#i would say i’m shocked but i’m really not

[luveline]

hey babe can I request Hotch with a reader girlfriend who’s desperately shy? early seasons hotch please when he’s still smiley (maybe still has Jack tho), i would love to see how he treats a long term girlfriend in your eyes one who he’s just completely gone for 

fem, 0.9k

You should know better than to come to work without venturing up to Aaron’s private office, but you’re late coming in and there’s a ton of stuff to do and he’s supposed to pretend that he cares when you turn in your work late. You log in and start going through things slowly. There are a few emails to respond to, some queries, a consult request Aaron himself has forwarded with a note —your expertise is required. 

You wiggle your mouse to wake the screen. You hadn’t realised you’d gotten stuck until it was dark. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” someone murmurs, tipping your head back to kiss your cheek, “where have you been?” 

He speaks quietly, no one else can hear him, but he enthuses his tone with so much love that you can’t decide between laughter or tears. You turn breathless instead, a thumb against your throat as Aaron’s loving questioning continues, “I thought we talked about this, hmm? You coming up to see me? How else am I supposed to know that you’re here?” 

There’s no Emily sitting at the desk opposite yours. No Spencer adjacent, no Derek to the right. It explains why he’s butter soft, but not his worry. 

“I was nearly late. I’m sorry.” 

He starts to kiss you gently, quietly, his lips tracking over the side of your cheek and pressing in as he goes until his nose is against your temple. “Don’t be sorry, I just wanted to see you.” He holds you to him. “I missed you.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, wishing you were brave enough to tack handsome, or love on the end. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I thought maybe you were still stressed about Emily.” 

Aaron pulls away, giving you your first proper look at him that morning. He’s as handsome as ever. It makes your chest spike with anxiety. You worry all the time that you’ll lose him; the thought that he might realise all the things you’re missing and break things off is a constant at the back of your mind. It only ever goes quiet when he’s kissing you. “Prentiss has done well so far,” he says. “I’m not happy to have things rearranged above my head, but I have no problem with Emily. Now, how was your morning?” 

“It was fine.” 

“I want to know. Breakfast?” 

“Yeah, oatmeal.” 

He grins. “Me too.” 

Nobody would ever believe that this is your boyfriend when he’s commanding a room during a profile, or apprehending an UnSub with his impassive, furrowed brow. You assumed it was the honeymoon phase at first. It’s not like his affection makes much sense, but if he’s not stressed, it just means he loves you, which is nice. You hold the back of your hand to his cheek, laughing in a shock when he turns his face and traps it between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“No more late mornings,” he says decisively. 

“I wasn’t technically late. I wasn’t early enough to come up to see you, is all. Are you upset I didn’t bring you your coffee?” 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, smiling as he kisses your wrist, before straightening. You let your hand fall and he catches it on the way down. 

“I don’t know. You’re much too touchy. I’m trying to deduce why, but…” 

“Profile me,” Aaron says. He gives your hand a squeeze. “You know how to do it, honey. Figure out my motive from my past behaviours.” 

Aaron’s only ever this sweet on you when you’re in his bed. Well, ‘only ever’ is harsh, but he’s never not sweet on you in the afterglow. And that’s because intimacy is a constant reminder of how close you really are to one another, why he loves you, and why you love him. So perhaps he’s being sweet on you because you’ve reminded him how loved he is? But it doesn’t make much sense. You forgot his coffee.

Your stomach goes warm. “Oh. Oh,” you say, “I called you last night.” 

“You did.” 

“I was tired.” 

“But you were beautiful,” he says, and what does that mean? It’s not as though he could see your face. “I can’t remember the last time you were like that. Not since we were in Helena.”

You can’t remember it clearly. Threads of what you’d said come back to you slowly. Love you, my sweetheart, my Aaron. Can you come over? I know it’s late, I need to see you. You were too tired to function, let alone call someone, and yet. 

Your face is on fire. 

“Sorry I couldn’t come over, honey,” he says, chucking you under the chin with a curled finger. “I would’ve, I promise, but I had Jack until we swapped this morning.”

You go hot all over. “No, I know. It’s fine, I shouldn’t have called you–”

“Who says you can’t call me?” 

“Nobody, but I shouldn’t have.”

“You can call me anytime you want.” He tips your chin up. “Quick, Spencer’ll have finished what I asked him to do soon. Can I kiss you?” 

“I forgot it was your day for Jack–”

He takes your face into his hand. “Doesn’t matter, honey. Kiss?” 

You close your eyes and lift your chin. Ever your prince, Aaron squeezes your cheek gently and leans in to kiss you, far warmer than you’re expecting, his thumb rubbing over your cheek with a reverence he couldn't fake if he wanted to. 

[monstersflashlight]

Anniversary special: Double knot

A/N: It all started with a minotaur a whole year ago and I’m still SO SHOCKED how much my life changed thanks to y’all. I would never be thankful enough, truly. I thought what I should post today, and well, minotaur sounds like the correct choice, but let’s… spice it up. *wink*

Minotaur x fem!reader || double knot, knotting, oral sex, size kink, breeding, (light) degradation, (light) dirty talk, praise kink, cum-inflation (kinda)

You’ve been dating your minotaur boyfriend for a long while. And he’s been playing hard to get for equal amount of time. You wanted to get on your knees and blow him right after the first date, but he had been very adamant about it. So you waited, and waited, and jerked off until your fingers were wrinkly and your pussy was clenching over a minotaur dildo you found online.

The same minotaur dildo he found in your bathroom the day you invited him for dinner. Truth be told, you didn’t leave it there on purpose, but it gets you what you really wanted: some real minotaur dick.

You can see the exact moment he realizes what it’s in the bathroom, because he walks right out with it on his hand, staring at you and gaping like a fish. You try not to laugh, you really try to, but the amusement at his shocked face is a lot stronger than your embarrassment.

“What is this?” He asks in a choked breath.

“A dildo,” you mutter holding back your need to laugh out loud.

“A minotaur dildo,” he clarifies for both of you, staring intently at you. You nod slowly, biting your lip to stop the smile threatening to appear. “Why do you have a minotaur dildo?” He looks confused between the dildo and you, and you can’t hold back any longer.

You let out the biggest laugh, bending down to hold your stomach as you laugh and laugh. At some point he huffs and you look down to see him staring at the toy with a smirk.

“You know I’m bigger than this, right?” He asks as you try to catch your breath.

Your brain short-circuits. There’s no way he’s telling the truth, the dildo is huge already. “What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“Want me to prove it?” He says with a smirk that looks nothing like the sweet minotaur you’ve been dating all these months.

You nod, unable to form words and he approaches you very slowly. You’ve been waiting for this moment so long you don’t know how to react. You have enough time to process his movement before he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking to your room as you giggle.

“Naked. Now.” His words are almost slurred and your brain is spinning as you do as you are told.

You get naked in a rush, your body thrumming with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration of all the times you wanted to fuck him and he pulled away. Your brain is almost rushing through the steps to avoid him changing his mind. You want to ride that minotaur cock ASAP.

He’s no better, ripping his clothes off as he stares at every inch of revealed naked skin in front of him until you feel a bit self-conscious. But then he pulls down his pants and you have a lot more to worry than your body. You stare down at his crotch as your eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

“What… What is that?” You are trying really hard not to cringe at your own words, but he’s not only huge but he has two… He has two… Fuck.

“I- It’s… My species…” His breathing is getting labored, his whole body tense as he tries (and fails) to not look at your naked breasts. “My specie has two knots,” he says in a rush, his breathing erratic as he holds his dick in front of him, his hand looking almost tiny in comparison to his monster dick.

You smile up at him, his nervousness calming you a bit. He looks almost cute right there, embarrassed in front of you. “Breathe. It’s okay. I… I can try.” You aren’t sure that’s going to fit inside of you, even less if it’s supposed to get bigger, but god goddess if you don’t want to try. Your pussy is dripping wet and you are definitely going to give him your best.

He moans as if the mere idea of you taking him is driving him insane. “Gods, your mouth. Get on the bed, I… I need to pleasure you before we try nothing.”

You lay down on your back, and he crawls over you. He claims your mouth first, making out like needy creatures as he grinds his huge cock onto your stomach. He whines against your lips and you let out a responding moan. His mouth travels south, sucking a hickey on your neck and kissing a trail down the valley of your boobs. He licks your belly button, making you giggle as you pull at his hair softly. He grins up at you and keeps traveling down.

You can see his hands trembling as he touches your leg, softly caressing them as he lowers himself between your legs. He looks up at you expectantly, and it only takes a nod before his mouth is on your clit. His tongue is a lot bigger than humans, and the texture of it is sending all kinds of sensations down your spine.

You arch your back and he slips his hands under your ass, pulling you up until he’s holding your pussy against his face and you are arching your back impossibly. You moan as he starts eating you out like a professional, the noises he’s making letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

You grab onto his horns as he devours you like a starving man. The scream that breaks out of you is ragged, and he opens his eyes enough to stare at you as you fall apart and he slips two huge fingers inside your still clenching heat.

His big fingers feel rough against your soft insides. You groan when he pinches a bit too harshly on your clit, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he was always gentle, but it feels like you unlocked a new side of him. A feral side of him that couldn’t get enough of you… And good goddess if you aren’t feeling as feral for him.

So you do what you can: you whimper.

He chuckles at your pathetic whine, a spark of cruelness shining through as he opens his mouth to whisper against your ear: “Don’t act shy now, darling. I can feel you squeezing my fingers like a vice. You like this.” He punctuates his words pushing his fingers deep inside, curling them just enough to rub his knuckles against your G-spot. You don’t know where this dirty talked minotaur came from, but you want MORE.

You moan his name, and that’s your undoing.

He fucks his fingers in and out of you in a frenzy, stretching them, adding more, until you’re falling apart messily. He doesn’t let you catch a breath, he doesn’t play games like that. One second his fingers are stretching you, and the next his dick is buried deep inside of you as you scream to the heavens in another soul-ripping orgasm.

He keeps going. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size, to the pleasure. He’s in for one thing and one thing only: filling you deeply.

His dick’s so deep and so hard that you can feel every ridge, every vein. It’s like he’s trying to make your pussy remember him when he leaves, like he’s imprinting himself so deep inside of you, you would only come again if he’s the one fucking you. It feels like the most amazing torture.

You stop being his girlfriend and become his fuck-toy. Just a fleshlight for his minotaur dick to empty in. He grabs your hips, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as he moans and grunts over you, the noises he’s making only driving you higher in your pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum again like a good little whore? Like a good girl for me?” You whine, his words making your eyes roll back into your head as he pounds into your pussy. He’s so big you can feel him in the back of your throat.

The combination of his shaft inside you, his filthy words and his fingers playing with your clit makes your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you shake around his dick. But that doesn’t stop him, you’re his to play and his to fuck. You can barely count the orgasms anymore.

“Take my knot, darling. Be a good little whore and take all of me,” he says with a grunt, pushing so deep inside it almost hurts, but sends you spiraling into unstoppable pleasure aftershocks.

The first knot pops into you as you squeeze it with all your strength. You feel so tight around him it’s driving you insane. He doesn’t move, just grinds his hips against your stretched pussy and plays with your little pearl until your eyes are teary from the pleasure.

“Can you take the second one?” He asks between his teeth. His jaw is so tight you can see the muscle tightening as he tries to be as still as possible as you moan a half-assed response.

Your voice is raw and fucked out when you let out a soft: “Please.”

He roars as you feel the second one expanding inside of you, right at the opening of your cervix, sending all kinds of confusing pleasure signals into your brain. You don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain, you don’t know if you want more or less. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible. And it only gets better (or worse) when you feel the come inside of you. He comes and comes and comes...

Your vision goes black, and you go limp as he pumps you full of cum. You look down in time to see the bulge on your lower abdomen. His big body was pressing you down as you tried to remain conscious as waves of indescribable pleasure rocked your body until you were nothing but an exposed nerve of desire and orgasms… his perfect fuck-toy.

“That’s it. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Can you come again?” His knots inside of you feel too much, too big, too stretched… But the way his fingers are still playing with your oversensitive clit is sending you over the edge. Your pleasure feels raw, a sweet torture as you scream voicelessly, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, little whore. Give me one more, darling.”

His soft tone calling you a whore and then darling, and the next shoot of his come inside of you precipitate you over the edge. Your orgasm ripping out of you and leaving you boneless under his too big form. He ruts his hips against you, sending wave after wave of aftershocks to your every cell, making you black out for a second.

He’s breathing hard over you, his hair obscuring his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “I knew you’d be the one,” he whispers with a smile.

A/N: Thank you again for a year of monsterfuckery and happiness I didn’t even know I deserved. <3

[hughes-your-daddy]

Hey!! You’re so great at writing angst omg!! This could be for any player, but could you do something where maybe this time y/n gets hurt? She’s hurt pretty bad and he’s really worried about her, but instead she just feels horrible that she wrecked his car. He’s just shocked that she would think that he cares more about his car being totaled than her being in the hospital. And maybe a sprinkle of him taking care of her at home when she gets released from the hospital☺️🍦🍒

i love this idea thank youuu

i’m sorry..

pairing: quinn hughes x fem reader

warnings: hospitals, car crash, swearing

summary: driving to quinn’s game took an unexpected turn

“alright babe, peteys here so i’m heading off now,” quinn calls out, walking into your shared bedroom where you’re sat doing your hair and makeup for the game tonight.

he rounds the corner stopping at the door and leaning against it for a moment. “you look so pretty baby.” he smiles, catching your eyes through your mirror.

“thank you,” you blush, spinning around on your stool to see him properly as he pushes off the doorframe coming over.

“you’re wearing that suit i got you.” you smile, seeing his new suit being worn, as he walks over, taking your face in his hands leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

“gotta look good for you tonight baby,” he smiles against your lips before pressing a soft kiss to yours.

“i love you ok, ill see you later, drive safe.” he smiles before pressing one last kiss to your lips, smiling as he pulls away.

“i love you too.” you call out as he leaves the apartment, leaving you to finish getting ready. it was the annual hughesbowl tonight so you decide to go a little more with your routine than normal. you decide on some loose curls in your hair with your normal makeup routine before moving to pull on a pair of slightly baggy jeans, and quinn’s jersey, layering a hoodie underneath to stay warm.

you walk though to living room quickly throwing a few necessities into your bag before sliding on your leather jacket and grabbing quinn’s keys.

your car had been in the shop after the engine just wouldn’t turn over so quinn’s been getting a ride off petey most days refusing to let you get an uber without him as in his words ‘you could be kidnapped baby.’

so that’s how you end up in your apartments garage sitting in the drivers seat of quinn’s car, pulling the seat forward and adjusting yourself before pulling out of the garage heading to the arena.

the arena is t too far away from your apartment, that the whole reason you chose there in the first place when buying it, but the traffic makes the ride so much longer.

sitting in traffic you quickly send him a good luck text like you always do, before the car infront starts moving.

thankfully you start to see the arena come into view and just as the about to turn into the small parking lot for family and friends of the players.

that’s when it happens.

a car pulling out infront of you, speeding.

causing you to crash into them with the hood of the car, sending the buckle spinning.

it all goes dark.

quinn’s walking in, straight to the changing room quickly greeting a few people before starting to get geared up.

he quickly discards the suit, sliding on his base layers before just chucking on a hoodie and some shorts as he’s going to quickly do some media and press before the game.

he’s about to give you a call when luke comes barrelling through the front door, jack not far behind.

the teammates looking between the two brothers then to quinn in shock, thinking what they’re doing in the opposing teams changing room.

he says a quick apology to the few people in there before going over, brows furrowed.

“guys, what the hell are you doing?” he asks, voice sharper than usual, before it immediately softens at their speechless expressions.

“guys, seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks pulling them into the hallway, jack taking a breath.

“it’s-“ jack starts before being cut off by his team manager.

“boy, games been delayed for a while. a crash happened just outside, it’s blocking entryways.” they say before heading into the changing room to tell the others.

“ok jack, finish your sentence man.” quinn prods but by the look on jacks now pale face he knows something’s wrong.

“jack, talk to em yeh?” he says trying to comfort his younger brother.

“the crash, it’s y/n.” jack stutters and that’s all it takes before quinn’s sprinting off out the exit, jack and luke on his tail until he comes to a screeching halt.

he can see it.

the hood of the car crumpled, smashed glass everywhere and blood on the airbags. police manage to barricade off the scene, trying to keep the crowds to a minimum. he runs over to the police, surveying the damage.

“i’m sorry sir, but you can’t be here right now.” the cop says, ushering him back before quinn cuts him off.

“n-no that’s my car, my fiancé was driving.” he says, stumbling over his words as the cops face falls.

“oh im sorry, ill grab one of the emt’s.” he says quickly before heading off towards the ambulance.

“did yous see anything?” quinn asks turning to see his brothers stood behind, faces blank.

luke tries to find some words before jack stops him.

“no, we just saw the car when luke was driving us into the parking lot, apparently it had been gridlocked for ike an hour.” jack says, shaking his head before the cop comes back over followed by an emt.

“family of y/n y/l/n?” she asks, all three nodding, “she’s been taken to vancouver general hospital. she’s not too badly injured, a few scrapes, bruises, a small concussion, but she did dislocate her knee due to the impact but that’s the worst of her injuries.” the emt says, sending a small smile quinn’s way.

“but she’s ok?” quinn asks, the emt nodding. he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding before realising, they were stood in the middle of the street with a game starting in an hour, fans starting to notice them.

“quinn we’ve gotta move, they’re noticing us,” luke mumbles, hand on his shoulder.

“yeh, yeh, follow me there’s a door round the side.” quinn mumbles still stuck in his own thoughts, before hurrying back into the building heading to the dressing room before remembering about jack and luke.

“um,” he says, turning around quickly, jack and luke nearly running into him, “message mom and dad, just say i won’t be playing and that i’ll see them tomorrow or something.” he rushes out before turning to leave.

“quinn,” jack shouts, quinn turning brows raised, “we’re not playing dude, not when y/n injured like that yeh? get some clothes on, we’ll drive you there.” jack says before pulling him into a tight hug.

“she’ll be fine yeh? take a breather.” he mumbles, quinn visibly relaxing a bit.

“i’ll be quick.” he mumbles before turning to the dressing room.

his teammates side eye him seeing his frantic movements, rushing to pull on some trainers since he’s already got some shorts and a hoodie on before turning to petey.

“woah hughes, what’s happening?” he asks, quinn looking between him and tocchet.

“y/n was in a crash,” he says, expressions of shock being shared around the room, “i can’t play the game tonight. i’ve gotta head straight to the hospital.” he rushes, throwing some stuff into his bag, petey resting a hand on his shoulder.

“don’t worry about us ok? go see y/n,” he says sending quinn a small smile, “just send a message with how she is ok?” he says, quinn nodding before rushing out to the parking lot where jack and luke are waiting the car already running.

he quickly hops in the passengers seat, jack driving with luke in the back before he starts driving over to the hospital.

the ride felt like hours when jack was nearly breaking speed limits getting there in record speed.

jack pulls up to the front doors, quinn quickly jumping out while jack parks up, luke following his eldest brother.

“sorry, excuse me,” quinn says, slightly out of breath, waving down a nurse at reception, “my fiancé was brought here ‘y/n y/l/n,’ she was in a car accident.” quinn rushes out, panic still flooding his body.

“ok, she was brought in about an hour ago, but is currently in surgery so yous can take a seat in the waiting area,” the nurse smiles, but quinn’s mind is caught on those few words ‘in surgery.’

“sorry, what do you mean in surgery?” he asks, the nurse frowning.

“we’re you not contacted?” she asks, quinn shaking his head not recalling a phone call, “she was taken in for a routine knee surgery due to her dislocation.” the nurse says, quinn nodding absentmindedly, “she should be out in around 2-3 hours.” the nurse smiles before moving to assist someone else.

“quinn, come sit down yeh?” luke mumbles, busing him over to a few free seats where they sit down, quinn’s bodies collapsing against the plastic.

they find themselves sat in silence, jack eventually joining them asking for any updates but luke just waves him off, quickly explaining the situation. ellen and jim eventually show up, leaving the arena but due to the crash, traffic there became crazy.

it took them a few hours but when they did show up, ellen was straight to taking quinn in her arms, a few silent tears falling from her eldests eyes.

“i told her to take my car mom, if she wasn’t driving then it wouldn’t have happened to her. i caused this,” he whispers in disbelief, ellen quickly pulling away, a stern look on her face.

“quintin hughes, don’t you dare blame this on yourself,” she says stern, wiping a few stray tears off his face, “it was the other driver, a drunk, none of this was yours or y/n’s fault ok?” she says, quinn giving her a small nod before being brought back to reality by a nurse calling your name.

“y/n y/l/n?” she says, the group rushing over, quinn at the front of them, “she’s out of surgery now, room 315.” she says before they’re off navigating their way through the hospital making their way to her room.

ellen pushes him gently towards the door, his family giving him a moment in privacy to see her before them.

he gently opens the door a small creak echoing through the small room causing you to look over in surprise. that’s when you see it, that familiar mop of brown, and brown eyes meeting yours.

“quinn,” you breathe out before he’s stepping across the room quickly immediately taking you into his arms as you feel yourself break down, as he holds you tight.

“shh baby,” he soothes as you hear his own voice waver slightly as he perches himself on your bed, not loosening his grip.

“i-im so sorry,” you cry, him pulling away in confusion.

“sorry for what baby? that crash wasn’t your fault, it was a drunk guy.” quinn says gently, as you catch his eyes, seeing them red like he’d been crying.

“but your car is ruined.” you mumble, as he takes your face in his hands, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

“baby, i need you to know i do not care about my car right now, i just care that the ok yeh?” he asks as you can’t bring yourself to respond, “seriously baby, you’re the most important thing in my life, way more important than a car, i can buy a new one baby, i can’t get abouther one of you though.” he says, voice wobbling slightly towards the end.

“i was so scared.” you whisper, looking down before he’s moving to sit next to you on the bed, kicking his legs up, while his arms coming around your shoulders, you laying into his chest.

“your ok now, all safe with me.” he whispers back as you feel yourself start to finally relax slightly knowing he’s here with you now.

you get released pretty quickly from the hospital, ellen and jim deciding to stay a few more days to make sure you’d be settled back at home. the drive back was ok, quinn making sure he was very gentle with his driving, avoiding any bumps or harsh breaking due to your knee still being in pain from surgery even with it wrapped in a. thick layer of gauze and a knee brace.

he helps you out the car, crutches in hand as he gives you both of them but never leaves your side the whole time from the parking lot to the elevator up to your apartment. he’s by your side, hand on your lower back there for you. if you needed some extra support.

he quickly unlocks your apartment, moving away from you to quickly set up some blankets and pillows on the couch so you can set up there for the day, ellen and jim following behind you.

“we’re gonna head out and grab some groceries for you guys ok? i’ll make sure yous are all stocked up on snacks and meals.” she smiles before giving ew h of yous a hug, before heading out with him, leaving just you and quinn in the apartment.

“here baby, lemme help you.” he says, helping you back onto the couch, laying your favourite fluffy blanket over you.

“i’m gonna grab you some new clothes to change into but we’ll worry about hot showering tomorrow ok?” he asks and you send him a soft smile feeling the exhaustion overcome you.

he doesn’t take long before he’s back with a pair of his sweatpants and his hoodie in hand, coming over to the couch peeling back the blanket.

he helps you get undressed without leaving your spot, easily sliding the clothes onto your body, being careful of every time you wince at the ache in your body or pain in your knee.

“ok, all done baby,” he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “you need anything?” he asks, gently rubbing up and down your hip.

“cuddles?” you ask quietly, the grin widening on quinn’s face as he happily complies, sliding behind you on the couch so you can lag between his legs, back against his chest.

“i love you y/n,” quinn whispers pressing a soft kiss beneath your ear, as you smile, taking his hand in yours, resting it in your lap.

“i love you too quinny.”

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Oops

Bang Chan x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Your sweet son, Hwan, is at the wrong place at the wrong time. Warnings: A little smut, oral (f. receiving) and a lot of fluff A/N: Thank you for the request! I sincerely hope you like it! I'm going to write more stories about these 3 because I'm lowkey in love with Dad! Chan now. Requests are OPEN!

You and Chris finally moved in together, Hwan was quickly adjusting to having his father around more and more, he wanted Chris to take him everywhere on the days he was off, play toy cars and dinosaurs and all the things.

The day came to an end at work and when you opened the door to your now shared apartment, the sight filled your heart with so much love.

Chan was on the floor on his hands and knees and Hwan was on his back playing ‘horsey’. Neither of them heard you come in and you shut the door quietly, listening at Christopher neighed and raised up, causing Hwan to squeal in excitement. Your smile only got wider as you could see how much more enriched your lives had all become. You really were a little family.

Chris turns around with Hwan balancing himself on his back and see’s you, his eyes grow wide before a cheeky smile plays on his face.

“Say buddy, you think Eomma wants a turn?” you blush at his innuendo and giggle.

“I’m good, you keep playing while I make dinner.”

“I want chicken nuggets!”

“You always want chicken nuggets,” you playfully tease your son as you run up to him picking him up and kissing his cheek. He bursts out into laughter and Chris raises up to his feet, rubbing his back.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re all ready old, Channie,” you tease. You offer him a wink and he smirks.

“I’ll show you who’s old later tonight,” he murmurs in your ear and you giggle swatting his chest. He kisses your lips, soft and deep. You sigh against him, a little lost in the moment before you hear Hwan get one of his robot toys and turn it on, breaking the sweet moment. You smile at each other as you look at him.

“I’ll make dinner,” he whispers as he takes your bag off your shoulder gently and sets it down in the kitchen. You step out of your heels and sigh as you sit down on the couch.

As Hwan requested, he got his chicken nuggets for dinner that night. The meal time is sweet, filled with conversations that your little one couldn’t help but be apart of.

“And then, appa took me to the park, we saw ducks!” he says excitedly.

“Oh my goodness! I wanna see ducks.” You say feigning jealousy.

“You have to go to the park,” your son informs you as if you didn’t know.

“I can’t see them anywhere else?”

“No,” he takes a bite and chews it absentmindedly. You two giggle at Hwan and finish the meal together.

-

The bedtime routine goes as usual. He wants both of you to tuck him in, but Chris to tell him a story.

“So the prince was a popular star, he ruled the kingdom but also the stage.” Hwan’s eyes sparkle at his father’s words.

“And he met his princess, his future Queen,” he glances at you before turning back to your son, “And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But a dragon came and kidnapped the princess, taking her away from the prince."

“No!” he says dramatically as he puts his hands on his little cheeks in shock.

“But the prince saved her by slaying the dragon, and kissing the princess telling her how much he loved her and he swore he’d never leave her again. That she would always be safe with him around.”

“Yay!” Hwan claps his little hands and you smile nostalgically at him. Both of you kiss his forehead and Hwan lays down, Chan tucking him in. He shuts the door and you’re about to walk into the living room, before Chris pulls you into the direction of your bedroom.

“Chris!” You giggle as he shuts the door behind you. He pulls you by your waist to him and his lips mold to yours. The way the two of you fit together is as perfect and as natural as breathing.

“I was thinking,” you say in between kisses, “I have the day off tomorrow, why don’t I bring Hwan up the studio and let the guys meet him?"

“Sounds perfect,” he smiles before his hands playfully squeeze your ass. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking, biting and licking over your pulse point.

“Ah, don’t leave a visible mark,” you warn him gently. He groans against your neck.

“I don’t want Hwan asking questions yet. I’m not sure he understands everything yet.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder for a brief moment before his lips ghost your ear.

“Fine, then get on the bed and I’ll leave them in places Hwan won’t see,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as your stomach feels the nervous excited heat flood in.

You walk over, swaying your hips a little dramatically and Chan is on your heels. Clothes are strown around the room, before the two of you get under the blankets and Chan holds himself over you. He kisses down your body, moans of pleasure quietly fill the silent room.

He licks a slow stripe up your core, your eyes fluttering closed as his tongue laps at your clit. Your hands find his hair, pushing his face deeper and he moans, the sensation and thought of making you feel good the only idea in his head. His finger works into your hole, hitting that perfect spongey spot just inside your entrance and your back arches off the bed.

-

Hwan stirs awake in his dimly lit room, thanks to his wolf chanmnight light, and rubs his eyes. He grabs his wolf Chan plush, because of course Chan said he had to have everything that was wolf chan theme, and drags himself out of bed. He hears weird noises coming from your bedroom, muffled but loud enough for him to be concerned about you.

“Eomma?” Chan freezes under the blanket and your eyes snap open. You look at the innocent little four year old who’s still rubbing sleep out of his eye. His cheeks slightly red from the tears he'd cried when during his nightmare.

“Hwan! Are you ok?” Your voice is frantic as you pull the covers up over you.

“Bad dream,” he sniffles and a few tears streak down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby,” your heart hurts for him, but you can’t exactly scoop him up at the moment.

“Where’s Appa,” he begins to whine and Chris slowly moves out from under the blanket.

“I’m here buddy.” He begins to full on cry now, and you look at Chan apologetically. Chris looks over at you and he knows the night between the two of you is over.

He runs over to pick up Hwan and takes him out of the bedroom so you can throw on a robe. When you walk out to check on your boys you notice them sitting at the kitchen table.

“What’s going on?”

“I thought ice cream might help,” Chris says sheepishly.

“You know he isn’t supposed to have sugar this late,” you light scold.

“He was crying, I mean look at him. He’s so happy. I really think it’s working!” Chan’s face is a picture of happiness, even if his night isn’t going as planned.

After the ice cream Chan scoops Hwan and wolf Chan both up and takes him to your shared room.

“What were you guys doing?” he asks once him and his plushie are settled between you.

“Uh,” you look to Chan for help.

“Eomma thought she lost something in the bed so I was helping her look for it.”

“Why were you making noises?”

“Because your Appa was being very helpful,” you kiss your son’s forehead.

“Come on, it’s time to go to sleep,” you try to encourage as you and Chan exchange knowing looks.

Tags: @breakmeoff

*Please do not copy or upload my work anywhere else*

Comment if you'd like to be added to my taglist!💕

Comments, love notes and requests are all appreciated😊

[my-castles-crumbling]

favor - april 24 - black brothers - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 253 - inspired by that tiktok trend-sound from a while ago

“Hey, Reg?”

Quickly cutting himself off mid-sentence from his phone conversation, Regulus looked over to his older brother, who he hadn’t realized was still home. “Yes?” he asked, heart hammering in his chest.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Sirius quickly apologized, making to turn around.

“No, it’s just Barty, what is it?” Regulus said quickly, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t bother to hang up, he knew the person on the other end would wait.

“Just…can you do me a favor?” the older man asked, looking a bit nervous.

“Depends,” Regulus hedged, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not doing anything that involves getting off this couch.”

Sirius snorted. “No. Just…you’ve been a bit of an arse to James lately, yeah? Can you be a bit nicer?”

Shocked, Regulus took several seconds to process the request before he asked, “Why would I do that?”

“Because…you may hate him, but…he’s sensitive, you know? I think it’s actually bothering him,” Sirius shrugged.

“Sensitive,” Regulus repeated, stifling a chuckle. “Yes, I guess I could see that.”

“So you’ll stop teasing him?”

“Alright,” he shrugged. “If I’m really affecting him that much.”

“Good. I’m off to Moony’s, see you later! Tell Crouch I say hello!” Sirius said cheerfully.

But as Sirius walked from the room, Regulus crooned into the phone, “Sensitive are you, Potter? And here I thought you liked it when I teased you?”

And he smirked widely when James replied in a flustered voice, “Shut up and get over here.”

“On my way, darling.”

[lazysoulwriter]

not your nephew! - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending, babe. hope you like it.

---

It all started because Pedro thought you were too perfect to be single.

"Mi sobrino would love you," he said, mouth full of empanada, pointing at you like he'd cracked the code to your love life.

You blinked at him over your wine glass. "Pedro, he's twenty-two."

"And you’re—?"

"Twenty-eight."

"That's not illegal!" He grinned like he'd just solved a Rubik’s cube. You, meanwhile, seriously considered shoving him off his own couch.

Pedro had always been a little too involved in your dating life for someone who allegedly didn’t care. But this? Setting you up with his awkward, baby-faced nephew who called TikTok a “lifestyle platform”? It was pushing it.

Still, you agreed. Because how do you say no to Pedro Pascal when he looks at you with those big brown eyes and that stupid little smirk?

Answer: you don’t.

So you met the nephew. He was nice. Sweet, even. But he spent twenty minutes talking about protein powders and said Marvel peaked with Eternals, so... yeah. No sparks. Not even a flicker.

Pedro looked shocked when you told him. "But you're both cute and weirdly obsessed with almond milk! I thought it was fate!"

You laughed. “Almond milk is not a personality trait.”

Weeks passed. Pedro stopped playing Cupid, but now every time you were alone, something felt... off. Charged. Like the air got heavier when he sat too close. Like your heart skipped when he ruffled your hair or called you “sweetheart” in that gruff, teasing way.

Maybe it was just you. Crushing. Quietly. Painfully. On your best friend who thought you were good enough for his nephew, but not for him.

Until one night, after a movie marathon and too many shared blankets, you just... cracked.

You turned to him, cheeks warm and voice small. “Can I tell you something dumb?”

Pedro muted the TV, blinking. “Always.”

“I think I—” You paused. “I had a crush on your nephew.”

He raised a brow. “Really? You had a crush?”

“Yeah.” You looked down. “But I got over it. ‘Cause I realized it wasn’t really him.”

Pedro shifted. “Then who?”

You took a breath. “You.”

Silence. Then a little laugh — almost disbelieving.

“Me? Me?” He pointed at himself like you'd just nominated him for prom king. “I’m— I’m old.”

You smiled nervously. “Yeah, but you’re Pedro.”

He blinked again. “But I have back pain. And I use eye cream now. And I talk about mortgages for fun.”

You shrugged. “I still like you.”

He stared. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into that soft, crooked smile that made your stomach flip.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll have to stop setting you up with my entire bloodline then.”

---

[aliwritex]

I HAD A VISION fc43

summary: it’s your first time sharing with a man and you’re still getting used to some things. or, you catch franco pleasuring himself over you.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: oral (fem rec), masturbation, unprotected sex, cum eating. two lines about body image.

You had never shared anything with a man before, never with a boyfriend, never with family, never with a friend. At college you just guessed rooming with girls would be easier and more fun, and honestly they were.

Since Franco moved in you realized a couple of things were different. Sure, he didn’t mess with your decor, never got his clothes mixed up with yours and you had so much space for your things in the shower it was shocking. On the other hand the thing that was affecting you the most was literally the fact that you had a man living in your home.

With all the girls you shared you had quickly gotten comfortable enough around them. So much that in a couple weeks you were wearing tiny pajamas, wearing just a bra or no pants around the house. And ou hadn’t been comfortable enough around Franco just yet — after three months — but he certainly was. Ever since the first month he had been walking around the place in extremely tiny shorts, shirtless, sometimes clearly going commando and sometimes a combo between two of the options.

In that time you’ve learned that Franco is a good looking guy, not only that but that he takes good care of his body. You’ve also learned, from his eating habits, that a six pack doesn’t come easily. He always tries to ignore the treats you bake, eating one or two cookies at most, and that has become a discussion at the apartment.

“Please, you have to eat more, you know they’re so good.” you told him, shoving the plate of lemon cookies in his direction.

“I know they’re good! Really good. But look at this” he lifted his shirt up, flexing his muscles for you. It was clearly a joke, but it did catch you by surprise, making you blush. “This is not made of cookies.”

“Fine!” you lifted your hands up in surrender as you got up from your dining table, “But just so you know,” you turned back to face him, “you’re making me fat. And possibly diabetic!”

“That is so unreasonable, you could always just stop baking three times a week” he followed after you, placing his bowl next to the mountain of dishes caused by the cookies, “bet our water and gas bill would go down too”

“God forbid a girl has hobbies” you joked and walked away.

That same night, Franco came back from the gym as you were cooking yourself dinner. You greeted him and watched as he walked in, sweaty, his shirt sticking to his chest and his hair wet. You had to distract yourself with some music before you let your mind go too far, but still stopped to look at him walking shirtless to the shower and walking back to his room, just the towel wrapped around his hips.

You knocked on his door later, “Fran?” you called, hearing back a grunt and a barely audible ‘fuck’ coming from behind the door.

“Yeah?” You actually couldn’t believe it when he answered, his voice was weak, shaking and it was followed by the sound of something hitting the floor, then footsteps to the door, “Can I help you?” He opened the door, his face was red, his hair still damp and the towel around his hips had a tent around his crotch.

Your face went red immediately, matching his when you realized what was happening. “That towel is mine. It’s pink, yours are the dark ones” you tried to mask the fact that you had absolutely looked down at his tent. He just nodded uncomfortably, pressing his lips together between his teeth. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted to say. I was just gonna ask you if you want dinner”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uhm, get dressed, be out in a second.” You just nodded at him, walking away before he even closed the door.

You plated his food and brought it to the table, still shaken by the situation, what the fuck would you do. Sure, something like that was bound to happen but it was worse than you imagined. You wish you could’ve just laughed about it instead but he was hot, you couldn’t just act like he didn’t have an effect on you.

Franco came out of his room covered head to toe, sweatpants and a hoodie covering his face. He walked slowly to the table and sat down in silence. You watched him, waiting for something, he had to say something, but he didn’t, so when you realized he was finishing his plate you had to do something about it.

“I’m sorry I knocked, won’t let that happen again, I’ll only text from now on” you blurted out, making him let his head down on the table.

“We don't need to talk about it, it’s fine. I’m sorry I used your towel, I didn't realize” he said, getting up from the table and taking his plate to the sink.

“Are you sure it’s fine? Should we have a talk about privacy?” you suggested, nervously.

“Oh, my God, I hate you. Please, please let this go! I’m going to bed now. Thanks for the meal, it was really good. See you in the morning.” he spoke, already making his way out of the kitchen and to his room.

Then it was your turn to slam your head to the table. Fuck! You had just ruined the entire relationship you had been building with your roommate, and it wasn’t even your fault.

The next morning you woke up to a note on the kitchen counter, written in one of your glittery pens “went to the gym early, won’t be back for dinner, Fran.” You thought it was silly at first, he could’ve just texted but then it worried you. Was he really gonna act weird about it? You had to talk about it.

So you spent the day trying to find a way to corner him into talking to you. You still hadn’t figured it out by the time he got home. It was late, you were finishing your dishes when you heard the front door unlock.

“Franco, we have to talk!” he heard you say and reluctantly walked to the kitchen.

“Dios mio! Please just let it go!” he told you, letting his things down on the counter as you dried your hands.

“I really can’t let it go if you’re gonna act weird about it.” you said, resting your hands on the counter behind your back, he was resting against the cabinets, crossed arms over his chest, you were incredibly close in the small kitchen.

“Of course I’m weird about it, you looked at it!”

“You opened the door! And it was rubbing up against my towel.” you argued, not wanting to be caught.

“So I’m at fault?”

“Oh my God! That’s not what I said! No one’s ’at fault’. I just want to talk so you stop acting weird! Why are you so hung up about this? Is this the first time someone catches you touching yourself?” you both visually cringed at the expression “It happens to a lot of people, you know?”

“Oh, God, don’t ever say that again!” you had just noticed how you had approached him in your discussion, your bodies mere inches away from each other’s. “Fine, I’ll tell you why I got so hung up on it. But you have to believe me,” before you could even ask why you wouldn’t he confessed “it was about you”

Your eyebrows raised, your face turned red immediately and you could barely react. “Me?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it” he leaned even closer to you, hands resting on the counter around you, trapping your body against it. You looked up at him and let your hand touch his face, gently guiding it close to yours.

His lips brushed against yours, teasing before you pulled him into a kiss. And it was even better than you’d imagined, those plump lips that you sneaked looks at so often were incredibly soft and when you raised your hands to his curls you figured out why your hair products were running out so quickly.

“That’s my shampoo” you teased, “is there anything else of mine that you’ve been stealing?”

He chuckled, “chapstick” and pressed his lips back to yours.

The mint one, you realized as you tasted it on his lips. His hands met your bare waist, pushing your body to lean against the counter while yours held on to his arms, trying not to fall back on it. His lips were working magic on yours, kissing further into your mouth till his tongue was brushing against yours. It was almost desperate, as if both of you had been yearning for each other the entire time you had lived together. You let your hands feel his arms, running up and meeting his bicep with a gentle squeeze, it made you let out a small gasp into the kiss when the muscle resisted your fingers.

Franco only pulled away from your lips when you were out of breath, and he did it with a bite to the bottom one. His lips lowered to your jaw, moving on to your neck, brushing gently the sensitive skin while his breath reached the spot behind your ear, sending shivers down your body. Your reaction made him smirk, kissing down your neck till he reached your upper chest. His hands lifted you up to sit on the counter, surprising you with the stronger grip. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer to you as he worked a hickey on your clavicle.

“Franco!”

“Oops” he said sarcastically, pushing his hips forward to make you moan, the fabric of your gym shorts allowing you to feel him, the action distracting you from the mark he left on your body.

You sighed and pulled him back to your mouth. Your hands fell from his arms to rest on his chest, feeling the muscles under your palms, then letting them run down till they reached the hem of his shirt, settling down under it, on his bare waist. Franco pulled you even closer to him, and this time he was the one to moan when your hips met, a deep groan against your lips. You used it against him, taking advantage of his state to pull away from his lips and kiss his neck too. His stubble brushed your face as he lifted his chin, giving you space to work on his neck. You made sure to suck a mark below his ear, payback for yours but you could tell that he enjoyed it, it even made his head fall back.

You shook your head and pulled away, your hands grabbing the hem of his top to pull over his head. “You shaved” he nodded “too bad, I like the hair”

“You notice it?”

“Well, you keep walking around the place shirtless in shorts, your chest is the most decent thing I notice” you confessed, letting his shirt fall to the ground.

You mirrored his actions, kissing down his clavicule and his chest, your hands following your lips till he guided your face up, back to his. “We’re really gonna fuck this up if we do this” he told you, holding your face by your chin.

“I don’t care, I just really want you right now” you breathed out, body already aching for him.

“Fuck, me too” he kissed you, letting go of your face and waist, falling to his knees in front of you.

The sight of Franco kneeling and looking up at you with doe eyes and plump lips made your middle twitch in excitement. His hands reached the band of your shorts, tugging on it till it slipped past your legs. His hands reached for your calves, slowly running up and down, sending shivers up your body as his lips brushed your knees. They kissed up your thighs, teeth playing with the skin till he reached your middle, his nose brushing against the wet fabric of your panties. You let out a soft breath at the brief sensation, making Franco smile.

He ran his fingers along the seam of your underwear, pulling it to the side just to see how perfectly ready you were for him. They met your lips, easily slipping between them and meeting your hole. He groaned at the sight of you taking his fingers, mesmerized as you bit your bottom lip, trying to stop any noises. He pushed the fingers in and out a couple of times, a teasing touch to your sensitive walls before he pulled them away completely. Before you could even complain, his face was on you. His lips, nose and chin brushing against your skin as he kissed your thighs almost aggressively, he was rushing, he wanted to work you up but was just so desperate to have his mouth on you.

You let your hand fall down to his hair, your fingers tangling in the curls as you pulled him closer to your cunt. Franco’s tongue immediately darted out, licking a stripe between your lips, you felt it starting right by your hole and finishing with a flick, by your clit. Then it started, his mouth was on you like there was no tomorrow, kissing, licking and sucking at anything he could. What you couldn’t get enough of was the way his tongue flicked at the bottom of your hole, the ultra sensitive area making your middle throb.

His arms slipped under your thighs, wrapping around them to be as close to you as possible, his nose brushing your clit while his tongue worked your hole. He was perfect, your body was trembling within minutes, legs threatening to close around his head but he held them open. Your hand gripped tighter on his hair, pulling it when he moved to suck on your clit.

“Fuck! Franco” you sighed, tugging on his hair to make him look at you “don’t stop” you told him as your eyes met.

He nodded, with your clit still in his mouth, it made his face rub against you. You felt it build up inside you, coming up from all of your extremities to meet in your middle, a knot forming right above your cunt, tightening by the second till it snapped. You moaned embarrassingly loudly, letting your hand tug harder on his hair till he was groaning too, pulling away from your cunt.

“So sweet” he whispered against your leg, kissing and licking the sensitive skin before getting up on his feet.

His hand reached out for your face, guiding you to kiss him again. You could taste yourself on his mouth, the residual sour taste present on his tongue as it brushed against yours. Your hands reached for his chest and ran down, reaching the waistband of his jeans. They made quick work of unbuttoning them while you kissed, and in seconds his jeans were pooling around his feet on the floor.

Then you palmed him, making him pull away from the kiss and drop his forehead to your shoulder with a broken groan. You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, licking the soft spots as your hand kept working him through his boxers. Soon his groans turned into moans and his hand covered yours, stopping it before you went too far.

“Let me go get a condom.” he breathed out into your neck “Do you have any? Easy access?”

“‘M all out”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” he sighed, pulling away to look you in the eyes, only truth behind them “I’m out too”

“For fucks sake, Franco” you groaned “just pull out”

“Sure?” he asked and you nodded, slipping down from the counter. You left a last quick kiss on his lips before turning around and bending over the counter. “Fuck! Look at you.” he practically moaned when he saw your ass up in the air, his hands coming down to grab both cheeks, spreading them apart just to catch you clenching around nothing.

“Just do something, Franco” you whined, impatient as you felt the cool stone of the counter against your body.

After your whining Franco wasted no time in pulling his cock out of his boxers, pumping himself a couple of times before you felt his head poking at your lips. He still teased, tapping it directly on your clit and brushing it between your lips, his actions making you jolt in anticipation. But when you arched your ass up he was done, pushed inside you at once, making you both moan. He bent his body over yours, kissing your shoulder as he whispered pathetic apologies — “sorry, sorry, you feel so good, are you okay?”

You just nod, turning your face to kiss him. It was messy, your lips barely meeting as you kissed the corner of his mouth, but it was enough to distract you from the slight burn he was causing between your legs. He tested small thrusts after a couple seconds, barely pulling out, just rolling his hips against yours. You feel so full, his cock already pressing against the right spots.

In just minutes he was fucking into you, his body up straight as he pulled you back onto his cock, his hands gripping your waist so tightly you thought they would leave marks, but fuck, you did not want him to stop. He was so big and he was dragging against your walls perfectly as your clit bumped the corner of the counter, stimulating you with every thrust. Moans fell out of your mouth uncontrollably, followed by ragged breaths. Behind you, Franco let out low groans that made your entire body shiver, the noise of his thighs against yours also filling the room.

With all those sensations, you quickly felt another orgasm approaching, creeping up your body, making all your muscles tense till you let go. Franco moaned loudly when you clenched around him, gripping your waist tighter as he stopped moving. You barely made a noise, your mouth open but no voice coming from your throat as your body shook in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m close, shit. Where do you want it?” he asked, already pulling out before he burst inside you.

“My mouth” you sighed and he couldn’t believe it when you pushed him away and got on your knees in front of him.

Spanish curses were leaving his mouth as you sat on your ankles in front of him, mouth open wide with your tongue sticking out, waiting for him. You reached to wrap a hand around his, following the rhythm he set, and in seconds he was shooting cum into your mouth. You smiled at it, swallowing when he finished. His thumb reached for your face, wiping a drop that landed there, then pushing it past your lips. You sucked it clean without a second thought.

“Fuck. You’re so perfect, you’re gonna be the death of me”

[dinoandguitar]

Hello Kat!! it’s me again lol just wanted to thank u for the mingyu ver. of the new born story 😭😭 loved it sm he the man of my dreams FRRRRR.

Can i request something of how did him and his s/o found out they were pregnant? I think it would be so cute 😭😭😭 tysm in advance!! love ur writing, you’re so good at this <3333

"Do you want pancakes...?"

Husband!KimMingyu x Afab!Reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, Nausea, and other pregnancy symptoms. Mentions of food. Mentions of boobs.

A/N : Hiii Thank you so much for your kind words. Means so much to me. I'm so glad you like my work. Hope you like this one as well! Thank you so much, again. Lots of love x

Masterlist

It all started off with a forgotten coffee…

Mingyu had made it for you, just the way you liked it. But when he brought it to you, you barely glanced at it. “You okay?” he asked gently, setting the glass beside you on the table.

“Yeah,” you said, blinking tiredly at the open laptop in front of you. “Just not really in the mood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You? Not in the mood for coffee?? Are you possessed?”

You laughed, tossing a pillow at him, but he filed the moment away. Then came being repulsive when it came to food. You pushed away your favourite meals after only a single bite. Then your energy dipped. You were always tired, napping through movies, curling into Mingyu like a sleepy cat.

“You’ve been sleeping so much lately,” he murmured one night, brushing his thumb over your cheek as you lay on his chest.

“Mmm. Can’t help it. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“A cute truck.”

You snorted. “What even is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But if something’s off, you should-”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. “I’m probably just run-down.”

He nodded, though a small furrow stayed between his brows.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A few mornings later, everything came crashing down…over eggs.

No like, Literally.

You and Mingyu were makinh breakfast, and the moment he cracked the egg into the pan, the smell hit you. It hit you bad.. You gagged and rushed to the sink, nearly knocking over the orange juice on the way. Mingyu dropped everything, following after you with wide eyes. “Woah..Babe?? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, wiping your mouth with a towel. “That smell just hit me out of nowhere. That’s never happened before.” He blinked. “Okay… okay. Hold on.” He took your shoulders in his hands, locking eyes. “Have you been feeling sick in the mornings?”

“…Sometimes.”

He blinked again, mouth slightly open. “Are your boobs sore?”

“Wait-what? Mingyu!”

“Just answer.”

“…yes?”

His grip tightened just a little. “When was your last period?”

Your brain stuttered. “Uhh… I think… your birthday weekend?”

“That was six weeks ago.”

You froze. He bolted. Like literally ran to the bathroom.

“Mingyu! Where are you going!?” you called after him.

“Emergency kit under the sink! I knew we still had one!”

You stood there, stunned, still holding a dish towel.

A few minutes later, he returned with the test like it was made of glass. “Wanna do it together?” he asked, voice soft.

You nodded, still in shock, and disappeared into the bathroom. Mingyu paced the entire hallway while you waited for the result, counting ceiling tiles and muttering, “It’s okay, it’s okay, whatever it says, we’ll be okay-oh my God what if it says yes? What if-?”

“Gyu.”

Your voice.

He turned, heart thudding, and you stood in the doorway, holding the stick with trembling fingers. You didn’t have to say anything. Mingyu took one look at the two pink lines and went completely still. And then, slowly, the biggest, most awestruck smile bloomed on his face.

“Wait… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded.

“You’r-you’re pregnant? Like… like with a baby? Like a tiny human?!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you. “Yes! I think so!”

“Oh my God,” he said, grabbing your face and kissing you, “Oh my God. We made a baby. We’re—oh God, are you okay? Are you feeling okay? Should we sit down? Do you want fruit? Or pickles? Or—wait, is that a thing yet?!”

You laughed harder, tears stinging your eyes. “Gyu! Breathe!”

He sat you down on the couch, ran to get you water, then snacks, then his hoodie, then a stuffed bear from your shelf.

“We need to…no-wait, later… Uh.. Do you want pancakes?”

“Do you want pancakes?” you teased.

“I want a whole bakery now! I want- OH MY GOD! Our kid's gonna be thw cutest baby ever!”

You stared at him. He looked like a golden retriever on energy drinks. His eyes sparkled like Christmas.

You covered your face, laughing and crying all at once. He kissed your temple, then your hand, then your belly…treating it like a sacred space.

“We’re gonna be a family,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I get to be a dad. With you as the mom. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You cupped his cheek, whispering, “You’re gonna be the best Appa, Gyu.”

He choked back a tear and kissed you again, softer this time. “Okay. Let’s go to the doctor tomorrow. And after that… baby name brainstorming and shopping begins.”

“Already?”

“Obviously. We’ve got nine months, and I need to make sure everything is perfect. ‘Cause you are perfect… and so is our baby.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A/N : Hoping you all liked it! My requests are open :)

[therealsilvermist]

Please please please do a billie x martial artist reader where billie thinks she can beat the reader in a fight but reader takes her down way too easily, finneas films it and it goes viral

An- Hi!! So sorry about taking a while😅 I started my new job and it’s kind of kept my hands full but I hope you enjoy this!!

TW- none, all fluff

Billie being the gym rat she is herself understands your love for martial arts. She loves seeing the way you can counter act someone else’s moves again you. The way you can grab and yank someone onto their back before they can even blink.

Seeing you win so many matches makes her feel like she could take you on. Surely you wouldn’t or even couldn’t be that quicker than her. Billie was quick with her feet and everyone knew that. And with the mix of her going to the gym and working out she believed she could take it.

She was wrong.

So wrong.

Painfully wrong.

“Come on, baby! Please!” Billie pleads in your ear. You both have arrived back home and you had just finished a shower. “No, babe, I’m not gonna do that and I’m not gonna hear you complain about losing either” you tease under your breathe. Heading into the kitchen, leaving Billie to sit on the couch alone.

Being met with silence is not what you expected. Billie always had a comeback, she loved getting sassy with you. Especially if it got some reaction from you.

This remarks shocks Billie. Mouth wide open, words lost and shock potent. “I could beat you, Y/N and you know it, you just don’t want to lose” Billie yells back from the couch.

Finneas was hanging out as well in the living room. Quietly watching the interaction between you and his little sister. Thinking the whole ordeal was cute he grabbed his phone and started recording quietly from the sidelines.

“You think, you can beat me?” You ask, interest peaking. You both knew that you have won many matches and have never really lost before. The more you watched her blue eyes looking back pleading into yours, you knew you would give in.

“Okay, fine, let’s do it, babe” you say putting down the cup of coffee/tea you had in your hand. Quietly making your way over to her. You stand in the center on the living room, getting into position.

Billie hopped up from the couch quickly. She was grinning and chuckling under breath. You loved that she was confident but you also loved that she was excited. Billie proceeds to take off her jewelry and put her hair up. Getting ready for her win that she believes is hers.

Finneas, still quiet and snickering in the back ground couldn’t wait for this. He knew Billie stood a chance but not against a trained martial artist. Not someone who takes classes for this specifically, and he couldn’t wait.

Before you could say anything Billie quickly charged at you, wrapping her arms around your waist trying to bring you down to the floor. Seeing as this doesn’t work, Billie somehow manages to flip herself upside down while clutching your waist.

This ordeal causes you and Finneas to let out a boisterous laugh. “What are you doing?” Finneas struggled between laughs. “Is this how you think you’ll win? Turning upside down and hanging on like a koala?” You asked, peaking down at her, seeing her flushed face and determination.

Billie ignored you both and continues to try and manipulate your body to go to the floor and lose. Shifting her body to both sides trying to cause you to lose your balance.

“May I try something babe?” You ask. Billie peaks up as best as she can from behind you. Somehow she managed to slide from in front of you, to behind you latched on.

Before she could answer you reach down and grasp her wrists from your legs and pulled her from between.

Catching Billie off breath before she can counter, you grab her right arm, gently twisting it behind her, gently kicking her knee from out behind her, causing her to go to the floor.

Before you could turn her onto her back, she turns around, grasping your hands with hers. Now kneeling with you on the floor. Just barely sitting, balancing on her tailbone.

“No, I’m gonna win” Billie grunts out, she was so persistent you couldn’t wait till you could give her a kiss.

Despite her obviously losing and not winning, the hard core belief that she would win brought Finneas over the edge.

Billie was clearly on the floor right about now. Back fully pressed against it but still putting up a good fight. Phone still in hand, capturing the entire moment between you two.

As you both wrested each other, you manage to grasp both her wrists in one hand pinning them up above her head, using the other to hold her down. “Are you done, Billie” Finneas asks, face red from laughter, you look back down to Billie seeing her flustered face.

Realizing the position you were in, you bring her hands down to her chest, where you let them rest, reaching down and giving her a kiss on her plump lips.

“Are you done, baby?” You ask, the tips of your nose connecting, Billie nods her head, giving you one more kiss before pushing you off her.

Before you can react she’s on top of you, trying to get your back to hit the floor, you counter it by grabbing her by the waist and hold her in the same pervious position.

“Okay, are you done now?” You laugh out, Billie was stubborn and hated losing, but the little pout on her lips were too cute. “I guess” Billie says rolling her eyes. Reaching to wrap her arms around your neck pulling you into a deeper kiss.

Finneas keeps recording, making sure to save it to his phone. Posting it into his story, not before asking you both. Finneas knew that this relationship was special between the both of you. He dreaded the thought of people trying to come between you both. Seeing this as a chance to show everyone how cute you both are together.

As the story stayed up on his instagram the fans started to freak out.

“Look out cute they are!” Some of the comment would say, “oh my god, Billie clearly lost but refused to accept it” or “if they break up love isn’t real.” The fans were always so supportive and loving.

Billie loved posting pictures of you both together and reading the sweet comments. She also would get jealous when the fans started to speak about how hot you are, how hot it was that you could flip her on her back so quickly, “my girlfriend” she would mumble under breath.

“Yes, your girlfriend only” you would say pulling her closer into your arms, giving one last kiss on her cheek.

[maddie0101]

❤︎ that damn skirt ❤︎

summary: ben can’t resist the sight of you in a mini skirt, so he bends you over in the bathroom, taking what he wants.

tags/warnings: smut (mdni), established relationship, p in v, rough sex, slight degradation, slight choking, tension, literally just smut, possessive!ben.

word count: 705 (drabble)

note: my hormones are out of control, so here’s another smut piece I’ve written :) (I’ve had to restrain myself to not continue this and keep it a drabble, lmfao)

You probably should’ve thought twice about wearing that skirt. Not because it wasn’t appropriate, but because of him.

The evening had started off casually enough. You’d invited a few friends over, a laid-back dinner to unwind, a little too much wine flowing. Ben had been tolerable at first, leaning against the kitchen island, keeping to himself, but then you walked in.

That damn skirt.

You’d put it on just to look cute, nothing too special, just your favorite, flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh. But Ben? His eyes never left you. He clocked you immediately. His eyes dragged down your legs, lingered at your hips, and he never really looked away again.

You were teasing him, you knew it. You were enjoying it too—the way his eyes would linger when you bent over to grab something from the counter, the way his hand would grip his drink a little too tightly whenever you laughed. The little glances, the way he clenched his fists.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just a low murmur under his breath every now and then, but you could feel the tension building. And when the laughter started dying down, when your friends were getting tipsy and the music slowed, you felt his gaze grow heavier, hungrier—more possessive.

You finally excused yourself to go to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe, maybe to escape the palpable tension that was slowly simmering between you. But as soon as you entered, you realized you weren’t alone.

The door slammed shut behind you with a thud, and before you could turn around, Ben stalked in like a man possessed, like he’d been holding back all night and finally lost his grip.

“You think this shit’s funny?” he growled, backing you into the counter. “Wearing that little fuckin’ thing, strutting around like I’m not gonna lose my fuckin’ mind?”

You opened your mouth to say something but his hands were already on you, spinning you around and bending you over the counter before you could get a word out. “Ben—”

“No, baby,” he growled, cutting you off. “Fuckin’ knew what you were doing,” he muttered, dragging your skirt up roughly, bunching it around your waist .“You don’t get to act all innocent now.”

His hands slid down the backs of your thighs, rough palms gripping tight, fingers finding the waistband of your panties and yanking them down without hesitation. You gasped, the cold air hitting your skin, your pulse racing.

“You’ve been teasing me all fuckin’ night,” he said, his fingers brushed between your folds, already slick from the tension that had been building all night.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

Before you could respond, he was there, thick and hard, rubbing against you with the kind of control that made your head spin. And then he pushed into you, rough and sudden, the shock of it making you gasp as he filled you completely. You let out a cry, hands scrambling for purchase on the counter.

“Fuck, baby,” Ben groaned, gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

He started moving, his pace brutal from the start, no buildup, no mercy. Just raw, pent-up frustration and need. Your body rocked with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bathroom.

“You like this, huh?” he grunted. “Me fucking you like this? Bent over the fuckin’ counter with your little skirt still on?”

You moaned loudly, gripping the edge of the sink as he fucked you harder and Ben laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He was relentless, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs, his pace not slowing, only increasing. You could barely keep your eyes open as he fucked you, every inch of you consumed by him.

He leaned over you, chest against your back, hand snaking up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, just holding. “Next time,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear, “I’m not waiting, baby. I don’t give a fuck who’s around. I’ll take you wherever I want. Right in front of everyone if I have to.”

You moaned again, and he growled deep in his throat, fucking into you harder.

author’s note:

It took everything in me not to make this a oneshot or continue the fic 😅 I debated on continuing it or coming up with a better plot but this is how I’m going to leave it. I hope you guys like this one! my hormones are raging rn so I’ve been working on a lot of smut lately 😈

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @miss-marmalade @xo-zeze @kamisobsessed @megara0224 @cupidzbunny @imsiriuslyreal @kimxwinchester @julsvdamxn @tinas111 @callsign-ember @ladykitana90 @h8aaz @lunaleah (lmk if I’ve missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off of my taglist)

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

[hyukalyptus]

txt reaction when they’re making love to you for the first time, you’re shy and want the lights off, but they urge you to keep them on and end up finding your healed body scars. Is that angsty?

HELL YEAH THIS IS ANGSTY i love it. lets do some hcs,hmm?? im kinda nervous for this one lmao. i feel like my answers may be a bit cringe but i don't care lmfao. maybe a tad self indulgent MWAHAHA

cw. lots of talk of scars and of self harm (nothing graphic, just talking about scars, not the actual harming), kinda cheesy i think?, i tried really hard to not make it cheesy though, sex implied but nothing graphic there, kissing, swearing.

hcs under cut. again, this talks about self harm.

yeonjun is quiet at first. you can feel the moment he sees them. it happens every time. and you still don't really know how to prepare or react. should you act like they don't exist? address the elephant in the room? cover them up with the blankets? your internal argument is interrupted, though. "i see them," he says. no sugarcoating things. which might be your favorite approach so far. you let out a quiet laugh. he says, "honestly, i was already impressed by you." then he grazes his fingertips over them. "now I’m just kinda intimidated." u raise a brow, unsure if he's joking. "you went through all that, and you're still here like it's nothing." you take a deep breath. then he looks into ur eyes and says, "you're even more of a badass than I thought." and you can tell that it's not a stupid line he pulled out of his ass. he's dead serious. and when he leans in to kiss you again, he shows you just how much he wants you.

soobin i think would be very quiet about it. like not really making many comments for a while. but not out of shock or confusion or pity. just an acceptance of who you are. like he's undressing you gently and finally sees your bare body in the light and starts noticing them slowly, his eager hands slowing down. he looks at it for a second while u carefully watch his reaction and then he leans down to press the softest kiss to one. again, not a performative pity party, not feeling sorry for you, and definitely not wanting to "save" you like some have wanted in the past. it's almost in admiration or reverence. and he kisses more of them, saying i see you without speaking.

beomgyu notices them when he lifts your shirt off, eyes slowly trailing down before catching on the thin lines as a flicker of awareness flits across his eyes. you've done this before, though, and with worse lighting. it's not so scary anymore. "yeah," you start. "they’re what you think they are." and he just nods, "okay." and there's this beat of silence before you finally ask, "you good?" he nods with a chuckle and says, "just trying not to say something stupid." a small smile tugs at the corners of ur lips. then he gently rests his palm on ur stomach and says, "it's just..." he takes a deep breath. "ur still here. and you let me be here too." he smiles. "that’s…a lot, you know?" and honestly? you finally feel seen. not as someone with weird scars or some pathetic thing that's minutes away from breaking down. and he's obsessed with you.

taehyun is kinda caught up in the moment already. ur splayed over the bed, fully bare and visible in the light. and he's just noticing them, touching them to acknowledge their existence. "they're not new," you say. "i'm okay now." and the way he looks in ur eyes, a deep admiration and respect ur not sure u've ever felt, just sort of hits. he holds ur face in his hand and says, "thank you for letting me see this part of you." and it's not dramatic. just truth. and you finally feel like he's not looking at something broken. "i didn’t mean to make it a big deal," you murmur. "you didn’t," he whispers. "but it is. you could’ve kept the lights off or covered up. but you didn’t." and the kiss is so beautiful and blissful—not because he sees your scars—but because you trusted him to.

hueningkai sees them when he's kissing down your stomach. he takes them in, slowly, silently. you go still, bracing for something, but ur not quite sure for what. you just hope it isn't disgust or worse: pity. he doesn't speak. just sits back on his knees and really looks at you. "damn," he starts. "you've been through it, huh?" then his eyes flick back up to yours, something different in them now—heavier than they were before. "and i’m just really fucking honored you chose me." you blink. and it hits. you don’t say anything. just reach for him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck to rest gently. when he leans in to kiss you again, it's not careful. it's intentional. he knows what this means. and he's not afraid. and this weight lifts off your shoulders. because he saw them. and he stayed.

-

suicide hotlines:

usa national suicide hotline: 988

Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860

Blackline (centers Black, Indigenous, & People of Color): (800) 604-5841

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: (888) 407-4515

For text based support, THRIVE Lifeline offers 24/7 crisis support at 1 (313) 662-8209

[hungharrington]

hear me out:

loverboy stevie makes a sex playlist for when things get hot and heavy in his bmw only he fumbles with the cassette and instead of hearing sexy jazz as you straddle him and start unbuckling his belt and zipping down his jeans, dustin’s mixtape of the star wars soundtrack starts playing instead

i’m crying there are real tears in my eyes

cos you’re so right, he so would. he’d be like so chuffed with himself, he spent a lot of time making sure each song on the mixtape is perfectly selected, it’s a curated mix that starts off softer and descends into something more saucy, more sexy if he dares to say.

— and he does dare say, only after he’d remembers it in a flurry of wide eyes and a shouted “wait!” during a makeout sessions in the backseat of his car- he shoots forward between the seats to fumble open the glove box, (giving you a delicious but confused view of his ass) before he pulls back, wiggling a tape between his fingers that you can read is labelled love-making mix with a scrawled heart in sharpie beside it <3

and that’s exactly how he describes it you, between heated kisses, murmuring the words, “it’s sexy, baby, it’s like, saucy ‘n’ shit, you’re gonna love it,” before he breaks your kisses again, adoring how you pout to lean back through the seats and feed it into the tape player.

it clatters a bit, but steve’s got one of those fancy tape player types, which can hold up to 4 tapes at a single time, so it feeds in just fine. steve hits play and sits back, not wasting any time in cajoling you back into his lap

you can hear the tape running in the back, that silence before some pre-made mixtape whirring in the back.

but you also can only hear the heavy breaths from steve’s mouth attached to yours, can’t really hear anything above how his roaming hands make you feel, how the core of you begins to flicker hotly and how the hard shape of him beneath you is—

the blaring trumpets of the star wars theme blast through steve’s speakers, loud enough to make you both startle in shock. steve bites your lip in surprise and then rears back, smacking his head on seats— in all in a half second.

“ow!” you say, right as steve says, “oh, what the shit.”

the theme keeps playing loudly — bah BAH bah bah bah BUH bah — as you and steve both scramble at the same time to push between the seats, desperate to stop the loud noise. steve reaches it first, hitting the stop button and then song cuts off abruptly, leaving the car suddenly very, very quiet.

you slither back from between the front seats and so does steve, the two of you side by side in the backseat. you laugh before you realise you’re doing so.

steve groans, head tilting back. “i’m gonna kill henderson.”

“sexy and saucy, huh?” you tease lightheartedly.

steve snorts, rolling his head to look at you. “i think my boner died.”

[bingbongsupremacy]

70 Years Apart

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, rejection, ghosting

Summary: A one-night stand with Bucky before he leaves ends with you pregnant. You tell him what's going on. How will he respond?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

I didn’t mean for it to happen.

Not the party. Not the drinks. Not the way his eyes locked on mine through the haze of smoke and laughter like he already knew how I tasted. And definitely not the baby now growing inside me.

But it did.

That night in Brooklyn had been one of the last warm ones before autumn settled in, the kind that wrapped the air in a humid cloak and made every movement feel a little slower, a little heavier. I hadn’t planned on going out, but Clara insisted. She said we deserved one last hurrah before the world got darker and we had to prepare for college.

"He's leaving for war," she’d said. "Half the boys are. Might as well dance while we still can. Maybe we'll get lucky." She smirks while eyeing a group of boys leaning against the wall of the abandoned warehouse. The boys-most I've known growing up, are loudly chatting. Bucky Barnes is amongst them.

With liquid courage running through my veins, I asked him to dance. No fear of rejection. No worry. Just confidence. After all, this would likely be one of the last times I saw him for a while. Why not do what I've always wanted to do.

He said yes. Then we danced.

Bucky Barnes was smooth with a capital S, charming in that roguish, self-assured kind of way that made girls swoon and boys scowl. I’d only spoken to him a handful of times before that night — always in passing, always brief. A polite hello in the hallways, a helpful answer when one of us needed help with homework. A smile. A nod. Once, a quick compliment about my dress that made my cheeks go hot. Despite us going to school together all throughout middle and high school, I never really knew him. He had his friends. I had mine.

But that night? He saw me.

And I let him.

We drank. We laughed. We kissed behind a big tree lit by the moonlight. And before I could think twice, I let myself fall into something warm and reckless. It didn’t last long, just one night. We were never looking for anything serious. He was on his way to the war. I was on my way to school. It was one tangled, breathless memory.

Then he was gone. Not gone-gone, not yet. But gone from me. He’d said goodbye with a kiss to my hand the next morning and a promise that he’d write if I ever wanted to talk again.

I never wrote. I didn't need to.

Not until now.

Not until the little stick I bought from the corner pharmacy turned pink in both windows, and I sat down on my bathroom floor and stared at it in shock. I want to curl up and cry. I want to scream. This can't be happening. Not now, not when I had just began school

I don’t know him. He doesn't know me.

We're two strangers who, for one night, spent some time together.

I kept repeating that like it would change the facts. Like it would make the wave of nausea (part baby, part panic) fade from my throat. But it didn’t.

Now I’m here, at the base where he’s training, a dusty field of tents and shouting voices and trucks that roar like thunder. I clench the strap of my bag tighter against my shoulder and try not to bolt. My hands shake as I get closer.

A soldier points me in the right direction. I catch sight of him near the barracks, shirt half-unbuttoned, dog tags clinking against his chest, laughing at something one of his friends said.

He looks even better than I remember. That makes it worse.

I want to turn around and run to Clara, who's waiting in the car. Maybe come back another day. Or not. But I don't. I force myself to stay. “Bucky,” I call out, barely above a whisper.

My heart pounds against my chest.

He turns.

His eyes find mine in an instant, just like they did that night. His smile falters when he sees the worry behind mine.

“Y/N?” he says, confused but smiling. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you again. Not here. Why are you here?” He steps closer.

I try to smile but I can't. My worry is too powerful.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

His brows furrow. “Of course. Yeah. This way.” He nods toward a quieter area behind the mess hall. I follow, heart pounding, breath shallow.

He leans against a low wall and crosses his arms. He steadily holds my gaze. “You alright?”

“I… not really.” My voice is so small. I hate it. I don't want to tell him, but I have to. He deserves to know. So I rip the band-aid off. “I’m pregnant, Bucky.”

His face doesn’t change at first. He blinks once. Twice. Like the words haven’t quite landed.

Then they do.

“You’re...? And I’m...?” His voice cracks in a way that makes my stomach twist. “You’re sure it’s mine?” His eyes scan over my body, like he's looking for some sort of proof. His eyes land on my stomach which has not started showing yet.

I nod. “Yeah. It’s yours. I haven't been with anyone since...” That night.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Damn.” I can see the thoughts racing through his head.

I look away and wait for it. The panic. The backpedaling. The "sorry, but I can't, you understand, right?" But it doesn’t come.

He looks back at me with something soft in his eyes. “Are you okay? How… how far along?”

“Almost two months.” I look back at him, surprised by his response.

“And you just found out?” His eyes flicker back to my stomach.

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” I admit. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. Or if I should tell you. I mean, we don’t really know each other. And you’re about to go to war. This would be so much to add on to your plate. I don’t even know if—if you want anything to do with this.” I gently place a hand on my stomach.

Silence. A breeze kicks up, scattering dust across the ground between us.

“I want everything to do with it,” he says finally. His voice is low, steady. “With you. With the baby. I know we didn’t plan it — hell, we barely knew what we were doing, but I’m not the kind of guy who runs. I promise you that. I helped make it, and I'm going to help raise it.”

I look down. My hands are trembling. It's a relief. I should feel better. But I'm still scared.

He takes a step closer, reaching gently for one of them. “I’m scared, too,” he says. “I don’t know what the hell’s going to happen out there. But I do know this, I’m coming back. And when I do, I’m going to take care of you both.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” he says. His grip tightens, reassuring. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve seen what war does. I know I might not get another shot at a real life if I don’t hold onto this. Hold onto you.”

“Bucky—” My throat catches on his name.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good father,” he continues, “but I want to be. And if you’ll let me… I want to try.”

My heart shatters and knits itself back together in a single breath.

“I’d like that,” I whisper. This is going better than I thought.

He smiles, gentle and wide, and for a moment, it feels like maybe the world isn’t falling apart. Like maybe we’re allowed this — just this — before the storm comes.

He leans down, presses his forehead to mine.

“I’m coming back to you,” he murmurs. “No matter what. I promise.”

And I believe him.

God help me, I do.

----

When Bucky leaves we write to each other, almost every day. I give him updates and exciting news and try to keep his hopes up. He sends me beautiful poems and hopes for the future. Through these letters I get to know him, as he does me.

I learn his favorite color and food. What he likes to do in his spare time. He tells me about his best friend, Steve and his family.

I tell him about me.

Suddenly our relationship begins to change. We're not just some people brought together by a surprise baby. We're friends. We're close.

I look forward to reading his letters-to getting to know him more. My anxiety turns to excitement. My happiness turns to love. I began to fall in love with him, and I think he was falling for me too.

Then I got the letter.

Letter from Bucky Barnes

Postmarked: December 13, 1943

My dearest Y/N, I think about you every single day. That night in Brooklyn feels like a dream now, like something too warm and sweet to have been real, like a movie reel I can’t stop replaying in my head. You in that dress, laughing into your glass, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight. I remember every inch of you. And now I think of you with a hand on your stomach, feeling the tiniest flutter of the life we made together. I won’t pretend I’m not scared. Some days out here, the noise is so loud I can’t think straight. But your name grounds me. I whisper it under my breath when the bombs fall. I think of our child — our baby — and I remember why I need to come home. Why I fight. I want to be there when they take their first step. I want to teach them how to throw a baseball, how to tie their shoes. I want hear them learn to talk and laugh. If it’s a girl, I hope she has your eyes. If it’s a boy, I hope he laughs like you do, like sunshine cracking through clouds. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. I’m heading somewhere dangerous, can’t say where. But please believe me when I say I’m fighting to come back to you. Every bullet I dodge, every breath I take out here, it’s for you. For the baby. You've given me something to look forward to, to fight for. And I will come home. I love you, Y/N. Yours always, Bucky

Three Weeks Later

Brooklyn, January 1944

The letter is folded neatly, worn at the creases from how many times I’ve read it. Sometimes I hold it against my chest, like I can press his words into my skin and make them stay.

Today I have it clutched in my hand as I waddle, yes, waddle, down the steps of my apartment, the cold air biting through my coat. I’m seven months now. The baby kicks stronger every day. It’s the only thing that reminds me that Bucky was real.

Clara is already standing at the end of the sidewalk, scarf wrapped tight, her eyes glassy. She doesn’t speak.

That’s when I know.

I stop walking. My breath clouds the air in front of me, and suddenly it feels too thick to breathe.

“Clara?” My voice is already shaking.

She walks up, slow and quiet. Reaches out like she’s scared to touch me.

“They came to my house,” she whispers. “Figured you wouldn’t want to be alone.” Her eyes confirm my fears. Sadness. Worry. Pity.

I blink. The world tilts. “No.”

“Y/N…”

“No, no. He said he’d come back.” My chest tightens. The baby kicks hard, as if they can feel the panic rising in me. “He promised, Clara. He promised me.”

“They said it was during a mission. He fell from a train — they couldn’t find a body.”

My heart pounds.

“No body?” My voice latches onto the words like a lifeline. “Then he’s not gone. He’s not. Maybe he’s hurt. Maybe he's lost and they just need to find him! Maybe—”

“Sweetheart—” Clara's voice cracks, emotion coming through.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, voice sharp and foreign. “Don’t—don’t act like it’s over. He wouldn’t leave me like this. He promised, Clara. He promised me. He promised our baby.”

I press both hands to my belly, trying to ground myself in something real. But the world is cracking open around me. The sidewalk. The snow. The windows lined with frost. It’s all wrong. None of this is supposed to happen. He wrote me. He told me he loved me. He wanted this.

I sink to the steps, knees giving out. This isn't true. She's lying. She has to be. Bucky's going to be home soon. I know it. He has to be.

The letter slips from my fingers into the snow. I snatch it back, heart thudding, and cradle it like a lifeline.

“I’ll keep reading it,” I whisper. “Every day. Until he comes back.”

Clara kneels beside me, arms around my shaking shoulders, but I don’t cry. Not yet.

If I cry, it means I believe he’s really gone. And I’m not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be.

Not when I can still feel him in every heartbeat. Not when his baby is still kicking inside me. Not when his last words were a promise.

“I’m coming back to you.”

----

I should have listened to my instincts the night I woke to the sound of the window creaking open.

Brooklyn was never quiet, not truly. Someone's always out and about. But that night was too quiet. I remember the way my breath fogged in the cold winter air as I sat up, rubbing my swollen belly, half asleep.

The next thing I remember is the flash of metal. A deep rumbling voice.

A sharp sting to my neck.

The scream that never made it out of my throat.

My eyes shutting on the image of someone standing next to me.

When I woke again, it was under flickering fluorescent lights. My wrists were bound, cold steel cutting into my skin. There were voices, clipped, foreign. German. One of them said the word Versuchsperson.

Test subject.

I knew that word. My stomach lurched, and not from the baby shifting inside me. From fear.

Where am I?

They didn’t care that I was pregnant. They cared only about what my body could endure.

“If she survives, we can push the limits of cryostasis on vulnerable subjects,” one of the scientists murmured.

“She is carrying Barnes’ child,” another replied, clinical. “Genetic value. Possibly enhanced.”

“Not likely. She looks too far along to have conceived after the enhancement. It's most likely from before. ”

Enhanced? Bucky? What is going on?

No. No, no.

I thrashed as they wheeled me into the freezing chamber — the same kind I’d only ever heard whispers of. It's terrifying.

“Please,” I sobbed. “Please don’t do this. I’m pregnant. Please.” My shoulders shook from fear.

No one looked at me. No one stopped.

The fluid began rising. Cold seeped into my skin like needles.

“I have a baby,” I whispered, teeth chattering, as my body began to shut down. “Please-” I beg.

Everything went black.

-----

I woke to alarms and shouting.

My vision was blurry as I tried to adjust to what's going on.

Not the Hydra voices I’d heard when I went under. No, this time, it was English. American. Familiar.

Memories hit me like a freight train, shocking me as they all rushed back at once.

They cracked the glass, pried me out. My legs didn’t work. My body was limp, useless. But I was alive.

And the baby—

A stab of pain hit me before I could think. Pain worse than anything I could've imagined. My scream tore through the sterile air, and someone was shouting, “She’s in labor!”

I didn’t know what year it was. I didn’t know who these people were. But I knew I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Any baby was on the way.

-----

I named him James.

Not for Bucky- not just for Bucky, but for the piece of him that lived inside our child. His eyes are exactly the same. The same shape, the same stormy color. Sometimes, when he laughs, my heart cracks open all over again.

We live in a small apartment SHIELD set up for us. Stark helped with the furniture, though I didn’t ask him to. Said it was the least he could do after “pulling an actual time traveler out of a Hydra tomb.”

The world is… impossible.

There are tiny computers in everyone’s pockets. Cars that drive themselves. Food that comes in boxes with instructions printed on plastic. I still flinch when doors open automatically. Things are very different.

SHIELD checks on us regularly. Mostly research. Blood draws, vitals, endless psychological evaluations. They’re studying me like I’m a relic. And maybe I am.

I try to keep James out of it, but they’re fascinated by him too. “Genetic goldmine,” I once overheard. I don’t let them take him anywhere without me.

He’s my whole world now.

I tell him stories about the 1940s. About jazz clubs and movie theaters with curtains. About his father, though I never have the words right.

How do you explain a love that bloomed and died in less than a week but left a scar that stretched across time?

----

I don’t expect to see him. Not today.

It’s just a standard check-up at the SHIELD facility — a few blood samples, a scan or two, a quiet nod from Dr. Cho saying I’m still stable, still alive, still miraculously whole. I’ve done this dance for years now, adjusting to a time seventy years ahead of the world I knew. Raising my son in a place that barely feels real, in a body that should’ve crumbled long ago.

James skips beside me down the hallway, holding my hand with sticky fingers, clutching his toy dinosaur in the other.

“Do you think Mr. Wilson will be there?” he asks, hopping every third step.

“If he is, no jumping on his wings this time, please.”

He giggles. “But I was gonna fly!”

I smile, brushing a hand through his hair. He’s grown so fast — not just taller, but louder, bolder, full of that same spark I used to see in the boy who once kissed me behind the big oak tree and whispered that everything would be okay.

My chest aches every time I think about it.

Bucky knew. He knew I was pregnant before he shipped out. I told him just a few days before his unit left. We cried, clung to each other, and made promises we were too young to fully understand. And then the letters stopped. The news came. Clara told me what she learned.

Sergeant James Barnes: Killed In Action.

I read the letter so many times that I have it memorized. I think about it often.

I never stopped loving him. Not for a moment.

But I learned to grieve him. To build something out of the pieces he left behind. I had to. My son needed me to.

And then today — today, the world tilts again.

We turn the corner into the medical wing, and I feel it before I see it, that sudden pull in my chest. A weight, a breath caught sideways in my ribs.

I freeze.

James tugs on my arm. “Mama?”

He follows my gaze, then goes quiet.

At the end of the hallway stands a man I once thought I’d never see again. Older. Sharper. His hair pulled back, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the room like he’s ready for a fight.

He's similar, but at the same time, so different. His muscles are much larger than I remember. His arm, once flesh, now glimmers under the building lights.

Then he sees us.

And everything stops.

“Y/N?”

The voice is different, rougher, like gravel, but it shakes something loose in my soul.

My lips tremble. “Bucky?”

He stares, stunned. Like I’ve just stepped out of one of his dreams -or nightmares. His eyes shift, flickering to the child standing at my side.

I see the moment he realizes. His eyes widen in disbelief. His lips part, like he wants to say something but can't quite find the words.

His knees nearly give out.

James blinks up at him, head tilting in that curious, unfiltered way only a child can manage. “Mama, who’s that?”

My throat closes.

I kneel beside him, one hand on his back, the other over my heart.

“That’s your dad, sweetheart.”

Bucky makes a sound, something like a gasp, something broken.

“I knew,” he whispers. “I never forgot. You told me, and I—they told me you were taken, gone. Most likely dead.. That the baby was likely-”

“I thought you were dead,” I say, standing slowly, my hand reaching out. “They told me you were gone.”

“I was.” He steps closer. “They took me, Y/N. I didn’t even remember my own name for decades. But you-our baby...” His voice breaks. “You were real. The only thing that felt real.”

Tears blur my vision. “I kept him safe. I promised you I would.”

“I promised I’d come back,” he whispers, voice thick. “I didn’t know it would take seventy years.”

James moves closer, eyes wide and searching. “You wrote letters to Mommy,” he says solemnly, like it’s the most important fact in the world. He remembers my stories.

Bucky kneels in front of him, tentative. “Yeah, buddy. I did.”

James holds out his hand.

Bucky stares at it like it’s holy, then gently wraps his fingers around it, so tender, so careful.

I watch them-my son and the man I thought I’d lost forever, and something inside me begins to stitch itself back together.

“I didn’t expect this,” Bucky murmurs, looking up at me with tear-glassed eyes. “But I want it. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

“I already have,” I whisper. “I told you before, Bucky. I want you in our lives.”

And for the first time in seventy years, we’re not just surviving.

We’re starting over.

Together.

Our little family

[jijournal]

LOVE ME AGAIN | D.M

Part 2 of Love Me Loud

Summary: After walking away from the boy who couldn't choose you, fate brings you face to face with Draco Malfoy once more. The feelings are still there, truths remain unspoken, and the question lingers—was it ever really over?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Just get your tissues ready.

A/N: Part 2 of 'Love Me Loud' is here!! Hope everyone love this! 🫰

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Draco Malfoy had always believed silence was safety.

Until you walked away—and the silence screamed louder than anything he'd ever known.

The morning after the Quidditch match, the castle moved on as if nothing had happened. Students buzzed in the corridors, gossiping about the game, praising Draco’s win like it was a badge of legacy. But he didn’t hear them.

All he heard was your voice, raw and trembling in the cold air of the Astronomy Tower.

“I needed you to fight for me.”

He hadn’t.

And now, you were gone.

The weeks that followed were hollow.

You avoided him effortlessly, without making it obvious. You didn’t speak his name, didn’t glance his way in class, didn’t even acknowledge the shared air between you anymore.

Draco thought the silence would kill him.

Every hallway he turned into felt like a trap laid with memories. Every classroom you both shared was colder without your warmth beside him. Even the dungeons, once your quiet sanctuary together, felt empty.

You’d sit in Potions now with Ernie Macmillan. He laughed too loud, made too many mistakes—but he looked at you the way Draco wished he still could.

With pride.

With ease.

Without shame.

Draco still passed you ingredients sometimes, his fingers brushing yours like they used to—but now you didn’t flinch or look up. You just thanked him softly. Politely.

Like a stranger would.

By sixth year, the war outside had begun bleeding into the castle’s stone walls. The tension was no longer whispers—it was screams, in shadows, in headlines, in conversations that stopped when professors walked by.

And then came the Mark. Branded into his skin like a brand on cattle. Like ownership.

He hadn’t been asked.

He’d been chosen.

Because Lucius Malfoy had failed. Because the Dark Lord was cruel. Because Draco still hadn’t learned how to say no.

He stopped smiling after that. Not that he had much to smile about anymore.

He was losing weight. Losing sleep. Losing control.

You still hadn’t looked at him.

Not once.

Until that night in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

The door creaked open and you stepped inside. Your wand was drawn, expecting trouble, ready for a duel.

You weren’t expecting to find Draco—collapsed against the porcelain basin, his breathing uneven, eyes vacant and glassy.

Your heart stopped.

“Draco?”

He didn’t look at you, his voice low and almost brittle as he muttered, “Go away.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you knelt slowly, cautiously. Your movements were deliberate, as if you were approaching something fragile—something broken. Because that’s what he looked like. Broken. Wounded. Not dangerous.

You reached for his arm, your fingers brushing his sleeve. He flinched, jerking away, but the movement was weak, like he didn’t have the strength to push you away. His face was pale, and his eyes were distant.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, but his sleeve was soaked in blood—a clean, straight cut running across it, crimson staining the fabric.

“No, you’re not,” you whispered, your voice gentle, steady despite the shock twisting in your chest. “Let me help.”

For the first time in months, he looked at you. Really looked at you. His gaze met yours—raw, vulnerable—and suddenly, everything that had been buried came rushing back. The way you always saw through him, the way your eyes softened when everyone else turned away. Even now. Especially now.

You didn’t hesitate. You healed him in silence, your magic warm and soothing. It was steady and sure, but your hands shook slightly from the nerves you hadn’t known you still had. His gaze never wavered from you, as if he couldn’t tear himself away from the girl who had once cared for him. Who still might.

When you finished, you set your wand down, the soft glow fading as you sat beside him. Your knees were pressed to the cold stone floor, but you didn’t move. You both sat there for a long while, the silence thick between you.

Finally, he broke the stillness, his voice quiet, rough. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A faint, tired smile pulled at the corners of your lips, bittersweet and full of something both old and new. “Neither should you.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, guilt weighing him down. “I never meant for it to end like that.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. The hurt was still too fresh, still too close, and words would only cheapen it.

“You saved me today,” he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself, his voice thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Why?”

You glanced at him, your heart pounding in your chest. And then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, you answered.

“Because I loved you once,” you murmured, your words fragile and broken, “and part of me still does.”

There were no more words between you after that night.

But something shifted. Something that neither time nor silence could undo.

The next time you passed him in the hallways, he didn’t look away.

And for the first time, neither did you.

⸻

The Battle of Hogwarts came without warning. The night burned with fire and fury.

Spells crashed through stone and air alike, the world split between blinding light and crushing darkness. Screams echoed down the corridors, and the floor was littered with dust, broken wands, and shattered pieces of the castle that once felt like home. You ran, lungs aching, heart a thunderous drum in your chest. Every turn of the hallway was another battlefield, every corner another gamble.

You hadn’t seen him since he left for Easter Holidays.

You told yourself you were over it. That the war had made you stronger, sharper. That you’d let go of the boy who let go of you.

But it wasn’t true.

When you rounded the corner into the Transfiguration corridor, wand raised, ready to fight, and you saw the Death Eater turn on you, his wand already mid-curse—you knew this might be the end.

“Avada—”

“Protego!”

A body slammed into yours, sending you both crashing to the stone floor as green light flew over your heads. The world tilted. You scrambled to your elbows, heart hammering, wand still clutched tight.

And then you saw him.

Draco.

Panting. Pale. His robes torn and smeared with ash and blood.

He stood between you and the masked man like a barrier—trembling slightly, but steady, wand raised.

The duel didn’t last long. Draco’s spells were fast, relentless. And when the Death Eater finally fell back, fleeing into the smoke, you were left staring at him, breath caught in your throat.

“Why did you save me?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He turned to face you slowly, his face raw with emotion. “Because I still love you.”

The words struck you like a curse—sharp and unrelenting, rattling everything inside you. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his confession pressed down on you. For a moment, disbelief swallowed you whole, and all you could do was stare at him.

“Then why did you let me go?” your voice cracked, just barely.

Draco's gaze dropped to the broken floor beneath him, his shoulders sinking as if the weight of his words was too much for him to carry. He seemed smaller, fragile.

“I…” His voice wavered, breaking on the single syllable, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was admitting this out loud. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the your steady breath and the distant chaos of the battle raging outside.

“I wasn’t brave enough,” he said, his voice rough and raw, a confession soaked in regret. His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, his gaze met yours, and there was something different in it now—something that wasn’t the cold, distant shield he had worn for so long. It was filled with a sorrow so deep that it felt like it could swallow him whole.

“I wasn’t brave enough to fight for you,” he whispered, his voice a strained breath. “I thought I could hide behind my family, behind my name, behind all of it... I thought it was easier to keep my distance—to push you away.” His eyes flickered with a flash of pain, and he exhaled shakily, as if the words had physically hurt to speak.

You watched him closely, your own heart aching at the sight of the boy you’d once known—strong, proud, full of arrogance. This Draco, though? This Draco was fragile. He was broken in ways he hadn’t let anyone see before.

“I let fear control me,” he continued, his voice barely audible now. “Fear of my father’s anger. Fear of losing everything I thought I needed. And I let that fear keep me from fighting for the one person who I actually needed.”

His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he was fighting to breathe through the weight of his admission. He took a hesitant step closer, as if testing whether the distance between you would close the space in his chest, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken—something deeper than the apology he couldn’t seem to finish. “I’ve spent years regretting it. The silence. The things I didn’t say. The things I never had the courage to do.”

The silence between you stretched, thick with everything unsaid. You looked at him—really looked at him—and you saw it. Not the boy who sneered across Potions class. Not the son of Lucius Malfoy. Just Draco. Scared. Honest. And completely undone.

But before either of you could speak again, voices shouted down the hallway—calls for help, orders, spells. Another part of the castle was collapsing.

Draco’s eyes flickered to the danger, then back to you. There was a moment—one second where it felt like maybe, just maybe, you would run together this time.

But he took a step back.

And you did too.

No words. Just that one last look.

And then the war tore you apart again.

⸻

It had been three years since the war ended—since that night of fire and silence, since the last time you saw him disappear into smoke and rubble. Life had moved on, though not without effort.

Draco never reached out. Not once in those three years did he spare a moment to write you a letter. You, on the other hand, wrote to him every month for a year after the war—letters filled with things left unsaid, with questions you were too afraid to ask. But you never sent them. Fear held you back—fear that he didn’t want anything to do with you, that the silence between you was deliberate. That was two years ago. You haven’t written since. You stopped letting yourself hope.

Now, you stood in the quiet warmth of your flower shop—your sanctuary, your dream since the first time Herbology had made you feel like something in the world could grow just for you. The air was rich with the scent of lilacs and lavender, sunlight spilling through the windows like a blessing, and for once, everything felt steady. Peaceful. Almost enough.

The bell above the shop door chimed softly.

You looked up from your counter, hands still wrapped around a freshly tied bouquet of pale hydrangeas. The scent of eucalyptus drifted through the air, mingling with the gentle charm you’d enchanted to keep the daisies from wilting. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting golden stripes across the polished floor.

He stood there. Like a ghost you’d tried so hard to bury.

Draco Malfoy.

No longer the boy with the haunted eyes, but a man. Taller, a little older. His hair shorter, his face sharper, more composed. But the storm in his eyes? Still the same.

“I didn’t know this was your shop,” he said quietly, stepping inside. “I was just passing through.”

You looked up from the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon still dangling between your fingers. For a second, you thought the air left the room. “It is,” you said, voice careful. “Been open for a while now.”

He nodded, slowly taking it in—how the light fell on the mahogany shelves, the soft hum of magic keeping the roses from drooping, the handwritten labels tucked into tiny pots. His gaze lingered on the charm above the door, the one that softly sang when someone entered.

“This place…” he said after a beat, “It’s beautiful. Feels like you.”

Your fingers tightened around the ribbon. “That was the idea.”

He moved further in, his footsteps soft against the wood, like he didn’t want to disturb anything. His eyes traced the petals of hanging lavender, then drifted to the tiny jars of Baby's-breath that floated just above the shelves. His fingers hovered near a jar, brushing the side, barely touching.

“I always thought you’d end up somewhere like this,” he said. “Somewhere gentle.”

You raised a brow. “After everything? I wasn’t sure I could be gentle anymore.”

He looked at you then, eyes heavy. “You always were. Even when the rest of the world wasn’t.”

The quiet between you stretched, weighted and warm. The scent of jasmine curled between the silences, familiar and almost cruel.

He took a deep breath. “I passed by here last week,” he admitted. “Saw the window. Saw the name on the sign. I wasn’t sure it was really you.”

You managed a small smile. “It’s me. Just… older. Wiser, hopefully.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite know how anymore. “You always had a thing for violets. Still do?”

You gestured to the arrangement in your hands. “Some things don’t change.”

He moved a little closer, standing just across the counter now, where the distance felt both unbearable and too much all at once.

He was quiet again. His fingers tapped the wood of the counter once, then stilled.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he admitted, his voice barely a breath.

You nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I didn’t think I deserved to.”

Your throat tightened. You looked away, pretending to fix a petal that didn’t need fixing.

And then—so softly it was almost a thought more than a sentence—he said it.

“I missed you.”

You felt the words catch in your throat. The familiar ache of longing twisted inside you, but it was quickly smothered by the armor you'd built over the years.

You tried to keep the walls up, but the weight of his confession shattered something inside you. Your hands shook slightly as you set the bouquet down, the soft scent of the flowers mixing with the tension in the air.

You forced your gaze back to him, meeting his eyes—eyes that seemed to have never fully left you, despite everything.

For a moment, you almost said nothing. You almost pretended you hadn’t heard him, hadn’t felt the weight of the years between you. But the truth was, his words had cracked something open inside, something you’d buried deep for so long.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “I missed you too, Draco,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. It wasn’t just the words, but the way they felt—the vulnerability in them. A rawness you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now.

For a moment it felt like nothing had changed. Like the years between the war and this tiny shop had never happened. Just the two of you. The ache still there, the words still fragile.

“Do you want to, maybe go with me to the Leaky Cauldron?” His voice cracked just a little, like he didn’t quite believe he had the right to ask. “We could—”

You cut him off, gently but firmly. “If you want us to get back together, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

His face drained of color. “What? Why not?”

You didn’t flinch. This time, you met his eyes without wavering—calm, resolute, and heartbreakingly sure.

“Draco… I’m getting married.”

He froze.

His mouth opened. Closed. And for a second, he looked like that boy again—lost, undone, silenced by the weight of a moment he wasn’t ready for.

You turned, reaching for a small arrangement of daisies and forget-me-nots you made earlier that morning—soft blues and whites, bound in a silk ribbon.

Forget-me-nots, for the memories that clung to your soul—enduring love that had once burned quietly between you. Daisies, pure and bright, symbolized release. Letting go. Letting go of him, and of the life you once imagined.

They were your way of saying goodbye without words—of embracing a future without him in it.

You turned back to him, eyes soft but resolute, and held the bouquet out.

“I made this today,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of us. I didn’t know why, until now.”

He took it slowly, his hand brushing against yours. The contact was fleeting, but electric with unspoken memories. His fingers trembled as they closed around the stems—his walls cracking under the weight of a thousand things he never said.

“I hope you’re happy,” he said at last, his voice low, hoarse. Strained. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“I am,” you whispered. “I had to learn how to be.”

Your words weren’t meant to wound. But they did. You saw it in the way he blinked too slowly, as if keeping tears at bay. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed—like he was preparing himself to carry the pain away with him.

Draco nodded once, slowly. His lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but no words came. He turned to leave. The silence between you felt heavy, sacred.

He reached the door, then paused. You could almost hear the battle in his chest, the weight of everything he couldn’t undo.

And then—he looked back.

And this time, you didn’t look away. You met his eyes, steady and brave.

You weren’t angry anymore. You weren’t lost. You were just… finally free.

Because this time… you weren’t the one who walked away.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

A/N: I hope the ending wasn't too disappointing. I went for a more realistic approach. I hate to say this, but I feel like this is what Draco would realistically do. Hope you liked it!

comment for taglist!

masterlist!

taglist: @ladycaramelswirl @kammafffffff

[reavesluv]

Divided by the Court

Pairing: Uconn basketball star Paige x ex-uconn now south carolina’s fem basketball player!reader

Summary: As the title says, you got divided by the court.

fluff + angst¡ (mostly) | no happy ending.

notes: mentions of sex, envy, hate, crying.

this is literally why i love writing wlw stuff, cause this would be impossible if it was a straight couple 🤭

i started writing this in school, that’s the funny part

There’s was no way in hell you would play that game, no — way.

June 7, 2023.

Uconn was your dream school, you wished your entire highschool years to be admitted in Uconn. You always wanted to be a Husky, your soul belonged there, you would always be a Husky.

And you did the job, worked so hard to get there, and thankfully you got your reward.

You always played basketball, you’ve been a star since the first time you stepped on a court. Always averaging 25 points per game, accumulating MVP’s as if they were days, always in the answers of “who’s the most athletic player in school?”. You were good, more than good, even.

People admired you, for everything. You were an awesome player, insanely gorgeous, and you had that perfect personality that could not make someone stay away from you. You lightened faces when you entered a room, and only your presence could make someone feel better.

You entered Uconn, believing you achieved your dream for a really long time, it was good, honestly. Things just didn’t end as you expected them to.

“I’m Y/N, freshman. I come all the way from Los Angeles.” You said, standing in front of the best team in all women’s college basketball, or at least that’s what you thought.

“Nice to meet you!” everyone answered you.

“Oh hello—” You could sense that teasing, not friendly at all way of talking. “you look like you break some ankles, 1v1?”

“Sure.” You answered, not scared of the blonde, taller girl who was standing in front of you. Cause, why would you be? you were always the best.

The way she moved around the court, how she could just make you think you could guard her, but you just couldn’t. She was good, so good for your liking, and that was dangerous.

“I won, 4 out of 7.” the blonde stood in front of you, looking a bit down to meet your eyes.

You smiled softly, cause even if you didn’t like to lose, you were not a bad loser, and after all, she was going to be your teammate now, you had to get used to it.

“Congrats, you’re good —” You looked up at her. “You’re Paige Bueckers, aren’t you?”

“The one and only, welcome to Uconn.”

And after that, she gave you a hug, like she just didn’t broke your ankles on the court, like if you didn’t just meet the first person ever to give you some trouble with the basketball ball.

••••

“Grab a partner and a ball.” You heard your coach say. “We’re doing some shooting baskets today.”

You stood there, just waiting to see if someone would pick you, cause even if you weren’t so new now, and you actually linked up with them very quickly, you didn’t feel like you had the power to choose someone yourself. Being around a lot of good people, made you a bit, shy.

“Hey, Y/N! wanna partner with me?” Paige asked you.

You couldn’t control that little smile that came out from you. The best one in the team, a junior, wanted to parter with you, a freshman.

“Oh sure do! you shoot first?” You said, handing her the ball.

she smiled at you as her hand brushed yours. You couldn’t explain how that sent you an electric shock, you felt as her body was trying to attract you.

And for weeks you couldn’t stop feeling like that, but it was weird cause, you never really thought a girl– even worse the one who was you number one competition could make you feel like your heart wanted to break out from your chest to merge with hers…that was not you. At least, until you met her.

Things really did came out well at the end, everyone who knew you could tell things between you and Paige weren’t casual, and even if you didn’t know how to act around her, you knew you wanted her, in every way possible.

Away games were so much fun for everyone on the team. You had made your best friends: Kk, Sarah, Jana, Azzi….They all loved you. and you loved them with so much more force.

You used to sit on the bus with Paige every single time. Watch a romantic or comedy movie together and then fall asleep on each other’s arms, she felt so comfy, you started to think she was made for you.

“For God sakes, make a move –” Kk said, sitting at your side while you were having breakfast.

"Really? cause i had planned something for her but i don’t know –” you said when she interrupted you.

“YES JUST MAKE THE FUCKING MOVE –” She said, almost screaming, probably everyone sitting around you heard her. “we are all tired of you two being so mimimi –” she started kissing her hand. “with each other, like girl, that’s your wife.”

“Ugh fine, i’ll tell her.” You said laughing a bit and she hugged you like if the relationship was hers, but you didn’t mind, that meant she cared.

And you did, you had planned a picnic with Paige, in a lookout on a mountain pretty close to where you guys were staying.

“You did this for me?” Paige asked you, taking your hand and rubbing it softly with her thumb.

“Of course Paige, I would do anything for you.”

And those words hit her like a bullet, she tried so hard not to fall for you, but at that moment she didn’t even tried to hide it anymore. She was in love with you.

She laid down on the comfy blanket you brought, rested her head on your lap, while you rubbed her back softly.

“I…. – i know we’re not supposed to date our teammates but– I can’t hide the way you make me feel anymore. I love you, Paige.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

There’s no way to explain how happy you were dating Paige, she was exactly everything you ever wanted, she tried her best to be the best, she never left you alone, she included you in absolute everything.

You got the amazing chance of meeting her family. They were just like her: sweet, fun, caring… you just knew– things were meant to be.

And Paige knew it too. Your parents loved her, and your little sister cried every time you to told her that Paige wasn’t staying at your house that weekend.

And things were great, until you got divided by the court.

You were a starter on the team, but you would never be the star, at least while Paige was in Uconn.

Every. Damn. Time.– You tried to be the star, and your intention was never trying to make Paige look like second, but she thought you did. And without you even trying, your relationship became a competition.

And it wasn’t just a teasing competition, like when you would fight in bed about who of you could make the other cum faster. It was, tiring.

Every time you would score 24 points in a game, Paige had 25. If you had 12 assists, Paige had 13. If your career-high was 47, Paige’s was 48.

You could not stand her anymore, it was impossible. And she knew that, she just didn’t care at all.

When everything was good between you two, if you had a bad game, she would stay hours talking to you about how of an amazing player you were. But now, if she saw you crying on the bench, the last thing she would do was comforting you.

She wasn’t your girlfriend anymore, she was your enemy.

If you had a bad game and she scored a lot more points than you, she would talk to you as if that didn’t happen, as if you guys were completely fine, and that annoyed you, cause you would never do that to her.

“Paige, we need to talk.”

“Yeah? what is it?”

“You and I…we– are not okay, and you know it.”

“Then stop trying to be the star, Y/N.– You’re never gonna be one, at least while i’m here.”

“Why would you say that? you’re supposed to be my girlfriend, my support.”

“If you want me to be, then fucking stop!”

You couldn’t believe it, the love of you life just– decided that humiliating you was more important that loving you.

“This is not gonna work anymore–“ you said, with tears in your eyes. “We should break up.”

And that was it, the end of your relationship, the end of the best friendship, lover, person… you ever had in your life.

And after, you two couldn’t even look at each other on the court, you would rather die before passing each other the ball on a game.

And you understood, Uconn was never gonna be that for you, and you had to make a choice, even if it was the wrong one.

“Where’s Y/N? She haven’t been to practice in a while.” Paige asked Kk, your best friend.

“You don’t know, do you?” She said, and didn’t give her time to answer. “She transferred to South Carolina.”

Paige dropped her water bottle, and opened her eyes as if she has seen a ghost. You were gone, and there’s nothing she could do about it anymore.

August 21, 2024.

••••

April 6, 2025. March Madness finals.

Uconn vs South Carolina.

When you stepped on the court, and looked around, the smell of home was the same as it always has been.

You looked at the stands, and there were some people wearing your jersey, but not the South Carolina’s one, but the Uconn’s. And that did nothing more but break your heart.

People in Uconn adored you, and you could tell that by the way they stood and cheered when your name was called. God— You loved that team, they were your home.

You were the star in South Carolina, you were the MVP, again.

People in South Carolina loved you. When you got there you instantly became the star, the star you always wanted to be.

And South Carolina was not bad at all. Your teammates were good, your coach was good, and you met a lot of people that made you feel like home. But– it wasn’t Uconn, and certainly it was not Paige.

You took South Carolina to the finals. Of course, you had help, but the star, the one who made everything possible, was you.

Your defense, your points, the way you gave your best in every game, your passion. That’s what took South Carolina to the finals.

You were not ready to play against your best friends, and worst, the love of your life.

When your name was called for South Carolina, everyone on Uconn lowered their heads, but one of them, Paige.

It burned you alive the fact that she acted like she didn’t care at all about you, because deep down you knew she did.

But Paige had moved on, she knew she was the one guilty for you leaving Uconn, she didn’t see you anymore as her ex-girlfriend, she saw you as just her enemy.

It was time for the game to start, the referees called you both as the captains of each team, so they could flip a coin to see who would have the first possession in an held ball.

When she looked at your eyes, the only thing she saw was someone who could ruin her reputation, that could stole her championship, which she knew you wanted, and she assumed she wanted it more than you did.

And when you looked at her, you saw your soul, your love, your person– but at the same time you saw the devil, cause her eyes didn’t even had a bit of love in them, not anymore.

“Tails.”

“Heads.”

It landed on Tails. You won.

You had to shake her hand for the game to start, and when you did, you realized there was no way in hell you would play that game.

You moved back to the bench with the rest of your teammates.

“I can’t do this Chloe.”

“Oh yes you can Y/N. Don’t let us down.”

And that was the best game of your entire life.

You had to guard Paige most of the time, but it didn’t matter the moment you held the ball in your hands, you could not miss, everything was working out for you.

Until on the 4th quarter, with five minutes or less before the game ended, you twisted your ankle. That fucking ankle that has been giving you problems since high-school.

“Please, not now.” You said to yourself, heading to the bench so you could wrap your ankle.

While you were on the bench, Uconn went up by 5. You came back to the game with one minute and thirty seconds left.

You couldn’t run, you couldn’t jump, but you had to be there.

And your teammates knew, they didn’t pass you the ball as much as they did on the first half of the game.

But when there were 15 seconds left, and South Carolina was down by 4, the only hope they had left was you, and your shot.

You shot, and made it. You were down by 1.

But the ball now was for Uconn, 7 seconds left and you were still losing by one.

Paige took the ball to pass the ball from out of band after your shot, you were guarding Jana without looking at Paige, and that’s when you felt it.

Paige intentionally throw the ball at you, it hit you on the back and when you tried to take it, you fell.

You couldn’t stand by yourself, your teammates had to help you.

One second left on the game and the ball was still for Uconn. It was done, Uconn won.

Everyone on the stadium exploded in cheers and excitement, they were happy.

You lost, against your ex and your best friends. You lost the only thing for which you were fighting for.

You saw how Kk, Jana and Paige hugged each other. “I’m supposed to be there.” You thought.

When it was time to shake the other team’s hand, you were crying and you couldn’t walk well, But everyone on Uconn hugged you.

Paige didn’t. You didn’t want to shake her hand, so when she saw you weren’t going to take it, she smiled.

“Don’t be dramatic.” She said.

“I’m not, Paige. You would feel the same”

“Well thankfully i’m not you, right?”

You scoffed. “You’re a bitch, did you know that?”

“Nah, only you think that.”

“Yeah, cause i’m the only one unfortunate enough to have dated you.”

Oh, that burned.

“Don’t fucking act like you don’t still love me, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” You said. Your face showed no emotion.

“There’s still next year championship.” She added, laughing.

“Congrats, Paige.”

“What? you’re not gonna say anything to me now?”

“Well yes. You know? you took away from me the two most important things.”

“Did i huh? What were them?”

“The natty.–” You took a deep breath. “And you, Paige, you were one.”

She laughed. “Well that’s unfortunate.”

“I had to get injured for you to shine, and just so you know, i got more points than you.” You added.

“Yeah, maybe. But i won.”

“Sure you did, but that doesn’t change how shitty you are.”

And that was it, you left to the locker room.

And what you told Paige was true, you lost everything, thinking there was nothing to lose.

In the locker room, your teammates hugged you and gave you some words, you sat on one of the benches and looked at the TV, people were congratulating Uconn for the win.

And you understood that the court, would always be more important than you.

•••••••••

This took insanely long because i didn’t want to finish it 😹

anyway yeah, i hope we all agree that we hate Paige in here!!!

[holyblonded]

how’s estrella relationship with kika? cause i feel like she would be really “soft” and calm with kika much to everyone shock, she still mess with her sometimes but most of the times she’s she’s calm and relaxed

— estrella and kika are such opposites in energy that it balances out in the most unexpected, gentle way. estrella, who’s usually a chaotic ball of trash-talking fire and unfiltered emotions, turns soft as hell around kika. no one saw it coming.

— she teases her, sure, little jabs about kika’s routines or her overly organized locker, but there’s this tone estrella only uses with kika, lower, slower, a bit fond. it’s the same voice she uses when she’s calming down a nervous teammate before a penalty or coaxing a stray kitten to come closer.

— kika’s calm nature grounds estrella. there’s something about kika’s presence that settles her, makes her lean back instead of forward. if estrella’s about to go off about something (a ref, a tweet, a bad pass), kika just looks at her, tilts her head a little, and estrella exhales like, “okay fine. but you saw that foul too, right?”

— kika gets to see estrella’s quieter habits. the way she draws on her wrist tape before games, how she arranges her plushies when she’s upset, how she triple-checks that the people she loves are okay even when she pretends not to care.

— everyone’s shocked the first time they see estrella curled up next to kika on the plane, headphones shared, kika reading and estrella just… resting. no dramatic gestures, no loud opinions. just quiet.

— they’re sisters in the softest, most loyal sense. estrella would swing at anyone for kika, no hesitation. but more often than not, she’s just standing behind her like “whatever kika says. i back it.”

— and when kika compliments her? estrella blushes. estrella. blushes. no trash talk, no “i know i’m the best.” just a mumbled “thanks… shut up though.”