protective of Meredith. I don’t think the two were separate from one another. I don’t think she wanted to put something out there that maybe on the surface might seem a little frivolous. At its core, there was something really substantial that she wanted to say. She wanted to be very specific about the type of relationship values that she put out there. Tony Phelan I was in editing with Shonda once, and it was the scene where Meredith and Derek had broken up. He comes over and she’s like, “I can’t remember the last time we kissed.” And he says, “I remember. You were wearing this and you smelled of this …”

Joan Rater “Your shampoo smelled like flowers, you had that sweater on …” He described their last kiss. Tony Phelan Typically in editing you start on Derek, then you cut to Meredith for a reaction, and then you’ll go back to him. I noticed that we weren’t ever cutting back to Meredith. I asked why. Shonda said, “Because the woman in Iowa who’s watching this show wants to believe that Patrick is talking to her, and if you cut back to Meredith, it pushes them out of it.” In those special moments, we would just lock into Derek and let him do his thing. Joan Rater And he was a master at it. Patrick Dempsey He’s the ideal man, and that’s what Shonda constructed. There’s a projection [of him] onto me when you come in contact with fans, certainly with the younger and older fans. There is a certain amount of expectation. There is a responsibility to it. It made me grow, too. There were good qualities [of his] that you work on to obtain. Off camera, Dempsey was equally as charismatic to his fellow actors, crew members, and anyone who would come to visit the set. Lauren Stamile I was going in to meet him, and I remember I had this little cardigan sweater on and I took it off before I got into the room. Dempsey is one of those people—it’s almost like there’s a light shining around his body, and you feel like you’re the only person in the room. I got so hot and I remember saying, “Gosh, I would take off my sweater if I had one on because I’m so hot, but I took it off.” I was just babbling. He said, “You look nice,” and I said, “You look nicer.” I felt so awkward and he was so gracious and lovely. I was having a nervous breakdown. It’s like this “it” factor. I was like, God, whatever he has, I wish I had. I think it was very obvious how nervous I was, and he went out of his way to make sure he introduced me to everybody and made sure I felt comfortable, which he certainly didn’t have to do. But he did. Joan Rater He knew I had a giant crush on him, and he loved it. And when we’d go to table reads—I was an actress at one point in my life—they would always give me Meredith if Ellen wasn’t there. And I’d be getting my chicken tenders at craft services before the table read and he’d come up behind me and say, “Are you reading Meredith?” in my ear, like, so sexy. I’d be like, Oh my God. I mean, I could barely … I could not look at him. Tina Majorino I worked with Patrick a ton. I love him so much. We had a really great time working together. I think he’s such a great actor and he really made me laugh a lot. I feel like we had a good dynamic in scenes together, and it was always fun to play opposite him. Yes, he’s that charismatic in real life. Yes, his hair is that awesome. Yes, he is dreamy up close.

Chandra Wilson Patrick Dempsey will forever be known as Grey’s Anatomy’s McDreamy. Derek Shepherd is a permanent part of television history.

Norman Leavitt He is a big, personable guy.

Jeannine Renshaw We all love Patrick. Patrick is a sweetheart. If I saw him on the street, I’d give him a hug. I love the guy.

Mark Wilding I’ve always had a soft spot for Patrick. He really does try to do the right thing. Brooke Smith, who played Dr. Erica Hahn, remembers how Dempsey defended her when the decision was made to fire her from the show in 2008. Brooke Smith I remember calling him and saying, “Oh my God, they said they can’t write for me anymore, so I guess I’m leaving.” And he was like, “What are you talking about? You’re the only one they’re writing for.” Which at that time, it kind of did feel that way. But I guess someone didn’t like that. They gave me a statement [to release, about her departure] and I never said it. Patrick said that he actually took it out of his jacket on The Ellen DeGeneres Show and read the statement. He won’t let me forget it. He was like, “I defended you, see?” And it was true.

By season eleven, however, fans saw a disturbing break in MerDer’s once unbreakable bond. Six episodes had gone by without a peep from Derek, who was supposedly in Washington, D.C., where he had apparently made out with a research fellow. Fans began threatening to bolt if their hero didn’t return soon to Seattle. “I have never missed one episode,” wrote a fan on Dempsey’s Facebook page. “But I swear if [Rhimes] kills you off I’m done.” But there was a critical reason for Derek’s strange absence: behind the scenes, there was talk of Dempsey’s diva-like fits and tension between him and Pompeo. To help manage the explosive situation, executive producer James D. Parriott was brought back in to serve as a veritable Dempsey whisperer.

Patrick Dempsey [That] was the first year that I haven’t been in every episode. I [was] in every episode since the pilot— close to 250 episodes. That [was a] huge run. James D. Parriott Shonda needed an OG to come in as sort of a showrunner for fourteen episodes. There were HR issues. It wasn’t sexual in any way. He sort of was terrorizing the set. Some cast members had all sorts of PTSD with him. He had this hold on the set where he knew he could stop production and scare people. The network and studio came down and we had sessions with them. I think he was just done with the show. He didn’t like the inconvenience of coming in every day and working. He and Shonda were at each other’s throats.

Jeannine Renshaw There were times where Ellen was frustrated with Patrick and she would get angry that he wasn’t working as much. She was very big on having things be fair. She just didn’t like that Patrick would complain that “I’m here too late” or “I’ve been here too long” when she had twice as many scenes in the episode as he did. When I brought it up to Patrick, I would say, “Look around you. These people have been here since six thirty a.m.” He would go, “Oh, yeah.” He would get it. It’s just that actors tend to see things from their own perspective. He’s like a kid. He’s so high energy and would go, “What’s happening next?” He literally goes out of his skin, sitting and waiting. He wants to be out driving his race car or doing something fun. He’s the kid in class who wants to go to recess.

Patrick Dempsey It’s ten months, fifteen hours a day. You never know your schedule, so your kid asks you, “What are you doing on Monday?” And you go, “I don’t know,” because I don’t know my schedule. Doing that for eleven years is challenging. But you have to be grateful, because you’re well compensated, so you can’t really complain because you don’t really have a right. You don’t have control over your schedule. So, you have to just be flexible.

Longtime Crew Member Poor Patrick. I’m not defending his schtick. I like him, but he was the Lone Ranger. All of these actresses were getting all this power. All the rogue actresses would go running to Shonda and say, “Hey, Patrick’s doing this. Patrick’s late for work. He’s a nightmare.” He was just shut out in the cold. His behavior wasn’t the greatest, but he had nowhere to go. He was so miserable. He had no one to talk to. When Sandra left, I remember him telling me, “I should’ve left then, but I stayed on because they showed me all this money. They just were dumping money on me.”

Patrick Dempsey It [was] hard to say no to that kind of money. How do you say no to that? It’s remarkable to be a working actor, and then on top of that to be on a show that’s visible. And then on top of that to be on a phenomenal show that’s known around the world, and play a character who is beloved around the world. It’s very heady. It [was] a lot to process, and not wanting to let that go, because you never know whether you will work again and have success again.

Jeannine Renshaw A lot of the complaining … I think Shonda finally witnessed it herself, and that was the final straw. Shonda had to say to the network, “If he doesn’t go, I go.” Nobody wanted him to leave, because he was the show. Him and Ellen. Patrick is a sweetheart. It messes you up, this business.

James D. Parriott I vaguely recall something like that, but I can’t be sure. It would have happened right toward the end, because I know they were negotiating and negotiating, trying to figure out what to do. We had three different scenarios that we actually had to break because we didn’t know until I think about three days before he came back to set which one we were going to go with. We didn’t know if he was going to be able to negotiate his way out of it. We had a whole story line where we were going to keep him in Washington, D.C., so we could separate him from the rest of the show. He would not have to work with Ellen again. Then we had the one where he comes back, doesn’t die, and we figure out what Derek’s relationship with Meredith would be. Then there was the one we did. It was kind of crazy. We didn’t know if he was going to be able to negotiate his way out of it. It was ultimately decided that just bringing him back was going to be too hard on the other actors. The studio just said it was going to be more trouble than it was worth and decided to move on.

Stacy McKee I don’t think there was any way to exit him without him dying. He and Meredith were such an incredibly bonded couple at that point. It would be completely out of character if he left his kids. There was no exit that would honor that character other than if he were to die. Patrick Dempsey I don’t remember the date [I got the news]. It was not in the fall. Maybe February or March. It was just a natural progression. And the way everything was unfolding in a very organic way, it was like, “Okay! This is obviously the right time.” Things happened very quickly. We were like, “Oh, this is where it’s going to go.”

So that was that: McDreamy would die in episode twenty-one of season eleven, even though Dempsey was in year one of his recently signed two-year contract extension. Rhimes wrote a script that was befitting of her lead’s heroic persona: she began “How to Save a Life” by having Derek witness a car crash and helping the injured. Once it appeared everyone was out of harm’s way, Derek continues on his road trip but is suddenly broadsided by a truck.

Rob Hardy (Director) The paramedics leave. He’s there by himself. He’s having a moment. The nice music is playing, and all of a sudden, bang. It comes out of nowhere, which, you know, is how accidents happen. So as opposed to watching it as a viewer, we saw the accident happen through Derek’s perspective. Derek ends up at Dillard Medical Center, a hospital far from Grey Sloan and the talented doctors who work there. His eyes are open, but his brain is severely damaged. No one hears his plea for a CT scan; he can’t speak. To help keep the episode a secret, the scenes were shot in an abandoned hospital in Hawthorne, California, about twenty-two miles from the show’s home studio in Los Feliz.

Mimi Melgaard It was really hard on all of us because it was so secretive and we had so many different locations. We shot at this closed-down hospital that was absolutely creepy haunted. All the scenes there were so sad anyway, and in this yucky-feeling haunted hospital? It was really weird. His whole last episode was really tough. Patrick Dempsey It was like any other day. It was just another workday. There was still too much going on. You’re in the midst of it—you’re not really processing it. Rob Hardy Here’s a guy who’s immobile. Now you’re inside of his head. We were trying to make that feel scary from the perspective of a person who’s used to being in control, from a person who usually has the power of life and death in his own hands. But now he doesn’t have the ability to speak on his own behalf.

Samantha Sloyan When I went to audition, I didn’t recognize any of these doctors’ names. I assumed they were just dummy sides so people wouldn’t ruin the story line or anything like that. All we knew is that we were dealing with a man who’s been in a car accident. I had no idea that it was going to be Derek. I just figured I was going to be a guest doctor and that whoever this person was who was injured, was going to be just a character on the show. Once it became clear what we were working on, I was like, Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe this is the episode I’m on.

Mike McColl (Dr. Paul Castello) I signed an NDA before they would release the script to me. I was reading it in my house, and I was like, “Oh, my God.” I didn’t tell anyone, including my agents. I just said, “This is a really great booking. It’s a great role on Grey’s.” And they didn’t know anything until it aired.

Savannah Paige Rae (Winnie) The first scene I shot was actually the sentimental scene when I’m saying, “It’s a beautiful day to save lives, right?” I’m in the hospital room with Derek and talking to him. Even though I never watched the show, I recognized the value of the episode I was in and just really took it to heart. It was so special that I got to be a part of it.

Rob Hardy [Patrick] had a lot of emotions during the whole shoot, which evolved. I think when we first started, he was very calm and cool … the same Patrick that I remembered when I worked on the show a year or so before. With each passing day, he was a lot more emotional. A lot more was on his mind, and that would show itself in different ways. The finality of the episode and for his character was setting in. You’ve become a global icon on this show and then in five, four, three, two, a day … it’s over.

James D. Parriott Patrick was very cooperative and good.

Mike McColl When I met Patrick, he’s lying on a stretcher and we’re rushing him into the ER. I just introduced myself, shook his hand, and was like, “Man, I cannot tell you what an honor it is to be the guy to take you down.” He loved it. He could not have been nicer to me and was funny through the whole shoot. He was on the table in front of me there when I cut his chest open and all that stuff. He gave me a hug at the end. It was a real privilege to be a part of TV history in that way.

Samantha Sloyan I remember him being incredibly kind. They had his neck in a brace, and he’s strapped down to the board, so there wasn’t a ton of chatting. I remember him being really kind, but it was clearly intense for him.

Stacy McKee It was such a beautiful piece of storytelling. I knew this event was going to be a really sad, horrible event for Meredith, but I also knew it was going to be the beginning of such an incredible chapter for Meredith.

Dempsey completed his final hours of shooting on a rainy night. There was no goodbye party, no goodbye cake. Maybe that’s because some cast members were left out of the loop. James Pickens, Jr., told ABC News that the cast “didn’t know a whole lot. It was kind of on the fly. So whatever information we got, we pretty much got it kind of right before it happened.”

Caterina Scorsone (Dr. Amelia Shepherd) I didn’t get to say goodbye to Patrick when he left. I do think that helped, because I’ve been using the character of Derek in my internal landscape since Private Practice. Derek was the stability in Amelia’s life. He became a father figure after they watched robbers shoot their father. When he was suddenly gone from the show, we didn’t have that closure, so I got to play it out. She’s about to use drugs again before Owen confronts her in a way that she finally talks about her feelings about losing Derek. She doesn’t end up using.

James D. Parriott The day he left, that was my last day. There was a certain sadness to it, but I think he was relieved. I mean, I think it took a toll on him, too.

Rob Hardy I didn’t see other actors showing up and saying, “Hey, it’s the last day! Wanted to come and wish you well.” I didn’t get that. It was more the Patrick show. We were in the Patrick world, and then Ellen came, and there was definitely a lot of emotion that both of them had individually … not necessarily together. It was more so her being there on the day that he died. He had his own way of being with that, and the same thing with her. It was like two people who grew up together and … here we are. They had their own way of reflecting.

Patrick Dempsey I very quietly left. It was beautiful. It was raining, which was really touching. I got in my Panamera, got in rush-hour traffic, and two hours later I was home. Big news like this doesn’t stay quiet for long. Both Michael Ausiello—who left EW in 2010 to launch the news site TVLine—and Lesley Goldberg of The Hollywood Reporter learned two weeks prior to Dempsey’s final episode that he would be leaving the show. No reporter worth their salt wants to sit on a scoop—least of all one as huge as this—but Ausiello and Goldberg didn’t want to spoil the outcome for fans, so they agreed to hold the story until after the episode aired. I eventually found out, too, but in the nuttiest way imaginable: I was standing on the set of CSI: Cyber, watching Patricia Arquette talk about some droll techno-criminal. Unfortunately, the publicist also cc’d Dempsey’s manager and ABC publicist while trying to give me a major story, so I couldn’t immediately report the scoop. But I did use the information to successfully negotiate the one and only exit interview with Dempsey. Two weeks before his final episode, I met him and his publicist at Feed Body & Soul in Venice, California, for a story that would hit newsstands on April 24. He seemed a little shell-shocked and at one point choked up, but at the time he said nothing about how his on-set behavior may have contributed to his ouster. My editor, Henry Goldblatt, wanted to put him on the cover of Entertainment Weekly, but he couldn’t guarantee to ABC that no one would see it before the episode aired. Good thing we didn’t: some subscribers got the issue on the morning of Dempsey’s final episode— and one actually tweeted the story. Our PR department tried to get the tweets removed, but the cat was out of the bag: some fans found out early that McDreamy was about to be McHistory. Outlets like Variety reported how the story got out early, while our PR department released this statement: “We are surprised that an EW subscriber may have received their issue a day earlier than planned. We always try our best to bring readers exclusive news first. We would like to apologize to fans of the show that learned the news ahead of time.” Dempsey’s final episode was watched by 8.83 million viewers—the show’s largest audience since the premiere that season. Variety even pontificated whether the ratings boost was due to my exclusive with Dempsey.

Lesley Goldberg (The Hollywood Reporter) I’m used to working with networks to hold news as part of their efforts to guard against plot spoilers. But the way Patrick Dempsey’s exit was handled involved a layer of paranoia and secrecy that has been unlike anything I’ve seen in my reporting career. News that he was leaving, and his character being killed off, would have been a major story considering how big the show is domestically and internationally. However, it also would have meant spoiling the episode and, more important, damaging key relationships I’ve worked hard to build. At some point, publishing the news of Dempsey’s exit before the episode aired became an ethical question of what was more important—a big story and its subsequent traffic, which would have come no matter what, or the relationships and trust that it took years to craft. Ultimately, I still published early because EW subscribers received the issue with Lynette’s Dempsey interview before the episode aired.

Mike McColl The morning after Derek’s last episode aired, my daughter sent me a link that was on YouTube or Facebook or something. I actually pulled it up to look at it, and it was a Grey’s Anatomy showbiz cheat sheet. It asked the question “Who is the attending doctor who killed Derek ‘McDreamy’ Shepherd?” It included a photo that I posted from the set. I had on a bloody rubber glove and was in my scrubs and mask. I never obviously would have posted this before it aired. I posted it well after the episode aired, and I [captioned it] “McDeadly.” This writer said something like, “Kill McDeadly.” Maybe that’s why the producer didn’t choose a big-name actor to be the one who killed our beloved McDreamy! I want to be ultrasensitive to these hard-core fans because it means so much to them, and I certainly didn’t mean in that case to make light of it. It’s just, I’m an actor, and I recognize it for what it is. Is everybody clear on the fact that this is just pretend and Patrick knew he was going to be leaving the show? It was just like, “God. He’s okay. He really is okay.”

Peter Horton Derek was going to be there forever with Meredith because you went through a whole journey with them. That was incredibly fulfilling. So even if he’s not there, he’s there. I don’t think any of us really worried about that going away because by then you were so invested in it. The show can last as it has for years.

Patrick Dempsey Lots of people [miss him]. “It’s good to see you alive” is the comment I get. I’m like, “Yes, I’m very much alive in reruns.” People were really invested in that relationship. I knew it would be heavy. Very happy to have moved on with a different chapter in my life.

Samantha Sloyan The montage just killed me, when Meredith says, “It’s okay, you can go.” God, I’m getting choked up just thinking about it. The chemistry they have as a pair and the way they were able to build that and sustain it! So many of these relationships are, like, “Will they, won’t they,” and then it wears thin. They sustained it for the duration of their relationship on the show, and it’s just, I think, a testament to what those two created. It was just unbelievable.

Pompeo addressed Dempsey’s departure with a tweet that focused solely on his character, not on how she spent eleven years working side by side with him: “There are so many people out there who have suffered tremendous loss and tragedy. Husbands and wives of soldiers, victims of senseless violence, and parents who have lost children. People who get up every day and do what feels like is the impossible. So it is for these people and in the spirit of resilance [sic] I am honored and excited to tell the story of how Meredith goes on in the face of what feels like the impossible.” Meanwhile, fans futilely created a Change.org petition to reinstate McDempsey, while other, more desperate ones simply tweeted “We Hate You” to Rhimes.

Shonda Rhimes Derek Shepherd is and will always be an incredibly important character—for Meredith, for me, and for the fans. I absolutely never imagined saying goodbye to our McDreamy. Patrick Dempsey’s performance shaped Derek in a way that I know we both hope became a meaningful example— happy, sad, romantic, painful, and always true—of what young women should demand from modern love. His loss will be felt by all.

Talk about the mother (father?) of all postscripts: In November of 2020 Dempsey reprised his role as McDreamy in the season opener—but only in Meredith’s dreams. Stricken with COVID-19, an unconscious Meredith “imagined” reuniting with her husband on the beach. After talking exclusively to Deadline and saying how it was “really a very healing process, and really rewarding,” Dempsey would return for more beach-based episodes that would ultimately stand out as the best moments of season seventeen. “It was a second chance thing,” one ABC executive told me at the time. “Shonda likes a comeback. Also, they wanted him in their last season.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Somebody to You

Request: Hi can I request a Cedric Diggory x Gryffindor reader where they’re actually the best of friends and she has liked him for years but she lost hope because it’s like he never sees her y’know? so when Cedric starts to pursue Cho, she decided that it’s time for her to move on but when Cedric saw her getting close to someone else he just got really jealous and possessive and confess that he actually like her too, he just doesn’t want to ruin their friendship if it doesn’t work out? thanks! - @elia-the-bibliophile

A/N: I had so much fun with this! I’m really liking writing for Cedric, but I think I need to work some kinks out with how I write his character. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope I have done your request justice! Title is from The Vamps - Somebody to You because I am a sucker for pop.

Warnings: unrequited love, crying, a bit of drama, but there is fluff

Word count: 4.6k

Cedric Diggory was like sunshine; warm and bright.

For years, he had been your best friend. Your families had always been close, being the nearest wizarding family to their home after the Weasley’s. You and Cedric had bonded from such a young age; making pinkie promises under the large oak tree in your back garden, promising how you would always remain friends. That nothing could tear you apart; not even being sorted into separate houses would keep the two of you away from each other.

The fates decided for you early on that you would fall in love with Cedric. You felt the cliché; falling in love with your best friend and knowing it was unrequited. Cedric simultaneously made your heart race and break. He was so impossibly wonderful and caring that a simple look from him had your heartbeat increasing something worrying. But in the same minute, the small voice in your head, reminding you that he didn’t truly see you, had your heart breaking all over again. In his presence, you felt like Icarus flying too close to the sun, to feel the warmth on your face, not realising all the while that the wax of your wings are melting and you’re about to fall, fall, fall.

For so long you had pined for your best friend. With each hug; each take of the hand and each kiss pressed to the side of your head, your heart filled with hope that he was feeling the same as you. You were hopelessly praying that one day he would look at you and for it fall into place. For him to take you into his arms and whisper promises of love and forever.

But it was nothing more than a dream.

You knew of his feelings for her; he wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to watching her from across the Great Hall or classroom. And you understood; you understood it all. How could you compare? Cho Chang was something else entirely; both her and Cedric would be the ultimate power couple for Hogwarts.

It would only be a matter of time before they’re hanging from each other’s arm as you would watch from the side line. Seemingly destined to always love him from a distance.

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

Cedric bounds up to you in the Hufflepuff common room on a Wednesday afternoon, calling your name and for your attention. Cedric always joked that you would rather be a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor with all the time you spent in their common room.

“What is it?” You ask, looking up from your essay plan.

“I asked her, and she said yes!”

“You asked who? To where?”

“I asked Cho to the Yule Ball and she said yes.” Cedric grins at you, looking so happy at this news.

“That’s great, Cedric!” You crow, smiling at him, silently praying he wouldn’t see how your heart was crumbling inside your chest.

Your heart sinks at his news; some part of you hoped that he would ask you to the Ball. That he would take you and show you off to the whole school, but like a lot of things, it was only a dream. You keep the smile pasted on your face as he starts to babble about dress robes and coordinating outfits. Your heart urges you to confess; to confess every feeling you’ve ever had for him.

But he looks so happy. You couldn’t tell him now; you wouldn’t break that.

----------

Being in the same room as them was becoming painful. You could feel your heart crack in your chest as you watched Cedric open the Yule Ball with Cho, looking at her as if she were the only girl in the world for him. How could he not? She looked incredible; she looked like everything he could possibly want.

How your heart yearned for him to look at you that way. How it broke when you realise that he never will.

You gather your skirt in your hands, leaving the Great Hall. The scene too painful for you stay there any longer. It was masochism at this point; you were hurting yourself intentionally by staying there longer.

You pause at the stairs; sitting down to gather your breath but they soon turn to sobs. You grab at your chest with both hands as if you could physically stop the feeling of your heart cleaving itself in two.

The sound of footsteps has you wiping your eyes, but you recognise the sweet perfume of your friend Rose. She sits next to you, holding your hand tightly and directing your head onto her shoulder. She wasn’t bothered about this dance anyway; you needed her more than she needed to waltz with a boy that was going to try and kiss her later.

“Loving him shouldn’t have to hurt so much.” You cry into the shoulder of your friend, Rose.

“It shouldn’t.”

“I really thought…” You trail off, your mind finishing the sentence. I really thought something would happen.

“I know you did,” Rose murmurs, brushing the hair away from your face.

Rose is your anchor that night, letting you sob into her shoulder for another minute before helping you to your room. The sobs have you bent in two; you hold a hand to your mouth, trying to keep them in, to keep them silent but it doesn’t help.

Rose helps you out of your dress, handing you your comfiest pyjamas before helping you get into the bed. The tears are slower now, having exhausted yourself. Rose brushes your hair back with a gentle hand, lulling you to a light sleep. You know though, that you won’t be sleeping much tonight, the image of Cedric and Cho burned onto the back of your eyelids would surely haunt your dreams tonight.

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

Cedric notices your absence from the Yule Ball – of course he does. His mind had been on you since you descended the stairs in your mauve velvet dress, holding hands with Rose, sending his mind into overdrive and his heart racing.

Cho had to pull his attention back to her multiple times but soon gave up when she could see how occupied he was.

He hadn’t seen you leave; he didn’t know where you had gone. So he looks for Rose, knowing that you would be close by if he could find her. But he can’t and he starts to panic.

He spins Cho out before drawing her back into his arms; all the time wishing it was you he was holding close to his body. Cedric had wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball, but he couldn’t. In the end, he asked Cho. He had planted the seeds the week before he asked with longing gazes. She had said yes, but he couldn’t help but want it to be you who said yes to him.

Cedric was terrified. He was a current champion in the Triwizard Tournament – the most horrifying of challenges for witches and wizards alike but he was simply more petrified of confessing his feelings for you, to you.

He would rather face his dragon again, a thousand times over, than face your rejection.

He’s loved you all his life. He just didn’t know it until the end of Fourth Year when you smiled at him over the rim of your Butterbeer glass and something within him clicked into place.

He was just so scared of ruining your friendship. If he lost you as a friend because of his feelings, he doesn’t know what he would do. The fear of rejection and loss keeping his confession secret.

For now, you both teeter on the edge of a knife blade. Neither one willing to confess their feelings first, but their touches would linger, and their stares would last that little bit longer – eyes filled with the adoration and love they feel.

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

Rose is on eggshells around you the morning after the Yule Ball; worried about what could possibly set you off again. Robotically, you get dressed and head to breakfast, plastering a serene smile on your face before you enter the Great Hall in case you into Cedric, or Cho, or worse, both of them.

You’re buttering a piece of toast when Rose asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you for being there last night.”

“I didn’t want to leave you; I’ve never seen you like that before.”

You point your buttery knife at her, “And you won’t ever again. Want to know why?”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because as of right now, I am going to get over Cedric Diggory.”

Rose’s eyes widen, “Really?”

You nod, biting into your toast, “Really. I have loved him for so long and it’s come to nothing. It’s time I move on.”

Cedric sits down next to you a moment later, reaching for the pumpkin juice, “Where did you go last night? I tried to look for you, but I couldn’t find you.”

You meet Rose’s eyes, “I didn’t feel too well so Rose brought me back to the common room.”

“You should’ve said something, I’d have taken you back.”

“Cedric, you’re a Triwizard Champion, they needed you there. I was fine without you, I had Rose.” You say, smiling at the girl as she nods affirming your story.

Cedric frowns, not happy with your answer. He places a hand on your forehead and then your cheek, checking your temperature. You melt into his touch before turning rigid. Reminded of your vow from only a moment ago, you pull away, chuckling, “You’re a mother hen, Ced, I swear. I’m fine, I feel a lot better now.”

You turn your attention back to your breakfast, picking at the food on your plate. The need to get over Cedric was now your most important aim. Your heart had been broken and smashed beyond recognition. It was now time to build it back up again.

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

It’s hard at first; getting over Cedric because he makes it so difficult. It’s as if he dazzles you with the simplest of movements such as running a hand through his hair or grinning at you or turning a page in a book with a focused look on his face. Each action had you out of breath and your heart racing before you pulled yourself back and reminded your overly hormonal self what you were aiming to do.

Cedric notices your apprehension around him, asking you one morning, “Are you okay?”

You frown, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cedric fixes you with a look, “You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “I’m just going through some things right now, Ced, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“You’re sure?” Concern overtaking his features.

“I’m sure,” You say, taking his hand in yours, “Now, let’s get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

Cedric laughs, leading you to the Great Hall. He’s still worried though; he’s noticed your distance, not being as open with him. Not pulling him in for hugs as often. Your friendship mattered so much to him; it being over a decade old. He treasured your friendship and your presence in his life more than he treasures his place on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Over the last week, he had felt you pull yourself far away from him, building a wall around you that he had no hope of tearing down.

Cedric’s heart falls as he begins to realise that he’s losing you.

----------

Michael Rhen approaches you at breakfast a week after the Yule Ball. A week after your promise to get over Cedric.

You’re sitting with Cedric as Michael joins you at the table, “Morning, (Y/N).”

“Hi Michael,” You greet, smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I was hoping you could help me though.”

“I’ll try my very best.”

Michael smiles, “I’m having trouble with our History of Magic essay – the one about witch trials in Yorkshire and Lancashire. And I know that you’re the best at this subject, so I was wondering if you help me?”

You nod, “Of course. Do you want to meet in the library tomorrow evening after dinner?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, I’ll see you in the library tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.” Michael grins, getting up to leave.

You shake your head amused.

Cedric was not amused. He was not accustomed to the ugly emotion growing in his gut. Jealousy was rearing its ugly head and Cedric was having a hard time keeping a lid on it.

“I didn’t know you tutor now,” He says innocently.

“I don’t.” comes your reply.

Cedric frowns, “Then why?”

“Well, we have OWLs coming up even if you are exempt, Mr. Champion, so I’ll take all the extra studying I can get and also: why not? Michael’s nice, we get along just fine.”

“I don’t know… something seems off about him.”

“Oh, you’re just nit-picking now.” You say, hushing him. “It’s only an essay.”

But the both of you have the same thought: what if it could be more?

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

The library was always quiet. Madame Pince controlling the volume with an iron fist.

You hurry to the back of the library where you know the relevant books are. You place your quill and ink on the table along with some parchment before wandering to the shelves. Your fingers run across the worn spines of the books; thinking of the thousands of students before having done the same action.

Footsteps behind you alert you to Michael’s presence. You turn to greet him with a smile on your face.

Michael smiles in return, taking a seat at the table, “Hey, (Y/N). Thank you for doing this.”

You pull a couple of books from the shelf before sitting across from him, “It’s no problem, Michael. Now what is it exactly that you need help on?”

Michael bites his lip, looking sheepish, “All of it? How much time do you have?”

You chuckle, “Until curfew. I hope you’re ready to take notes. This is a whistle stop tour.”

In no time at all, Michael had a good understanding of the differences between the different types of witchcraft practiced in Yorkshire and Lancashire as well as a decent understanding of rival families and why there is still tension in the counties today as a result of it.

Michael puts his quill down, flexing his fingers to free himself of the cramp, “Wow. You really know a lot on this subject.”

You shrug, “My family originally hail from Yorkshire. I made it my mission to know as much as I could about my ancestors.”

The grand clock above the entrance hall begins to chime signalling curfew and the end of your study session with Michael.

“That’s all we have time for, unfortunately. If you need any more help, I’m happy to help.”

“There is something you could help me with…” Michael starts.

“Oh?” You ask, pausing in stacking the books for the shelves.

“Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He says in one rushed breath.

You hesitate; your mind flashes to Cedric, thinking of all the Hogsmeade weekends you had spent with him, ambling from shop to shop and generally enjoying each other’s company.

Michael starts to look worried. But before he can say anything, you ask, “As a date?”

Michael looks away flustered, “I was hoping it would be, yes.”

You’re taken back again. Your mind flashing back to Cedric, your heart wishing it was him asking and not Michael. No, you chide yourself, he has Cho now… though you hadn’t seen him with her since the Yule Ball… NO. Michael was asking you out, he was genuinely interested in you. You think of your promise; he was handing you the opportunity to start getting over Cedric.  

You smile at Michael, “I’d like that. I’ll meet you in the courtyard at nine?”

Michael’s answering grin is blinding. “That’s great. I’ll see you then.” He even goes so far to drop a kiss to your cheek before leaving the library with a whispered goodbye.

-------

The Hufflepuff common room is silent when you return from the library. The majority of students had retired to their beds, but the odd straggler remains in the common room. You recognise them all as classmates as they continue to revise for the upcoming exams. Curfew had come and gone but you couldn't finish your day without seeing Cedric.

Cedric is laid across one of the couches, an arm tucked underneath his head; eyes pouring over one of his books. You watch him fondly. His exemption from the exams made him able to catch up on the books you had given to him to read.

You tap his thigh, silently telling him to shift, “What are still doing up?”

He moves into a sitting position, shrugging, “I was waiting for you. I knew you’d come see me.”

Your heart softens at his whispered confession. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Did Michael complete his essay?”

You smile, “He did, and he asked me out on a date.”

“He did what?” He asks, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked, Cedric. Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean that others don’t.” You say, hurt.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fiddling with themselves. Cedric sighs, placing a finger under your chin, lifting your face to look you in the eyes. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeats.

“How did you mean it then?” You question, your eyes narrowing.

Cedric pulls away, his mouth a thin line, “I just didn’t think he would move that fast.”

“Well he did, and I said yes.”

An awkward silence falls between the two of you. Bodies angled to each other, but eyes focused on the fire as minds begin to wander.

You think of your feelings for the teenager sat next to you. These overwhelming, defining feelings that you hold for him and you wonder whether Michael would be the one to help you move on. Whether Michael could be the one to help you revert back to friendship with Cedric. You wanted to chuckle as your heart whispered how impossible that task would be. You glance at Cedric, curious as to whether he had any clue about how entirely he owned your heart.

You pat his knee, deciding you had thought enough for the night. You hope for a dreamless sleep, “I’m heading up for the night. I’ll see you at breakfast?”

Cedric smiles smally, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You smile in return, walking away from him before his words could settle in your skin. The smile drops from your face as you walk back to the Gryffindor common room; your mind overthinking and your heart breaking that little bit more. 

Cedric watches you walk away, no longer ignoring the deep ache in his chest. He was starting to lose you; the distance between the two of you increasing. As Cedric sits there, book open on his lap, watching the spot where he had last seen you, he promises himself that he would not lose you from his life.

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

Cedric found it hard to leave you alone over the next week. Finding any and all excuses to sit next to you; to touch you. The jealousy he felt over your date with Michael had him interjecting into conversations and disturbing seating plans so he could be near you. He waited for you to pull away, for you to tell him off, but you never did. Hope bloomed in his stomach and in his chest at that.

Your heart basked in the attention; wanting nothing more than Cedric to wrap his arm around that little bit tighter and for him to distract you from another conversation. Your mind berated your heart for enjoying this too much; the small voice in the back of your mind reminded you constantly that you were supposed to be moving on from him and here he was putting a spanner in the plan.

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

Bounding down the stairs to the common room, you pause in front of a mirror to check how your hair looks. Deciding it was good enough, you enter the Gryffindor common room surprised to find Cedric sat on the couch, staring away into nothing.

You tap him on the shoulder, “Are you okay? You look to be lost in your thoughts.”

He hums before answering, “I’m good. You look lovely by the way.”

You look down at your outfit, brushing out invisible creases; heart racing from his compliment. You internally scold yourself for reacting this way. “Thank you, Cedric.”

Cedric nods. His heart breaks as he sees how you’ve dressed up for Michael and how happy you look to be meeting him. He wishes he had told you earlier; confessed to you before the Yule Ball how much he adored you because if he had, he would be the one to be walking you to Hogsmeade, to be sharing a butterbeer, to be whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Instead, he’s resigned himself to the fact that after today, he will have lost you forever.

He watches you check your watch, brushing your fingers through your hair one more time before going to meet Michael.

He decides to take the moment to plead, to beg you not to go. To stay with him; spend the day with him so he can gather the courage to tell you how he feels. How he has felt for years but didn’t know until last year and if you would give him the chance, he would spend the rest of his life earning your affection and showing you just how deep his love for you runs.

Cedric grabs your hand, making you turn to face him, “Don’t go,” he pleads.

“I have to, Cedric.” You pull your hand from his grip, rushing out of the common room to meet Michael in the courtyard.

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

The day with Michael had been pleasant. You had walked around Hogsmeade, entering the bookshop and Honeyduke’s to stock up on your stash of cauldron cakes. Michael, ever the gentlemen, had paid for your sweets with a smile and a wink at your protests.

The pit in your stomach was getting larger; you felt awful for not feeling anything more for Michael other than friendship. But your heart would not let you forget the brunette Hufflepuff you had left in the common room with a dejected look on his face.

The conversation with Cedric had played on your mind all day. His face as you left the common room, was printed onto the back of your eyelids. He had look so crestfallen, as if he had accepted some terrible fate. Your chest aches at the memory of it.

Michael takes your hand as he pulls you into The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer or two. You head to a small table as he goes to the bar for your drinks.

“Thank you.” You say as Michael places a foaming glass in front of you. You immediately take a drink, relishing the sweet butterscotch taste. You wipe your mouth on a napkin before smiling at Michael. “Thank you for today, I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Michael grins, “I have as well. But I think I’ve had more fun than you.”

You run a finger around the rim of your glass, “Michael…” You start, but he cuts you off.

“It’s Cedric, isn’t it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“It’s okay, I suspected as much when I first asked you out. It was confirmed when I saw his reaction.”

“His reaction?”

“The possessiveness.”

You nod, remembering it, “I’m really sorry, I thought I could… can we be friends?”

Michael smiles at you, “We can be friends.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you, Michael.”

“You know he’s jealous.” He states, sipping at his butterbeer.

“Who?”

“Who? Cedric.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“I’m telling you; he totally is.”

You think back to his possessiveness over the last week. He had never been like that; not once over the time you had known him. It only started when Michael had asked you to help with his essay and then asked you out.

Everything clicks into place; you drop your head into your hands with a groan. Michael laughs, “I told you so.”

Michael walks you back to the school and the Hufflepuff common room, making you promise to tell him what happens tomorrow. He squeezes your shoulder before walking away. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation you’re about to have.

Cedric hadn’t moved from where you left him this morning. He remained sat on the leather couch, his eyes on the fire but his mind elsewhere. You throw yourself down beside him. Cedric leans back into the couch; your legs going over his.

Cedric’s fingers draw aimless patterns on your legs as he apologises, “I’m sorry about this morning. I was out of line.”

You nod, “Yes, you were. But I appreciate your apology.”

“Did you have a nice time?” Cedric asks, punishing himself for his actions this morning.

“It was interesting,” You start, “Or at least, Michael told me something interesting.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He told me you were jealous of him, but I denied it of course because if you had feelings for me in any sense you would have told me by now, right?”

Cedric is silent; seeming very focused on the seam of your jeans as he traces a fingertip up it. You repress a shiver at the feel.

“Right, Cedric?” You repeat.

“Michael was right.” Cedric whispers, looking down.

“He was?”

“No, he is. I’m jealous. I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t in the end.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, Ced?”

“I was worried that I would ruin our friendship. We’ve been friends for so long, I thought if I suddenly confessed how I felt, you wouldn’t believe me, and you’d reject me.”

You sigh, “This is a mess.”

Cedric frowns, “What is?”

“We’ve been dancing around each other and being miserable all because we were scared to ruin what we already have.”

“We?”

You fiddle with your fingers, eyes focused on the fire, “I’ve felt jealous too, and heartbroken. I promised myself I would get over you.”

Cedric swallows around the sudden lump in throat, “And have you?”

You sigh, shaking your head, “I don’t think I ever could. I was so destroyed watching you at the Yule Ball with Cho, and I completely understood why you asked as her. She’s gorgeous and comes from a prestigious family. The match works.”

“I asked Cho to the Yule Ball because I panicked. I thought if I asked you, you would see through to my feelings for you. She called things off after the first two dances, she realised that I was looking for you.”

“We’ve both messed up, haven’t we?”

Cedric nods, taking one of your hands in his. “I think we have.”

You point at him, “Alright, naked truth time, Cedric. Are you ready?”

He raises an eyebrow, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Do you like me?”

Cedric blushes, “I think I more than like you. I think I love you.”

“Oh… I didn’t expect that.” You answer, your body warming at his words.

“Your turn: what do you feel for me?”

“I think I love you too.”

“You do?”

You fiddle with your fingers, “Yeah, I don’t know the exact moment it happened. It was just one day that I realised that I was in love with you, but you didn’t see me for so long. All I wanted to be was somebody more to you.”

Cedric closes his eyes as if in pain, “I royally screwed up, I hurt your feelings so badly. Will you ever forgive me?”

You purse your lips. You hold your hand out for him to take, which he does, “On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You take me on a date.”

He grins, “I can definitely do that. Can I do something before though?”

You raise an eyebrow, “And that is?”

Cedric suddenly becomes shy, “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d really like that.”

Cedric smiles before he leans in.

***************

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz @kylosleftbuttcheek @heloisedaphnebrightmore @harrypotter289 @sprvpti @accio-rogers @potterverseimagine @figlia--della--luna @angelinathebook @dreamer821​

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[oftenderweapons]

Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋

Title: Drunk (&) In Love

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)

Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER

Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?

Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.

Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)

Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨

You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.

You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”

Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”

“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.

“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.

“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.

“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.

You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”

“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.

“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”

“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”

You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.

He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.

“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.

“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.

“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”

Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.

“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.

“No. Not now.”

“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.

“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.

“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.

“Yoongi?”

He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”

You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”

“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.

You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”

Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”

He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.

“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.

“Joonie—”

“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”

You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.

“Writing the vows was so difficult.”

“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”

“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”

“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”

He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”

You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”

“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.

“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.

“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.

You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”

Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.

“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”

Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.

“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”

You shook your head and kissed his brow.

“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”

You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.

“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”

By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”

You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”

“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”

God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.

“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”

You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”

“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.

You smiled. “Really.”

His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”

You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’m soberer now.”

“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.

“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.

He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”

He nodded and held you tighter.

“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.

“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”

“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”

“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”

He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.

And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.

And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.

What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.

[dynyamight]

bkdk … 12 ? ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ

12. “I think we need to talk."

The moment Bakugou opened the gym doors, and smelled rain in the air, he knew he had to book it back to the dorms.

Slamming his feet on the pavement floor, he forces himself to run out. His muscles ache all over, and his arms barely want to stay up, pumping at his side. But, he rather try and make his way to his room dry, than have a downpour soak him to his bones.

By the time he reaches to the safe, dry front steps of the dorm building, the rain finally begins. Lightly, the drops splatter slowly to the ground.

Catching his breath, Bakugou stops by the rails, holding onto one side as his muscles cramp. His thighs are burning, and his arms want to fall off entirely. But, he let's his mind focus on the pain.

He's had a rough fucking week, and for once, his mind was elsewhere.

“It’s starting to rain now, isn’t it.”

Bakugou jolts, quickly facing up to that familiar voice. That voice that haunts his dreams, ingrained deep into his mind. That voice that makes his heart race just a little quicker. That voice, from the one and only.

That forgetful nerd.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to spook you.’ Midoriya says quickly, offering an apologetic smile. He’s sitting on the front porch, holding onto a book close to his chest. “You probably thought you were the only one out here, right?”

“..You don’t have to apologize.” He breathes out. Despite the haywire of his nerves, exploding his insides, the words roll off his tongue easily. It's oddly the same phrase he's used each time they've met. "S'not like you personally screwed me over."

"Ah, my bad—"

"What did I just say."

“I—" Midoriya weakly chuckles, shaking his curls. "I guess I can't help it. I promise I won't forget.”

No matter how many times Bakugou hears that, it always sounds so genuine, so real. Rather than an empty promise. "I'll hold you to it, Deku." He mutters, regardless.

"What does that—" A light shines through Midoriya's gaze, and immediately he smiles. "Wait, you know what. I swear that's not the first time someone has said that to me. Deku."

Chills run down Bakugou’s spine. That's never happened. He's never slipped up. Fuck. “..Really?”

“Yeah, it sounds so familiar. But, I don’t remember exactly where I've heard it before.”

Both disappointment and relief flood his whole entire body. He doesn’t know what he would do if Midoriya would remember all his terrible attempts, though a part of him did yearn for recognition.

However, maybe it was for the best. Give them a fresh start, every time. Fucking hip hip hurray.

Hell, maybe this was the world's way of sending him all the karma that he has built up. It decided to pick the one person he deeply cares about, and make both of them suffer.

Bakugou looks back at the book Midoriya held, something in his mind reminding him about one of the first talks since the incident. “Is that Catch-22?” Bakugou asks, pointing it out.

It takes a moment for the question to visibly register through Midoriya's brain. But, when it does, Bakugou can tell by the way Midoriya’s eyes widen and the wide grin on his face that grows, “You've read it?”

“Nah, just heard about it. A lot.” He doesn’t need to explain himself further.

Leaving his seat off the bench, Midoriya rushes up to Bakugou’s face, eagerly leaning in. “I highly recommend it! It’s a literature masterpiece, the best of its genre!”

For a moment, Midoriya looks up to Bakugou’s gaze, eyes bright in interest. However, the next second, he looks away, with a feeble laugh as he scratches the side of his head nervously. “In my humble, personal opinion, of course..”

“What does it even mean?” Bakugou asks instead, holding tight to their conversation. He refuses to let it go for even a second. “Catch-22.”

“Oh. Uhh, the best way I can describe it,” Midoriya lifts his chin in thought. His gaze drifts up, as if he was wracking through his brain like it were a couple of shelves, “is that it's a dilemma from which someone cannot escape from, because of a set of contradictory rules.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Give an example. I’m too fucking tired to decipher whatever the fuck you just said.”

“Okay, okay!" Midoriya laughs, "It’s like job applications. How can you gain any experience for a job, unless you get a job that gives you experience?”

“Like, how in order to apply for a loan, you have to prove to the bank that you don’t need one?”

“Yes! Exactly that.”

“That shit has a name?”

“They’re hard to find, but even in everyday life, we can find ourselves in our own catch-22’s without realizing it! Isn’t that crazy? For all we know, life itself could be one!” Midoriya rambles, growing louder and louder, to the point Bakugou swears he can hear his voice echo.

Though, Bakugou doesn’t mind. This alone is possibly the most Midoriya has said to him, with all encounters combined.

Surprisingly, a blush forms over Midoriya’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to babble on like that.”

“How do you get someone to remember you,” Bakugou starts, before he can stop himself from asking, “when they keep forgetting who you are every time?”

Midoriya stares.

Quickly, Bakugou coughs, “Ain't that a catch-22?”

For a small moment, all he can hear is the rain, pattering down the pavement around them. But, then, Midoriya hums, tilting his head, lips pursed. “Yeah, it most definitely is. Though, I've never heard of that one, before.”

"Yeah well," Bakugou shoves his sweating hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s the fucking dumpster fire I’m in.”

“With all respect, does your person have medical reasons why they keep forgetting?” Midoriya asks slowly, immediate concern filling his expression.

“Not that I know of." Bakugou admits, "But, I wouldn’t put it past them. Or, they might be plain stupid.”

“That's rude!" However, the accusation sounds fairly weak, when Midoriya's chuckling.

He feels the corners of his lips upturning. "What's 'rude' is the damn bastard not remembering anything, other than random, trivial shit." Bakugou huffs. "Which changes, daily."

"And, you say nothing works? Not even telling them?"

"Yeah. 'Cause they'll fucking forget the next day."

"Have they ever wrote about you?”

Bakugou does a double take. When did Midoriya ever— “Wrote about me?”

Nodding, Midoriya gestures behind him, to the backpack beside the bench. “Personally, I've been using lots of sticky notes, planners, and journals to jot down things I need to remember.”

“Again, my memory's a bit distorted, so in order to tell my future self what I need to know, I write it out for me to read, the next day. Maybe that’ll work for your person?”

Writing. So that the next Midoriya can read it and remember. “..Would it work, if I wrote it?"

Midoriya furrows his brows. "I think it would be better if the person wrote it out for themselves. You know, so that it helps to jog their memory."

Suppressing the immediate heart drop he feels in the pit of his stomach, Bakugou exhales a big sigh. "There's a lot of shit the fucker needs to remember. His purpose. His quirk. His dream. Lots of important shit."

"Why not start with you?" Midoriya smiles, reassuringly. "They're bound to have a diary entry all about you."

Immediately, Bakugou's irked. "I ain't writing material."

"I think you are. Good writing material." Midoriya confesses, never letting that dopey, wobbly smile drop, "I don't know your name, but everything about you is unforgettable, to say the least. I bet even someone like me will recognize you next time."

But, you don't. Bakugou thinks, feeling the tug at his heart tighten, choking him from the inside. You never do.

From the pocket of his gym shorts, Bakugou starts feeling his phone vibrate, before it rings. Despite that, Midoriya's jump causes him to be just as startled.

Rubbing a hand to his neck, Midoriya weakly chuckles, "Sad. We were just starting to get to know each other."

Bakugou doesn't respond.

'ALL MIGHT.' The caller ID states in bold letters.

"I gotta go." Bakugou states firmly, holding tightly around his phone. "I need to take this call."

Midoriya's smile fades, but quickly it's picked up. "Yeah, no worries. I've probably been keeping you outside for too long."

Bakugou curtly nods, "You have."

And yet, even when the ringing persists, loudly telling him to walk away, leave, he stays. Because, Midoriya just looks like he doesn't want him to go.

He doesn't want to go, either.

"I never got your name." Midoriya mentions quietly.

Why would I give it, if you won't even remember?

Yet, that freckled, doey eyed face Midoriya's got never brings out the rationale, spiteful side of him out. Because, no matter how many times he has to say it, he'll do it again, and again. In a heartbeat.

"Just call me Kacchan."

Visibly, Midoriya's taken aback. Though, with the phone call on its last few rings, he finally steps off to the side, giving Bakugou space to walk.

"I'll see you around then," Midoriya waves off to him, "Kacchan."

A personal hell. Bakugou's living his personal hell.

When he walks inside the dorm building, the emotions suddenly hit him hard. Every day, he has to keep putting up with this crap.

Midoriya greeting him, talking to him, and saying goodbye, like a damn fucking stranger.

It kills him, eating away at his brain, knowing Midoriya's unable to look at him, and see nothing, but a stranger staring back.

When looking at Midoriya meant the world to him.

With a swift thumb swipe, Bakugou slides the phone call open. He clears his throat. "What now old man."

"I think we need to talk." All Might's voice crackles. "Privately. The sooner, the better. It's about the quirk that's been affecting young Midoriya."

His entire body tenses, halting him still. "..What about it.."

All Might sighs, long and tired. "The authorities found some intel about the culprit behind the memory loss. And, well.."

"Well, what?" Bakugou snaps.

"Midoriya's in deeper trouble, than we thought."

[binnie-huaisang]

Silly Fight

Genre: angst, fluff(?

Pairing: Chan × reader

Words: 3.4 k

TW: Mental health issues, depression.

Also, this came out a little darker that I intended and by the end I didn’t have the heart to give it the final I was actually going to write, BUT if you wanna read the original ending I was planning, you can look for the “alternative” version in my blog where I added the original ending because apparently I like to make myself cry (:

Note: I'm sorry if there are some spelling or grammar mistakes, or if some expressions just don't make sense. English isn't my first language, but I promise I'm trying my best.

Chan and you started dating a few years ago, of course nobody knew that, except for your friends and his family.

At the beginning of the relationship you were really nervous all the time, always scared to make a bad movement or saying something that could maybe make him uncomfortable. That, and the fact that you didn’t even live in the same country, had you worried every moment of every day. You had always been an overthinker, and this certainly did no better to your condition.

However, things were going great, and it wasn’t too long for the little voices in your head to notice that. It was almost as if Chan and you were meant for eachother. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before. Your relationship was one of those that you can only find in fairytales, and you knew that it was because both of you were so in love that every thing that could seem as a problem for other people, meant nothing to you.

Even with the distance, you would always be there for eachother. Every time he was getting frustrated over work or you were having a bad time because of college, you  would always be there to give support to the other.

Even if your personalities were very different, you barely fought, and it wasn’t because you weren’t able to see the other’s defects or mistakes, but because you knew that they were part of the person you loved and, in a certain way, you also had fallen for those things.

Yes, both of you were completely different worlds, but somehow, you made it work. Even after taking that big step that was making your relationship official, everything kept being the exact same way. Now, it wasn’t only your loved ones who would always tell you that you were basically soulmates, but also his fans and comrades.

Everything was just perfect, or at least it was until that afternoon…

You were visiting Chan after a few months of not seeing each other and, as usual, he took you to that coffee shop that was near his company building.

He was trying his best to act like everything was okay and that nothing was bothering him, but you knew him more than anyone in the world, and you could tell that something was off.

“Babe, is something bothering you?” you asked while caressing his hand over the table.

He saw the concern behind your eyes and that only made the guilt inside of him grow. He didn’t wanna do it, he knew it would end really bad for both of you, but he knew that if he didn’t tell you, someone else would, and that would be even worse.

“Everything’s alright angel” he lied. “Let’s eat, the food will get cold”, and there it was, that smile, the one that he uses every time something is bothering him but he doesn’t wanna tell you.

“Chan”, you called, making him look up to you. He could hardly look at you in the eye without getting nervous. He knew a fight was coming, and he was doing everything he could to hold it over. He was really trying, but he felt so guilty for being the reason for your concern.

Suddenly, the image of you crying in his bed popped into his mind. It was the first time he ever saw you cry, and no one could put in words how guilty and broken he felt for knowing that he was the reason behind it. Apparently you saw one of those mean comments people make on social media about him and you couldn’t resist it. 

You were the kind of person that never cared about what others said about you, but as soon as someone said something about your loved ones, it was on.

That was one of the hardest days for both of you. You were trying to give comfort words to each other, but it was useless. You could still not understand why would people be so mean towards the best person you’ve ever met, the one who was always there for anyone that needed some help. On the other hand, he would never forgive himself for making you cry. He knew it was because of him, and he was feeling so mad for making the one he loved suffer in that way. You were his whole world, his motivation on the hard days and his celebration partner on the best ones. 

You were everything he could’ve dreamed of, in his eyes you were just perfect, and the fact that he hurt you in some way was something that would never happen again. Or at least that was what he thought.

“Chan? Chan!” Your voice brought him back to reality. “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening, but you know you can tell me everything”.

“Well… Actually, there is something I need to tell you…” He finally said and you nodded. “I was talking with some people from the company the other day and… They asked me to talk to you about some things related to your podcast”.

Chan looked at you, examining every inch of your face, looking for any movement or expression that could let him know what you were thinking, but it was useless. Your expression was completely neutral.

However, in your head things were very different. You weren’t stupid, of course you knew what he was about to say. 

You and your best friend, Santiago, had a podcast where you would talk about random stuff, it could be mental health issues, cartoons, movies, or even political complains, it was basically two friends just talking to each other. This podcast had existed even before you knew Chan and it didn’t seem like there was a problem about it until some people of Chan’s company asked him to tell you that you should stop joking about your mental health online because it gave a “bad image”.

That happened just a couple months ago and you were still mad. Anyone who knew you knew that was your coping mechanism and they had the audacity to ask you to stop doing it. Of course you could just refuse to do it, but you didn’t want any problems, besides, after talking with Santiago, you both agreed that there were some comments that could actually be a trigger to some of your audience, so you ended up agreeing.

“What is it?” Your face could be inexpressive, but your voice revealed all the annoyance you were feeling.Of course, Chan noticed that and it only made him more nervous. He really didn't want to do it, he knew it was unfair, but he had to tell you.

“Well… It’s actually a very stupid thing, you will probably laugh when you hear it because it´s really stupid-”

“Just tell me” you said, cutting off  the babbling of the slightly scared boy that was sitting across from you.

“They say you should stop swearing so much”.

Chan was right, you did laugh, but it wasn’t for the reason he expected. You were so done with them. As much as you always hated the control they had over Chan, you could kind of understand it since he worked for them, but you didn’t, and the fact that they were trying to have control over you and your friend was unacceptable.

“You know what? I’m going to talk with them, I’m fucking done”. You said getting up from your seat. Even when you were keeping your voice in a low tone, some people turned because of the sudden move.

“Babe!” Chan took your wrist in his hand before you could start walking away. He didn’t say anything, but by the look in his eyes, you knew he wanted you to stay there and talk about it, and so you did.

“It’s just that… It’s so stupid!” You said a little more relaxed. 

“I know baby” Chan comforted you by caressing your left cheek.

“I mean, I would consider changing something if it made you uncomfortable, but I shouldn’t have to change because some people that don’t even know me think that I ‘swear’ a lot”.

“Well…” The panic showed on his face as soon as he realized what he had done.“

‘Well’?” You raised a brow. “So you think they’re right’“

“No! Of course not! I’m just saying that maybe you do swear in moments where it’s not completely necessary”. Despite his previous intent of calm you down, he was having some stressful days and he was beginning to feel tired.

“But that’s the way I talk!”

“Well, maybe the way you talk does give a bad image!”

“Oh, because I clearly care so much for my image! Why do you care anyways? You’re not even in the podcast!”

Chan let out a sarcastic laugh. “What did you say before? That you would consider changing something if it made me uncomfortable? Go ahead then, change it! Oh, wait. You won’t, because you are so used to people agreeing with you that whenever someone disagrees you just ignore it!”

You stared at him with a stunned look. Something inside you knew that none of you were thinking straight and that maybe you should stop, but you were so mad at him for agreeing with the people that were trying to control you, that you ignored that little voice.

“First of all, why do you all complain about it so much? Whenever I say a bad word or ‘swear’ or however you wanna call it, I do it in my first language, you don’t even understand what I’m saying so shut the fuck up! And second, it doesn’t even make sense that you are telling me that you are bothered because of my language! I never swear around you because I know that your holy ears bleed everytime someone says ‘fuck’. Why don’t you just tell me that you are so scared of them that you need to be a total jerk to me in order to make them happy?”

“Oh, so now I’m being a jerk? You know what? Maybe I am scared of them, but you are being selfish! You are not even thinking about how this can affect me!”

“Pleeease!” You said with a sarcastic laugh. “You’re no one to talk about it! You were the one who pushed me into revealing our relationship because ‘you didn’t want to hide anything from your fans’“ You mocked. “I wasn’t prepared and you still made me appear in front of a camera! You didn’t care what it would do to me, so don’t talk to me about being selfish!”

You could feel the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You always tried to ignore the bad comments since they were minimum, but sometimes you couldn’t help being affected by them, especially when you were already having bad times.

“You know I’m sorry for that”. Chan said recovering from the sudden anger. He knew that he made a mistake by throwing you to the world like that and there wasn’t a day he didn’t regret it. 

“Well, that doesn’t make the death threats disappear”. As much as you tried to hold them, you felt the tears finally scape.

Chan was speechless, he wanted to say something, to hug you and say sorry for everything, but he couldn’t move. He was just there, sitting while he watched you fall apart. And the worst part was yet to come…

“I- I don’t care about this. I don’t care about those stupid coments and I wouldn’t care about  what your stupid bosses tell you if it wasn’t beacuse it’s always me who has to do or change something” Your voice was barely a whisper, but Chan could hear every single word. “My grades have been getting down, you know?” A sad smile painted your face. “I’ve been feeling bad for months and I cannot pay attention to my lessons. To be honest, I don’t even know if I like my career anymore, but I can’t quit, I don’t want to. I keep telling to myself ‘maybe it’s not the career, it’s just my depression, I’ll be fine in a few days’, but I’m not fine and I’ve been wanting to look for help but therapy is fucking expensive”.

Chan was looking at you completely devastated. He never knew you were feeling bad. Of course he knew about your depression, but you once told him that you’ve been feeling alright for more than a year now. How stupid he was for not noticing. He wanted to ask you why you didn’t say anything, why would you hide such important things, but, once again, he didn’t.

“The money I earn… I use everything to come here to see you because you are not allowed to visit me” You said in a more bitter tone than you intended. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you, I know this is your job but… It can be a little exhausting to be the one who always has to adapt, to be the strong one. I never say anything because I love you so much and I know I should support you because the path you chose is already hard enough but… I’m just… tired. I’m tired of everything”.

You didn’t even have time to react when your boyfriend got up from his seat and walked around the table to kneel in front of you and wrap his arms tightly around your waist. The initial shock fading as you heard his muffled crying on your chest. You were trying to comfort him by caressing his hair, but it was useless. After a few minutes, when both of you felt that the sobs of the other were fading, Chan finally looked up at you, sending a wave of guilt through your body as you saw his still teary eyes. 

Before you could say anything, he gave you a soft and long kiss on the forehead. The kiss was so full of love and emotions that it made you tear once again.

“I’m so sorry” He said with a raspy voice. “I’m such an asshole for not noticing. You’re always there for me and I just-”

“Shhh” You interrupted by caressing his cheek. “None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject, this wasn’t the time to do it”.

“Hey, don’t say that!” Chan said as he lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “You’re right, I guess I’m taking more than what I’m giving, but this stops now. I will talk with my manager to see if he can fix something, and as for your therapy… I will pay for it”.

“Of course not!” You said with wide eyes. “I’m the one who has to handle this, I’ll find the way”.

“Angel, you don’t have to go through this by yourself, you have me now and I will not leave you alone… Not again”.

And with that said, he held you in his arms once again pulling you as closer as he could as if he feared you’d disappear at any moment. After a few seconds, you heard your boyfriend’s muffled voice again.

“Don’t say that again”.

“What?”

“That you are tired of everything, don’t say that. If you say that you’re tired of me, that you’re tired of college… I can take it, but please don’t say you’re tired of everything”. His words made you suddenly go pale. You didn't expect him to understand the meaning of your words, but he did. Even if you never told him the full story because you were so scared of him dismissing the matter, he knew you were struggling with something ever since you were a child. In fact, he knew more than you tought. 

As far as you knew, he was always very busy to listen to your podcast, but that was only partially true, since he did use to listen to some of the chapters. One of them was the one where you and Santiago were talking about the importance of mental health and how people should always ask for help if they feel like there’s something that’s not working as it should. In that chapter you talked a little bit about your experience with depression and you mentioned… Something. Something that you almost did in middle school. Of course, Santiago didn’t seem surprised, since he already knew about it and he only reassured you that you weren’t alone anymore, but for Chan, knowing about that situation really shocked him. Of course he never told you anything since he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but ever since he found out about this… Situation, he would find himself thinking about it in the most unexpected moments of the day. 

After thinking about what would be the best answer to the sudden request, you decided that a simple nod would be the only thing that wouldn’t make you burst into tears again, so that’s what you did.

“I still don’t want you to pay for my therapy tho” You said with a tired smile after your boyfriend had broken the hug just to start playing with your hands.

“We’ll talk about it later, angel” He said, smiling back at you, but this time it wasn’t a sarcastic or a nervous smile, it was a real one. “Now, why don’t we go back to the apartment? I will cook something delicious for you”.

“But we already have food here!” You said, letting out a little giggle at the ridiculous proposal.

You could see how the red color of his cheeks and ears became more intense before he leaned toward one of yours. “To be honest… I don’t know if I feel comfortable eating in a room full of people that saw me crying just a few instants ago”.

A sincere laugh escaped your lungs. You hadn’t thought about it until he pointed it out and he was right, it was kind of embarrassing. After a few more giggles from both of you because of the whole situation, you found yourselves walking towards the entrance while holding hands. It was weird, you knew that for most people, having that kind of discussion could've ended in so much pain, and even a breakup, but you weren’t like most people. Chan meant the world to you and you were the love of his life, which meant that he would not back down and he would not let anyone hurt you, even if that someone was you.

You were already walking down the street when you suddenly remembered something.

“Baby?” He looked at you with a sweet simile. “You don’t know how to cook”.

“Well, maybe by ‘cooking something for you’ I meant supervising the people who will actually cook for you”.

“Channie!” You whined, a little worried that his friends will get tired and refuse to keep cooking for you one of these days.

“It’s alright! Felix loves cooking for you! And Lino loves having you around, why would he refuse?” And there they were, the beautiful dimples you’ve been missing for so long. 

You stared at his face for a few moments and before he could ask why had you stopped walking, you planted a quick kiss on his right dimple, followed by a sweet peck on his lips.

You laughed at the flustered boy standing in front of you, your smile only getting wider as you felt him holding you by your waist and pulling you closer so he could hide his already red face in the curve of your neck.

“I love you _____“ He murmured, sending shivers down your spine and making you feel butterflies in your chest.

“And I love you, my angel“

“Hey! That’s my nickname for you“ He pouted.

“I know baby, but you truly are an angel to me“ “Stopthisatonceifyoudon’twantmetokissyoualloveryourbeautifulfaceohmygodIloveyoumuch“ You giggled again, barely being able to listen to his muffled words since his face had already found its way back to your neck.

“Channie… I’m sorry for starting that silly fight…”

“Hey, stop it! You had all the right to be mad! And it wasn’t a ‘silly fight‘. Actually, I’m kind of grateful that it happened, since it made me know how you were feeling”.

You were about to complain, but before you could, he planted a quick kiss on your hand and dragged you towards his body, making you get back to the pathway. “Let’s go angel! The faster we get there, the faster I will be able to start begging Minho to cook something for us”.

Hi! I’m sorry if this is too bad, this is my first time writing a short fic and it’s also the first time I write something this long only in english. If there are any grammar mistakes that you can find, feel free to send me a DM and correct me (:

©  binnie-huaisang 2021 All rights reserved. Translating or reposting is not allowed. 

[griffintail]

I watched this really cute anime movie about a deaf girl recently, and it gave me an idea I thought you might like!!

What if Tommy had a kid (how he came upon the child is irrelevant) who was deaf? Music, especially the discs are a big thing for Tommy, so it’d be a big adjustment for him to realize “Oh yeah, they can’t hear this”. He learns sign language with a LOT of help from others cause he wants to be able to communicate with his kid, and he and his kid sometimes gossip and tease people using sign language cause aside from a few basic signs, no one really knows what those two are talking about; well..maybe Tubbo knows, only cause he was the one Tommy spent the most time learning sign with.

Bonus, what if when his kid’s a little older they decide they wanna hear the discs their dad talks about, so they ask Uncle Techno to help them craft something akin to hearing aids; but y’know with magic and stuff. And when they hear their dad’s discs for the first time they cry cause it’s even better than they ever could have imagined??

I just, I like the fluffy stuff!!

- from, an Anon Who Probably Has Cavities From All This Sweetness🍬🍭🍫

To Hear

Summary: Tommy cares for a deaf, child (Y/N).

Pairings:  Parental! Platonic! Tommy x Deaf! Child! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Bruh, I was so excited to make this I did in a few hours. I have been thinking about this since you sent it in. I use some elements from Lost Ones but it’s soo not canon to my story.

*Any full sentences in Italics means they’re talking in Sign Language.*

 I hope you enjoy it ♥

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Tommy didn’t know.

        How was he supposed to?

        He’d never met anyone that was deaf and didn’t know the signs. (Y/N) was also a baby when he first got her, not exactly like she could go, hey, I can’t hear.

        So, he didn’t know for ages. He really didn’t know what he was doing raising a baby, so when she wasn’t talking by the age of one, he thought it could be a normal thing. He was worried but it could be normal! Babies weren’t super smart after all.

        It was Wilbur that figured it out.

        When he had come to visit his brother and found out he had a baby, of course, they sat down and had a serious talk about it, said baby still happily playing with her toys despite the yelling earlier. After Wilbur realized his brother wasn’t going to simply give up this child, especially after a year of work, he decided he might as well accept it. So, he went over to the child and sat next to her.

        “Hi (Y/N).” Wilbur smiled lightly.

        The child didn’t react though, having not noticed someone was next to her. Wilbur frowned slightly at this and put a hand on her arm, making her look at him now.

        “Hi, little lady.” He greeted her again.

        She made little babbles to him as she turned back to her toys.

        “What words does she know?” Wilbur asked curiously, a small smile on his face again as he remembered when Fundy was a child.

        “Uh, none yet. I can’t get her to say any. She likes making sounds but not much else.” Tommy admitted.

        Wilbur looked at him surprised and Tommy knew now that this wasn’t normal if Wilbur had that face.

        “You said she’s one, right?”

        “Y-Yeah.” He nodded nervously.

        His little girl wasn’t saying words and Wilbur looked concerned. Had he screwed up with his little one?

        Wilbur looked back at (Y/N) though, his mind at work.

        “(Y/N).” He said, but she once more didn’t look at him. “Tommy, does she ever respond to her name?”

        “I mean, sometimes. Not all the time.”

        “When she does respond, are you right in front of her?” Wilbur looked up at him.

        Tommy thought about it before nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

        “Does she ever get scared by your yelling? Or anyone’s yelling for that matter. Loud noises?”

        “Not really, w-what has this got to do with anything?” Tommy questioned.

        “…Tommy, I think (Y/N)’s deaf.”

        Tommy stood there for a moment before shaking his head. “No, no, you’re wrong. She makes noises and things like that. She wouldn’t make them if she couldn’t hear them. And-And we relax to my discs all the time, they calm her down.”

        Wilbur stood up, putting a hand gently on his brother’s shoulder. “She’ll still make sounds, but she won’t be able to form words, Tommy. She would have said any sort of word before now. She can also feel vibrations, they probably feel nice but she can’t hear any of it.”

        At the moment, Tommy couldn’t form words as he stared at his brother trying to deny what he said, but…it made sense. Tommy could never get her to respond to her name. She never really seemed to care when he’d try and teach her how to speak. When he and Tubbo were being loud, she never even flinched. Even a small moment when he had been shouting and swearing profanities when she was napping came to mind as he remembered she never even woke up to that.

        “My baby’s deaf.” He whispered. “What…I…God, how didn’t I notice?!”

        “Calm down Tommy.” Wilbur took both of Tommy’s shoulders. “You’re a smart kid and you’ve been doing this for a year. You can figure it out and I’ll help you with it. I’m sure Tubbo will too.”

        From there, it was a lot for Tommy to process. He had just gotten used to the fact he was taking care of a child; now he had to think several steps ahead and make sure he was ready when she got older. It was a shock to his best friend as well, that felt stupid too for not realizing it sooner, and they both took steps to figure it out.

        There were countless days where instead of going out and adventuring, Tubbo and Tommy practiced having sign language conversations with each other. Other days, Tommy would try and teach (Y/N) simple sign words so she could now start to ask for what she wanted. The relief he felt when she actually started to pick up was immeasurable. He nearly cried when she signed dad to him for the first time without him teaching her.

        When L’Manberg was starting to be formed, he made sure everyone within their walls knew how to talk basics with his child in case she needed anything from them. Tommy never liked leaving (Y/N) with anyone but himself and Tubbo and Wilbur, but when war came, things changed and he had to make sure his baby was being taken care of properly.

        Somethings that Tommy did became said with the new thought.

        Tommy still did his daily ritual with (Y/N), sitting with her and listening to a music disc. His heart broke a little each time now though as when they listened together, he realized every time before he was the only one listening to them. She couldn’t hear a single note. That frustrated him to no end some days as he wished his baby could hear such beautiful sounds but there was nothing, he could do to change it.

        Years went on. L’Manberg was independent from the Dream SMP, Wilbur and Tommy were in power, Tommy had one of his discs back from Dream from a little scam, and (Y/N) was eleven years old.

        “Can we go see Uncle Tubbo?” (Y/N) asked Tommy.

        “Yeah, in a bit. Got to finish writing this for Wilbur. Bitch is so lazy.” Tommy smirked before going back to writing.

        Wilbur looked over at the sounds of (Y/N)’s giggles.

        “What are you doing Tommy?” He asked his brother.

        “Nothing Wilbur,” Tommy called to him.

        “He’s president, tell him to get off his lazy arse.”

        Tommy had to put a hand over his mouth as Wilbur raised an eyebrow.

        “What did she just say? She was going too fast for me.”

        “Just a stupid joke Wilbur.” Tommy grinned as he gave (Y/N) a subtle thumbs up.

        The older man shook his head as he went back to his potions as Tommy finished writing. Putting the book away, Tommy nodded his head for the door of the van and both he and (Y/N) left. She wore her own L’Manberg uniform as they walked down the path towards Tubbo’s home.

        “It still sucks his old house is gone. I liked it.”

        “Yeah, but what are you going to do when you have a power-hungry green bitch?”

        (Y/N) giggled again as they got to Tubbo’s house, Tommy barging in.

        “Tubbo!” He called.

        Tubbo poked his head out from where he was gathering up a few things and smiled.

        “Hey, Tommy! Hey (Y/N).” Tubbo greeted them.

        “Hi, Uncle Tubbo. Did you get any new bees?”

        “I did, they’re with the rest of the hive. You can go see them, just don’t scare them.”

        “I know. I’ll be back dad!”

        Tommy gave her a salute and she was gone.

        “She been doing ok?” Tubbo asked.

        “Yeah, she’s been pretty good.” Tommy grinned. “She talked shit about Wilbur in front of him and it was pretty funny.”

        “I still can’t believe you taught her to swear.” Tubbo shook his head as he went back to his chests.

        “It’s hilarious! No one else knows what we’re saying but you!”

        “That’s because I learned with you. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t know either.” Tubbo reminded him. “Jack figure it out yet?”

        “No.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

        A few of the new members of L’Manberg and the Dream SMP struggled to remember (Y/N) was deaf and often startled her or would simply walk up to her and try and just simply talk. The little girl struggled with her deafness sometimes as she was different from everyone else. Tommy was always there to assure her though that she was fine the way she was.

        “But hey, I was thinking about how to get my disc back from Skeppy,” Tommy mentioned.

        “Oh yeah, what this time?” Tubbo asked.

        (Y/N) came back in smiling as Tommy and Tubbo were talking animatedly about their plan. She gave a simple clap to let them know she was there as she often did when she’d enter a room and no one noticed. They both looked over and motioned her over, talking about their plan instead in sign so she’d know what they were talking about.

        They were talking about the discs again and she frowned slightly. Her father loved playing discs when they were home and she liked feeling the music but she couldn’t help but always wonder what it was like to listen to what her father could hear. To know why he liked them so much that Dream would take them from him.

        A few months past and (Y/N) got herself a new uncle when he settled down close by to their homeland. Technoblade had come to see what his brothers were up to and decided to stick around for a while to see if their government got out of hand. (Y/N) wasn’t sure what that meant but she thought he was pretty cool.

        One of the coolest things was that he already knew rough sign language, having needed it for one of his travels. She thrilled for her father not have to teach someone once more the basics, instead Techno taught himself how to sign better and more advanced words so he could talk to her when she was around.

        She was around a decent bit of time.

        As Techno was now around, Tommy liked to spar with him and (Y/N) liked to watch her father’s skills at work. Alongside that, Techno told her a few stories about his travels or just stories with the sign he taught himself. He often also lent her books for her to read in her spare time.

        Tommy had never felt more grateful for his oldest brother.

        Sure, he couldn’t talk shit around Techno because he’d know what he was saying, but seeing (Y/N) smile to be able to talk to someone else made up for it.

        Today though, (Y/N) had to ask Techno for a favor. All of the boys and her were at Wilbur’s to just have some family time, so now was the perfect time.

        “Hey Techno.” (Y/N) stood nervously in front of him as Tommy was arguing with Wilbur in the kitchen.

        “Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched her.

        “You know how to do enchantments and stuff right?”

        “Yeah, I do quite a bit of it.”

        “Are you really good at it?”

        “I’d say so, why?”

        “I want to hear.”

        Techno leaned back in his seat watching her. She looked rather passionate about hearing.

        “Why?”

        She hesitated to move her hands. “Dad really likes his discs and I just.” She paused. “I want to hear what they’re like, even for a few moments to have something more with him.”

        Techno gave a small smile as he nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll work on something when I get home. You got to go into the kitchen right now though and curse Wilbur out.”

        “Easy! Deal!”

        A few moments later, Tommy was dying of laughter as Techno smirked in his seat as Wilbur demanded to know what (Y/N) was saying. Wilbur knew he should have been getting more lessons from Techno.

        It took Techno a few days but he managed to get small devices enchanted to hear for a few hours.

        “It’d take me a lot more work to get permanent hearing. That’s a long project and I’d need some help. But these will work for a few hours before they bug out.” Techno told her as she held them in her hands, having taken her to “watch her”.

        “Thank you so much Techno.”

        “It’s what I do. And I guess you can start calling me Uncle.”

        She grinned before putting the devices in her ears. For a moment, there was nothing, but that was because Techno made sure they were in a quiet place so she wasn’t overwhelmed. He waited before speaking.

        “So?”

        She jumped at the sound before smiling widely.

        “I can hear!”

        “Great, let’s go see Tommy.” He said as he signed along with his words.

        She wouldn’t know what each word would sound like, that would take more than a few hours, so she’d still have to see sign but that wasn’t the purpose of Techno’s work. They walked back to Tommy’s base and Techno knocked on the door as (Y/N) was looking around in amazement. Tommy flung the door open, grinning to see (Y/N) was already back.

        “You bored her already?” Tommy laughed, (Y/N) looking over as she smiled at the sound of her father’s voice.

        “No, I only needed her to see if what I made actually worked,” Techno told him as they went into the house.

        “And what the hell is that?” Tommy asked as he looked at (Y/N) as Techno’s back was turned. “How stupid was it?”

        (Y/N) giggled. “You sound pretty cool dad.”

        Tommy frowned, confused, as Techno leaned on a wall. “What does that mean?”

        “Uncle Techno helped enchant devices that let me hear for a few hours.”

        Tommy stood frozen for a moment before he snapped his head to Techno.

        “Is she serious?” He asked.

        “Dead serious.” Techno nodded.

        Tommy looked at (Y/N) and grinned, hugging her tightly.

        “You can hear!” He laughed, making (Y/N) cringe. “Oops, right. You’re not used to that.”

        “I’m ok.” She told him figuring he was feeling guilty.

        “She won’t understand words, remember.” Techno reminded his brother.

        “Right.” Tommy nodded. “There’s so many sounds you should hear. I don’t know where to start!”

        “Well, I asked Uncle Techno so I could hear your discs.”

        Tommy’s eyes went wide before he grinned taking (Y/N)’s hand and pulling her to the jukebox outside.

        “Wait right here.” He instructed her as he rushed back inside, Techno coming out lazily with a smile.

        Tommy ran back with a familiar purple and white-colored disc. He rested it on the jukebox before speaking to (Y/N).

        “This is Mellohi. It’s the disc I gave to Dream before I got it back. One of the discs I played for you all the time when you were a baby before I knew and even after. This is one of our discs.”

        Tommy picked up the disc again, taking a deep breath before putting it on. He sat next to (Y/N) on the bench as the song started to play. (Y/N) sat in amazement as she felt the familiar vibrations but also heard the sound it made. Tommy had such a wide smile as he wiped the corner of his eyes of tears as he watched (Y/N)’s reaction to one of their discs.

        She begged him to put on another and Tommy gladly brought out the rest of his collection, Techno having long ago left to see his mission accomplished. They spent those hours they had listening to their discs, Tommy telling Tubbo at one point and the other boy joining the two of them. The trio sat there until the enchantment ran out, but Tommy couldn’t be happier.

        His baby had heard their discs and he swore to himself that he’d help Techno with whatever he needed to make it permanent.