#it’s so cold outside but my insides are so full of warmth and love for them it feels like it’s summer already

[sanjiswetcigarettes0]

Listening to old Brazilian love songs makes me think of zolu so much i am smiling so big rn. I want what they have.

They make me imagine them slowly dancing to one of those beautiful old salsa songs where they gently hold hands and move their bodies so slow, that they sweated terribly but still want to enjoy the warm sunny evening with the chilly breeze of the entire seas they sailed alone together while they hold and look at each other with endless love and big grins. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND I AM CRAZY OVER THEM.

[shadowwfoxx]

Hurt

Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Logan takes care of you when you get hurt. fluff. Logan is a softie just for you.

You and Logan were supposed to have a romantic picnic date at the park. That plan was quickly ruined once you looked outside the window and saw dark and angry clouds surface the sky. Not too long after that, the thunderstorm had started. 

Since the weather was so shitty you and Logan decided to stay in, watch a movie, and have him spend the night. You also threw in that you would make him your famous pasta dish that he absolutely loved.

Your apartment felt extremely warm and cozy compared to the storm unfolding outside. You were in your kitchen stirring the pasta to ensure it didn’t burn at the bottom. Logan insisted on helping you but you didn’t allow him, telling him to sit and relax. He was on the couch nursing a beer while watching the football game, looking over his shoulder a few times to check on you. 

The blaring sound of the timer for the pasta went off. You turn off the timer before going to turn off the stovetop. You then grab your pasta strainer and place it in the sink. You grab the two handles of the pot, pick it up, and walk over to the sink to strain the water. 

Just as you were tilting the pot, a huge flash of lighting, followed by the loudest rumble of thunder you’ve ever heard struck. Startled, you swing your head to the side to look out your living room window, the trees outside swaying harshly. Your lights then flicker a few times, your TV shutting off in the process. You hear Logan curse under his breath. 

No longer focused on what you are doing, you tilt the pot full of boiling water further down without realizing it. A huge amount of hot water escapes the pot and comes into contact with the inside of your arm. 

“Fuck!” You hiss, immediately dropping the pot in the sink, making a loud bang when it drops. The pasta spills all at the bottom of it. You groan, and hold your other hand over the burn, trying to relieve the pain spreading throughout your arm. Tears now threatening to spill.

“What happened?” Logan asks, his voice rough and demanding. He is quick to be by your side, his hand warm on the small of your back. 

“I-I burned myself with the pasta water.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut. Tears start to roll down your face. You were never someone to have such a good tolerance for pain. Logan rubs up and down your back soothingly.

“Let me have a look baby,” He says softly but firm, guiding you to face him. You slowly move your hand that was covering your burn, wincing at the pain. 

Logan holds your arm out, inspecting your wound. “You got yourself good huh bub.” All you do is sniffle.

He guides your arm to the sink, turning on the cold water and letting it pour on your burn. You hiss at the relief and pain it was providing you. 

“I know, I know.” He whispers. He kisses the top of your head while still holding your arm underneath the water. His other arm rubs up and down yours.

“Keep it under the water okay? I’m gonna get some bandages.” The warmth of his body disappears from behind you. You hear him rummage through the bathroom cabinet, groaning when random pill bottles fall on the floor. After a few minutes, you hear his footsteps behind you. He reaches from behind you to turn off the water. 

“Let me fix you up bub.” He grabs your hand, leading you to the couch. He sets his stuff down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch. Logan puts a hand on your hip to guide you to sit across his lap. He cleans your burn and wraps it in a bandage. You don’t even notice how you’re still silently crying. 

“Why the tears princess? Hm?” Logan squeezes your thigh. You haven’t made eye contact with him yet, still upset. “Hey look at me.” His hands going under your chin. You finally meet his gaze.

“Cause everything is ruined.” Your bottom lip trembles. “Our picnic date, dinner, and now my stupid arm.” You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry more. 

“Hey hey, nothing’s ruined. C’mere.” He turns you to straddle his lap. He wraps his muscular arms around your body for a hug, putting one hand on your head cradling it. “We still have that movie to watch. How ‘bout that?” His voice was low and raspy. You nod, looking at him.

He wipes your tears before giving you a peck on the lips. He gives your butt a light tap signalling you to stand up. You stand up as Logan moves to lie down on his side. You lie in front of him, his arm wrapping around you immediately to pull you close to his body. Maybe it wasn’t all ruined after all.

[mydear-corinthian]

trouble sleeping

synopsis: you're having a hard time sleeping and spencer helps you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, implied insomnia, praise kink

notes: short <w.c 1000 | ib: natt-ice's p-link | divider by lavendergalactic

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

Sheets ruffling. Bed moving. Annoyed groans.

The gentle rustling noises behind him woke Spencer. He was startled out of his half-slumber by the little shuffle of movement and the rustle of blankets. With a sleepy blink, he rolled over and watched you squirming around to find a comfortable position. You shifted the pillows with a groan and fidgeted under the blankets, clearly frustrated.

"Hey, why are you still awake?" Spencer murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he propped himself up on one elbow. His body was now fully facing yours, eyes tracing the silhouette of your restless form in the dim light.

You mumbled, "I can't sleep," in a frustrated tone. "God, this is so annoying!" You pushed a cushion beneath your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pain after yanking another pillow from the head of the bed but still no avail.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond. He just watched you, his gaze lingering on the frustration playing across your features. A soft scoff slipped from his lips, barely audible.

You let out a low groan as you shifted once more, desperate for some relief. The bed felt too warm, too cold, the sheets too tight, or too loose—nothing felt right. "Fuck this," you muttered, the words a bitter release, your head sinking into the pillow in exasperation.

After a few minutes of your boyfriend watching you suffer, he spoke up. "I have an idea. Statistics shows that you can sleep immediately after you exercise."

"Exercise?" your head rise a bit, looking at him questionably with the smirk that's planted in his face. "What exercise are you exactly talking about?"

Spencer smirked, perhaps enjoying the moment, but he didn't respond. He suddenly grasped your face with his palm, his thumb gliding over your cheek, his lips pressing softly but passionately against yours. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, a breathless "oh" escaped your lips as a wave of warmth swept through you. You immediately put your arms around his neck and drew him in, kissing him more deeply as you both got caught up in the intimacy and the outside world faded.

"Mhm—" you let out a moan as his tongue worked with yours. Your fingers made its way to his hair, curling it in pleasure and then to his topless back.

The kiss was full of love, closeness, and lust. Spencer's lips pressed against yours, a mix of urgency and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. As he deepened the kiss, his fingers began their slow, deliberate journey from your neck, trailing down to your stomach, exploring the soft curves of your body.

"May I?" Spencer asked softly as his hand rested on your shirt. You nodded in response and Spencer didn't hesitate to remove your t-shirt, leaving your bare chest exposed. He smiled at the sight before kissing you again.

"Spence.." you whispered. "Mhm—"

"Yes, baby?" he said in between kisses but you just moaned in response. "I need you to use your words, baby."

Your eyes pleaded, thighs shaking. "Need you, please.." you cried.

Spencer chuckled, bringing his fingers down to your white-laced panties before removing them slowly. His index finger rolled down to your sensitive clit, drawing figure of eights.

"Spencer— aah," you moaned, holding his upper arm tightly as you felt pleasure slowly waving towards you.

"So wet.. and sensitive, my love," he cooed.

As he slowly inserted a finger inside of you, you let out a gasp that echoed the shock and joy that filled your body. As the world around you seemed to melt away, your head sank back, giving in to the waves of pleasure that swept over you. Even though it was only a finger, it lit a fire inside of you. You spread your legs wider as he added another digit, pumping it in and out in a slow but steady pace. He held you tightly, your head resting on his other arm as he finger fucked you.

After a few more, Spencer's pace speeded up, hitting that spongy spot that made your back arch. "Aah— Spence—Fuck! Yes, yes, yes—" you chanted his name like a damn saint as you started to see stars when you closed your eyes.

"You like that, yeah?"

"Yes, Spen— aah!"

As he pumped in deeper, his lips catched yours. You kissed him back with full force while moaning in between kisses. The pleasure was overflowing.. and so was you.

Your core ached and clenched on Spencer's slenders. A familiar feeling coiled up your lower stomach, causing you to fully shot your eyes down and moan like crazy. Your legs shaked as his pace was getting harsher.

"I'm close," you ached.

"It's alright, baby," Spencer smiled as he purposely hit his palm on your clit. "I'm here, mhm? Cum on my fingers. Can you do that for me?"

After a few more, you came. His fingers were stained with your juices. You panted like a crazy madman as your legs collapsed.

Spencer pulled his fingers out and focused his eyes on you. Smiling, he kissed you again but this time, passionately.

"Remind me how that can make me fall asleep quickly?" you asked with a tired but satisfied sigh.

"Your body releases hormones like dopamine and oxytocin. They're responsible for making you feel less stressed, more comfortable, and can actually help you sleep. There's a saying, "It's the only sleeping pill with no side effects."

Spencer pulled the comforter up and tucked you in, smiling. "Thanks, Spence," you whispered as you kissed him on his cheek.

"Anytime, princess," he replied before the two of you dozed off, hugging each other tightly.

The next few days, you started to use this excuse on Spencer to get that pleasure that you want.

[graveyardcuddles]

Nectar - Astarion x Pregnant Fem!Reader nsfw One-Shot

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Astarion makes love to his pregnant wife in the sun. That's it, that's the plot.

(also my first time attempting smut).

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, pregnant reader, pregnancy kink, pregnancy sex, breeding kink, oral sex (fem receiving), PiV sex, praise kink, body worship, super light teasing, extremely soft astarion, fluff, ooey-gooey lovey-dovey porn. also vampires can purr now bc I say so.

Word count: ~ 2500

The sweet smell of sun-warmed grass tickles your nose as you stir from your half-sleep. The leaves of the tree you were resting under rustled in the breeze, shimmering filtered sunlight over your resting spot. The warmth of the day had lulled you into a deep state of relaxation, the background melody of birds singing and insects buzzing almost hypnotic. Your upper half was comfortably shadded under the tree while your lower half was basking in the gentle sunlight. A thick blanket had been laid out underneath you, and a few throw pillows from inside had even been brought outside to maximize your comfort. Under your head, at your sides, a couple tucked under your hips and lower back. You needed all the comfort you could get now that you were in your seventh month of pregnancy. The novel you had been reading was now perched on your belly, forgotten about for now. Astarion, meanwhile, was resting in his favorite spot: between your legs.

His head lays at the apex of your thigh, nestled where it met your hip. His cool face was pressed against the swell of your belly - one arm snaked under a plush thigh. His other arm reaches up to cup the side of your belly. He's practically using you as a pillow, but you can't complain.

He had asked to cuddled up against you so sweetly - "May I, love? You're just so terribly soft, so lovely..." mumbled into your skin as he climbed into your lap like a cat.

You could hardly say "no" after that. His cold body provided a delightful contrast to the summer heat. A palm rests alongside the curve of your stomach, and the fingers of his other hand delicately run up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to dig ever-so-slightly into the abundance of your flesh. You feel one of his pointed ears pressed into the lower curve of your belly, listening to the lifesong coming from within you: The double heartbeats of his wife and baby.

You look down and see the curve of your belly rising and falling gently with your breath, his head tucked up just to the side of your bump. You reach down and pet his hair, fingers winding around his curls. You feel him smiling against you. His hands continue to roam up and down your legs, nose nuzzling into your stomach. One hand wanders down under the short heam of your sundress to gently grope the cheek of your ass. "Ah! Naughty..." You scold him. He responds only with a satisfied hum to your belly.

You can't help but indulge him like this, though. He couldn't get enough of your body ever since it started growing to accommodate your little one. It had stared as a point of pride that he had simply managed to get you pregnant at all. But the more you began to show, the more reverent his gaze and touch became.

"Only you could make the impossible possible like this, my love. You were always full of surprises," he'd say, hands exploring your new curves. "And I must say this is one of my favorites you've sprung on me thus far."

He's always touching you - keeping a hand on the small of your back as you brush your hair in the mirror or coming up behind you to wrap his arms under your belly. The moment any insecurities around your changing body are brought up, he strikes them down immediately.

"I forbid you to feel ashamed at how beautifully your body is growing, darling. That's our baby you're growing. You're stunning, my love. A vision."

Astarion was still ever himself as always, though. One morning, you had dragged your tired frame out of bed before him and started padding your way over to the closet when you heard a snort come from under his breath. You turned around to see him watching you from bed, hand pressed over his mouth and failing to contain his laughter. After shooting him a very confused look he managed to compose himself.

"Oh, my little love," he said almost apologetically. "You um," he cleared his throat and looked a bit nervous, and perhaps for the first time ever, lost for words. "You have a...a bit of a waddle to your step, darling," he said as diplomaticly as possible as he made his way over to you.

You were seriously contemplating throwing the nearest shoe at him when he quickly added, "And it's absolutely adorable," he presses a kiss to your forehead, soothing the fury that was quickly rising up in you.

A sudden kick elicits a groan from you, and you rub over the sore spot. Astarion shifts and lifts his head from your thigh, rolling on his stomach to splay his hands out over your belly. He stares up at you from between your legs. "Are you alright, my dear?" He asks while watching you carefully for any signs of more pain. You stretch lazily and smile at him. His concern for you tugs on your heartstrings.

"You're incredible." He held you and cooed sweet nothings in your ear as he wiped away the angry tears. "My little miracle maker, creating life from unlife." He kisses you until you stop sniffling.

"The sway of your step just shows how strong you are, my love. Strong enough to carry our precious little dhampir, my brilliant girl." Eventually, after a long massage session, all was forgiven.

"Hmm. Are you still comfortable, darling? We can always go back inside if you'd like." His fingers make cold soothing circles on your warm belly, and suddenly, the desire pooling between your legs feels unbearable.

"Yes, my heart. Just some kicking." He lifts your dress up and over the curve of your belly, exposing it to the sun. He traces the stretchmarks on your lower belly with his fingertip. The contrast of the sun's warmth on your sensitive skin and his cool fingers tracing over where your taut skin has stretched to grow and give and make way for your baby feels heavenly.

The sensation sends off unexpectedly strong sparks all over your body before you know it you're already breathy. "Ahhh- Astarion!" He smiles and presses kiss after kiss on your bump. You gasp softly, your desire overflowing quickly as you find yourself increasingly sensitive to his touch.

"Oh...No, I'm alright to stay out out here for now," you mumble to him, a bit breathless. "I'm enjoying the sun." He buries his face just under your swell, inhaling deeply where your thighs meet. "Good girl, let me take care of you."

He nuzzles his nose along the thin waistband of your underwear. You breathe deep as you feel him hold a kiss over the thin wet line forming over your panties. His open mouth teases you, lips and tongue prodding and tugging at sensitive puffy flesh. Both his hands come up to cup your ass and hold you to him as he kisses you impossibly deeper through your soaked panties. His hands run down your legs, catching on your ruined undergarments and pulling them down to discard them. He gently parts your thighs as he leans back to admire you.

"Beautiful," he mutters to himself like a prayer. "So beautiful..." He's staring down at you through hooded eyes, his pupils so blown out with just you can hardly see the red there anymore. That predatory vampiric gaze that would normally prelude a bite to your neck. Instead, he drinks you in every other way that he can. Touching, smelling, tasting you. He massages the heel of his palm over your puffy mons, drawing out long pleasured cries of his names. His hand comes down to cup your sex, playing with your pussy teasingly. The drawn-out lazy motions already have you crying out.

"Oh my sweet girl," he coos as he leans foreword, carefully hovering over you and gently kissing you. Grounding you. The hormones coursing through your body already have you panting and shaking. "Use your words. Tell me what you need." You catch your breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and grounding yourself in his scent. "You. Need you. Please, make me feel good."

He kisses you deeply before trailing kisses from your mouth down your neck. He moves to your chest, kissing over where your heart pounds against the skin. He gently cups your tender breast, aching badly these days. He nuzzles and kisses them delicately. Finally, he slows down over your bump again. He grabs you by your thighs and hooks them up on his shoulders. You look down at him and see his ruby eyes disappear under your belly. Not being able to see him added to your anticipation.

You gasp as you feel his cool, flat tongue give a long, lazy lick up your slit. It feels like pleasantly cool water refreshing your overheated core as he laps again and again, his pace excruciatingly slow. You try to control your breath and clutch at the blanket below you as he indulges in you, but your body is buzzing with euphoria. You attempt to buck your hips against his face despite the added weight on your pelvis. He wraps his forearms around your thighs and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply over your clit before resuming his meal, feasting even deeper.

He groans, relishing in your taste, as his head works up and down, over and over again - pressing the flat of his tongue over you with a little more pressure each time. You let out a high-pitched keen and felt your pussy spasm desperately around nothing. You were shocked at how close you already felt to the edge.

"Remember to breathe, darling." He mumbles cheekily, one hand coming up to rub up the side of your hip. Your hand finds his, and your fingers intertwine. He's decided you've had enough teasing, and you cry out again as he presses his mouth fully into you. His tongue slots into your aching pussy, nose buried in your clit and his brow rest gently against your swollen mons. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction as he nuzzles his nose and mouth into you, collecting your nectar. You try to control your breathing as you whine and moan and squeeze his hand as he holds you steady.

You can feel him grinding his pelvis into the ground, clearly needy for his own stimulation, but he remains focused solely on you. The pained groans from his throat suddenly evolve into deeper growls and then a rumbling from within his chest. He presses his tongue flat against you, dragging it along you again and again, so deliciously slow each time you try and escape from the feeling, but he holds you through the overstimulation. His grinding becomes more urgent. He suckles at your clit and you cry out a long strangled moan as your legs clamp down around his head, your inner thighs rubbing his sensitive ears.

Deep vampiric purrs resonate out from his chest and travel up his throat. You can feel the vibrations running from him to you, his pleasure spurring on your own. He pushes two fingers inside you and pumps them in and out rhythmically while sucking your clit in time. It's too much, and the only way you can maintain your breathing is keen and cry out each breath. Your cries feed his purring in a feedback loop, making them stronger and threatening to topple you over.

His fingers curl upwards inside you, and the combination of sensations finally does you in. Pulse after intense pulse rapidly throbs through your overstimulated pelvic muscles, contracting around Astarion's fingers as you ride it out. You wail as he continues to hold the suction over your clit as you cum, intensifying your orgasm. Jolts of ecstacy lance through your belly and spread out to the rest of your body in waves. Your head spins, your nipples tingle at the slightest friction from your dress, and when you close your eyes, you see bursts of color. The almost painfully intense throbbing in your core tappers out into fluttering pulses, a puddle of slick having pooled underneath you.

Your head lolls back and you gulp down air, legs shaking as Astarion gives you a few more licks for good measure. Once you ride out your orgasm he kisses you, checking on you to make sure you're not hurt. You nod through your post-orgasm haziness that you're alright. More than alright, really.

"Darling," Astarion groans as if he's in pain, palming at the tent in his pants. "Can I finish inside you? Please, I need to be inside you, love."

You smile and begin to move to your side, already supported by your many cushions. He guides you into position, laying on your side with a pillow under your belly. Your dress is fully pushed up, laying yourself bare before him. Astarion pulls out his cock and you feel the precum dripping on your thighs as he lifts your leg gently. He carefully lines himself up with your slick entrance and pushes himself in. He leans foreword and shudders but holds your leg steady, his other hand never leaving your belly.

He groans your name like a prayer, moving in short, fast thrusts as he quickly falls apart. He mutters incoherently in his bliss.

"Sweet girl, my sweet girl. So good to me, having my baby. My love, all mine."

He loses his pace, and his thrusts become choppy. His brows furrow together, and his fangs peak out from his upper lip as he lets go. He calls out your name as he cums, and you feel his release throbbing deep within you, drawing a few more spasms out of your sensitive pussy and making you both moan.

With the both of you now breathless he pulls out gently, cum leaking all over your thighs. He kisses your ankle as he gently lays your leg back down. Astarion moves to lay behind you and wraps his arms around your taut middle. He nestles in close, listening to your heartbeat slow down from your lovemaking. Your hand finds his, and you lace your fingers together again. As you begin to dift off into semi-consciousness, Astarion scoops you up effortlessly despite your pregnant frame. He smiles to himself, thinking he has the whole world in his arms.

"Let’s get you inside, my dear."

[callsigns-haze]

Meet and greet

Summary: Jake proudly introduces his daughter to the Dagger Squad in their unfinished San Diego home, where teasing and affection blend as they embrace her as part of their extended family.

Warning: Mild teasing, lighthearted banter, mentions of unfinished home construction, family bonding moments.

Word count: 1367 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as a one-shot of the little life universe

It was a warm, golden afternoon when you first stepped into the new house in San Diego. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a rich glow over everything it touched. The house itself was bathed in this soft light, a stark contrast to its cold, unfinished interior. The air outside still held a hint of autumn chill, but inside, the sun filtered through the uncovered windows, filling the empty rooms with a warmth that softened the raw edges of the place. The floor was bare, an expanse of concrete where future hardwood would eventually go. The walls were mostly drywall—some unfinished, others completely absent—revealing exposed beams and the skeletal structure of what would one day be your home. There were no countertops, no cabinetry, and aside from the few boxes scattered about, the place was still more of a construction zone than a liveable space.

But this was the first time you’d seen it. The first time you had walked through the front door with Ellie, who was four months old now, her tiny body resting in the crook of your arm. She stirred, her bright green eyes—Jake’s eyes—blinking sleepily in the dim light as she adjusted to the new surroundings. You cradled her closer, gently smoothing a lock of her fine blonde hair that had slipped out of place. She was curious but quiet, taking in the unfamiliar shapes and shadows around her, her small mouth slightly open in wonder.

“It's... a work in progress,” you said, your voice light but laced with amusement. You glanced over at Jake, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of your lips quirked into a smile.

Jake, standing a few steps behind you, shifted his weight with a sheepish grin. He rubbed the back of his neck in that familiar way he always did when he was trying to downplay something. “Yeah, it still needs some love. And, you know... counters. And walls.”

Your chuckle echoed faintly through the empty space. “More of a construction site than a house, Seresin,” you teased, shaking your head as you walked further into what was supposed to be the living room. The sunlight streamed in through the large windows on the far wall, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice softening as he moved closer, his hand resting at the small of your back. “But I wanted you to see it.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the top of Ellie’s head in a tender kiss, and she gurgled softly in response, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest. “This is where we’ll be someday, when it’s all done,” Jake continued, his voice full of quiet promise. “Our home.”

The words hung between you for a moment, and you could feel the weight of them—what they meant. It wasn’t just about the house, but the life you were building together. You leaned into him slightly, your eyes drifting over the exposed beams and unfinished drywall, imagining what it would be like when the house was complete. You could already see the living room filled with furniture, the sound of Ellie’s laughter filling the space as she learned to walk, as she grew up.

But for now, it was just the three of you in this shell of a house, with boxes piled in random corners and dust settling in the sunlight. And yet, there was a certain magic in it, a sense of potential waiting to be realized.

“And I figured it was about time the squad met their favourite little girl,” Jake added, his grin widening as he pulled back slightly to meet your gaze. There was a twinkle in his eye, a mischievous light that reminded you of the playful, cocky man you had fallen for, but now softened by the weight of fatherhood.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping before you could stop it. “Oh God, I can only imagine the teasing that's coming,” you said, shaking your head.

As if on cue, the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway reached your ears. You turned toward the front of the house just as several cars pulled up in quick succession. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and in they came—like a whirlwind. Rooster was the first through the door, his aviators still perched on his nose, even though the sun was beginning to set. He was followed by Phoenix, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, with Payback and Fanboy right behind her. Coyote lingered at the back, his easy grin already in place, knowing exactly what was about to unfold.

Phoenix was the first to speak, her eyes immediately landing on Ellie, who was still nestled against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. “Well, well, if it isn’t the famous Ellie Seresin!” she said, her voice laced with mock surprise as she crossed the room in a few quick strides. She reached Jake first, giving him a playful shove. “I still can’t believe Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin has a daughter. The world is officially upside down.”

Ellie blinked up at Phoenix, her big green eyes wide with curiosity, her little mouth forming a small ‘o’ as she tried to make sense of this new face. She kicked her legs slightly, the fabric of her tiny onesie bunching up around her chubby thighs.

“She’s got his eyes,” Rooster chimed in, coming up behind Phoenix, a grin already spreading across his face. “But thank God she doesn’t have his attitude.”

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes but clearly expecting the jab. “Can’t you just be nice for once?”

“Nope,” Phoenix said with a smirk, leaning down to coo at Ellie. “This is payback for every time you’ve called me slow or trash-talked me in the air.”

Fanboy and Payback joined in, their laughter filling the empty space. “Seriously, Jake,” Payback said, chuckling as Ellie let out a small yawn, “I thought you’d be a terrible influence on a kid. But look at her—she’s perfect.”

Jake, his face flushed with a mix of pride and exasperation, shook his head. “I must be doing something right, then.”

“Or maybe YN’s the one keeping you in line,” Coyote piped up from the back, his grin wide and knowing. He had always been the one to see through Jake’s bravado, the only one who truly understood how much fatherhood had softened him, how much Ellie had changed him.

As the squad continued their good-natured ribbing, each of them took turns getting closer to Ellie, their teasing gradually shifting into softer, more affectionate tones. Rooster ran a gentle finger along the back of her tiny hand, his expression uncharacteristically tender. Phoenix kept making little cooing noises that made Ellie blink and smile, her toothless grin brightening the entire room.

“I gotta say,” Phoenix said eventually, straightening up and crossing her arms as she looked between you and Jake, “I never thought I’d see the day when Jake Seresin would be this soft. But here we are.”

Jake, always one to play it cool, shrugged, though the smirk on his face was undeniable. “What can I say? She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“She sure does,” Rooster agreed, grinning. “But don’t think this means we’re going easy on you in the air.”

The banter carried on, with the squad teasing Jake mercilessly, but beneath it all, there was a palpable sense of admiration, even love. They might have been a bunch of rowdy aviators, but in this moment, they were family. And Ellie, despite being so small, was already the centre of it all.

Eventually, Ellie dozed off in your arms, her tiny fist clutching at the fabric of your shirt as her breathing deepened. The noise of the room faded into the background, and you leaned against one of the unfinished walls, watching as Jake stood in the middle of the squad, a proud father, surrounded by the people who had been through so much with him.

In that moment, the house—still raw, still unfinished—felt like home. Not because of the walls or the counters or the floors, but because of the people inside it.

If you'd like to be tagged let me know!

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made YN’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[ur-local-wizard]

I love the way you write baby, can you honour me with this prompt idea: Mattheo Riddle loses a Quidditch match against his biggest rival, and his anger boils over. Dragging his girlfriend into the locker room, he takes out his frustration on her in a heated, rough moment of intimacy. Afterward, he leaves her shaken to vent elsewhere, but when he returns, he finds her being comforted by his rival. Jealousy and fury take over as he drags her away, scolding her and accusing her of betrayal—though beneath his anger is a fear he’s not ready to admit: that he might’ve pushed her too far this time.

Losing Game

tysm for the request babes!! this was sooo creative! hope you enjoy, it was my first time writing angst 🤭

mattheo riddle x fem!reader, extremely toxic behavior, mentions of sex, characters are of age, i think that's it

w/c: 1106

masterlist

a/n: if there are any tags I missed, pls pls pls let me know!! also, I wasn't sure if i should label it nsfw in my masterlist or not, so if you think it should be tell me and I'll change it!

Angry sex with Mattheo was something you were used to, especially after he lost a quidditch game. Everyone knew he had a temper, and even as his girlfriend, you were not immune to it. But he’s never been so hurtful. Not like this. 

The physical part of it was good, as per usual, but his words struck a deeper chord than normal. The names he called you, the blatant disregard for your feelings, the way his touch felt oppressive instead of loving – it was strange, and honestly overwhelming. 

So that’s how you got here, curled up in the fetal position just outside the quidditch locker room. You barely noticed the muffled sound of footsteps approaching you on the grass. Blinking back more tears, you look up, not expecting to see the Gryffindor Cormac McLaggen of all people. He was one of many on the long list of people Mattheo hated most, and you knew that if your boyfriend saw him of all people in his current tempered state, someone would end up in the hospital wing. 

“You okay?” Cormac asked, crouching in front of you. His tone was softer than you would expect, laced with nothing short of concern and pity. He reached out, and you flinched as his hand brushed your arm. “You’re freezing. Come, let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to contract hypothermia.” 

The warmth of his hand sent a wave of guilt through you, and the combination of your confusion and his touch made you flinch away. He’s right – it’s so cold your fingers are going numb. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your emotions, your exhaustion, or the sheer cold, but you felt your defenses crumble, allowing him to pull you up and off the ground.

Then the locker room door opened. 

Out walked Mattheo, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His hair was disheveled, his jaw set like stone. His gaze flicked between you and Cormac, his eyes burning with fury. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” He snapped, his voice low and full of nothing but rage and resentment. You opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his side, effectively cutting you off. Your stomach churned, and the emotions swirling inside your gut made you want to puke. 

“You think this is okay?” He scolded you, his gaze narrowing into a glare. “The hell are you doing with this piece of shit?” He motioned to Cormac, scoffing. “And you, what are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

“Mattheo, stop-” Your voice trembled as you began to talk, but the bitter laugh that escaped his lips cut you off. 

  “Don’t even try to explain,” he sneered, his grip so tightening so much it may leave a bruise. His expression was still angry, but something seemed off. Beneath the anger in his eyes, you saw a flicker of something else – something raw. Afraid, maybe. “I leave for five fucking minutes and come back to find you cozying up with Cormac fucking McLaggen.” 

His words hit harder than expected, making the nausea in your stomach only grow stronger. “You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice quiet but filled with hurt. You pressed your lips together and fought the urge to cry again. 

“Ridiculous? You don’t get to decide that after this little stunt you just pulled.” 

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest, his expression solemn. “Maybe if you treated her better and paid attention to her obvious distress, she wouldn’t be crying out here in the cold,” he retorted. 

The room seemed to freeze at his words. Mattheo’s head snapped toward Cormac, his eyes dark and burning. The tension in the air was suffocating, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mattheo hissed.

“I know enough,” Cormac shot back, unwavering. “I know she shouldn’t be out here like this. She could get sick!”  

Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth could grind together into dust. For a moment, it looked like he was going to punch Cormac – he certainly wanted to – and the suspense made you even dizzier than before. But instead, he turned his glare back to you. “Get up. Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, and you could tell by the tone of his voice it was more of an ultimatum. Stay here, and you would lose him. 

You hesitated, jaw opening and closing, unsure what to say. You didn’t want to fight. Not again. Not when your body already ached from more than just the physicality of what had just conspired in the locker room. So, even after all the hurt he’s caused, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. He just looked so betrayed, so afraid. 

“Okay,” you conceded, voice barely a whisper. Cormac scoffed, but you didn’t dare look his way as your boyfriend grabbed your wrist again and led you away, his footsteps crushing the grass beneath his feet. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm – as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear. 

The journey was silent as he dragged you to an empty corridor. The moment the two of you were alone, he spun to face you, his chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said. 

“Do what?” You asked, brows furrowing.

His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Sitting with him. Letting him touch you. Letting him look at you like – like that.”

You stared at him, disbelief bubbling up past the lingering hurt. “Mattheo, do you even hear yourself? I was sitting there because of you. Because of what you did.”

He looked shocked, but that quickly faded as he realized what you were talking about. He lowered his eyes to the ground, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed his shame. He looked like he wanted to argue, to push back like he always did in situations like this, but something in his expression told you he knew he would finally lose you if he did. For the first time, he looked unsure. 

“Do you even care that you hurt me?” You asked, voice softer now, but still full of lingering hurt. In response, his whole body tensed. A long silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, barely above a whisper, so low you almost missed it, he muttered, “I do.”

It wasn’t an apology – not yet. But you knew it was as close as you were going to get for now. 

Ty again for this request!! I had sm fun writing it! Sorry it took me so long to write, life and school is insane rn

taglist: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[hoernypie]

tags: established relationship, having a child, breastfeeding k!nk

You were lying in your bed when the sound of a creaking door woke you up. Slowly you opened your eyes as the smell of hot black tea filled the air. "Good afternoon, grumpy princess," Suguru said while placing a cup of tea on the nightstand table. "Come on, it's almost 3 pm. You can't sleep for the whole day, y'know?" Suguru sat beside your side, stroking your hair. You huffed while rubbing your eyes open, "Our peanut is with Uncle Satoru, so we have some time to ourselves," he said before helping you to get up. "Suguru…" you whined as he pulled you out of the warm silk sheets.

Groaning slightly, you allowed Suguru to lead you to the bathroom. The warm glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a comforting light across the cold tiles. He turned on the faucet and the sound of running water filled the room. "Let's get you freshened up," he suggested, handing you a soft, plush robe. Despite your initial protest, the warmth of the robe was too tempting to resist, and you slipped into it, letting the fabric envelop you like a gentle hug. Suguru waited patiently outside, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he paced, sipping his own tea. Inside, you splashed cold water on your face, the shock jolting you into full wakefulness. As you dabbed your face with a towel, you heard the muffled sound of laughter, likely from Suguru looking at the photos that Satoru sent. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you felt a renewed sense of energy. After a quick bathroom break, you stepped out, before getting back into the bed.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with admiration. Then, he tilted your chin up slightly, bringing your face even closer to his. Suguru's gaze filled with desire. "I look all swollen," you hummed, taking his hand and placing it on your breast, "They hurt so much, it's exhausting." Suguru left a delicate peck on your lips, "I know they hurt, but they also look very full," he said, his voice lowered into a huskier tone. "Is it uncomfortable?" he gently squeezed your breast before his thumb grazed over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. He noticed his touch making you shiver, and he couldn't but smirk at your reaction. "Or is it more pleasurable than painful?" he asked amused. His hands slowly roamed over your body, his touch gentle as his fingers traced patterns over your curves. He leaned in to kiss your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down to your shoulder. "You're so responsive to my touch, princess. It makes me want to touch you even more," he said softly, his hands moving under your shirt and gently squeezing your breast. You winced from the dull pain that filled your body. Suguru quickly noticed your expression of pain when your eyebrows furrowed, his touch becoming more gentle. "I'm sorry, love. Was that too much?" he asked, concern in his voice. "They're so sore… It's annoying," you huffed "They feel hard." He nodded in understanding, continuing to gently massage your breasts. "I can imagine. It must be uncomfortable," he said sympathetically, his touch soothing and light. "They are always so full and ready for our Peanut," he said, his hand caressing your swollen flesh. He leaned in to place a kiss on your shoulder, his warm lips lingering on your soft skin. "You made a huge sacrifice for our baby," he whispered, his words filled with admiration. You hissed from pain when he squeezed the hurting nipple. He quickly releases your nipple when he hears your hiss, his hand moving away. He watched at the damp spot on your shirt, "You're leaking," he chuckled softly. He gently pulled up your shirt, looking at the hardened nipples being wet. "Can I… Can I taste it?" he asked, his tone slightly hesitant. "So lewd," you clicked your tongue while rolling your eyes. Suguru couldn't help but chuckle at your comment, his eyes focused on your nipples. "Only because of you."

Without waiting for a response, he took one of your sore nipples into his mouth, suckling it gently. You let out a soft gasp, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure as he began to nurse at your sensitive breast. His tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the tender peak, and his teeth grazed against the taut skin. He applied just enough pressure to keep the sensation from crossing into discomfort, his movements deliberate and attentive to your reactions. Your breaths grew shallower, your chest rising and falling in sync with his suckling. Despite the soreness, a warmth spread through your body, a tingling sensation building up between your legs. Your hand found its way to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you held him closer, urging him to continue. Suguru's other hand slipped under the robe, cupping your other breast, his thumb flicking over the nipple in rhythm with his mouth. His touch grew more confident as he sensed your arousal, his fingers tweaking and rolling the sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure rushing through your body. You leaned back into the pillows, allowing yourself to fully relax, "Suguru, you're like a baby," you mewled when his other hand started kneading the sore flesh of your other breast. He pulled away from your breast with a satisfying pop. "I'm just a man who loves his wife and is eager to taste every part of her," he said before switching breasts.

Suguru's eyes sparkled, his warm, wet tongue tracing the outline of your nipple before taking it into his mouth again. He latched on, his suckling rhythm increasing in tempo as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak. You gasped, the sensation now a mix of pleasure and relief, the pain fading into the background as your body responded to his touch. He began to draw out the milk from your breast, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he drank. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, the gentle tug of your nipple, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, making you arch your back unconsciously. Your free hand moved down to the waistband of your pajama bottoms, your fingers brushing against your heated skin. Suguru's own desire was palpable, his breathing becoming more ragged as he drank from you, savoring every drop of the sweet milk that overfilled his mouth.

As Suguru's suckling grew more eager, milk began to dribble down his chin, leaving a wet trail. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips. His free hand slid down to cover yours, guiding it to the rhythm of his mouth as he continued to drink from your body. The fabric of your pajama bottoms grew wet with your juices, and your hips began to rock gently against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

Feeling your body responding to his touch, Suguru's eyes grew dark with passion. He pulled away from your breast, the nipple glistening with your milk and his saliva. He leaned back, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. "Look what you do to me, my love," he murmured, gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He kissed you deeply, sharing the taste of your milk as your hand moved more urgently between your legs. His thumb pressed firmly against your swollen clit as he slid two fingers into your wet heat. You moaned into the kiss, your hips moving in time with his slow, deliberate thrusts. Suguru's mouth traveled down to kiss your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. The sensations grew more intense with each passing second, the pleasure building until you couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled moan, you bucked against his hand, your body shuddering as a wave of orgasm filled your body. Your hand tightened around his, the intensity of your climax making your toes curl. He didn't stop, his movements becoming more vigorous as he felt your wetness coat his hand.

"Fuck, can you hear her speaking?" he said with a feral expression as his fingers kept going - filling the bedroom with wet squelching sounds. His fingers plunged in and out of you with an unrelenting pace, each stroke hitting just the right spot to make you quiver. "You're going to come again, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice a low growl. He leaned down to capture your nipple with his mouth once more, suckling hard as his thumb circled your clit. The dual sensations pushed you over the edge, and you cried out as another orgasm washed over you. Your body spasmed, juices gushing onto his hand and soaking the bed beneath you. Suguru pulled away, grinning wickedly as he watched your reaction. "So beautiful, my love," he said, licking his fingers. "I could do this all day."

[littlelamy]

i celebrate you, baby, i enjoy you

masterlist - 03

The soft glow of Christmas lights flickers around the room, their colors dancing across the walls in a kaleidoscope of red, green, and gold. The fire crackles in the corner, its warmth wrapping around you like a comforting hug, and the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon lingers in the air. Snow falls softly outside, blanketing the world in quiet magic, but inside, it's just you and Rafe, wrapped in a too-small Christmas blanket you’d been bickering over five minutes earlier.

"Seriously, Y/N, this blanket is, like, half my size. What kind of elf shit is this?" Rafe had groaned, tugging it away from you while you shrieked with laughter.

“It’s festive! Stop being a Grinch,” you’d countered, finally conceding and letting him steal more than his share. Now, though, he’s quiet—too quiet for Rafe.

You glance up at him, his face softened by the warm light. His blue eyes, usually so full of mischief, are locked on you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head slightly, a small, crooked grin pulling at his lips. "Nothing. You're just... fuckin’ gorgeous," he says, his tone laced with the kind of sincerity that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gives you away. "You’re such a sap,” you mutter, but he catches your chin between his fingers, tilting your face toward his.

"Yeah, well, I’m your sap, so deal with it," he shoots back, his grin widening before his lips find yours. The kiss is soft at first, tender in a way that makes your heart ache, but then it deepens, his hands slipping into your hair as if he’s afraid to let you go.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. “I love you,” you murmur, the words falling from your lips as easily as breathing.

Rafe's smile is soft, his lips parting as he murmurs, "I need you to know something—not just today, not just because it’s Christmas…I’ll love you every single day of my life.” His voice is thick with emotion, each word heavy with the depth of his feelings, leaving no room for doubt.

“Even when I steal all the covers?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“Even then,” he says, laughing softly before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Although, for the record, you’re the worst blanket thief in history.”

“It’s a skill,” you quip, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulls you closer.

“You’re so fuckin’ annoying,” he mutters, but his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “And perfect. And mine.”

“Mine, too,” you whisper back, your fingers trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw.

“Damn right,” he says, his tone suddenly more playful. “And don’t forget it, or I’ll write it in lights on the lawn or some shit. Maybe a giant inflatable Santa holding a sign that says ‘Property of Rafe Cameron.’”

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and making Rafe’s grin widen. “You’re ridiculous,” you manage between giggles.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he says smugly, and he’s not wrong.

The night continues like this—filled with laughter, kisses, and the occasional playful insult as the snow piles higher outside.

Outside, the world may be cold and quiet, but in here, wrapped in Rafe’s arms with Christmas lights twinkling around you, it feels like the warmest, safest place on earth.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[taojjang]

𐙚 snowed in with riize .ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day one! pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluff! warnings: snowstorm! so sweet and fluffy u might feel it in ur toes

note: this is basically a trailer for the second week of my advent calendar event! each member's part will soon be a mini oneshot, stay tuned wink wink

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

ಇ. spending a white night with your boyfriend

shotaro . . .

once you saw the white flurries falling from your window, you couldn't help but sigh. as much as you love the winter, it was quite convenient that it started snowing the day after your heater broke. though this posed as an inconvenience to you, shotaro was jumping at this opportunity to be your warmth.

"i'll come over and keep you warm!"

and of course, he kept his word. twenty minutes later, taro knocked at your front door in his pajamas. you laughed at the sight of your silly boyfriend and his huge bag full of blankets. the night was brutally frigid, but that was only another excuse for taro to cling to you all night. the cold weather couldn't cross your mind once while you dozed off in taro's arms.

eunseok . . .

"just for tonight! please, seok!" you begged.

it was finally snowing after the brutally scorching summer, but you couldn't enjoy it. you tend to get sick quite easily, and eunseok knew that all too well. to avoid having to take a week off of work to take care of you, he advised you to stay inside. even with all of your sulking and whining, he didn't break. after all, he knew of a better way to make your night.

your eyes lit up at the sight of the two cups on the kitchen counter. as a warmer alternative to enjoying this snowy night, eunseok made your favorite drink: hot chocolate (and of course he can't forget the marshmallows and whipped cream!). once you were cuddled up on the couch with your marshmallows and cocoa, you forgot all about the snow outside, focusing on nothing but the sweetest boyfriend you had beside you.

sungchan . . .

your spirits were a bit down after your friends canceled the picnic you'd planned for the past week. due to the sudden snow, your lakeside picnic was not gonna happen. so you tried your best to enjoy yourself; sitting ahead of the fireplace with a warm cup of tea and a book. but you couldn't shake off the disappointment.

noticing the sullen look on your face, sungchan sat beside you and took you into his arms. "what's the matter, princess?" you looked up at him with your dainty gaze, wanting to explain everything that caused your gloom. but the bliss of being in his arms and having all of his attention erased all of your negative thoughts within an instant. you smiled and placed a soft peck on his lips. "nothing, love. could we cuddle?"

wonbin . . .

everything felt so peaceful— sitting in front of the window beneath the covers with a jazzy melody ringing from the tv. the snow looked so beautiful, falling from the sky and coating the world in its petals. you could sit here forever. that was until the jazz was overshadowed by the loud banging on your front door.

you covered your mouth and pressed back the laugh that was at the base of your throat. "baby, what happened..?" wonbin stood at the doorway with his head down, covered from head to toe with snow. "it started snowing right when my shift ended and i didn't have a ride." you laughed and quickly dusted off all of the snow from his hair and jacket. to mend the frown on your baby's face, you took him inside to dry him off. he sat on your bed and looked up at you with stars in his eyes as you ruffled his hair dry with a towel.

seunghan . . .

snowy days were always your favorite days to stare out the window and space out. something about snow is so comforting and tranquilizing. but you couldn't even enjoy it when your stupid window kept fogging up. every few minutes you'd have to swipe your hand over the glass to clear the fog, dampening the cuffs of your sweater. it was irritating you, so seunghan knew he had to step in.

"what's wrong, angel?" seunghan asked, taking a seat beside you. "the stupid fog keeps covering the glass. i can't see the snow." seunghan laughed and lifted his finger toward the glass. he began tracing small lines and curves into the fog before leaning back and smiling at you. he drew the both of you in his signature shinchan style. "look, angel, it's us!" you laughed and cupped his face in your hands, leaving a long kiss on his lips. "you're the cutest, seunghan!"

sohee . . .

snow was a hard thing to enjoy. although it's soothing to watch the white petals fall from the sky and paint the ground white, it wasn't too fun to clean. you absolutely hate shoveling snow. it hurts your shoulders and it's so terribly painful doing strenuous work in the freezing cold weather. but sohee had a different way of cleaning up the snowy driveway.

"help me roll the snow!" sohee cheered.

instead of dragging the shovel across the pavement, he packed a basketball-sized ball of snow and began rolling it through the snow. you laughed at your boyfriend's childish approach to clearing the driveway. the two of you spent hours building a kingdom of mini snowmen, giving each of them special features and even names. though you hated snow, you couldn't deny how much fun you had watching sohee build his little snowmen with that huge smile on his face. but now there was only one problem left to solve: the huge snowmen blocking the driveway.

anton . . .

spring cleaning was the most tranquil part of the change in weather. you loved clearing out the clutter in your bedroom as you refresh from the cold winter to the fresh sun of spring. but this year, you had to finish it a bit earlier. you were moving apartments and had to ensure every crevice of your home was spotless or else you'd never hear the end of it from your landlord. but the cleaning process was everything but tranquil.

anton hated seeing you so stressed while the snow was coming down so prettily. all he wanted was to cuddle you while watching the snow fall from your window, but you were preoccupied with cleaning up the kitchen :( so when he helped you take out the trash, he cooked up this little plan for turning your mood around. you gasped feeling the impact of the cold snow hitting your back. you turn around to see anton staring back at you with his guilty grin. "you can't catch me!" he teased, turning around to run away from you. you laugh as he trips and falls straight onto his face into the snow. "what a loser.."

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (send an ask to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa

[mattmunch-hunty]

Alligator Tears

Synopsis. Matt messed up with Y/n

Pairing. Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Content. Heartbreak, angst. 

Song. Alligator Tears

Parts. 1/3 Part 2 

Matt never thought he would miss her.

He told himself he wouldn’t. He convinced himself that walking away from Y/n was the right thing to do—no strings, no complications. But the silence she left behind was deafening. No one understood him the way she did. No one listened to his ramblings about the stars, traced the lines of his hands like they held secrets, or looked at him with eyes so full of love it made his chest ache.

Yet, he pushed her away.

Now, standing outside her house in the cold night air, his fists clenched at his sides, he felt the weight of his own mistake crushing him. The light from her window spilled onto the porch, warm and golden, a stark contrast to the storm inside him.

He knocked.

The door creaked open, and there she was—small, soft, hesitant. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, red-rimmed and broken, tears staining his cheeks.

“Y/n…” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I—”

She didn’t say anything, just stood there in her oversized sweater, the same one he used to tease her about. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, the quiet pain he had caused.

“I messed up,” he admitted, voice raw. “I was scared. Of you, of how much you cared, of how much I—” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t know what to do with it. So, I left. And it was the worst mistake of my life.”

She still didn’t speak, but she didn’t close the door either. That had to mean something.

“Please,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve it, but—can you ever forgive me?”

Y/n’s lips parted, her breath shaky. Her heart screamed to let him in, to hold him like she used to, to wipe away his tears. But the wounds he left were slow to heal.

“Come inside,” she finally murmured.

Matt’s chest caved with relief. He stepped in, and the warmth of her home, of her presence, wrapped around him.

Maybe forgiveness wouldn’t come all at once. Maybe it would take time.

But for the first time in months, he had hope.

[sophsbookstore]

First Family Snow Day

Auston Matthews x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word count: 1408

Hockey Masterlist

It was one of those perfect winter mornings in Toronto. The kind where the snowflakes fell gently from the sky, coating the ground with a soft, white blanket. Inside your cozy home, the fire crackled in the hearth, the warmth contrasting beautifully with the chill outside. You were sipping your coffee, glancing at your daughter Chloe as she giggled from her playpen, shaking a rattle in her little hands.

Auston was in the kitchen, prepping breakfast. His usual morning routine was filled with an odd mix of focus and absent-mindedness. You loved it.

“Hey, babe,” you called out to him, eyes flicking to Chloe as she started to crawl toward you.

“Mhm?” Auston answered, stirring something in the pan. He was still in his sweatpants, hair messy as usual, but you found it endearing.

You set down your mug and walked over to Chloe, scooping her up in your arms as she made little baby noises, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. “What do you think about taking Chloe out in the snow for the first time?” you suggested, a smile tugging at your lips.

Auston froze, his spatula halting mid-air. “Wait… what?”

You chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. “I mean, she’s never played in the snow before. And it’s a perfect day for it—look how much is falling! We can bundle her up in her snowsuit and go make snow angels or something.”

“Uh… I don’t know.” Auston’s tone was cautious, his brow furrowing slightly. “She’s still so little, what if she gets cold? Or worse, what if she eats the snow?”

You laughed at the image of Chloe scooping up a handful of snow and sticking it in her mouth. “She’s not going to eat the snow, Auston.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “But what if she does?”

“You’re such a worrywart,” you teased, but you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. Auston was, in every sense of the word, a protective father. And you loved him for it. “She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure she’s warm, and we’ll be outside for like… twenty minutes, tops. It’ll be cute. Trust me.”

Auston glanced at Chloe, who was now trying to grab at his pant leg, her tiny hands reaching up to him. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure she’s ready for the snow… or the cold. It’s pretty cold out there.”

You laughed again and pulled him into a playful hug from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re such a softie. She’s tougher than you think. Besides, I know how much you love snow. I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun as she will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and glanced out the window. He looked back at you with a defeated look. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m staying with her the whole time. No way I’m letting her out of my sight.”

“Deal,” you agreed, laughing as you let go of him. “You’ll have a blast. I promise.”

Auston stood by the door, holding a bundled-up Chloe in his arms like she was a fragile porcelain doll. The snowsuit you’d found for her was absurdly puffy, making her look like a tiny marshmallow. Auston’s jacket was zipped up to his chin, and he wore a face that screamed “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You giggled at the sight of him, already in full protective dad mode. “You look like you’re about to go play goalie, not take Chloe out in the snow.”

“Hey, I’m just being careful,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the front yard. “It’s really cold out here.”

You slipped your boots on and grabbed your own coat. “It’s not that bad. You should feel it when we’re actually out on the rink. This is nothing.”

You opened the door and a gust of cold air hit your face, but you didn’t mind. Chloe blinked at the world outside with wide, curious eyes. Auston took one careful step onto the porch, shifting Chloe slightly as if she might fall apart at any second.

You laughed, walking past him. “Come on, Auston, you’re acting like you’ve never been outside in the snow before.”

He followed you hesitantly, keeping Chloe close. “I’ve been outside in the snow. But she hasn’t. And she’s my baby. I need to protect her.”

You bent down and scooped up some snow, forming a tiny snowball in your hand. “Watch this.” With a quick motion, you tossed the snowball gently at Auston’s chest, hitting him with a soft “thud.”

“Hey!” he grinned, clearly more relaxed. “That was supposed to be for Chloe!”

You giggled. “She’s not old enough to throw snowballs yet, but I’m sure she’ll be able to defend herself soon enough.”

Auston laughed, the tension lifting off his shoulders. He lowered Chloe carefully to the ground, keeping one hand on her at all times. Chloe let out a surprised giggle, her tiny hands reaching out to touch the snow for the first time.

“Oh my God, she’s so cute,” Auston said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

You couldn’t help but agree. Chloe, in her puffy snowsuit, was the epitome of adorable as she bent down and clumsily touched the snow, her little face scrunching up as she felt the cold for the first time.

She looked at both of you like she was waiting for some sort of approval, and then, out of nowhere, she let out a big squeal of laughter.

Auston’s face lit up, and you watched as he knelt down beside her, guiding her hand to make a tiny snowball. “Here, Chlo, you just do this…” he said, showing her how to pack the snow.

You caught the moment on your phone, the soft snowflakes drifting down around them as Auston patiently demonstrated the art of snowball-making to a one-year-old. “She’s going to be a hockey player for sure,” you teased, your heart swelling at the sight of them.

Auston shot you a look. “Not if she decides to play in the NHL and do ballet. She’s going to be multi-talented.”

You laughed. “That’s a lot of pressure for a one-year-old.”

“Well, I’m just saying,” Auston smirked, standing up and brushing the snow off his pants, “she’s got my genes. She’s going to be amazing.”

“Your genes?” you snorted. “Right. The genes that had you tripping over your own feet at eight years old?”

Auston glared at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I was learning. I wasn’t tripping. I was… testing gravity.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you teased. “I’m sure gravity wasn’t testing you right back.”

Auston laughed, but his focus quickly shifted back to Chloe, who had, of course, tried to eat the snow.

“No, no, sweetie,” he said gently, pulling the snow out of her mouth with a wince. “Yucky. You don’t eat that.”

You chuckled. “See? You were worried about that.”

“I knew it was going to happen,” Auston replied, shaking his head as Chloe giggled, clearly amused by her father’s frantic concern.

After a few more moments of playing in the snow, Chloe started to shiver slightly, and you quickly scooped her up, heading back inside. Auston followed you, his expression still a little worried.

“Do you think she’s okay?” he asked, reaching to take Chloe from your arms as you kicked off your boots.

“She’s fine, Auston. She had a blast out there. We’re going to warm her up with some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate, huh?” he grinned. “I’ll admit, that sounds pretty good right now.”

You put Chloe down on the couch and wrapped her in a cozy blanket. “I’ve got marshmallows, too. The real treat.”

“Now we’re talking.” Auston plopped down next to you, pulling Chloe into his lap and kissing the top of her head. “Maybe snow days aren’t so bad after all.”

You smiled, watching him and Chloe together, the snow still falling softly outside. “Yeah, maybe not. But you’re still the softest dad I know.”

He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I’m tough. I just care about my baby.”

“I know, Auston,” you grinned. “And she’s lucky to have you.”

And as you sat there with your little family, sipping your hot chocolate and watching the snowfall, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living the sweetest moments of your life.

[yoonjoongles]

The Sweater - One

-> Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Y/n

-> Summary: In the midst of a storm, Y/n and Seungcheol find warmth and comfort in each other's arms. As they cuddle, Y/n comes to the realisation that with Seungcheol by her side, no storm—literal or metaphorical—can shake the foundation of their relationship.

-> Word count: 732

-> Author's note: Hey guys, this is the first time I'm posting something for others to read so I'm sorry if it's not that good, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to writing. English is also not my first language so excuse me if there are any grammar errors or mistakes. I hope anyone who reads it likes it and I would appreciate some feedback and/or constructive criticism. Thank you :)

read on ao3

A storm raged outside, the wind howling and the rain harshly lashing against the floor to ceiling windows of Seungcheol's cozy apartment. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, starkly contrasting the chaos happening beyond the apartment's walls. Seungcheol and Y/n sat on the dark blue couch placed in the centre of the living room, wrapped in a big, knitted blanket, watching a movie. Or at least, trying to — Y/n was finding it hard to focus on what was happening in the tv in front of her, her thoughts drifting to the comforting presence of the person beside her.

Lightning flashed once more, briefly illuminating the room and Y/n shivered, not from the cold but from the intensity of the storm that had already been going on for a few hours. She turned her head towards Seungcheol, who was too engrossed in the film to even pay attention to whatever may be happening outside, his arm lightly but comfortingly resting around her shoulders. Seeing how focused he was, she hesitated for a moment, feeling somewhat shy despite their recent transition from friends to something more romantic.

"Cheollie," she said softly, after taking a deep breath, her voice being almost drowned out by a particularly loud clap of thunder.

He immediately turned to her, concern flashing in his eyes and worry etched on his face. "Yeah? What happened?"

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks flushing under his gaze. "Can I borrow one of your sweaters? Maybe the one you wore yesterday?"

Her request made Seungcheol blink, slightly puzzled but not unwilling. "Of course you can, love. But why do you want that one? Not that it got dirty yesterday, but would you not rather wear a washed one?"

Y/n shyly ducked her head, feeling a bit silly for a moment before gathering enough courage to explain. "It smells like you. It's...comforting."

Seungcheol's expression finally softened into a tender and loving smile, dimples on full display. "I'd be happy to go get it for you." He said before he stood and walked in the direction of his bedroom, returning just a few moments later with the pink sweater she had asked for. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, sending a tingle up her arm.

"Here you go," he uttered, before sitting back down on the couch beside her. "You know, you're welcome to anything of mine, anytime. You don't have to be nervous about asking me for something."

Y/n pulled the sweatshirt over her head, being immediately enveloped in the scent of Seungcheol's cologne mixed with something so uniquely him that it made her feel warm inside and she could swear she felt her heart swell with love and admiration for the man beside her. She sighed contentedly before snuggling back into his side. "Thank you, Cheol. You don't know how much better this makes me feel."

He pulled her close once more, this time wrapping both arms around her to cuddle more comfortably. "I'm glad, love. I kind of like seeing you wearing my clothes you know? They suit you." He told her, admiring the way his sweater fell on her, the hem reaching her thighs that were covered with a pair of thick sweatpants.

His admission made her laugh softly, the sound being once again almost lost in a loud rumble of thunder but still able to reach his ears and making his expression soften even more, a fond look making its way to his eyes. "Do you really?" She asked him quietly.

"Yeah...I really, really do," he affirmed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "You can keep it, if you want it."

At this Y/n looked up at him, letting him see how her eyes sparkled even in the dim lighting of the room. "I think I might just do that."

They settled back into a comfortable silence, the movie playing on tv now being mostly ignored, as the two basked in each other's embrace. Wrapped in her lover's sweater, Y/n felt a sense of security and happiness she hadn't felt in a long time and in that moment, she was sure that no matter what, no storm would ever be able to destroy the life they were just starting to build together. And with Seungcheol by her side, she knew that they would be able to overcome whatever challenges may head their way, as long as they have each other.

All Rights Reserved © yoonjoongles // do not copy or modify my work in any way.

[starsjulia]

Święta with You // alexia putellas

a/n : happy first of december, i’m sad and wanted to kinda write about my life (even though i am going back to poland for Christmas)

warnings : tiny bit of homophobic families, then fluff, and also the readers polish

Christmas had always been your favorite time of year. Back in Poland, the holiday season meant tradition, chaos, and, above all, family. You would spend hours helping your babcia in the kitchen, rolling dough for pierogi and making barszcz with beets that stained your hands. The cold air outside would carry the sound of carolers, and even amidst family arguments, the festive spirit was undeniable.

But this year was different. For the first time, you were far from home, celebrating Christmas in Spain with Alexia and her family. You loved her with every fiber of your being, but a part of you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest.

——————

Alexia found you sitting by the window that morning, staring out at the rolling hills. The sunlight was soft, but the festive warmth inside the house felt far away. She approached you quietly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Estás bien, amor?” she asked softly.

You looked up and forced a smile. “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

Alexia crouched beside you, studying your face. “Tell me,” she urged, switching to English.

You hesitated, unsure if you could even put the feelings into words. “I just… I miss it,” you said finally. “Christmas back home. The traditions, the snow, the way my family used to come together—even if we argued the rest of the year.”

Alexia frowned, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, cariño. I know how it’s hard being away. But… is there something else? You seem… sadder than usual.”

A lump formed in your throat as you nodded. “They didn’t invite me, Alexia. My family. They didn’t invite me for Christmas. I know they don’t really accept us yet, but I thought, for one day, they might…”

Alexia’s eyes filled with sympathy as she pulled you into her arms. “Oh, mi amor,” she whispered, holding you tightly. “Lo siento. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned into her, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I keep thinking about how, even when they fought, Christmas was the one time they made it work. But now, because of who I love, I don’t even get that. It’s like… I don’t exist to them anymore, I didn’t do anything wrong, I just love, I don’t know.”

Alexia didn’t say anything right away. She just held you, her hands running soothingly up and down your back. After a moment, she pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Listen, mi amor,” she said, her voice firm but full of love. “I know it hurts, and I hate that they’re making you feel this way. But you’re not alone. Aquí, con mi familia, tienes un hogar. You have a home here—with me. And we’ll make this Christmas beautiful, I promise.”

Her words, so steady and full of conviction, brought a fresh wave of tears. But this time, they weren’t entirely sad. You nodded, leaning your forehead against hers. “Thank you, Alexia. For everything.”

“Siempre,” she whispered. “Always.”

——————

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of preparations. Alexia insisted that you show her every detail of your transitions, from cooking the dishes to setting the table.

“What’s this one called again?” she asked, gesturing to the dough you were rolling out.

“Pierogi,” you said, smiling as you worked. “This one will have potatoes and cheese, and this one—” you pointed to another batch—“will be sweet, with fruit.”

She furrowed her brow in concentration as you showed her how to fold the edges. “So, I pinch here?”

“Close,” you said, reaching over to guide her hands. “Like this.”

Alexia glanced at you, her lips twitching into a small smile. “If I learn to make these, will you marry me sooner?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’ve already proposed, remember? No need to bribe me with pierogi.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “But what if I want to make you fall in love with me all over again?”

You laughed, your chest warming despite the lingering sadness. “Then you’re off to a good start.”

—————

When the table was finally set, you carefully placed the opłatek wafers in the center. Alexia’s family gathered around, curious but respectful as you explained the tradition in halting Spanish.

“Es para compartir bendiciones, blessings,” you said, fumbling over the words. Alexia stepped in to help translate, her hand brushing yours as she spoke.

One by one, her family broke pieces of the wafer with you, sharing kind words and wishes for the year ahead. When it was Alexia’s turn, she took a piece from your hand, her dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Wszystkiego najlepszego na święta,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alexia smiled, her accent clumsy but endearing as she repeated the words. “Wszystkiego… najlepszego… na święta.”

You laughed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Perfect.”

“Did I say it right?” she asked, her expression earnest.

“Close enough,” you teased, wiping your eyes.

—————

Later that evening, after dinner and a few christmas songs, Alexia pulled you aside.

“I have something for you,” she said, leading you to the couch. She handed you a carefully wrapped box, her face glowing with anticipation.

You opened it slowly, revealing a scrapbook. On the cover was your name, written in both the Polish and Spanish version.

Inside, the pages were filled with photos and mementos Alexia had collected throughout your relationship. There were pictures from your first date, tickets from your trip to Poland, and pressed flowers from the bouquet she’d given you when she proposed. But what caught your breath was the final page—a letter, written in her slightly messy Polish handwriting.

“I know I didn’t get everything right,” she said nervously. “I had help from a translation app and your friends, but…”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you read the words. It was a promise to always honor your traditions, to build a life together filled with love and understanding.

“Alexia…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

She smiled softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I wanted you to know that even if your family doesn’t see you, I do. And I always will.”

You threw your arms around her, holding her as tightly as you could. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

“Te amo más,” she replied, her voice steady.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of her love and the home you were building together, you realized that while some wounds might take time to heal, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ sleepy boyfriend!yoongi⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

boyfriend / uni au

fluff + implied smut

//

the campus is asleep.

fuck.

who wakes up this early anyway? it's 6AM and yoongi is half asleep, and irritated as fuck at the gust of wind that sends him shivers.

but he can't help but feel warmth begin to spread from his chest as he lays his eyes on you.

from a slight distance, he watches as the chill in the air makes your nose tingle. you clutch the litter tongs in one hand and a trash bag in the other and you’re mid-yawn when you feel familiar hands wrap around your body.

at first you jolt from the sudden touch, but the heat of his breath against your neck and the sound of his sleepy voice gives it all away.

“morning.”

you turn your head, your cheek meeting his lips.

he kisses them sweetly before letting you go.

you stand in front of him and take it all in—his sleepy glory.

yoongi inhales deeply with his eyes shut. hair is messy, hoodie pulled tight over his head. he blinks at you like he might still be half-asleep.

actually

he really is half asleep.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, eyes wide. you reach for his flushed cheeks and squish them. partly to warm his face and partly because he’s so cute all puffy. “you said you would never wake up before 10AM on a saturday. that it’s a sin.”

he shrugs, stepping closer. without warning, he leans in and presses a lazy kiss to your lips, his mouth warm despite the cold air.

“you were all pissed last night,” he mumbles, voice low and gravelly.

“no, i wasn’t—"

he scoffs at you. “you were pissed about how we don’t spend enough time together and how i never do the shit you like. so...” he gestures vaguely around you. “you like this? picking up trash at 6AM on a saturday?”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“i do.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

… but there’s the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“figured.”

without another word, he takes the tongs from your hand and starts picking up litter. you watch, stunned for a moment, before quickly falling in step behind him.

he moves lazily, plucking up wrappers and cups with minimal effort, while you practically bounce behind him, talking about everything and nothing.

“you know,” you say, pointing to a crumpled soda can, “this is so much better with you here.”

he hums noncommittally, picking up the can.

“and,” you continue, “i feel like this might actually be good for you. you’re always inside. fresh air is important. if it’s mandatory for little kids to have at outside time, what about adults? you’re so pale sometimes, i feel like the only light you get is from your pc screen. with winter coming—”

yoongi grabs another piece of trash, not even glancing your way, but his free hand slips into yours.

like second nature, your fingers curl together.

soon enough, you’re not even picking up trash anymore—just pointing things out while yoongi handles it. he doesn’t complain, though he does give you a flat look every now and then when you get too bossy. he mumbles something about how it’s not what you’re telling him to do, it’s how you’re telling him to do it. you snicker apologies and he accepts them rather quickly. truth is, he knows you’re just excited. he is too.. he likes seeing your eyes so bright even if it’s at 6AM on a saturday.

when the bag is finally full, and the volunteer session wraps up, you beam at him;

“let’s have breakfast together! we’ve never had breakfast in the morning together. we do brunch sometimes but this is gonna be our first real breakfast! oh my god, lovie! i’m so—"

he groans, rubbing the back of his neck.

“love, how about we go back to sleep?”

“no!” you protest. “breakfast is important! a-and you’re already awake.. please don’t take this away from me—”

before you can keep yapping, yoongi steps forward, leans in, and kisses you firmly.

it’s quick, but enough to shut you up completely.

he pulls back, smirking. “okay.”

“really?”

“really.”

“great. I know this really good pancake place—”

“love?”

“mhm?”

“i’m more of a breakfast-in-bed type of guy.”

you narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks warm despite the cold.

“we can make pancakes at your place then.”

he tilts his head and looks at you.

up and down.

then, he licks his lips.

“with lots of whipped cream?”

your shoulders drop and you let go of his hand.

crossing your arms, you huff at him.

“you’re impossible.”

“so are you,” he says simply before nodding towards the direction of his place. “come on, love. let’s go back to bed. you can wake me up like how i like to be woken up and i’ll eat you for breakfast.”

[cailinsblog]

Caring for You | macklin Celebrini

Macklin celebrini x reader

So for some reason it won’t let me put any of my new story’s to my masterlist so I’m sorry about that🙏🏻🙏🏻

Y/N sniffled miserably from her spot on the couch, bundled up in a mountain of blankets. A box of tissues sat beside her, along with an untouched cup of tea Macklin had made before he left for practice. She felt like a total mess—her nose was red, her throat was sore, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

It had started with a tickle in her throat a couple of days ago, but she’d brushed it off. Now, it was a full-blown cold, and all she wanted was to sleep it off and hope Macklin wouldn’t fuss too much when he got home.

But, of course, Macklin did fuss.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Y/N from her groggy haze. Macklin stepped inside, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder and his cheeks still pink from the cold outside. His smile immediately turned into a look of concern when he saw her curled up on the couch, looking pale and tired.

“Y/N?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and rushing over to her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

He crouched down beside her, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up! Why didn’t you call me? You should’ve told me you were feeling this bad!”

“It’s just a cold, Mack,” she said, offering a weak smile. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated, his brows knitting together. “You’re never a bother, Y/N. I don’t care if I’m on the ice or on the moon—you call me if you need anything, okay?”

Before she could protest, Macklin stood up, determination in his eyes. “Alright, first things first. You’re staying right here. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Mack, you really don’t have to—”

“I do have to,” he insisted, already heading toward the kitchen. “You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not letting you suffer alone.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile despite how awful she felt. Macklin was always so thoughtful, and she knew there was no stopping him when he got into caretaker mode.

He returned a few minutes later with a tray holding a fresh cup of tea, a bowl of soup he’d quickly heated up, and a cold compress. “Here we go,” he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Tea to soothe your throat, soup to help you feel better, and this,”—he gently placed the compress on her forehead—“to bring down your fever.”

Y/N reached for the tea, but Macklin beat her to it, carefully holding the cup to her lips. “Let me,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to spill it on yourself.”

She took a small sip, the warmth soothing her scratchy throat. “You’re too good to me, Mack,” she murmured.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, sitting down beside her and tucking the blankets more snugly around her.

The rest of the afternoon passed with Macklin fussing over her like a mother hen. He kept her hydrated, made sure she took her medicine, and even queued up her favorite rom-coms to distract her. At one point, he disappeared into the bedroom and came back wearing his favorite oversized hoodie—the one she always stole.

“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing weakly.

“Sacrificing my hoodie to the cause,” he said dramatically, pulling it off and helping her into it. “This is scientifically proven to make you feel better.”

“You’re such a dork,” she said, her voice thick with affection.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he replied, kissing her temple.

As the evening wore on, Y/N started to feel a little better, thanks to Macklin’s TLC. He sat beside her on the couch, her head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked her hair.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said softly, looking up at him.

Macklin shook his head, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Y/N, I’ll always take care of you. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you, Mack.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you more.”

The two of them stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. And while Y/N still had a ways to go before she was fully recovered, she knew she’d never felt more cared for or loved in her life.