#look at my brilliant idiot

[daemon-in-my-head]

We're so fucking back. Due to modding circumstances he's a kinda 'tit's out' guy now (personally I'm loving that. For him ofc)

And for anyone curious here's the reason I feel absolutely no shame torturing him the way I do;

Brother you're a fucking sorcerer; how can you fail an arcana check. It's in your blood. You have absolutely 0 excuse for failing this. This is how Bhaal must've felt. I understand him.

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

I now need Buddie undercover/fake dating playing poker fics pls & ty! 🙏

[humanityinahandbag]

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[santaasi]

obviously blind

pairing: james potter x bsf!fem!reader

summary: for years, james potter thought he was chasing love. sirius black knew better — he’d been holding it all along.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love, james calls reader love, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 11.3k

a/n: it was probably the longest idea to write and edit. i rewrote every moment a bunch of times trying to bring it all to perfection. therefore, this time I hope more than ever that you will like it and you will support me with a like, comment or reblog. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing…

slaves – footprints

You left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

Would you promise me you'll never let me go

November 15, 1971 My dear best friend, Hogwarts is brilliant! You should see the castle; it’s massive, with these moving staircases that sometimes take you to places you didn’t even mean to go! I tried to get to Charms class last week and ended up in the Trophy Room instead. Sirius says it’s part of the fun, and I’m starting to agree. Speaking of fun, I made a new friend! His name’s Sirius Black, and he’s a bit of a troublemaker like me. Don’t tell Mum, but we might’ve let some Filibuster’s Fireworks off in the Great Hall during lunch. The teachers were furious, but the look on their faces was worth it. How’s Beauxbatons? Is it true your castle is magical in a totally different way? Sirius said something about unicorns roaming the grounds. Is that real? Write me everything—I want to know what it’s like over there. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am.  Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WAS UTTERLY SPENT. Not the charming, rakish kind of spent he might brag about after a late night of mischief, but truly, completely, soul-drainingly done. The journey to the Potter family cottage, which should have been a brisk jaunt, had turned into a Herculean trial. Blame the snowstorm that had swept through magical London like some vengeful Norse curse, burying everything in its path under heaps of frosty misery.

It started with a delayed train — no, not delayed, imprisoned. Sirius and James were already aboard when the announcement came, trapping them in a stuffy carriage surrounded by loudly complaining wizards and at least one crying baby. And because the universe clearly found Sirius’ misery entertaining, the train came to a jolting halt halfway to their destination, snow packing the tracks so thickly that it took hours of magical clearing before they moved again.

When they finally arrived at the station, they discovered that Mr. Potter, their much-needed savior with a warm car and a better attitude than either of them, had been delayed at work. Thus, Sirius and James were left to trudge through the snow-laden countryside, dragging their trunks behind them, with James’ endless chatter about Lily Evans ringing in Sirius’ ears like a persistent curse.

“Her smile, Padfoot,” James had sighed dreamily at least seventeen times, his glasses fogging up as if even thinking about Lily caused them to malfunction. “And the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating—”

By the sixteenth sigh, Sirius had been sorely tempted to shove a fistful of snow into James’ face. By the seventeenth, he was mentally composing a list of Unforgivable Curses and ranking them by efficiency. Yet, even as he grumbled under his breath, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to abandon the trek. The Potters were the closest thing he had to a family, and spending Christmas anywhere else — no matter how dire the journey — was unthinkable.

When they finally reached the Potter home, Sirius didn’t so much step inside as collapse into it. He shoved the front door open with the dramatic flair of a man escaping death itself and sprawled across the polished wooden floor like a martyr for his own cause. His trunk fell beside him with a satisfying thud.

“Home at last,” he groaned, voice muffled against the rug. “Tell me, Prongs, do they serve last rites before cinnamon rolls, or do we skip straight to the feast?”

The cottage, of course, was as warm and welcoming as Sirius remembered. Strings of fairy lights twinkled across the beams, casting a cozy glow of red, gold, and green. A holly wreath hung crookedly on the wall — lil’James’ handiwork, no doubt — and the scent of pine mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, butter, and something sweet. Sirius’ stomach growled audibly.

“Oi, shut it, you ungrateful mutt,” James shot back with a grin, though Sirius could see his friend’s eyes darting toward the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing us in front of the wreath.”

James hadn’t even set his trunk down before a figure appeared in the doorway.

At first, Sirius barely registered her presence. He was too busy muttering about the injustice of underage magic restrictions. But then — oh, then — she stepped fully into view.

A girl.

Not just any girl, but you.

You moved with a kind of quiet confidence that Sirius instantly clocked, your steps unhurried, your presence undeniable. The golden glow of the fairy lights danced across your hair, giving it a shimmer that seemed almost unreal. You were wrapped in a deep blue jumper — Sirius realized this after a moment’s brain lag — and your cheeks were rosy, likely from the heat of the kitchen.

You carried a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, the scent of melted sugar and spice trailing after you like some kind of domestic enchantment. Sirius’ mouth went dry, and for the first time in years, he was at a loss for words.

“Well,” he managed after a beat, hauling himself upright and trying for a semblance of decorum. “Now I see why you were so keen to come home, Prongs. You’ve got cinnamon-roll-bearing angels dropping out of the sky.”

You laughed, soft and melodic, the sound so unguarded it seemed to wrap the room in warmth. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts inviting and mysterious.

“Hello to you too, Sirius,” you said, your voice carrying a familiarity that made his ears perk up.

Sirius blinked. Wait. Of course. This wasn’t some celestial being summoned to his rescue; this was James’ childhood best friend. The one James had vaguely mentioned — just a handful of times over the years, always in passing and with a strange softness that Sirius hadn’t thought to question before.

And yet, here you were. In the flesh. Standing in the middle of the Potters’ living room with a tray of baked goods and a smile that Sirius suspected had the power to stop traffic.

“Well, well, Jamie-boy,” Sirius drawled, nudging James with his elbow and watching his friend with amused curiosity. “You never told me the famous cinnamon-roll angel was also — what’s the word? Ah, yes — real.”

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ antics, though your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you glanced toward James, who looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

Sirius smirked. “James, mate, you alright? You’ve gone all... slack-jawed.”

But James wasn’t paying him any attention. His hazel eyes were locked on you, wide and brimming with something Sirius couldn’t quite place. He watched as James' gaze traced over the streak of flour smudged on your cheek, the stray strands of hair escaping from your ponytail, and the red apron dusted with flour and cinnamon.

Sirius almost snorted aloud. This was the James Potter who couldn’t shut up about Lily Evans — the boy who spent half his waking hours plotting ways to win her over. And yet, here he was, staring at you like you’d just descended from the heavens.

“Jamie,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

It was just one word, but the way you said it — warm, tender, and utterly unguarded — sent a jolt through Sirius.

Before he could process what was happening, James crossed the room in a few long strides and swept you into his arms. You squealed in surprise, and the sound was pure delight, echoing off the walls.

Sirius blinked, startled. The way James held you — hands firm on your waist, his head dipping into the crook of your neck — wasn’t friendly, not by a long shot. Sirius had known James since he was eleven years old, had seen him charm and flirt with half of Hogwarts, but he had never seen this.

“Missed me, Jamie?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his unruly hair with the kind of ease that spoke of years of familiarity.

“Always,” James murmured, so quietly Sirius barely caught it.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to explain this baffling scene, but it was just him, James, and you, wrapped up in some intimate little bubble that made Sirius feel like an intruder.

James murmured something into your shoulder — too soft for Sirius to catch — and you laughed, your voice light and unrestrained. The sound pulled James’ head up, and Sirius couldn’t miss the way his eyes traced your face with a kind of devotion Sirius had only read about in sappy romance novels.

It was then that the memories began to click into place. The scattered mentions over the years, the odd tone James always took when he talked about you. “She’s not like anyone else, Padfoot. She just gets it.” Or that one summer when James had come back to Hogwarts looking utterly miserable and wouldn’t explain why. Sirius had teased him about it for weeks, thinking it was Lily-related. But now, seeing the way James looked at you...

“Wait a minute,” Sirius blurted, his grin widening as realization dawned. “You’re the one. The one he’s always sneaking off to write letters to, the one he’s all secretive about.”

James shot him a glare, his cheeks burning bright red.

“Padfoot—”

“—the one who sent him that hideous scarf last Christmas!” Sirius continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I knew there had to be someone. Prongs doesn’t just get that moony-eyed look over just anyone.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, while James muttered something about strangling Sirius later.

Before Sirius could needle him further, the kitchen door creaked open, and Euphemia Potter swept into the room. She was radiant as always, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw James.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even attempt to protest.

“Hi, Mum,” James mumbled, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Euphemia pulled back, cupping his face in her hands as though memorizing every detail. “It’s been too long, Jamie. Too long. You’re far too skinny — have you been eating properly at school? And what have you done with your hair?”

James groaned, though his smile was fond.

Then her eyes fell on Sirius, and the warmth in her expression grew tenfold.

“Sirius, my dear,” she said, moving toward him with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, too.”

Sirius froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this — the genuine affection, the way Euphemia made him feel like he belonged.

When her arms wrapped around him, the embrace firm and filled with love, Sirius felt an odd lump form in his throat. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s cold, perfunctory hugs, her disdainful gaze, and the way her affection always felt like a transaction.

“You’ve grown even handsomer,” Euphemia said, pulling back to study him. “Fleamont’s going to be jealous.”

Sirius managed a crooked grin, the lump in his throat still stubbornly there. “That’s the goal, Mrs. Potter. Keep him on his toes.”

Euphemia laughed, her eyes twinkling, before cupping his cheek briefly. “You’re family now, Sirius. Never forget that.”

Satisfied, Euphemia turned her attention to you. Her face softened even more, and she reached out to squeeze your hands. “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering where my helper had gone. The mince pies won’t bake themselves, you know”

You shot James a quick, playful glance before following Euphemia toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you said, your smile lingering. 

As Mrs. Potter ushered you toward the door to finish the pies, Sirius remained rooted to the spot. The warmth from her hug lingered, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of how lucky James was to have parents like that — and how lucky he was to have stumbled into their lives.

James watched you leave, his gaze following you until you were out of sight. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mate,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder. “You’re a goner.”

James huffed, shoving him away, but the goofy grin on his face was impossible to hide.

And Sirius? Sirius couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

July 2, 1973 My Love, Summer’s only just started, and I can’t wait to see you. Mum’s already planning another one of her “legendary” tea parties, which means she’ll fuss over you endlessly. You’ll smile politely and charm her like always, and she’ll end up spoiling you with biscuits to take back to Beauxbatons. I’ve got so much to tell you. Sirius and I found this secret passageway that leads straight to Hogsmeade. We’ve been practicing spells to make it even harder for Filch to find us. Remus is shaking his head, but I think he secretly loves our schemes. Oh, and Lily—she’s still brilliant. She’s got the most incredible laugh. But you, my love, I bet your laugh would still outshine hers any day.

Do you still walk in those Beauxbatons gardens at sunset? I can imagine you there, glowing in the soft light. It suits you. Write me back quickly, won’t you? The days are always better when I hear from you. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK HAD ALWAYS KNOWN JAMES POTTER WAS A TACTILE PERSON. James spoke fluently in the language of touch — claps on the back that lingered just a second too long, overly enthusiastic shoulder bumps that almost knocked you off your feet, and the occasional arm slung around your shoulders like he was staking a claim. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the way James touched you. It was the way he seemed to orbit you, like some lovesick moon drawn to its planet. Wherever you were, James was never far behind — hovering, grinning, completely and utterly besotted without even realizing it. And for someone so allegedly brilliant, he was astoundingly stupid about it.

Sirius noticed it within minutes of their arrival at the Potter cottage for the holidays. As the snow settled outside, so did James — right beside you, always beside you. If you were arranging the flowers Euphemia had insisted on, James was there offering suggestions like he’d suddenly become an expert on floral arrangements. If you were curled up in the drawing room with a book, James was sprawled across the nearest sofa, pretending to read but actually just watching you out of the corner of his eye like some hopeless romantic idiot in a badly written Muggle novel.

Sirius had been rolling his eyes so much, they were practically stuck in the back of his head.

THE SECOND MORNING WAS WHEN THINGS REALLY CLICKED. Sirius had woken up earlier than usual — a rare and uncomfortable event for him. He had no plans to do anything productive, of course, but the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway intrigued him. Padding out of his room, he peeked around the corner just in time to see James sneaking toward the kitchen.

Naturally, Sirius followed. He found James standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up like some kind of domestic god, arranging breakfast with the precision of someone preparing an offering to Merlin himself. There was a plate of toast with cream cheese and thinly sliced avocado, a bowl of berries that looked like they’d been picked by woodland elves, and a steaming cup of coffee. The smell alone was enough to make Sirius reconsider his usual disdain for mornings.

“Fancy,” Sirius said, leaning lazily against the doorframe, voice still scratchy from sleep.

James jumped slightly but recovered quickly, flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “Morning, Pads. Coffee’s on the counter.”

Sirius eyed the tray suspiciously. “Is this for you, or is it for your favorite person in the world aka me?”

James’s ears turned pink. “It’s for her,” he admitted, almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes crafting the most meticulous breakfast Sirius had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Sirius muttered with a smirk, grabbing a mug for himself. “You realize this is bordering on embarrassing, yeah?”

James shot him a look, but before he could respond, you appeared in the doorway, still looking half-asleep. Your hair was mussed, and the oversized jumper you’d borrowed from James was slipping off one shoulder, but you somehow managed to look effortlessly radiant. Sirius rolled his eyes again.

“Morning, love,” James said, his voice soft and warm in a way Sirius had never heard before.

“Morning, Jamie,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you shuffled into the kitchen.

James practically tripped over himself to hand you the coffee. Sirius watched, amused, as James’s fingers brushed yours in the exchange, his entire face lighting up like someone had cast Lumos Maxima directly on it.

You took a long sip of the coffee, humming in contentment. “Perfect, as always,” you murmured, looking up at James with a sleepy smile that could have melted a Dementor.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sirius nearly choked on his coffee. He wasn’t sure what was more painful — the nauseating sweetness of the moment or the fact that neither of you seemed to realize how completely ridiculous you were.

“Right, well, I’ll just... leave you two to it,” Sirius said, waving his mug in mock surrender as he backed out of the room. “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James called after him, but the way his voice wavered slightly betrayed his embarrassment.

By the time Sirius reached the living room, Euphemia and Fleamont were already seated by the fireplace, exchanging knowing glances like they’d seen this coming a mile away.

“Is he making her breakfast again?” Euphemia asked with a smile that was far too pleased for Sirius’s liking.

“Every detail,” Sirius confirmed, sinking into an armchair. “I’m starting to think he’s auditioning for Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Devoted Boyfriend’ feature.”

“Don’t tease him too much,” Euphemia said with a chuckle. “He’s just like his father was with me.”

“Merlin, it’s contagious,” Sirius groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “If I start acting like that, someone put me out of my misery.”

But even as he joked, Sirius couldn’t help but smile. Because for all his teasing, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that James was hopelessly gone for you. And judging by the way you looked at him, Sirius had a feeling the feeling was mutual — even if neither of you was bright enough to figure it out.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE SMALL, INTIMATE TOUCHES SIRIUS COULDN’T IGNORE, no matter how much he wanted to. James’s hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through a doorway, like you might somehow lose your way without him. The way his fingers traced lazy patterns on your knee under the dinner table, as though the contact grounded him. Or how he’d tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just long enough to make Sirius roll his eyes and fight back a gag.

It was maddening to watch, really. Not because Sirius minded the affection — no, James deserved a bit of softness in his life, and you were undeniably good for him. It was maddening because you were both so oblivious. James was a goner, sure, but you weren’t far behind. Every time you leaned into his touch, smiled up at him like he hung the stars, or called him Jamie in that soft, teasing tone, it was like watching two wizards tiptoe around a cauldron, waiting for it to explode.

One evening, as the three of you lounged in the living room, the dynamic was on full display. The Potters had insisted on a family movie night — Euphemia’s idea, of course, because family time was important. Sirius couldn’t say no to the fire roaring in the hearth, the massive bowl of popcorn, and the ridiculous Muggle Christmas film flickering on the screen. But as the minutes passed, he started to regret not escaping upstairs.

James had situated himself squarely in the middle of the sofa, with you tucked neatly under his arm. His hand played absently with the ends of your hair, fingers twisting the strands like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You had your legs curled beneath you, leaning into him with the kind of comfort Sirius had only ever seen in old couples who had been together for decades. James pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something Sirius couldn’t quite catch.

It was unbearable.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Sirius interrupted, launching a piece of popcorn at James. It hit him square in the forehead, a small but satisfying victory. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie without choking on all this sap.”

You burst into laughter, sitting up just enough to toss a handful of popcorn back at him. “You’re just jealous, Black.”

“Jealous? Me?” Sirius placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Of what, exactly? Watching James Potter transform into a human puddle before my very eyes? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

James didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, looking every bit the lovesick fool he was. “You’ll get it one day, Pads,” he said with infuriating calm.

Sirius snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. “Right. Because what I’m really missing in my life is the chance to turn into that.” He gestured at the two of you with a dramatic wave of his hand.

But despite his teasing, Sirius couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. James, the arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, devil-may-care prankster he’d known all his life, was utterly, completely, hopelessly in love. And the worst — or perhaps best — part? He didn’t even seem to realize it.

BY THE END OF THESE COUPLE OF DAYS VACK AT THE POTTER COTTAGE, SIRIUS KNEW. James Potter wasn’t in love with Lily Evans — not really, not anymore and maybe not ever. He was in love with you. It wasn’t in the dramatic declarations Sirius had once teased James about making to Lily. No, this was quieter, deeper. It was in the way James’s gaze softened whenever you spoke, like he couldn’t believe you were real. In the way his hand always seemed to find yours, even when there was no need for it. And in the way his entire being lit up when you smiled at him.

And you? You weren’t much better. You laughed at his terrible jokes, poked fun at him with an ease Sirius envied, and looked at James like he was the center of the universe. It was so obvious it made Sirius want to scream.

“This isn’t normal, you know,” Sirius said later that night, cornering James in the kitchen as he made tea.

“What’s not normal?” James asked, far too casually for Sirius’s liking.

“You and her. You’re not just friends. Stop pretending you are.”

James frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “We are just friends. She’s my best mate, Pads. You know that.”

Sirius laughed, loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Oh, Prongsie. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” James shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his voice.

Sirius leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you’re just friends, then I’m a unicorn. Face it, Potter — you’re in love.”

James opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then you walked into the room, yawning and looking for all the world like you belonged there. James’s expression softened immediately, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Sirius didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

Because James Potter was already lost, and for once, Sirius didn’t mind watching his best mate fall.

March 30, 1975

My Love, It’s been ages since your last letter, and I miss you like mad. Exams are coming up, and I’m hopeless at concentrating without your words to keep me sane. The Marauders are in full swing, though—our latest adventure involved sneaking a swamp into one of the corridors. Filch is still grumbling about it. I told you before how Lily has the most beautiful laugh, right? Well, I think she might finally be warming up to me. I’m playing it cool, but honestly, every time she looks at me, I feel like a kid with a new broomstick. And yet... you’re still the one I write to when I want to share everything. Funny, isn’t it? How’s the ballet going? I remember you mentioned your school recital. I wish I could see you dance. You’d be like a dream on stage, graceful and bright. Maybe one day. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WASN’T ONE TO BELIEVE IN LOVE — not the kind spun into poetry or whispered in secret corners of libraries. Sweet words, fleeting touches, long glances… all of it sounded like an elaborate prank. A fantasy created by people who hadn’t tasted the bitterness of the world.

How could anyone believe in love when raised in a house where affection was a weapon and the family motto might as well have been stab first, smile later? The Black family had given Sirius many things: wealth, privilege, and a last name dripping in infamy. But love? That was a foreign concept, spoken in a dialect he’d never been taught.

And yet, Sirius Black — child of darkness and rebellion — had found light. That light had a name: James Potter. From the moment James had barreled into Sirius’s life, grinning like the sun itself, everything had shifted. James had yanked him out of the shadows and dragged him into a world Sirius didn’t know existed — a world filled with warmth, laughter, and actual hugs.

It wasn’t just James, though. It was the whole bloody Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were like characters out of a Muggle holiday film. Euphemia, with her soft, unrelenting affection, had made it her personal mission to drown Sirius in love and sweaters. Fleamont’s laughter could fill a room, a deep, belly-shaking sound that warmed Sirius from the inside out. Together, they moved through the world as though their love was an unshakable force, a steady undercurrent in every shared look and word.

“Darling,” Fleamont would call from across the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a newspaper in hand.

“Yes, Fleamont?” Euphemia would reply, her smile soft and teasing as she stirred whatever heavenly dish she was making.

Never by name. Always darling.

Still, if love like that was rare, James bloody Potter seemed hell-bent on stumbling into it without even realizing.

James and you had been dancing around each other for years, so oblivious it was borderline painful. Sirius sometimes wondered if you two were practicing for a comedy sketch, the way you acted like best mates while exuding the kind of tension that could make a Dementor blush. If Sirius had a Galleon for every time James looked at you like you were the only person in the room, he could have bought his own Quidditch team by now. And he's only been watching you for a couple of days.

IT WAS THE FOURT DAY OF HIS CHRISTMAS STAY AT THE POTTER HOME, and the dynamic was impossible to ignore. You and James were practically inseparable, moving through the house like two planets caught in the same orbit. You helped Euphemia with the decorations while James carried boxes of ornaments up from the cellar, always hovering nearby like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the doorway, “most people don’t need to supervise someone hanging tinsel.”

James didn’t even glance back. “She’s not most people, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For Merlin’s sake, just marry her already.”

James froze, an ornament dangling from his hand. “What are you on about? We’re just friends.”

“Sure, and I’m a Muggle,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes.

You, blissfully unaware of the conversation, turned from where you were perched on a stepstool. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Sirius is just being Sirius.”

“That’s never good,” you teased, smirking at Sirius.

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m delightful company.” Sirius crossed his arms, feigning offense. “But if you’re not careful, pretty, you’ll end up trapped in Potter’s web of undying devotion.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the stool. “Potter’s web of what now?”

James shot Sirius a warning glare, but Sirius just grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just that James here is—”

“Hungry!” James interrupted, loudly and awkwardly. “Right, Pads? Didn’t you say you were starving?”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head as James practically shoved him out of the room. “Subtle as ever, Prongs.”

From Sirius’s vantage point, it was painfully obvious. James was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. And you? You weren’t much better. The way you smiled at him, teased him, trusted him without question — it was all the evidence Sirius needed. And yet, you were both blissfully, idiotically unaware.

One evening, as Sirius sprawled on the sofa in the Potters’ living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way you and James interacted. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, rifling through a box of Christmas decorations Euphemia had set out.

“Jamie, hand me the gold bauble,” you said, tossing him a quick glance over your shoulder.

James, who had been half-heartedly untangling a string of lights, immediately perked up. “Which one?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “The one in your hand, genius.”

James laughed, tossing it gently toward you. It missed entirely, landing with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Good aim, Prongs,” Sirius drawled from his spot on the couch. “Truly inspiring.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James shot back, but his grin never faltered. He turned to you, sheepish. “Sorry, love.”

Love. Sirius didn’t miss the way the word slipped out so naturally, like James had been saying it his whole life. And he definitely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the decorations.

LATER THAT EVENING, SIRIUS FOUND HIMSELF LAYING ON THE SOFA IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN (it probably was his favorite place in the house by now), a book abandoned on his chest as he watched Euphemia and Fleamont dancing in the kitchen once, a slow, swaying movement that didn’t match the upbeat Muggle music crackling from the wireless. Euphemia had rested her head on Fleamont’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only place in the world she belonged. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy — just simple and unshakable. And it made Sirius ache in ways he didn’t understand.

And a moment later they were in the same kitchen, preparing tea and laughing softly as they worked.

“Darling, pass me the sugar, would you?” Fleamont said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Euphemia handed him the sugar bowl without looking up, her smile soft. “Here you go, darlin'.”

It was the kind of exchange that Sirius might have mocked once. But now, as he watched the way Fleamont leaned in to kiss Euphemia’s cheek, or how she swatted him away with a laugh when he tried to sneak a biscuit, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“They’re sickeningly sweet, aren’t they?”

Sirius turned to see you standing in the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

“They are,” he admitted, sitting up and motioning for you to join him. “But it’s sort of... nice. In a vomit-inducing way.”

You laughed, settling beside him. “I think it’s lovely. They’re so in tune with each other, you know? Like they’ve been dancing to the same song for decades.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching you as you spoke. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want that? The whole ‘dancing to the same song’ thing?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice, but... I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Because my dance partner’s too busy tripping over his own feet to notice I’m right here.”

Sirius stared at you, his mind racing. Did you mean James? Surely you meant James. But before he could say anything, James walked in, ruffling his hair like he always did.

“Alright, what are you two plotting?”

“World domination,” Sirius replied without missing a beat. “Want in?”

James grinned, flopping onto the sofa and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Always.”

Sirius watched as you leaned into James, your head resting against his shoulder. James turned to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded.

And that’s when Sirius knew — again, because he seemed to be realizing this every ten minutes — just how much trouble you two were in.

DAYS LATER, SIRIUS WAS STANDING BY THE WINDOW OF THE POTTER COTTAGE, a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The world outside was a vision of winter — snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, the trees bowed under its weight, and the air held a sharp, crystalline stillness. Inside, the house was alive with warmth: the crackle of the fire, the gentle hum of Euphemia’s humming, and Fleamont’s cheerful banter as he set up a chessboard by the hearth.

But Sirius wasn’t watching any of that. His attention was fixed on the two figures trudging down the snow-covered path just beyond the window.

You and James walked side by side, your mittened hands brushing against each other with the kind of unconscious familiarity that spoke volumes. The path ahead glittered in the weak afternoon sun, the frost catching the light like scattered diamonds. Clouds of breath curled into the frosty air as you laughed at something James said, the sound clear and bright, even from a distance.

Sirius couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw everything in the way James turned his head toward you, his face lit with the sort of joy that was impossible to fake.

Then it happened — your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. Sirius’s grip on his mug tightened for half a heartbeat, but James was already there. His hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall, as if the world might crumble if he didn’t catch you in time.

“Careful there, love,” James said, his voice carrying easily through the crisp winter air.

You laughed, brushing snow from your coat as your cheeks turned pink — not just from the cold, Sirius was sure. “You’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.”

James grinned, tugging you a little closer to his side. “Good thing you’ve got me.”

“Good thing indeed,” you replied, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your voice soft and full of affection.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, James reached out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered for just a moment, his expression open and unguarded, filled with something so pure that Sirius had to look away for a second.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had seen that look on James’s face. It was the same quiet, awestruck gaze he’d noticed a thousand times when James thought no one was watching. But seeing it now, against the backdrop of snow and laughter, it struck Sirius like a Bludger to the chest.

That’s how Fleamont looked at Euphemia, Sirius realized. He’d seen it that very morning, when Euphemia had walked into the kitchen with a sleepy smile and Fleamont had paused mid-sentence, his face lighting up as if she were the sunrise itself.

Sirius took a long sip of his hot chocolate, the sweetness of it sharp against the lump forming in his throat. He muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Never by name. Always love.”

“What are you smiling about, Sirius?” Euphemia’s voice broke the quiet, warm and curious. She stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

He turned, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Oh, nothing, Mrs. P. Just watching James make a right fool of himself in the snow. Again.”

Euphemia chuckled, stepping closer to peer out the window. Her gaze softened as she spotted you and James, now engaged in some sort of playful shoving match, James clearly letting you win.

“Hopeless,” Sirius added, shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” Euphemia said with a knowing smile.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the scene outside. Sirius’s gaze lingered on James’s hand as it rested on your shoulder, the ease of the gesture speaking louder than words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sirius allowed himself to believe. Not just in the love he saw in James’s face or the easy affection between Fleamont and Euphemia. But in the idea that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t the cruel, twisted thing his family had tried to make him believe.

Maybe love, real love, was something entirely different.

November 27, 1976

My Jamie, Winter has settled over Beauxbatons, and the mountains are kissed with snow. I wish you could see how the frost sparkles on the trees. I think of you often, imagining the mischief you’re up to at Hogwarts. I heard you’re Quidditch Captain now — congratulations! I can already picture you soaring through the air, the wind in your hair and that unstoppable grin. You were born to lead, Jamie, and I’m so proud of you. Your mum wrote me again last week. She’s sent another scarf, this one in Gryffindor colors. She says it’ll keep me close to you. It does, in a way — I wrap it around myself when I miss you most. Do you think of me as much as I think of you? You’re my constant, my warmth on the coldest days. Soon it’ll be Christmas, and we’ll have the stars and endless nights to talk about everything. Until then, stay safe, my Jamie. Forever yours, Love

THE CHRISTMAS CHAOS AT THE POTTER HOUSE STARTED BEFORE SIRIUS EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE HOUR. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Fleamont Potter most certainly was, barreling into James’s room with the energy of a man half his age. Before Sirius could properly complain — or hide under the covers — he and James were unceremoniously hauled to the garage. Their mission? Assembling the absurdly large Christmas table that Euphemia insisted on every year.

Sirius swore under his breath, wrestling with the oversized wooden monstrosity. “You know,” he grumbled, glaring at James, “if your parents had just gone for a nice, normal-sized table, we wouldn’t be out here freezing our—”

“Language, Sirius!” Fleamont interrupted cheerfully, though there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied, though only because Euphemia’s kitchen smelled like heaven, and he was determined to earn his way to a plate of whatever was roasting in the oven.

Inside, the house was a picture of festive perfection: holly strung along the bannisters, twinkling fairy lights glowing softly in the corners, and a wireless by the fireplace playing carols just loud enough to make Sirius hum along when no one was listening. Euphemia’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with yours as the two of you prepared a feast fit for kings — or in this case, a house full of Marauders.

And James? Well, James wasn’t himself.

Sirius noticed it almost immediately. His best mate was usually a hurricane of enthusiasm during the holidays, cracking jokes, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But today, James kept glancing toward the kitchen like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

The idiot was besotted.

Every time your laughter drifted into the room, James’s head whipped around like he was under some sort of spell. If you so much as said his name, he’d stop mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner. Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly if it weren’t so... obvious. Painfully, ridiculously obvious.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, WHEN JAMES AND FLEAMONT HAD VANISHED TO THE GARAGE — probably to charm something they had no business charming — Sirius found himself tasked with tidying up James’s room. He grumbled the whole time, of course. Cleaning wasn’t his style, and James’s room was a disaster zone: Quidditch magazines spilling off the desk, parchment crumpled in corners, and socks scattered in ways that defied the laws of physics.

“Honestly, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, holding up a suspiciously stiff sock with the tips of his fingers. “How are you supposed to woo Evans — or anyone, for that matter — when your room smells like the wrong end of a hippogriff?”

As he moved to clear a particularly cluttered shelf, a box caught his eye. It was tucked in the far corner, partially hidden behind an old textbook. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Anything stashed away like that was bound to be interesting. With a mischievous grin, he reached for it, only for the entire thing to tumble off the shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, crouching to pick up the mess. His hand froze mid-reach when he realized what had fallen out: letters. Dozens of them, bundled in ribbons of various colors.

Sirius sat back on his heels, eyeing the pile. His curiosity, as always, got the better of him. With a glance at the door to ensure James wasn’t about to barge in, he grabbed the nearest stack and plopped himself onto the bed, cross-legged and grinning like a kid about to open a box of Zonko’s best tricks.

The first letter he unfolded smelled faintly of vanilla. Your scent, Sirius realized, and his grin faltered for just a moment.

October 7, 1971 Beauxbatons is so different from Hogwarts. The professors here are so strict, James, sometimes it feels like I’m being watched all the time! I miss the feeling of freedom you must have at Hogwarts, even if you’re always getting into trouble with Sirius. Do you ever just wish you could escape the rules and run wild?

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting. “Trouble? Me? Never,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

But as he reread the letter, a strange tightness settled in his chest. The way you wrote about Hogwarts — it wasn’t just about the school. It was about James. Even miles away, you saw him as something larger than life, as the embodiment of freedom and adventure.

And James? The idiot probably thought you were just being polite.

February 21, 1971 Sirius sounds like a bit of a handful, but I bet he’s hilarious. I think I’d like him, even if he does cause chaos. You all sound like you’re constantly up to something, but I imagine you get into trouble a lot, don’t you? Anyway, I’d love to hear more about his pranks— I’m sure you and him must make a great team!

Sirius barked a laugh. “A handful? Pretty, you have no idea.”

Still, the words struck a chord. He could see it so clearly now: the way you’d woven yourself into James’s world with every playful question and teasing remark. You weren’t just curious about his adventures; you wanted to be a part of them, to understand the boy behind the Quidditch bravado and the wild schemes.

Then came the letters about Lily.

March 25, 1973 James, you always talk about Lily, and I think it’s sweet that you have such admiration for her. I bet she doesn’t even know how much you like her. She sounds like she’d be really hard to win over, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, yeah?

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s saggy pants, Prongs, how thick can you be?”

He could almost picture you writing those words, the careful balance between encouragement and self-sacrifice. Even as you pushed James toward Lily, your letters were saturated with love — pure, unguarded, and heartbreakingly unspoken.

It was infuriating. How could two people so obviously meant for each other be so oblivious?

By the time Sirius reached the later letters, the humor had drained from his face.

December 5, 1974 Your mum sent me another gift! She’s so sweet, and I can’t believe how kind she is to me. It always makes me feel so loved. You know, when I’m away from you, it’s like I’m missing something... like the best part of my day. I never want to take our friendship for granted.

The parchment crinkled slightly as Sirius’s grip tightened. That wasn’t just gratitude — it was devotion, raw and aching. The kind of love that didn’t need fireworks or grand declarations because it was already woven into every moment, every memory.

And James? Sirius shook his head, a pang of frustration mixing with pity. James had spent years chasing the idea of love, blind to the fact that he already had it.

The final letter undid him.

December 12, 1975 I was thinking about you today, and how you’ve always been there for me — whether it was listening to me complain about the Beauxbatons professors or laughing with me when I’m in a bad mood. You’re always there, and I think that’s why I trust you more than anyone else. You’ll never know how much that means to me, Jamie.

Sirius closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. You didn’t just see James; you knew him. The real James — the boy who laughed too loudly, who lived for Quidditch, who couldn’t resist a good prank. You loved James, not the idealized version he tried to be for Lily or anyone else.

Sirius exhaled sharply, folding the letter with a reverence he didn’t usually bother with. His heart ached — not for himself, but for you, for James, for the years you’d both spent dancing around the truth.

“Merlin, you’re both idiots,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now. 

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further into disarray, his mind replaying what he’d just uncovered. The letters — those bloody letters — had been the key. Now everything fell into place: James’s barely-there smiles over the past few days, the way his gaze lingered when you entered the room, the softness in his laugh when you said something clever. James Potter, his brash, unrelenting, wildfire of a best friend, was utterly transformed around you.

Balanced. Grounded. Sincere.

It was unbearably obvious now, as if someone had pulled back the curtain.

And yet, the idiot still had Lily Evans’s picture on his bedside table in his dorm.

Sirius’s gaze fell on the stack of letters once more, neatly tied with a ribbons that seemed far too delicate for James’s usual chaos. He could have left it alone, let James figure things out in his own thick-headed way — but that wasn’t Sirius Black’s style. If there was one thing he’d learned from years of pranks, broken curfews, and bending the rules until they snapped, it was this: sometimes people needed a push, even if it stung a little.

Sirius exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, the letters still in hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, the look on James’s face when he confronted him — it would be priceless. Sirius wasn’t one for sentiment, but for you? For James? Maybe, just maybe, he’d make an exception.

The door creaked open, and James stumbled into the room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Sirius watched as his best friend all but collapsed into the armchair by the bookcase, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked like he’d been wrestling dragons all day — or, more likely, his dad’s endless list of chores.

But there was something else, too. A tension in his jaw, a restless energy that practically vibrated off him. Sirius could see it plain as day: James hadn’t seen her all day, and it was driving him mad. She was so close — just a staircase or two away — and yet untouchable.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Prongs, is this why you’ve been obsessing over the owl schedule for years? Didn’t peg you as the secret pen-pal type.”

James’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. They darted to the bed, where the stack of letters lay exposed, and then to the shelf where the box had clearly been moved. He froze for a second before letting out a long, resigned sigh.

“Pads,” James said, his voice low and uneven, heavy with an edge Sirius rarely heard. “It’s not cool to read someone else’s letters.”

The room seemed to still, the words settling into the air like dust, soft but laden with weight. James’s eyes — those unmistakable hazel orbs that always held a spark of mischief — were guarded now, a flicker of something raw and unspoken behind them.

Sirius leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face like the blade of a knife, sharp and unapologetic. “Not cool,” he echoed, his voice laced with mockery, “is keeping this from me for six bloody years. Care to explain, or should I guess?”

James flinched, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the soft knit of his jumper. He moved toward the bed with the slow, deliberate steps of someone walking a tightrope, balancing the fragile threads of anger and restraint. The dim light of the room cast long shadows over his frame, making him seem taller, older — more vulnerable.

He reached for one of the letters, his hand hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers curled around the parchment. His thumb brushed over the faded ink, tracing the loops of her handwriting like a blind man reading Braille. The edges of the letter were frayed, softened by years of touch, and as he lifted it to his face, Sirius caught the faintest smile tugging at James’s lips.

It was a small, private thing, that smile. Reverent. It wasn’t the boyish grin Sirius knew so well, the one James wielded like a weapon to charm or disarm. No, this was different — softer, as though the mere act of holding the letter in his hand brought James closer to something sacred.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He’d seen James in every possible state — triumphant on the Quidditch pitch, livid after a prank gone wrong, devastated when the world seemed too heavy — but this? This was new. This was James Potter unguarded.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Sirius said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

James didn’t look up. He sat on the edge of the bed, sorting the letters with a precision that bordered on ritual. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers careful not to smudge the ink or crease the paper. Sirius had never seen him handle anything with such care — not his broomstick, not his glasses, not even the Marauder’s Map.

“It’s not what you think,” James murmured, but the words lacked conviction, as though he knew they’d crumble under scrutiny.

Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated snort. “Not what I think? Mate, I think you’re in love with her and too much of an idiot to admit it. Am I wrong?”

James froze mid-motion, the ribbon he was tying slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move — just stared at the letters as if they might answer for him.

“She’s…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “She’s different, Pads. She’s… everything.”

There it was. The confession, raw and trembling in the space between them. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly. “She is. And that’s exactly why you’re a bloody idiot for pretending she’s not.”

James let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and fractured. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, his movements frenetic, as though he were trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharp but not cruel. “I’ve watched you for years, Prongs. You talk about Evans like she’s some kind of bloody trophy, but her? You look at her like she’s the air you breathe. Like without her, you’d suffocate. And you’re sitting here telling me it’s complicated?”

James’s laugh turned hollow, empty. “Lily’s… safe. She’s who I’m supposed to want. She’s not my bloody childhood best friend.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, he barked out a laugh, loud and biting.

“Safe?” he repeated, incredulous. “Since when have you ever played it safe, James Potter? Love’s not supposed to be safe. It’s messy, terrifying, and completely bloody worth it. Or are you seriously telling me you’d rather be ‘safe’ than happy?”

James looked up at him then, and Sirius’s breath caught. His best friend’s hazel eyes, usually so full of fire and mischief, were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think…” James’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Do you think she feels the same?”

Sirius’s grin returned, slow and wolfish. “Mate, judging by these letters? She’s just as much of an idiot in love as you are.”

For a moment, James didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughed — a shaky, unsteady sound that grew louder, freer, until it filled the room.

“What do I do?” James asked, his voice raw and trembling with vulnerability.

Sirius stood, crossing the room to clap a hand on James’s shoulder. “You start by telling her everything. No more hiding. No more pretending. You owe her — and yourself — more than that.”

James nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Sirius said, smirking. “I’m always right.”

As James reached for the letters, carefully tucking them back into their box, Sirius watched him with a rare sense of pride. This wasn’t just James Potter, the fearless Quidditch captain, the prankster extraordinaire. This was James Potter, a boy on the cusp of something extraordinary.

And for once, Sirius Black wasn’t just causing chaos — he was helping someone find their way through it.

THE SNOW OUTSIDE FELL IN HEAVY, DELIBERATE FLAKES, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A SOFT, UNBROKEN QUIET. Sirius stood on the second-floor landing of the Potter home, a mug of hot coffee cradled in his hands. The rich aroma mingled with the faint scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the decorated tree below. The whole house seemed to hum with a kind of warmth that Sirius rarely allowed himself to imagine, let alone experience.

From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the living room below. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting golden shadows across the walls. Mr. Potter sat on the sofa with an arm draped around Mrs. Potter, the two of them cocooned under a soft plaid blanket. A book rested on Fleamont’s lap as he read aloud, his voice low and steady. Euphemia’s head rested against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in serene contentment. Every so often, she’d smile at something he read or reach up to adjust her husband’s glasses, her touch so light and familiar it made Sirius’s chest ache with longing — not jealousy, but something softer. A wistfulness for this kind of unshakable bond.

But his gaze didn’t linger on the Potters for long. It drifted to the corner of the room, where the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights bathed two figures in a kaleidoscope of warm colors. You and James sat on the floor amidst the chaos of torn wrapping paper and open boxes. The morning’s gifts had already been exchanged, but it seemed James had saved something special for last.

Even from here, Sirius could see the faint nervousness in his best friend’s posture. James wasn’t one to fidget, yet his hands moved restlessly, smoothing invisible creases on his trousers, brushing imaginary dust from the tree skirt. His eyes, though, were unwavering as they watched you. You were cross-legged on the fluffy white rug, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder as you picked idly at a ribbon. Sirius noticed how your gaze lingered on James, curious and full of quiet affection.

James leaned closer, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable lilt of mischief. “One of the owls was late,” he said, holding up a slightly weathered envelope. The parchment looked a little worse for wear, its edges crumpled as if it had been handled too often. “It dropped this off this morning… asked me to give it to the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for the envelope. “Still using that line, are you, Potter?”

“Can you blame me? It’s worked wonders so far.” His grin was cocky, but Sirius saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he handed it over.

You rolled your eyes, but the way you bit your lip betrayed your own anticipation. Turning the envelope over in your hands, you ran your fingers along the black-inked scrawl of your name before carefully breaking the seal. Sirius leaned forward slightly, his coffee forgotten as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment the letter emerged, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes darted across the page, your expression softening with each word. Sirius could see the precise moment the meaning settled in — the way your lips parted in surprise, the way your shoulders tensed, then relaxed, as if letting the weight of something long unspoken sink in. James’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb moving in small, nervous circles.

“Love?” James’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away. He was watching you as though the world rested on your reaction, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. “You’re awfully quiet. Should I be worried? Say something. Anything.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, even as a tear slipped down your cheek, catching the light like a tiny diamond. James froze, his face paling slightly.

“Hey, hey, no…” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. If it’s rubbish, just say so and we can forget it. Burn it, even.” He laughed nervously, though it sounded forced. “I’ll… I’ll pretend it never happened.”

That’s when you looked up, meeting his gaze with eyes so full of emotion it made Sirius’s breath hitch even from across the room. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, cupping James’s face in your hands. He stilled under your touch, his wide-eyed surprise melting into something softer as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss Sirius might have teased him about — not fiery or impulsive. It was quiet, deliberate, and full of a tenderness that made Sirius feel like an intruder, even though he couldn’t look away. James’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though you might slip away if he let go.

Sirius smiled to himself, feeling a rare swell of pride. James had always been the heart of their little group, the one who wore his feelings openly. And now, here he was, finding a kind of love that Sirius knew would anchor him forever.

A sharp click shattered the moment, and both of you turned your heads to find Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, a wide grin plastered across his face as he waved a freshly developed photo in the air.

“Perfect!” he announced, shaking the picture. “This one’s going in the family album. And when my godchildren ask how their parents got together, I’ll tell them Uncle Sirius orchestrated the whole thing.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against James’s shoulder, while James groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re a menace, Pads,” he said, though his voice held no bite.

“A charming menace,” Sirius replied, retreating toward the couch where the elder Potters were watching the scene unfold with amused smiles.

“Everything alright, dear?” Euphemia asked, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced between you and James.

James nodded, his hand still firmly clasping yours. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potter’s smile widened, and she reached over to pat your hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Though, truth be told, you’ve always been part of it.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED IN A GOLDEN HAZE OF LAUGHTER AND WARMTH. Euphemia roped you into helping her in the kitchen, insisting you learn the secret to her mulled wine. Sirius watched from the doorway, sipping his coffee and grinning as you tried to follow her directions, only for James to sneak in and steal a taste from the pot, earning himself a playful swat on the arm.

By evening, the fire burned low, and the snow outside had blanketed the world in an even deeper hush. Sirius sat in his favorite armchair, a blanket draped over his legs as he watched the scene before him. You and James were curled up together on the rug, a cozy tangle of limbs as you whispered to each other, your laughter soft and unguarded. The Potters sat nearby, sharing quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

For a moment, Sirius closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the sounds of contentment wash over him. He thought of his own childhood Christmases — cold, sterile affairs devoid of joy. And then he thought of this… the home James had built, not just for himself but for everyone he cared about. It was the kind of love Sirius had always believed was out of reach. Until now.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs,” he murmured, raising his empty mug in a toast to his best friend.

James glanced up, catching his eye. “Merry Christmas, Pads,” he replied, his grin soft but unmistakably James.

James had turned to you, his hand cradling your cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm.

"Merry Christmas, love," James murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that made Sirius’s chest tighten.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," you replied, resting your forehead against his.

Sirius chuckled, settling back into his chair, the warmth of the moment settling deep in his bones. The world outside might be cold and uncertain, but here, in this house, surrounded by love and laughter, everything felt exactly as it should be.

He thought about how James Potter had once given him the home and warmth he never had. And now, it seemed, Sirius Black had helped his best friend find his way home, too.

FROM THE ARCHIVE OF SIRIUS BLACK:

To my future, undoubtedly brilliant, devilishly handsome, and wildly talented nephews,

Listen up, you little rascals. You don’t know me yet, but let me make one thing very clear: I’m the reason you even exist. That’s right, your ridiculously perfect Uncle Sirius is the mastermind behind it all. Without my charm, wit, and expert meddling, your parents might still be doing the whole "will-they-won't-they" nonsense.

So, when you’re out there ruling the world, remember to thank yours truly. The coolest, suavest, and most humble uncle you'll ever have — Sirius Black. You're welcome.

December 25, 1976 My Love,   It’s Christmas, and the house is quiet now, the soft hum of the tree lights the only sound. I’ve been sitting here for hours, staring at this parchment, trying to find words big enough for what I feel, but they don’t exist. Still, I need to try.   Love, I see it now—what I’ve been too blind to see all along. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, fearless even. But when it came to you, I was a coward. I didn’t want to risk losing you. You, who have been the brightest part of my life since the moment we met. You, who’ve filled every corner of my world with warmth and light, even when we were miles apart.   Every summer, when you stepped into my life again, it was like the sun breaking through a storm. You’d sit by the lake with that book you never quite finished because I was always distracting you. You’d laugh at my terrible jokes, your nose crinkling just so. And you’d hum when you thought no one was listening, always off-key but somehow more perfect than any melody I’ve ever heard.   I thought I was looking for the kind of love my parents have — their unshakable bond, the way they look at each other like the world begins and ends with them. And all this time, it was right here, under my nose. You were under my nose.   I think I was afraid, love. Afraid that if I let myself feel what’s always been there, I’d ruin us. That I’d lose the only person who’s ever truly known me, the only one who can look past the pranks, the bravado, and see me—the real me. But Sirius, being Sirius, knocked some sense into me. He said I’ve been acting like a fool, and for once, he’s right. Rereading our letters with him was like seeing my life laid out before me, and every line, every word pointed to you.   Even when you were far away, you were my everything. The letters you sent were more than ink on parchment; they were lifelines. When Hogwarts felt too big, too chaotic, you were the quiet in the storm. When I felt lost, you reminded me who I am. Do you know how many times I reread your words, just to feel close to you? I kept your letters in my trunk, hidden from the others like a secret treasure. Because that’s what you’ve always been — my treasure.   How could I have been so blind? How could I have wasted so much time thinking it was Lily I wanted when it’s always been you? I’ve spent so long chasing a dream when the real thing was right in front of me. I see it now, clearer than I’ve ever seen anything. You are my stars, my moon, my sun. You’re the laugh that makes everything brighter, the voice that feels like home.  

I love you. I love the way your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited. I love the way you argue with me over the silliest things just to see me smile. I love the way you hum when you’re nervous and how you always know exactly what to say to pull me out of my worst days. I love you.   I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I hope with everything in me that you do. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because having you in my life, even just as my friend, has been the greatest gift I could ever ask for. But if there’s even the smallest chance you might love me too, then I promise to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you.   Merry Christmas, my love. You’ve been my greatest gift every day since I met you.   Forever yours,   Jamie

thankx for reading <3

god, this is my biggest work and I was so afraid to publish it, cause it seems to me that no one reads such long fics (I myself adore long fics).

and if you've finished reading this, thank u and I love you so much! I hope you enjoyed every part of it and I will be very glad if you leave a comment, because it seems to me that I have left all of myself in this work!

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. btw my requests are open so… make a wish :3                                

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

[onlymingyus]

Water

pairing; yoon jeonghanx f reader

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, fluff/romance, comedy

summary; being friends with benefits with jeonghan has never been what you thought it would but taking a trip to Paris with him and the rest of your friends while expecting to keep it a secret…that’s something completely different.

warnings; eating/drinking, alcohol, mentions flying in a plane, inaccurate french, a bit of self deprecating thoughts and feelings, hiding a relationship, idiots in love, oral (f receiving), fingering, jealousy, crying (from pleasure and not), petnames, unprotected sex, cum on skin/creampie – as always there might be a warning I am missing but do try.

w/c; 19k and some change (489 words on patreon)

a/n; as always I have to thank @junkissed for not only proofreading but also helping me with coming up with so many brilliant ideas. I also want to thank @wooahaeproductions for lending me her brilliant brain and offering so many beautiful ideas. -- after much thought i have decided to sporadically release some of my older patreon exclusives if and when i am feeling generous. since i am working on tkg and unable to release anything the way i would like to i posted a bonus for patreon subscribers and i am releasing this to you all here on tumblr. i hope you enjoy it. to those of you who were less than kind when i first posted it, i hope this teaches you a lesson of patience and humility. if you had been nicer to me this might have came to tumblr sooner.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“I’ll try not to slobber on your shoulder.” 

You roll your eyes with a faint laugh at Mingyu’s words as he sits on your right in the aisle seat. The “fasten seatbelt” sign had just turned off and a quick glance at your phone told you that the plane had been in the air for about an hour. It was going to be a long 13 hour flight to Paris and while Mingyu was settling in to take a nap, you weren’t sure you were going to be following suit. 

Jeonghan purses his lips, watching you shift in your seat. You looked restless and he understood the feeling. While he felt like he could get up and take a walk along the aisle, beside him, Dokyeom was snuggled up against the window, watching a movie on the screen in front of him. 

Slipping out of his seat, Jeonghan leans to bump his hip against Mingyu, only to make the man groan, opening his eyes in annoyance. You were looking up at your friend curiously, your brows furrowed as he pursed his lips and jutted his thumb back over to where he had been sitting just a moment before. 

“Trade with me.” 

Confusion slowly spreads across Mingyu’s face as he looks from Jeonghan to you and back up at the other man. Lifting his brows, Jeonghan sighs and waves his hands as if trying to hurry Mingyu out of his seat, as if he were in the wrong spot, when clearly Mingyu had known he was supposed to sit beside you. 

“What? You serious?”

“The fuck, you mean, am I serious? I’m talking, aren’t I?” Letting out another sigh, Jeonghan gestures towards Dokyeom once again.” Gyu…Go sit beside Dokyeom and cuddle with him. Clearly, you both want to sleep and Y/N isn’t going to. I want someone to talk to.” 

Groaning, Mingyu looks back at you as you give him a soft, pouty smile, reaching up to pat his cheek as he begrudgingly gives up his spot to Jeonghan. Sliding past the smaller man, Mingyu narrows his eyes at him, only to get a smirk in return as Jeonghan slips into the seat with a happy sigh. 

Dokyeom glances over to Mingyu as he slumps down in the seat, pulling his blanket over his legs, as he watches Jeonghan look over at you with a grin on his face. There was something weird about what had just happened but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Shrugging, Mingyu glances towards the movie playing in front of Dokyeom as he leans his head to rest it on his friend’s shoulder, watching it on mute as his eyes get heavy. 

“Jeonghan…You are so full of shit.” 

Your words draw Jeonghan’s attention as he adjusts his seat, leaning it back to get more comfortable beside you. It was going to be a long ass flight but his traveling companion had just gotten exponentially more attractive. 

“Why? Did I lie?” 

Rolling your eyes, you glance away from Jeonghan and out of the window as he smiles at you. Yoon Jeonghan was one of your best friends. When the idea of going on this group trip to Paris came up, you weren’t sure if you wanted to go but it had been him who had talked you into it. There were plenty of reasons not to go but in his opinion, there were even more reasons to go. 

Your relationship with Jeonghan was complicated. It hadn’t started out that way. You had met him along with the rest of your friends in college. All of you were studying different things but at the end of the day, it was your personalities that had led you all together. 

Kim Mingyu had been the first friend that you had made and your gateway into the group. Many others had come and gone but by the end of four grueling years at university, there were fourteen of you that had stuck together and now ten of you are on a plane for a once in a lifetime vacation. 

When you don’t answer him right away, Jeonghan lets his eyes run along your neck and up to your pretty face. He had always had a harder time than some of the others when it came to keeping it platonic with you. Then, last Halloween, Jeonghan found out he wasn’t the only one struggling with that feeling. 

Maybe it had been the alcohol or maybe it had been all of the tension in the air but in a dark corner of Seungcheol’s apartment, you and Jeonghan had shared your first heated kiss. That kiss had turned into a long conversation the next day, which led to an even longer discussion about how neither one of you wanted to fuck up your friendship. 

“We will just have rules, Y/N.” 

You had sighed as Jeonghan had run his fingers along your jaw, tilting your head up so he could look at your face as he spoke. You hadn’t wanted to agree to the idea of being friends with benefits but the ache between your thighs every time you looked at him had been enough to keep you listening and to make your lips part as he had ran his thumb under your bottom lip. 

“If either one of us wants to stop, we just say it. No deep conversations have to happen. My only rule is that if you are going to fuck someone else, tell me. I don’t want to be second best.” 

Jeonghan had listened to you whining softly under your breath as his fingernails scratched along the side of your head at your hairline. He had known you wanted it as much as he did but what he didn’t know was that it was going to hurt you just as much as it was already hurting him. It seemed like such a simple solution to how he was feeling. He would get to have you in his life even more. He would get to fuck you as much as possible, but then you’d leave every single fucking time and it would start to hurt every single fucking time. 

Turning back towards Jeonghan as you feel his eyes moving along your skin, you fight the urge to move closer to him in your seat. You weren’t alone on the plane and your friends weren’t that far from you, with Mingyu and Dokyeom sitting diagonally across the aisle and Jihoon and Joshua behind you. 

“You could have kept Dokyeom awake to talk.” 

Smirking, Jeonghan purses his lips as he moves to lean across you, pulling down the shade on the window, leaving you and him both veiled in the low light of the cabin. You sigh as you feel his fingers slide along your forearm to your wrist, his fingernails causing chillbumps to spread along your skin as he draws small circles on your skin. 

“I don’t want to talk to Dokyeom, I want to talk to you.” 

Sighing softly, you glance down at your hand as Jeonghan runs his fingers along yours before linking his hand with yours. You knew the light was dim enough that no one would see and that if anyone did, they probably wouldn’t ask too many questions because Jeonghan was just a touchy guy to begin with. What you didn’t know was why your heart was in your throat. You didn’t know why your friend with benefits even wanted to hold your hand in the first place. 

“Listen…I’m just saying we already came up with the rooming arrangements before we even got on the fucking plane. Why are you two being such bitches about it now?” 

You sigh, leaning against Mingyu’s arm, as Joshua stares at Seungkwan and Chan in the hotel lobby. You already knew who you were rooming with and he was doing a great job holding you up at the moment. It was just the youngest of your group who were being cry babies about their rooms. 

“We are here for a week, Shua! If you had to spend every single night in a room with Lee Chan, you’d bitch a little bit about it too.” 

Groaning, Jihoon rolls his suitcase towards the group, causing Soonyoung to whine as his roommate swipes the card from Seungkwan’s hand before offering his to Chan. 

“Why do I have to lose my best friend over this?” 

Jeonghan laughs at Soonyoung’s dramatics as Chan pouts, knowing Soonyoung was going to be upset at him for the rest of the day because of the rooming arrangement. You watch the eldest of the group pat Joshua on the back as he gestures for Dokyeom to head for the elevator. 

“Come on, Y/N. You look like you could use a nap.” 

Hearing your name, you blink up at Mingyu before offering him a tired smile. There had been little sleep on the plane. You had never been good at sleeping on transportation but between that and Yoon Jeonghan at your side, it had been a battle you were destined to lose. 

Holding the door back, Jeonghan purses his lips, waiting for you and Mingyu to get in before he presses the button, causing Joshua and Jun to throw up their hands when the door starts to close in their faces. 

“Oops! It’s full!” 

You knew Jeonghan was being a menace. The lack of sleep was adding another level to his usual antics. Leaning against the elevator wall, Jeonghan watches as you sigh, your head leaned forward as Mingyu stands beside you, his and your luggage in hand as the elevator climbs. He had wondered on the plane if there was a way to switch rooms but that would be too obvious and Mingyu had already looked like a kicked puppy when he had made him give up his seat. 

With a final ding, the elevator doors open to a long hallway. Glancing at the wall, Mingyu mutters under his breath before taking a left before looking back at you with a laugh that comes to a stop to let you catch up to him. 

“Come on, Squirt. We are in 546.” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, following behind you and Mingyu, not even noticing the look that Dokyeom is giving him. While Mingyu didn’t seem to realize the relationship that was right in front of him, Dokyeom wasn’t as oblivious. He knew there had been something different for months, even if Jeonghan wouldn’t tell him what it was. 

“Don’t plot his murder yet, he’s not flirting. She’s like his sister.” 

Dokyeom’s voice is barely over a whisper but Jeonghan still looks at him as if he is announcing his words to the world. It was that sort of wide eyed, deer caught in the headlights look that told Dokyeom that he was right. 

“I–shut up. I know that. He’s just dumb. I’m not doing anything.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Dokyeom nods along with Jeonghan’s rambling as the two watch you and Mingyu open your hotel door before you offer them both a quick smile and wave, disappearing into the room and leaving them in the hallway. 

“Sure, man. Whatever you say, you have the key.” 

Waking up to a dimly lit room, you wince at the pain behind your eyes as you try to look around at the other bed, seeing it still made and empty. There was no sign of Mingyu in the room besides his now empty suitcase at the end of his bed and a few of his things strewn about on a couch in the corner of the room. 

You hadn’t meant to nap for as long as you clearly had but the flight had been long and now you were feeling bad about how much you must be missing from the trip. It wasn’t like there was a planned itinerary for every single day, but you did have some plans as a group and with different people. Otherwise, you were free to travel the city or use your time as you saw fit. Apparently, for the first few hours spent in Paris, you saw fit to snore into a very comfortable pillow. 

Reaching for your phone, you whine at the headache plaguing you as you look through your texts, seeing a few that you had missed along with a couple phone calls. 

[Missed call: Cheol at 11:30 a.m.]

[Missed call: Cheol at 2:16 p.m.] 

Cheol: I talked to Gyu. He said you passed the fuck out. Call me later. Wish I was there. 😭

Mingyu: Going out with Shua and Jun~~ be back later. Love you 😙

Jeonghan: Are you awake yet? Let’s order room service.

Sighing, you tap Jeonghan’s message first, hovering over the keyboard before finally replying. 

Y/N: I just woke up. Mingyu is out. 

Jeonghan had been awake for about an hour longer than you so when you finally text him back, he glances down at his cellphone resting on his stomach with a soft smile. At least he had been smiling until you mentioned Mingyu. 

Jeonghan: I know where he is. I wasn’t asking to order room service with him. 

Y/N: Fine…

While you didn’t sound entirely convincing, Jeonghan wasn’t going to turn down the chance to spend some time alone with you. He knew where Mingyu was along with Dokyeom and he knew they would be gone, at least for a few more hours. 

Sliding off the bed, you move into the bathroom to grab some pain reliever, making it back to the mini fridge by the time you hear the knock at the door. Leaning to pull the door open, you meet Jeonghan’s eyes before his gaze slowly moves over your frame and back up to your face as he slips into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were ever gonna wake up. I almost asked Mingyu to let me in before he left.” 

Scoffing, you swallow your medicine with a gulp of water as you feel Jeonghan’s fingers sliding along your hip. You knew he was kidding, at least mostly. As far as you knew, he didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking you and you didn’t want to fuck up your friendship with him, no matter how much it hurt to be a dirty little secret. 

“So he could ask you why?” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan lets you pull away from him as you move back to your bed, flopping down on it with a groan. He had noticed the medicine in your hand and he could see the way your brows were furrowed. He had known you long enough to know the signs of your headaches and when you weren’t feeling well. Sitting down next to you, Jeonghan runs his hand along your leg to the end of your shorts as you look at your phone, responding to the rest of your text messages. 

“He could have asked why. I don’t care. You want me to just pick something for us to eat?” 

Wrinkling your nose, lost in thought, you glance at Jeonghan as his fingers push under the leg of your shorts, a concerned look on his face. He was full of shit 90% of the time but there were times when the two of you were alone that he made your heart tighten in your chest. 

“Mm, yeah. Just gonna call Cheol back and wait for this medicine to kick in.”

Nodding, Jeonghan watches you for a moment longer before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, causing you to close your eyes and return it as your fingers barely hold on to your cell phone. There was no reason for him to kiss you. 

When the two of you came up with the rules of your relationship, there were no strings attached. It had started out with no kisses goodbye, but that rule had quickly been broken. Then the no sleeping over rule had been broken more than once by both of you, and now Jeonghan was sending your brain into a frenzy with such a sweet gesture as he smiled against your lips before sitting back to take out his own phone, pulling up the room service menu. 

Swallowing hard, you furrow your brows, lifting your fingers to press them against your lips as you make yourself pull your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you and back to your phone, pressing down on Seungcheol’s name. You knew it was late in Korea but not so late that he wouldn’t still be awake. 

“Hey…didn’t think I’d hear from you today.” 

Seungcheol’s voice makes you pout. You could hear the sadness in his tone as he leaned back in his gaming chair. You had offered to stay back and hang out with him but between his insistence that you go and Jeonghan’s whining, you had paid for your ticket, leaving an injured Seungcheol under the care of your other friends who couldn’t make the trip. 

“Sorry, I was so tired from the flight. How are you feeling today?” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol looks down at the brace on his knee before leaning his head back in annoyance, not really at your question but at the situation. 

“Fine. Minghao went with me to rehab and then Vernon and Wonwoo hung out and played some games earlier.” Pursing his lips, Seungcheol glances out his window at the lights of the city, listening to the sounds of the traffic compared to the quiet sounds of your conversation. “How’s Paris?” 

Jeonghan closes one eye in thought before turning his phone towards you to ask if his order was okay, only getting a nod before you sigh and give your attention back to the phone call. You had been disappointed when any of the group had been unable to come along but especially Seungcheol. He and Mingyu were like family more than they were friends and now part of your family had a torn ACL and was stuck in his apartment playing video games and eating takeout while you were visiting a foreign country. 

“I’m glad they are taking care of you. We miss you. I haven’t seen much other than the back of my eyelids, Cheollie.” 

You say we before you even think about what you are saying, causing Jeonghan and unknown to you, Seugncheol to furrow their brows. It wasn’t like you had lied; Jeonghan had wanted his best friend to come on the trip but it wasn’t like he knew that he was in the room.  

“We…” Smirking to himself, Seungcheol shifts in his chair, reaching out to move his mouse across his screen to open his game back up, knowing he was going to end the phone call sooner than he had even anticipated. “Tell Han I said hi. Call me tomorrow. Love you.” 

Groaning, you avoid Jeonghan’s eyes as he searches your face, seeing a look of embarrassment wash over your expression. Your relationship with Jeonghan was a secret from most of the group but it had been Seungcheol’s apartment that you had been making out with Jeonghan in and he wasn’t an idiot. 

“Shut up…  I–Cheol says hi.” Sighing, you watch Jeonghan lean his head back, realizing what had happened as you finished up your phone call. “Love you too; talk to you tomorrow.” 

Lowering your phone, you meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he stares at you, tilting his head. You could see the question on his face but you weren’t sure you were up to answering it. Instead, you toss your phone down on the bed and groan as he watches your dramatics, putting his hand back on your thigh unable to stop the smile that pulls at his lips. 

“We miss you, Cheollie.” You could hear the teasing in Jeonghan’s voice even as you lifted your arm to rest it over your face. “Why did he assume it was me?” 

Groaning his name, you turn on your back, causing Jeonghan’s hand to slide to your inner thigh, where he lets it rest. You squirm slightly, feeling his thumb rub small circles along your skin as he watches you closely much to your dismay. 

“Probably because Mingyu is out and he has already talked to him.” 

You fail to tell Jeonghan the part about how Seungcheol also knows that you are fucking Jeonghan but he is nice enough to only tease you sometimes about how much it’s going to break your heart one day. Sliding your arm from your face, you sigh as Jeonghan’s fingers start to work into the tight muscle of your thigh. It felt good; it was a nice gesture but you knew there was an ulterior motive to it. 

“We can’t do anything while we are here, Jeonghan. We have no idea when Mingyu will be back, and I don’t –” 

An annoyed groan slipping from between Jeonghan’s lips makes you fall silent as he slides up in bed and between your legs to hover over you on the bed. Your heart was beginning to race from the image of him above you to the thrill of the situation. You really didn’t know when Mingyu was coming back from his outing and the food could be delivered at any moment. 

“We are in Paris and you are going to lay on this bed and tell me that we aren’t going to fuck while we are here?” 

Slotting his leg between your thighs, Jeonghan smirks when he hears a whine get caught in your throat. There were many things he loved but one of them was feeling the warmth of your pussy, clothed or not, against his thigh. He loved when you would instinctively start to buck your hips against his leg just from the desire to feel any sort of release because you had to chase it. 

“Y/N…baby…princess…my beautiful angel…” 

All the pet names that fall from Jeonghan’s silver tongue cause your fingers to dig into the comforter as you try to fight the urge to roll your hips against his thigh. You can’t help but lift your right hand, grabbing for something more substantial, and find Jeonghan’s shirt when you feel his lips press against your neck as he kisses up to your ear. With each kiss, Jeonghan speaks and allows his warm breath to tempt you even further. 

“I might actually die if I can’t have you this entire time.” You knew he was being dramatic but you could also feel how hard Jeonghan was getting against your thigh so he was doing a good job of convincing you that he was telling you the truth. “We can be so careful. I’ll make it worth it.” 

You knew he would keep that promise. Every time with Jeonghan was worth it. No matter how much you tried to lie to yourself, even the cracks that were starting to line your heart and the stress building in your mind were worth it. 

Jeonghan whines your name against your jaw as his hand pulls your hips up and tighter against his thigh. He could feel the way you were starting to roll your hips and it made him want to lay on the bed under you and watch you ride his cock like that until he filled you full of his cum. He wanted nothing more than to keep you like this forever, to make this simple like it was in his head but his heart was making it complicated. His heart had made it complicated from day one. 

“Bonjour, service en chambre.” 

The voice of someone on the other side of the door and a stern knock pull you and Jeonghan from your lust filled haze quickly. With an annoyed groan, Jeonghan rests his head against your shoulder before nodding against it as the man announces himself again, trying to get any response from the room. 

“Oui, une minute, s'il vous plaît.” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan takes a deep breath before sliding off the bed to adjust his sweatpants. You could hear the frustration in Jeonghan’s sighs as he ran his fingers through his dark hair, moving towards the door and letting you sit up on the bed. In reality, there was nothing for either of you to be upset about. He had placed the order so it wasn’t surprising that it was being delivered in a timely manner. 

“Merci…”

The word falls from Jeonghan’s lips like venom as he takes the bags from the man before slamming the door in his face. Turning back to face you, Jeonghan gives you an incredulous look, finding you pressing your lips together and trying not to laugh at him. He didn’t find anything about the situation funny. 

“I got cock blocked and you are laughing?” 

Smiling, you reach your hand out to help Jeonghan with one of the bags, taking out the drinks and sitting them on the nightstand out of any danger of spilling, as he grumbles under his breath. You can’t help but laugh again, opening both straws and finding him pouting at you. 

“You didn’t even offer him a tip. Are you that pissed off?” 

Opening one of the containers with more force than necessary, Jeonghan grabs one of the forks, stabbing at a piece of pasta and lifting it to his lips, still pouting. 

“Is your cock still hard and not wet, Y/N? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a cock that gets painfully hard every time you look at your incredibly hot gi—friend.” 

Coughing as he takes a bite of food, Jeonghan looks down as he almost slips up on his wording, hoping you won’t notice. You just furrow your brows, your straw pursed on your lips, as you watch him for a moment before taking a sip and tilting the drink towards him, offering it to him to do the same. 

You weren’t sure what you had heard. You knew what you wanted to hear but at the same time, did you? What would that mean? So instead of lingering on it, you focus on the rest of his nonsense, letting Jeonghan off the hook for his slip up. 

“No, I don’t have a cock but I do get horny. You act like girls don’t get just as horny as guys. It’s not my fault that I can just hide it better.” 

Scoffing, Jeonghan leans towards you, taking a sip of your drink before turning his fork towards you to offer you a bite of the pasta, feeling the warmth that had risen in his neck and face starting to fade. Maybe he had just gotten lucky and you hadn’t caught the word he had almost used to refer to you or maybe you were just being nice. Either way, he wasn’t going to push the subject if you weren’t. 

Watching you take the bite from the fork, Jeonghan lets his eyes move over your face, lingering on your eyes. You were so beautiful, it was painful, and he was being honest when he said he didn’t want to waste the time the two of you had in Paris. It would be a waste to fly so far and not indulge in you as much as he could. 

You furrow your brows as Jeonghan’s eyes fall to the bed, the two of you eating mostly in silence until finally you are the first one to break the tension as you groan, rubbing your hand over your stomach with a grin on your face. Jeonghan can’t help but smile once again, feeling endeared by you as he takes another sip of drink before putting it back on the nightstand. 

“Full?” 

Nodding, you stretch on as Jeonghan works to close containers and cleans up, moving around your room. You watch as he glances back at you, his eyes moving along the length of your body, to the arch of your back when you whine into a yawn. Smiling, you reach for your phone, checking your messages, and at the same time feeling him lay on the bed next to you, slender fingers barely graving over your stomach, before Jeonghan slides his hand under your shirt to have contact with your skin. 

“I’m not.” 

Your laugh makes Jeonghan smile. The smile is genuine and full—not one of his half smiles that he would give to just anyone. No, this smile is one that is meant just for you. Reaching up to take your phone out of your hand, Jeonghan whispers your name and you can hear the need and desire laced in his voice like a question. With your brows furrowed, you can only meet his eyes and nod before his lips are back on yours. 

Whimpered moans slip into Jeonghan’s mouth as his fingers slide under the top of your shorts and between your legs. It was one thing to feel you against his thigh and it was another to feel your wet pussy on his fingers. 

Jeonghan groans into the kiss. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips, feeling you lift your hips towards his hand as his fingers spread your folds. Between breathy kisses, the sticky, wet sounds of Jeonghan’s fingers teasing you are all you can hear, even as you mutter, begging him for more. 

“More? Like what? What do you want, beautiful?” 

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you practically sob out a moan of frustration at Jeonghan’s question. You knew how much he liked you to tell him exactly what you wanted and he knew how much you just wanted him to give him everything. Pushing your head back against the pillow, you bite at your bottom lip only to have Jeonghan’s teeth pull it from yours with a dark laugh. 

“What do you want, Y/N? My fingers or my mouth?” 

Tears run from your eyes along your temples as Jeonghan’s lips press against yours teasingly. He was driving you crazy with his light touches to your clit, and it was making it hard to think and even harder to speak. Arching your back, you gasp Jeonghan’s name as his thumb and forefinger close around your clit, rolling the small bud between his fingers, waiting for you to speak. 

“Ah–fuck! Both…please? Please, just give me both. I can’t stand it.” 

It had been longer than Jeonghan would have liked since he had been in your bed and normally he would be more strict. Normally he would make you pick one thing and draw out your orgasm until you were begging him through tears for more, but just feeling your slick arousal on his fingers made Jeonghan weak for you. 

Moving to his knees, Jeonghan pushes his fingers into the top of your shorts and underwear. You only manage a soft whimper of his name as he slides them down your legs and tosses them onto the floor before letting his eyes roam over you. Licking his lips, Jeonghan slides his hands under your knees, pulling your hips down in bed as he lays on his stomach so that your pussy is level with his face. 

“Fuck…Jeonghan, please? Stop teasin—” 

Running his tongue from your entrance to the top of your mound, Jeonghan silences you as he groans to your taste. It really had been too long since he had been between your legs and he was starving. The food had been nothing in comparison to this and he was feeling almost feral after a single drop of you on his tongue. 

Long, slender fingers part your folds as Jeonghan moves his other hand from under your leg to circle your dripping hole with his middle finger as you moan his name. He could play you like a well tuned instrument and he knew every note by heart. 

Turning his hand palm up, Jeonghan groans under his breath, feeling your warm, soft walls welcome in his finger and tighten around them. He could just imagine how good you would feel on his cock and it had him leaking profusely in his sweatpants as he willed himself not to rut against the bed, lowering his head to flick his tongue at your throbbing clit. 

There have been few people in your life who made you feel as good in bed as Yoon Jeonghan and there were none who looked as good as him between your thighs. No one’s hair felt as good between your fingers as you held them against you; their lips wrapped around your clit as their fingers steadily pushed you towards heaven. No, that was only Yoon Jeonghan. 

You tasted better than anything that Jeonghan could imagine. He had wanted this from the moment that he had walked into the room and now that he was lucky enough to be between your legs, he could feel his head going fuzzy with just thoughts of you. You were like a drug that he could never get enough of. 

It was the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around his fingers as he pushed you over the edge and the sounds of your sweet little moans that caused Jeonghan to almost lose it. Words almost escape between his lips—three little words that could ruin everything. Closing his eyes tightly, Jeonghan buries his face against you to silence himself, enjoying the taste of your cum on his tongue until the sound of your phone causes him to furrow his brows. 

Your fingers tear at the bedding under you as Jeonghan tries his best to pull another orgasm from you until the familiar sound of your ringtone starts to play from beside you on the bed. Gasping for a full breath, you glance over to see Chan’s face as Jeonghan looks up at you from between your legs with a disappointed look on his face. 

“Let it go to voicemail.” 

That was one option but if Chan was calling you, there had to be a reason. Whining, you slide your hand across the bed, listening to Jeonghan groan in annoyance, laying his face against your thigh as you do. Licking your lips, you catch your breath before putting your phone on your chest and answering the phone while speaking, hoping it will mask some of your labored breathing. 

“Chan? What’s up?” 

Closing his eyes tightly, Jeonghan shakes his head as you answer the phone, knowing he isn't getting laid now. First, the hotel staff had bad timing and now Lee Chan was cock blocking him. Glancing back up at you and the phone, Jeonghan shifts to his elbow, leaning to wipe his lips as Chan finally speaks up, his voice instantly breaking your heart. 

“Y/N…I forgot my key. Soonyoung is in the room and won’t answer the phone. He’s still mad about earlier and you apparently have to have the key to get back into the hotel past a certain time.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan lets out a light scoff, causing you to shoot daggers from your eyes in his direction. You could hear that Chan was drunk and you had always had a soft spot for the younger boys in your group of friends. You had taken on the big sister role very quickly and took it seriously. Throwing his hands up, Jeonghan mouths “what?” in your direction at the look of disappointment on your face at his reaction before you simply roll your eyes and slide off the bed to pick up your shorts, sliding them back up your legs as you speak to Chan. 

“I’ll come down and let you in and then we will go talk to Soonyoung. Give me like five minutes.” 

Tossing your phone back on to the bed, you move past Jeonghan as he whines your name, trying to grab your hand, only to find your fingers slipping from his. He knew he was being selfish but fuck, he felt like he deserved it just a little bit. Every once in a while, people could be a little selfish and enjoy the company of their— Even in his head, he couldn’t think of the right word to call you, so Jeonghan watched you from the bathroom door instead as you freshened up. 

“Can we try again later?” 

Sighing, you glance at Jeonghan through the mirror as he leans his head against the door frame, a look of disappointment on his face that almost shatters your resolve. You wanted to be less “easy” and say maybe or maybe not but instead you just nod and try to walk past him, feeling Jeonghan’s hand slide around your waist. Soft lips press against yours and you feel your knees start to give at the feeling and at how much you want to pull Jeonghan back into your bed. 

“I’ll text you in a bit.” 

Six words and Jeonghan leaves you standing in your room, feeling confused and lost. Only the sound of a text and a selfie of a pouty Chan sitting on the steps, asking for a rescue, pulls you back to reality. 

Your fingers move along the rows of silk and satin on the rack as you purse your lips. It wasn’t that the dresses weren’t gorgeous. All of them were and all of them cost half of your rent. Mingyu lifts his gaze towards you as he pulls a shirt from a rack, putting it up to his body, before turning towards the mirror to judge his choice. 

“You can’t tell what they look like unless you actually look at them.” 

Mingyu was your favorite shopping partner. You found out years ago that he loved to shop even more than you did. He had a great eye for what would look good on you and you were grateful for that because you seemed to lack that ability. 

“They are so expensive, Gyu.” 

Nodding, Mingyu glances at the tag of the shirt held against his chest before sighing and draping it over his arm. You glance up at the man as he moves beside you, being a lot more thorough with the dresses than you had been. 

“It’s my treat. We need to find you something pretty to wear for tonight. You are going out with Jeonghan, right?” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you stumble over your feet, trying to take a step away from your best friend. Lifting his brow, Mingyu just smirked, taking one of the dresses from the rack—a long sleeved, soft mint green dress with a deep V neckline. 

“I–Mingyu…first of all, no. I can’t let you buy it. Secondly, no…  It’s dinner with Jeonghan and Dokyeom.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu moves closer, holding the dress up to you and reaching out with one hand to hold the long sleeve to your arm. Pursing his lips, Mingyu glances over his shoulder at the shop attendant, furrowing his brows, trying to remember anything he had practiced in French. 

“Um… Excusez-moi. Salle des vêtements ?” 

Smiling, you furrow your brows at Mingyu’s attempt to ask for a fitting room as the girl just smiles at him and lifts her brows, speaking in English as she gestures towards the back of the store. 

“There are fitting rooms this way.” 

Laying the dress over his arm along with his shirt, Mingyu shrugs before looking back at you as you laugh under your breath. 

“What? What did I say?” 

“You asked for the clothes room. I mean, not too far off.” 

Sighing, Mingyu walks beside you before offering the pretty store attendant a dazzling smile before she leaves the two of you alone to try on your outfits. 

“Well, it’s not like that’s the first time I’ve looked like an idiot in front of a woman. I don’t know how to say "fitting” in French.” Offering you the dress, Mingyu lifts his brows as you start to whine, looking at the price tag. “Try it on, Y/N.” 

You slide your fingers over the silk, taking the dress from Mingyu, before going behind the curtain. The dress was beautiful. It was not what you would have picked for yourself just because you weren’t sure it was something you could pull off. The V of the neck was deep and would show off your collarbones. It would take at least ten minutes to button all of the buttons that led from your waist to your chest but by the time you were finished, you were even speechless as you stared at the mirror. 

Adjusting the white button up over his chest, Mingyu turns to the side and nods at his appearance in the mirror before looking at the curtain you had disappeared behind. He knew you were going to look good but he also knew that your self esteem was going to get the better of you without a little push. 

“Y/N…come on, get your ass out—oh…” 

Words fall silent on Mingyu’s lips when you open the curtain, your leg peeking from the large slit that rests at the top of your thigh as you move into the center of the fitting room area towards the larger mirror where he stood. You were his best friend and more like a sister but he was also a guy at the end of the day and he had eyes. You were stunning. 

“Is it awful? I told you that nothing in this place would look right on me.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu steps behind you, taking your shoulders to put you in front of the large mirror where lights would shine down on you, allowing you to see better how well the dress truly fits you. It hugged in all the right places and flowed in others. 

“You are fucking beautiful. Yoon Jeonghan is going to lose his damn mind.” 

Jeonghan couldn’t stop staring at you. He knew that the restaurant that the three of you had chosen to go to was nice but when he had met you in the lobby of the hotel with Dokyeom and you had been in that dress... Jeonghan had almost lost his mind. 

You smile as Dokyeom walks beside you, his cheerful voice causing your face to light up like a star in the sky, while Jeonghan struggles to think straight. How could anyone be around you without wanting you? Jeonghan wasn’t sure how Dokyeom could act normal around you when you looked like you had stepped out of Jeonghan’s dreams. 

Jeonghan was in love. He had known it for a while now but looking at you now, in that dress, under the Parisian street lamps... He couldn’t tell himself it was just lust anymore. 

Glancing up at the sign for the restaurant, you can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on you. They hadn’t left you for the entire walk from the hotel to the restaurant. You felt like you were going to float away under his gaze but the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground was Dokyeom. 

“The reservations are under your name, Y/N.” 

Jeonghan’s voice brings your attention to him fully and you feel your cheeks heat up as if you were standing in front of an open flame. He looked incredible. You were all dressed up. The restaurant wasn’t incredibly fancy but it was considered fine dining so you all wanted to look the part. Jeonghan had chosen dark jeans, a dark button up with a jacket, and brown boots. Everything fits him perfectly and makes your mouth feel dry. 

“Right…I’ll check in. Be right back.” 

Two sets of eyes watch you but one lingers longer before Jeonghan finally pulls his eyes from the door to focus on Dokyeom with a long sigh. 

“Y/N looks fantastic tonight, don’t you think?” 

That was one way to put it. Jeonghan just scoffs into a laugh, lifting his hand to run it over his lips before nodding and narrowing his eyes, thinking about how to answer that question and what he even wanted to say. He knew what he wanted but he knew it would upset you if you found out. Fuck it. 

“She looks beautiful.” Moving in closer to Dokyeom, Jeonghan watches the man lean his head back a bit, almost out of concern. His eyes widen as if the shorter man was going to hit him before Jeonghan smooths Dokyeom’s jacket and smiles. “If you make up a reason to leave now, I'll give you 50 bucks or literally anything you want.” 

Laughing, Dokyeom tilts his head, thinking it has to be a joke, until he meets Jeonghan’s eyes and sees the serious look of desperation in them. He knew that his friend liked you but maybe it was reaching that point where he was willing to admit it to himself and you.

Swallowing hard, Dokyeom glances towards the door to see you smiling at the hostess, your eyes glancing towards him as you give him an apologetic look and say something else to the woman. There was no way he wasn’t going to get a guilt trip from you for leaving but if he didn't, Jeonghan might actually hit him. 

“I–fuck man. Y/N is gonna be pissed at me. She’s the one who wanted us to all get dinner together, but...” 

One more look into Jeonghan’s eyes and Dokyeom felt his excuse crumble. He could see how important this was to Jeonghan and now it felt important to him too. 

“Yeah…alright. I’ll come up–” 

“Okay! So she said, like ten more minutes.” 

Stepping back from Jeonghan, Dokyeom clears his throat before smiling just a bit too big at you. You knew something was different but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Jeonghan was pretty good at lying to you or at least at pulling something over on you but Dokyeom wasn’t. 

“I am so sorry but I have to get back to the hotel. Rain check on dinner.” 

Watching your face fall, Dokyeom feels his stomach tighten as you take a step towards him and he takes a step back, knowing that if you press him too much for answers, he will crumble. 

“What? You were so excited. Why?” 

Lifting his hands, Dokyeom gestures back towards the hotel and it’s as if you can see the gears moving in his head as he thinks of an excuse on his feet. 

“Uh…Min–Mingyu. Yep, Mingyu texted me. He wants my help with something. So I gotta go, right now. Like right now. Bye!” 

Starting to speak, you end up closing your mouth as Dokyeom lets out a squeal, quickly moving away from you into the flow of people heading away from the restaurant. Narrowing your eyes, you look back to Jeonghan, who rubs his lips together before smiling sweetly at you and lifting his hand, offering it to you. 

“Looks like it’s just us, baby.” 

Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you roll your eyes at Jeonghan before turning from his hand, realizing he must have had something to do with Dokyeom’s quick departure. You sigh as you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, Jeonghan’s chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles next to your ear before pouting. 

“What? Are you mad at me? I didn’t leave.” 

Leaning your head away from his lips, you hear Jeonghan let out a long sigh as you all but reject him again. Fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you back against him, and Jeonghan’s brows furrow deeply. 

“Y/N…seriously?” A quick glance from you has Jeonghan leaning his head back with a groan before he nods, giving in. “Yes, I asked him to leave. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Your features soften at Jeonghan’s confession. You had figured that he had asked Dokyeom to leave but you hadn’t really expected him to tell you. You had expected to argue with him to the point that he would lie about it and then tell you the truth around the time for dessert. What was different about tonight? 

“I–what? Yes…I didn’t want you to lie to me.” 

Jeonghan’s hands slide from your waist as he begrudgingly lets you stand on your own, as if coming to the realization that you don’t want to be held or to hold his hand. You watch as his eyes widen, a small smile pulling at his lips when you slide your hand along his. 

“Mademoiselle?” 

Glancing up at the woman you had spoken to earlier, you let out a soft breath, giving her a smile and a nod before leading Jeonghan along with you. He listens as you explain that your party has become two and she drops off a menu at the front before leading you and Jeonghan to a table near a window. 

Watching you from across the table, Jeonghan takes a deep breath as you look down at your menu, his eyes moving as he tilts his head to see your legs crossed just off to the side of the table. He knew that he should be more civilized, perhaps more respectful but the way the dress was hugging your thighs and the way the slit of the dress was sitting so high on your leg was making his mouth water. 

Licking your lips, you start to ask Jeonghan what he is thinking about ordering when you lift your eyes to find his eyes moving along your legs and up your body. The heat rises once again in your neck and up your face at the amount of attention he was giving you. You had known he had been looking at you but you hadn’t expected him to do it so obviously now. 

Meeting your eyes and finding you watching him, Jeonghan grins, having been caught by you. He knew he should be embarrassed but instead, he just lets out a breath and shakes his head. 

“You are so fucking pretty. I’m sorry…  I can’t stop staring at you. That was why I asked Dokyeom to bail on dinner. I wanted you all to myself. I’m selfish.” 

Shifting in your seat, you reach for the water in front of you, taking a sip at Jeonghan’s words. You hadn’t expected him to speak so candidly about his reasoning for why Dokyeom had left or why he was looking at you the way he was. You watch his smile soften and his gaze drop to his menu, allowing you a moment of clarity to take your own breath as you get a break from his attention. 

“You are selfish.” Your voice is quiet and meek but Jeonghan smiles, letting out an amused breath before looking up at you once again as you continue. “You could have just asked me to dinner on your own.” 

Jeonghan swallows hard at your words, his confident facade breaking slightly as he looks down at his menu. Clearing his throat, Jeonghan tries to think of the right words before he finally manages to meet your eyes again. 

“Is it shitty of me that I’m afraid you’ll turn me down? So this way, we were all going out. You had more of a reason to be here.” 

Your heart shouldn’t be aching the way it was hearing another confession from Jeonghan but it was breaking your heart. You didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t sure what he even wanted you to say. The rules had been clear. You were just friends. Has that changed? 

“Jeonghan…” 

The whine in your voice sounds similar to a rejection and Jeonghan can’t stand the idea of that so he just smiles and holds up his hands, happy to see the waiter standing beside you. He didn’t want to hear how he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t Kim Mingyu or Choi Seungcheol. He already knew, but that didn’t make him want you any less. Maybe he could still prove it to you. 

Jeonghan was thankful for the wine running through yours and his system as you laughed, leaning against his body. He knew you weren’t so drunk that you weren’t thinking clearly but you were feeling free enough that any of the earlier tension seemed to have melted away. 

“It was so good. Those coffee truffles… Jeonghan, oh my god. Babe, will you go back and get me more?” 

Hearing you call him babe was like injecting his veins with serotonin. Jeonghan nods before leaning to press a kiss to your jaw as you laugh sweetly. He would give you the world if you asked for it and laughed so beautifully for him like that. 

“Mm, I don’t wanna go to bed.” 

You pout into your words, looking up at the hotel, as you dig into your purse for your key and Jeonghan holds on to your waist with a grin. You were adorable all of the time but when you were even a little tipsy, you dialed up the cute factor by a hundred, making him melt at the sight of you. Sliding the key from your fingers, Jeonghan listens to your laughter as he taps it against the reader and pulls open the door as you thank him.   

“Then we won’t go to our rooms yet. I know a place. I found it earlier.” 

Jeonghan piqued your curiosity, causing you to tilt your head with a small, curious sound. Laughing, the man lets you lean on him as he walks to the elevator, still using your key to open it, before pressing the button for the top floor. 

“Where are we going?” 

You lean between Jeonghan’s legs as he rests against the elevator wall, the quiet beeps of each floor being passed acting as background music. Smiling, Jeonghan slides his hands along the soft silk of your dress to rest them on your hips, leaning his head back against the wall with a small chuckle at your question. 

“Up.” 

One final ding and the doors open to a long, quiet hallway. You lean back on your heels to look, making Jeonghan hold your wrists to keep you steady. The coast looked pretty clear; only a housekeeping cart and a few room service trays left outside the doors let you know to keep your voices down. 

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jeonghan smiles behind his finger as you lower your head to suppress a laugh sticking by his side. The two of you sneak down the hallway, only stopping at the housekeeping cart long enough for Jeonghan to grab a blanket slipping it under his arm. 

“Where are we going?” 

The question once again slips from your lips as you glance back to make sure no one was following you and Jeonghan as he turns to the left to what seems like a dead end, a door leading to an emergency exit to the roof. Raising his brows, Jeonghan pushes the door with his shoulder and you wince, ready to hear an alarm but when nothing happens except the door opening, your eyes soften and your mouth falls open in surprise. 

“Shhh, our little secret.” 

Keeping your hand tightly in his, Jeonghan climbs the steps before pushing open a second door, causing you to gasp at the sight. From the roof of the hotel, you can see for miles on a clear night. The lights of the city twinkling and burning like stars and in the distance, even the Eiffel Tower greets you like something out of a movie as you let go of Jeonghan’s hand moving towards the wall lining the entire roof. 

Jeonghan just watches you in awe as the wind lightly moves the dress around your legs as you rest your hands on the wall, looking out into the city. Sure, the city was beautiful but it had nothing on you. He had been to more places than most in the group but none of them compared to this... to you now. 

“Oh my god... Jeonghan, this is so pretty. I’m so glad you found this.” 

Hands slide around your waist as Jeonghan moves to stand behind you with a smile on his lips. He had wanted to wait a bit longer and just watch you but the urge to touch you was just too great. Leaning back against him, you laugh under your breath, sliding your hands over his, taking in a deep breath of the night air. This was perfect. If you could write out how you wish your life could be lived every day and every night, it would be like this. You would be in Jeonghan’s arms, looking out over a beautiful city. But that was a pipe dream. 

Nudging his nose against your neck, Jeonghan furrows his brows, feeling your shoulders drop. He could sense your mood changing but he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that he could and wouldn’t let something so perfect go to waste. 

“Can we pretend?” 

Jeonghan’s words, spoken against your neck, are almost so quiet that you have to strain to hear them but you close your eyes and furrow your brows in question. 

“What?” 

Pressing his hands tighter against your stomach, Jeonghan practically whines out his words, causing your heart to tighten and practically shatter. 

“That we are more than this. Just tonight? That’s all I’m asking for. I know I’m not fucking worth it… but just pretend for me? One…fucking night?” 

If he had any idea what he was asking you to do, it didn’t seem to show. You were already suffering with the arrangement that you had and now he wanted more without actually having more. It was almost unbearable and yet all you can do is whimper out a “yes” and a “please, Jeonghan,” like the pathetic woman you are. You say it because you are irrevocably in love with Jeonghan and you can’t admit it openly to yourself, much less to him. 

Turning in his arms, you reach up to cup Jeonghan’s cheek as you feel his fingernails scratch along the silk of your dress at your waist. Dark brown eyes search yours for a short moment until soft lips finally connect with yours, taking your breath away. 

Jeonghan was always a good kisser but there was something about this kiss that felt different. This kiss felt desperate, as if he was trying to make a point or to ingrain it into your memory forever, just in case there wasn’t a second chance. 

You whine out a soft moan, stepping back from the side of the roof as Jeonghan catches your bottom lip between his. He feels your free hand tug at the front of his jacket as if you are trying to keep him in place but just a few more steps back, he finally stops before pulling away to pick up the blanket he had put to the side. 

You watch as Jeonghan lays out the blanket, kneeling down, before offering you his hand to help you do the same. Now it made sense; of course he had a plan. He always did. He was the type of person to think three steps ahead of everyone and usually five steps ahead of you. Carefully moving down to the blanket, you let Jeonghan pull you into his lap, his free hand tracing the line of your thigh and tugging your dress up your legs so as not to cause your dress to rip on the way down. 

“You look so fucking pretty tonight, baby. This dress…fuck… I love it but I—shit, I gotta see you. Wanna see you under the stars. Wanna fuck you under them.” 

It was cliche and yet Jeonghan’s words had your cheeks on fire. The words had your breath quickening as you straddled his lap, feeling his fingers trying to figure out how to impatiently undo the dozens of buttons as he whined in annoyance. 

“Goddammit… There are too many.” 

Shaking your head, you watch as Jeonghan glances up at you, mischief in his eyes as he grabs either side of your dress at the front, trying to tug at it to make the buttons come loose. Reaching up to grab his hands, you whine, making him sigh at you, his tongue running across his lips as you pout at him, trying to make him see reason. 

“I didn’t buy it... It was a gift from Mingyu.” 

Pressing his tongue into his cheek, Jeonghan lifts his brows, learning where your dress came from. He knew deep down that there was nothing between you and Mingyu but that didn’t stop him from seeing red in that moment and it didn’t stop him from making a split second decision. The sound of expensive buttons being flung across the roof makes you gasp as you lean back, looking down at your ruined dress as Jeonghan groans, leaning to kiss over the lace covering your breasts. 

“Jeonghan…What the fuck?” 

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more. Just don’t say his name again, not tonight.”

Muttering against your chest, Jeonghan shakes his head, sliding his fingers along your shoulders to push the dress down your arms before he looks up to meet your eyes. You see no sense of regret or remorse in his eyes, just lust and something else that you aren’t sure if you can name or that you want to. 

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes, feeling Jeonghan’s lips move up the length of your neck towards your jaw. Chillbumps erupt along your skin as his fingers guide your dress down your arms, letting the material pool at your waist when you slip your hands from the sleeves. 

“Then don’t leave me like this alone.” 

You whine out the words so sweetly that Jeonghan smiles on your skin, a small chuckle escaping his lips before he sits back, shrugging off his jacket, letting you help him undo the buttons of his shirt. Your nails lightly scratch his chest as your eyes take in his handsome face. You had looked at him hundreds of times this closely before but this time felt different and on some levels, you knew this time would hurt your heart more in the morning. 

Tossing his shirt to the side, Jeonghan reaches up to cup your cheek, leaning to brush his lips against yours with a soft sigh at the feeling of your kiss. You were giving into a feeling this time and he could tell. Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan uses his free hand to work open the clasp of your bra, feeling it give way as you arch your chest towards him, your hands holding tightly to his biceps as if grounding you to the roof and to him. 

Cold air nips at your breasts when Jeonghan slides the lace from your body before warm breath walks across the same path. You feel his hands holding the arch of your back as your fingers push through his hair, a moan slipping from your lips at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Please, Jeonghan…” 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan pauses, leaving his lips pressed against the soft skin of your breast, when you breathe out his name, begging for more. In what seems like just a span of a heartbeat, you find yourself on your back on the blanket, Jeonghan hovering over you, his longer dark hair framing his face as his eyes move over your face. 

Lifting your hips, you find yourself shying away from Jeonghan’s attention as he slips the dress down your legs, a shaky breath escaping from between his lips at the sight of you bare in front of him. He knew it had just been a day since he had laid between your legs but every time felt like a privilege, especially this time. 

“Holy shit, baby…” 

Trying to turn your head, Jeonghan’s long, slender fingers stop you. In Jeonghan's opinion, there was no reason for you to look away or for you to be embarrassed by anything. You were perfect. 

Another soft, “please...” reaches Jeonghan’s ears as his thumb brushes under your bottom lip, causing his brows to knit together just slightly. He had heard you beg before; he had even made you beg but he didn’t want to make you beg or want anything this time. Tonight, he wanted to give you anything and everything you wanted. Tonight he wanted to prove something to you, even if it was just pretend. 

Watching Jeonghan nod and move back to his knee, your eyes fall to his hands as he lets out a deep breath, working his belt open with shaky fingers. Sitting up, you listen to how Jeonghan’s breath changes when your hands take the place of his, your fingers steadily undoing his belt and his jeans, before you meet his eyes through lowered lashes. 

Jeonghan can’t help but smile, a laugh escaping from his lips on an exhale in reaction to even the smallest action from you. There was no denying that he was turned on but there was more to it that even he couldn’t explain in a single night. Shaking his head, Jeonghan moves to his feet, his eyes still on yours, as you watch from the blanket as he sheds the last of his clothes before moving back to his knees and back into your touch. 

Leaning his forehead against yours, Jeonghan groans, feeling the warmth of your body against his as he lays between your legs. Sliding your leg along his thigh, you rest your knee at his hip and run your fingers along his arm, enjoying the feeling of the weight of his body even as you ache for him between your thighs. 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan licks his lips when he tries to move, his hand pushing against the blanket and you cling to him, keeping him close to you. Meeting your eyes, he finds a desperate look in your eyes that he knows he isn’t going to be able to resist even before you speak. 

“Just…please? Fuck me, Jeonghan, please.” 

He hadn’t prepped you and he hadn’t touched you since yesterday but he could feel how aroused you were as his cock rested between your legs. Groaning, Jeonghan starts to shake his head in a feeble attempt to argue with you and reason with you but when you lift your hips and rub your pussy against him, every thought in his mind is lost. Instead, Jeonghan whispers your name on your lips as you kiss him and beg him again with your hand cupping his jaw. 

Nodding, Jeonghan reaches between the two of you, lining himself up with you and listening to your breath hitch as he pushes into your tight walls slowly until he bottoms out, his hips resting fully against yours. With one hand resting beside your head, Jeonghan grips your hip with the other hand, resting his forehead against yours as he stays still for a moment to catch his breath as you clench around him. 

The stretch is familiar and yet without the prep, though you had begged him to skip it, you find yourself needing the moment to adjust. Jeonghan wasn’t too big but instead, it was as if his body was made for yours and he filled you perfectly. Once the initial pain of the stretch faded, only the feeling of euphoria and the need for him to move remained. 

Lightly scratching your nails against the side of his neck, you swallow hard to catch your breath before nodding and lifting your hips as if trying to urge him without words. Jeonghan groans into a soft chuckle of your name that sounds like a plea for mercy before you swallow the sound with a kiss as your lips find his. 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan rocks his hips towards yours, filling you once again deeply, causing you to moan into the kiss. Each thrust sends the knot in your stomach to tighten, pushing you towards the edge and your orgasm. The way that Jeonghan seems to know your body and how he finds just the right angle wordlessly, moaning his name as tears gather on the rims of your eyes, makes your head spin. 

“Baby…” 

The pet name whispered against your cheek so softly that the tears that had collected in your eyes fell on a soft sob as you wrapped your arm around Jeonghan’s neck. You pull him closer to you not wanting him to see you cry from something other than pleasure. Closing his eyes tightly as his lips rest against the crook of your neck, Jeonghan hisses out something intelligible that he is afraid you might hear or he might regret as he feels you tightening around him, your orgasm ripping through you. There were three small words that he had tried so hard to keep to himself that could mean nothing or everything. 

With a few more uneven thrusts, Jeonghan follows you over that edge, quickly pulling out of you to cum on to your stomach with a labored, breathy groan, his eyes searching for yours as you avoid him. He could see the tears that had streamed down your face and across your temples into your hair but he wasn’t sure if they were good tears or not. 

Reaching up to wipe his thumb under your eye, Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak but the words are hard to get out. There was so much he wished he could say to you if he weren’t so stupid and scared, so instead he shifted to his other hand and wiped the tears from your other eye before using his shirt to clean your stomach silently. 

After a few moments, silence was deafening, and you felt like you were going to scream if one of you didn’t speak. It had never been this quiet after you and Jeonghan had fucked but then again, it had never felt like that before. Swallowing hard, you look up as Jeonghan finishes buttoning his shirt, your dress mostly covering your body. 

“Jeong—” 

“Y/N…” 

Both of you stop speaking. Having spoken over one another, a smile lifts at both of your lips and Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning down to pick up his jacket before he moves to put it on you. Moving around you, he meets your eyes as he zips up the jacket before leaning to press a kiss to your lips and you feel your heart beat hard and fast like it’s going to burst or break. You aren’t sure which will happen first. 

“Let’s get you to bed. It’s late and I’m sure Mingyu will call the cops if he wakes up and finds you missing from your bed.” 

Nodding, you feel Jeonghan’s fingers slide against your hand before his fingers lace with yours and he leads you back towards the door and back to reality, where the two of you could stop playing pretend. You feel the tears once again prickling at your eyes. Sniffling, you will the tears back, at least until you are safe in bed and away from Jeonghan’s watchful eye. 

Jihoon lifts his brows as you swirl the wine glass in front of you thoughtfully before taking a sip. You glance towards where Soonyoung is talking to a pretty lady showing him another bottle of wine before you once again frown into your glass. It wasn’t like you to be so quiet or to look so down. 

You and Jihoon weren’t as close as some of the others in the group. In truth, you and Soonyoung were closer but over the years, everyone had grown up. Personalities had changed and around a year ago, you had found yourself picking up the phone to text or call Jihoon more often for advice or just to talk. 

“Wanna join us for this wine tour, Y/N? You scheduled it.” 

Looking up from your glass, you meet Jihoon’s eyes with a look of surprise and guilt. You knew you had been more distracted and distant all day but hearing it from Jihoon’s mouth snapped you back to reality. 

“I’m sorry, Jihoon...  just a lot on my mind.” 

Nodding, Jihoon takes a sip of his wine, glancing towards Soonyoung, who seems oblivious to not only the conversation but any of the tension as he accepts a different glass of wine. 

“I can tell. Maybe you need to just tell Jeonghan how you feel about him.” 

With your own glass sitting against your lips, at Jihoon’s words, you choke on your wine, watching the man smile and take another sip as if he had just told you about the weather. The sound of your coughing is finally what draws Soonyoung back to you, concern on his face as he pats your back, leaning to look at you closely. 

“You okay? Don’t drink it so fast.” 

“She’s fine, Soonyoung.” 

Nodding, you try to agree with Jihoon but Soonyoung takes the glass from your hand, leading you towards one of the empty tables, making Jihoon follow with a sigh. 

“I’m okay, I promise.” 

Gesturing his hand out towards you as if to say, I told you so, Jihoon takes the seat across from you as Soonyoung sits beside you, his brows finally relaxing. 

“Okay… you wanna keep going?” 

Jihoon watches you closely as you consider the question, your eyes falling to your phone in your hand. When you take longer than he feels necessary to answer, he purses his lips, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fist and looking towards Soonyoung, meeting his eyes. The two share a quick, silent conversation. 

“I–I mean, yeah, course —”

“I think Jeonghan canceled his plans on Shua today too.” 

Blinking a few times at Soonyoung’s words, you take a breath before leaning forward to rest your head in your hands. The warmth of Soonyoung’s hand running along your back is as soothing as it is humiliating as his words echo in your head. 

“Y/N… It’s not a big deal.” 

Scoffing, you sit up, sniffing back any emotion that has come to the surface, before you look at either of your friends with a shrug. You had been careful. Clearly, Jeonghan had been the one to fuck up but maybe you could still keep this a secret on your part. 

“What? Why would I care what he’s doing today?” 

Smirking, Jihoon lets out a breath that sounds more like a chuckle as he leans back in his chair, causing you to look in his direction. Meeting your eyes, the man lifts his hands in disbelief at your attempt to lie. 

“Really? That’s how you are going to try to play this?” 

The look on Jihoon’s face made you want to smack him but you tried to keep a look of indifference on yours. Sighing, Soonyoung just shakes his head, resting his arm on your chair behind your back, tilting his head towards you. 

“You are dating him, aren’t you? I mean…kinda what it seems like. He’s all over you and if anyone even looks at you for too long, we get a death stare from him. Even Mingyu…” Smiling, Soonyoung lifts his hand from the chair to brush under his nose, amused as he speaks. “Especially Mingyu.” 

Sighing as you lift, you reach for your wine, taking a sip of it and lifting your shoulders in mild defeat. Soonyoung wasn’t telling you anything you didn’t know. After last night and the state of your dress lying in your suitcase, hiding from Mingyu, you knew that Jeonghan had the wrong impression of your relationship with him—or he just didn’t want to understand it. 

“It’s not my fault he can’t control his face. At least this isn’t my fault.” 

Sharing another look with Soonyoung, Jihoon smiles at you before finally laughing as he looks down at his fingers around the stem of his wine glass. 

“Uh, Y/N, you both fucked up if your goal was to keep your...” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon meets your eyes, looking for a bit of clarification, getting none before he continues. “Relationship, a secret.” 

Now it was you who needed the clarification. You couldn’t think of a single time that you had been careless enough to make your relationship with Jeonghan as obvious as Jihoon was making it seem. Lifting your brows, you whine Jihoon’s name, making the man lower his head and nod before he continues with his explanation. 

“About a month ago, you called me around like, fuck, two in the morning. You were wasted and I’m pretty sure you were hanging out at Cheol’s.” Sighing, Jihoon looks at Soonyoung as if looking for moral support as he continues. “You said something about wanting me to keep a secret about Jeonghan. No matter what I said, I couldn’t stop you, so you told me you were sleeping with him.” 

There wasn’t enough wine or water in all of Paris to help the way that your mouth went dry at Jihoon’s words. You knew that you got drunk with Seungcheol on occasion and you also knew that there were a few times you couldn't remember the night before. You also knew there were nights you would see phone calls or texts to friends, mostly Jeonghan, that you couldn’t remember the next day, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would do something like what Jihoon was recounting for you. 

Wincing in embarrassment for you, Soonyoung watches you stare at your wine glass for a full minute before you slide your purse on to your shoulder and clear your throat. 

“Uh… I’m so fucking sorry, Jihoon. I’m sorry to both of you. For today and for that night. Fuck…for any night that I have done anything stupid like that.” 

When you start to stand up to leave, Soonyoung reaches out to take your hand with a frown on his face. You close your eyes, feeling his thumb press against your palm as he grounds you to the moment, his voice soothing you like his hand had rubbed your back moments before. 

“No one is mad at you or upset. Honestly, not many others really know. Some of them assume something is up but personally, I just want you both to be happy. You clearly like each other.” 

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard feeling tears that threaten to fall as they collect behind your lashes. It wasn’t that simple, but neither of your friends knew that. Shaking your head, you carefully pull your hand from Soonyoung’s. 

“I’m just a phase, Soonie. I–I gotta go. Have a good day. Sorry…” 

Barely meeting Jihoon’s eyes, you see him start to speak as you reach up to wipe away a tear as quickly as it falls before you slip past a group of people moving into the winery. 

“Fuck.” 

Nodding along with Soonyoung’s one word response to your exit, Jihoon sighs as you walk out of the door. He felt like he could have handled the situation better but he hoped you needed the push. 

Watching Jeonghan from his bed, Joshua lifts his brow as Jeonghan sighs for the umpteenth time. They had plans to go on a walking tour, to see the Eiffel Tower, the Seine River, and maybe even get some food before the end of the day, but now Joshua was feeling like those plans were changing. 

Lifting his hand to rub at his eyes, Jeonghan tries to push you from his mind and the tears he had seen on your cheeks as he had walked back to your room with you. He tried to forget the sad smile you had given him as you said goodnight and handed him back his jacket—the jacket he was thinking about putting on for the day. Now the jacket was lying on his bed, and he had stared at it, sighed at it, and walked away from it multiple times as his best friend watched thoughtfully. 

“Did the jacket offend your family?” 

Laughing into a breath, Jeonghan slides his hand down his face and over his lips as he shakes his head. He knew Joshua was trying to lighten the mood and make him laugh but he had no idea what was really going on. As far as Jeonghan knew, no one knew about his arrangement with you—well, besides Dokyeom but he was clearly just observant. 

“Nah…just not sure I wanna wear it.” 

Sighing, Joshua purses his lips as Jeonghan picks up the jacket and brings it to his nose, taking in a breath before shaking his head. Either he hadn’t washed the jacket in a long time or something else had happened with it that he wasn’t telling Joshua about, which only meant one thing. 

“So, did you wanna tell me what's going on? This have anything to do with the texts I’m getting from Jihoon about how fucking depressed Y/N seems today?” 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan looks down at the jacket in his hands. It smelled like you, not just your perfume but just you and he knew if he wore it today he would be even more lost in his head. Joshua’s words pull him back from his thoughts but only make him put up an instant facade as Jeonghan smiles and shakes his head. 

“Huh? What do you mean? Is she, uh, she okay? Should I text her?” The facade starts to crack the moment he tries to talk about you; no matter how good of a liar Jeonghan could be when it came to you, it was becoming harder to pretend. Licking his lips, Jeonghan looks down and manages to continue what he was saying. “I’m not sure what I could say to help her, but I could check on her if you think I should.” 

Laying his jacket across a chair, Jeonghan shakes his head at his own weakness, knowing he must look like an idiot. As Joshua just sighs and sits up on the bed. He knew that look even without actually seeing it. He had been best friends with Joshua Hong for nearly a decade; they were closer to brothers than friends at this point and if there was anyone that it was difficult to lie to, it was him. 

“Stop. I’ve pretended not to notice because you two obviously wanted to keep it a secret but I know you better than almost anyone.” Tilting his head, Joshua watches Jeonghan scoff as he listens to him speak. “I thought you would just tell me when you were ready but something happened, so just fucking talk to me, man. I hate seeing you miserable. I don’t like seeing Y/N upset either.” 

Reaching up to once again pinch the bridge of his nose like he is getting a headache, Jeonghan moves back to his bed, sitting down on it with a loud sigh. The sigh was one of defeat mixed with relief as he finally met Joshua’s eyes and nodded. 

“I fucked up. I could have fucked anyone else and it wouldn’t have mattered but it’s been her.” 

Joshua’s shoulders lift as he takes in a deep breath, getting confirmation of what he had assumed to be true. He knew things had been different for months but he also knew that even if Jeonghan hadn’t wanted to admit it to you or to most of the others, he had had a crush on you for years. 

“Okay… So, like last night or?” 

The question hangs in the air until Jeonghan tilts his head and winces out of embarrassment and anxiety. Joshua had known the answer to his own questions but that hadn’t stopped him from hoping this wasn’t as messy as it seemed. With the look on Jeonghan’s face, he knew it was a potential tangled web that could lead to the end of friendships. 

“Shit–I..okay, I mean, I figured, but...” 

Scoffing in disbelief, Jeonghan leans over his knees, putting his head in his hands. Had he been that obvious. He knew he had gotten a little jealous lately and maybe a bit more careless when it came to how he was acting towards Mingyu, but otherwise he felt like he wasn’t that transparent. 

“I assume you aren’t dating.” 

Shaking his head, still unable to meet Joshua’s eyes out of fear of what he will find in them, Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes. 

“But you are, and correct me if I’m wrong here. You are in love with her.” 

Fingers dig into his scalp hard as Joshua says the words out loud so flippantly. Narrowing his eyes, Joshua leans forward to watch Jeonghan as he processes what he had said before he sits up and slaps his hands down over his thighs with an unamused laugh. 

“Because I’m an idiot.” Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan still avoids Joshua’s as his voice wavers even slightly. “You know we came up with rules? I came up with most of them when we decided to do this.” Pushing his thumbs into the meat of his thighs, Jeonghan lets out an unamused laugh as he seems to bask in his stupidity and the levity of the situation. “All because I wanted her to agree to sleeping with me because I thought that was the only way I’d get her to be with me.” 

While Joshua could see how, where, and why the arrangement came to be, it still made him sad as he watched his best friend breakdown. He had never been in a similar situation and he didn’t think of you in the same way, but he did see how Jeonghan looked at you. 

“Why would that be the only way? Why didn’t you just ask her out?” Scoffing, Joshua gestures towards his friend as if trying to get him to see reason as he speaks, his voice kind but firm. “Why don’t you ask her out now?” 

Now Joshua was being ridiculous. He knew his best friend was intelligent—perhaps one of his smartest friends—but that idea sounded akin to driving his car into the ocean. Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he would do if he knew for sure that you didn’t care about him in the same way. 

“And risk losing one of my best friends? Are you fucking insane? She doesn’t like me like that, Shua.” 

Standing up, Jeonghan starts to pace. The weight of Joshua’s eyes is heavy but somehow it is still a comfort, even when he knows that he is frustrated with him. Narrowing his eyes, Joshua looks away from Jeonghan after a moment to look at his phone, seeing a text message from his group chat with Jihoon and Soonyoung. Lifting the phone from the bed, he scoffs under his breath, glancing towards the man in front of him as Jeonghan gnaws at his thumbnail, lost in thought. 

"Clearly, she does. Jihoon said she’s not going to make it through the wine tour with them.” Glancing back down at his phone, Joshua texts back as he speaks quietly, knowing Jeonghan is still paying attention to him. “And I know we aren’t going out. You two need to fucking talk.” 

Jeonghan’s mouth starts to open, only to close when he meets Joshua’s eyes as he looks over his phone. He knew it wasn’t a suggestion but the idea of it was terrifying. 

“Figure it out, Jeonghan. Don’t throw away your friendship and the potential of something else over your pride.” 

Sliding off the bed to stand up, Joshua pats Jeonghan on the shoulder, making sure to meet his eyes and see some understanding behind them before heading to the door. 

You hadn’t necessarily needed a shower after your failed trip to the winery, but the hot water running over your face and body felt good and it had washed away your tears. The only unfortunate thing was that it only lasted as long as you stayed in the shower and as you sat on your bed, skin still slightly damp under loose clothes, you felt the weight of everything pushing back down on you. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There had been rules to stop any of this pain and yet from the first time that you and Jeonghan had slept together, there had been pain. You had known then that you should have stopped but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to stop that time or any other time after it, not even last night, as your heart felt like it was breaking into two. It was only the day after you felt like the most idiotic person on the face of the planet, thinking you could have more with someone who didn’t love you back, that you regretted it all. 

Maybe it was time to end it. 

Leaning to pick up your cell phone, you stare at Jeonghan’s name for a moment before pressing your thumb down over his name and putting the phone to your ear, listening to it try to connect. Closing your eyes, you take a breath, only to furrow your brows a moment later when you hear his ring tone as if it's just outside of your door. 

“Hey, let me in, please.” 

His voice was quiet but you could still hear him from two places, your phone and on the other side of the door. Taking a breath, you look at your phone, hearing the sound of a phone call ending knowing that he is waiting for you to open the door. 

It was a simple task. Get up, unlock the door, open it, and greet Jeonghan, but as you looked at the door, knowing he was on the other side after everything that had already happened today and after what had happened last night it felt like you were preparing to scale Mount Everest. 

With one last deep breath, you move to your feet, take the few steps that feel like miles to the door and open it to meet Jeonghan’s eyes. You weren’t sure what you had expected to see when you saw him. Perhaps you had expected the usual with him—his handsome face and cocky smirk on his face but instead you were met with a solemn look and dark circles from a restless night. 

“I just… can we talk?” 

Nodding, you step to the side, letting Jeonghan move past you into the room as he pushes his hands into his jean pockets, only to take them out again out of nerves. Jeonghan had always been one of the most confident people you had known but today looking at him, you were seeing a different man. 

You were seeing the man that you saw late at night when he buried his face against your neck and muttered sweetly about it being the best place on earth. You were seeing the man who made you cry after those moments when he wouldn’t call you until three days later, seemingly just disappearing. This was the man who kept you on an emotional rollercoaster. 

“Yeah…I think we need to. I have something I wanna talk to you about too.” 

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Jeonghan feels his heart in his throat before he tries to put on a facade, not knowing that it’s cracked, when he turns to look at you, offering you a sad smile. 

“Yeah? You…you–uh, wanna go first then?” 

Maybe after what Joshua had told him, he didn’t have to be the first one to say it. The words were so terrifying to him. Those words made him feel like you were going to run away from him and losing you as a friend and a lover was enough to make him feel like his chest was going to explode. 

Shaking your head, you lift your brows, offering Jeonghan an unamused laugh as you move back towards your bed to sit down, pulling your legs up to criss-cross them under you. Watching him move towards you, Jeonghan pauses to meet your eyes before he sits down apprehensively beside you. 

“Sure… I’ve been thinking and I love – “ The words get caught in your throat but Jeonghan hears the word love, causing him to sit up, only for his heart to pound in his ears as you keep speaking. “Loved the sex but I don’t think I can do it anymore. You–We said we could call it off at any time.” 

The words make sense to Jeonghan but it is like he is in a tunnel where the wind is too loud for him to actually pick up on the sound of your voice as he stares at you, seeing your lips moving. You were asking to stop. You wanted to end it. That wasn’t what he thought you were going to say even if it made sense with the look he had seen in your eyes last night and with what Joshua had said earlier. 

“Jeonghan? You—I mean… It's nothing serious. That’s what you said. You’ve made that very clear, several times.” 

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips before he laughs but you can tell he isn’t happy and nothing is funny. You know Jeonghan well enough to know when he is deflecting and when he is in pain. Shaking his head, Jeonghan looks down at his hands before closing his eyes, muttering to himself something you can’t quite make out. 

“What? You were too quiet, I couldn’t –” 

“I just said—I said I’m stupid.” 

Neither of you move; the room is silent as you watch with furrowed brows as Jeonghan reaches up to wipe under his eye, keeping his face hidden with his dark hair. You had seen Jeonghan cry before over serious things but something like this—the loss of a meaningless relationship—wasn't something you thought he would be upset over. You, on the other hand, felt like you were breaking as you watched the man you loved be upset, feeling like you couldn’t do anything to help him. 

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’ve done nothing –” 

Scoffing, Jeonghan glances at you, making you pause when you see the disappointment on his face. Sitting up, he turns towards you, starting to reach for your hand. He stops short, closing his hand into a loose fist and resting it on your knee. 

“I have done everything wrong, so I know you want to be nice and tell me to be kinder to myself but, Y/N, I’m so fucking stupid. Is it not painfully obvious that I am in love with you?” 

You look at Jeonghan with the same expression as you would a complex piece of literature. It was as if he had just tried to explain your feelings back to you, making you feel exposed to the sun. Shaking your head, you try to come up with the right words, only to let out a soft exhale of Jeonghan’s name, looking away. 

Finally scooting closer to take your hand in his, Jeonghan feels the hole in the pit of his stomach struggling to fill as he tries to salvage what he feels like he has ruined. Lifting his other hand, Jeonghan timidly dares to run his fingers along your jaw, turning your face towards him so he can meet your eyes once again. 

“I told you yesterday that I don’t deserve this... I don’t deserve you and I meant it, but baby, I love you so fucking much.” Swallowing down his emotion, Jeonghan licks his lips as he searches your eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, his hand trembling against your neck. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I did it like this. I told you, I’m stupid.” 

It wasn’t fair; none of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that you felt like melting into Jeonghan’s touch or that you wanted to run away from him. It didn’t feel real and you had never imagined that Yoon Jeonghan would fall in love with you. You were just his stupid friend that he happened to be attracted to, but now he was telling you that everything you felt, he felt too. 

“What the hell, Jeonghan?” 

Your voice causes Jeonghan’s eyes to close; that whine in your voice sounds like the rejection that he was so terrified of. You look over his handsome face, feeling his hand fall from your neck when you make the leap, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. 

Jeonghan gasps at the feeling, his hand reaching back out, holding the back of your neck and pulling you in closer, your lips firmly against his as he furrows his brows. He knew that if you actually wanted him to let you go, he would. He would give you anything you wanted. He would have given you anything from day one if he hadn’t been so afraid. 

Resting his forehead against yours, Jeonghan listens to your soft breaths, your hands now clinging to the front of his shirt as if to keep him close to you. You hadn’t said anything back but right now he wasn’t sure he even needed you to; he just needed to know that you wanted him and you didn’t want him to leave. 

Lips brush against your cheek before Jeonghan whispers your name like a question, sitting back to look at you, searching for his answer. A nod and look of desperation in your eyes is enough for him to pull you into his lap and have his lips back on yours as his hands roamed your back under your shirt, feeling your skin under his fingers. 

Whining his name once again, you run your fingers through Jeonghan’s hair as you arch your chest against his, feeling chill bumps erupt along your skin at his touch. There was nothing that you wanted more than that feeling, the feeling of his hands on your body and his lips on your skin. 

Whispering “please,” you meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he groans, feeling you roll your hips over his. This hadn’t been his plan but he wasn’t going to deny you. He could feel his cock starting to get hard with every gentle grind of your hips over him and you were driving him crazy while making him fall in love with you all over again as he stared up at you. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want—everything—anything; just ask for it.” 

Moving to your knees, you rest your hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders, tilting your head to press your lips to his once more before speaking against them as you feel his hands rest under your ass. 

“Make love to me then, that’s what I want.” 

A breathy moan escapes from between your lips when Jeonghan lays you on your back and hovers over you, brushing his thumb across your cheek while admiring you. He had looked at you before but now he was wondering if he had ever really looked at you. He was noticing little things about the color of your eyes, freckles on your face, and how his heart was beating so hard. 

“I love you.” 

He had told you that he was in love with you but it was different hearing him say it that way and while he was looking at you like this. It felt real. Closing your eyes you feel the familiar tears start to well up in your eyes causing you to fight them as you reach up to hold Jeonghan’s wrist in case he were to change his mind. 

When tears do finally run from the corners of your eyes along your temples, Jeonghan takes a deep breath leaning to rest his forehead against yours letting you cling to him. He knew now that the tears last night were sad like he had feared. Making a silent promise to himself to make up for it, Jeonghan kisses you gently, his thumb brushing away some of your tears as he speaks against your lips quietly. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

You nod, nudging your nose against Jeonghan’s as your hands move to find the end of his shirt, working it up his torso. You feel the way his stomach tightens under your fingers when he takes a deep breath before sitting back to let you pull his shirt over his head.

The fabric falls from your fingers onto the bed, your eyes moving from Jeonghan’s face over his chest and down his stomach to where your fingers rest on the top of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, Jeonghan leans his head back to the feeling of your gentle touch and the much needed relief as you work the zipper of his jeans down. 

“Fuck…Let me take care of you this time. Please?” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan is happy to see the way you bite at your lips, your pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tilt your head on the bed to look at him almost innocently. Nodding, you lift your hips, letting Jeonghan shimmy your shorts down your legs. Licking his lips, Jeonghan kicks his jeans and boxers away. His eyes stay fixed on you, studying you as if you were a piece of art to be admired. 

“I love every part of this and if you want me to make love to you, let me do it right.” 

Arching your back, you let Jeonghan slide your shirt up and over your head. He was once again really looking at you as he moved back on to the bed and between your legs. You were bare in front of him and everything about you was perfect as he studied your body. He took note of every single mole and even the smallest of scars, stopping to kiss them on the way to lying between your thighs. 

Warm breath causes you to close your eyes and push your head back against the pillow. The first brush of Jeonghan’s tongue between your folds allows the tip of it to tease your clit, make your toes curl and gasp his name. 

Getting a taste of you had never been enough for Jeonghan and this time he was going to enjoy it as if it were the last time, just in case it was. He wanted you to remember the way his name felt on your lips. He wanted you to remember how his mouth felt between your legs and how his fingers felt buried deep inside you as he curled them back towards your stomach, making you arch off the bed. 

You gasp for a breath between moans. Reaching between your legs, you thread your fingers in Jeonghan’s hair as you push your hips towards his mouth, hearing him groan against your folds. He knew you inside and out and yet he had never made you cum so hard and so fast before. 

“Oh my god, Jeonghan, I can’t—ah!” 

Using his thumb to rub circles against your clit, Jeonghan watches you lift your hips, searching for your second orgasm, as he licks your cum from his lips. When you fall apart for a second time on his fingers, Jeonghan furrows his brows, cursing under his breath at the sight. There were few things on Earth that were that beautiful. 

Fingers carefully slip from you, making you whine at how empty you suddenly feel but once you glance at Jeonghan resting between your legs, sucking his fingers clean, you moan, lifting your hand to cover your face. He was such a handsome man and he was doing something that seemed so dirty. 

Smiling, Jeonghan tilts his head while watching you cover your face. He loved that no matter how much dirty shit had come out of your mouth in the past or how much the two of you had done, you always seemed so innocent. You were perfect in his eyes. 

Carefully pulling your hand from your face, Jeonghan presses his lips to your knuckles, looking down at you. You can’t help but notice the way your body heats up at the simple action and the way your heart tightens seeing him smile against your fingers. 

“You are so beautiful; don’t hide.” 

Pressing your lips together, you can only see Jeonghan’s gaze as he moves your hand back to the bed beside your head, his thumb pressing to your palm gently before he lets go completely. You were used to Jeonghan being more rushed with you. Not necessarily rough but you both knew what you liked in bed and it wasn’t that he was treating you like he was now; it wasn’t something you didn’t like; it had just never been on the table. How he was treating you now was intimate; he was treating you like a man in love, like he said he was. 

Brushing his lips against yours, Jeonghan smiles, feeling you do the same. He didn’t think there was a need to rush anything, especially if he was going to treat this like it might be the last time. You hadn’t told him how you felt and though he was hopeful, he wasn’t going to put words in your mouth. 

You moan softly against Jeonghan’s lips. The tip of his cock nudges against your entrance as his hand runs along your outer thigh to your knee and Jeonghan urges your leg up towards his hip. With his free hand, Jeonghan holds himself steady even as he groans on your lips, feeling your warm, wet walls pull him in and clench around his cock. 

Wrapping your leg around Jeonghan’s back, you let your head fall back, his thumb pressing against your skin just under your knee as he thrusts into you slowly and deeply. Pulling him in closer with your leg wrapped around him, you whisper Jeonghan’s name when he doesn’t start moving immediately. You knew that he liked to let you adjust but your desire for him was outweighing anything else. 

Nodding, Jeonghan moves his hand from your leg to cup your cheek, resting his forehead against yours as he rocks his hips to meet yours in a smooth, deep thrust that makes you moan out a sound similar to a sob. Jeonghan could tell the difference now as tears started to fall from your eyes, these tears were from pleasure and not because you were sad. These tears he would want to see any day of the week. Jeonghan would die to hear you sob his name as you clenched around his cock and begged him so sweetly not to stop. 

“I’m not, baby… you are so fucking perfect. Holy shit, I know I —” Groaning as he feels you clench hard around him, Jeonghan pauses to take a breath before burying himself inside of you as deep as possible feeling your thigh tremble as it rests against his side. “I know I’ve said it a few times now…but I love you. Fuck, I love you, not just this but you. Need you to understand that.” 

Your fingers scratch as Jeonghan’s shoulders as you feel the pressure building and the cord winding tighter and tighter as he pushes you towards another orgasm. It’s only his words that keep you grounded and make you whimper his name as you pull his mouth to yours to make him stop talking when you fall apart for him once again. 

Trying to breathe into your kiss, Jeonghan furrows his brows tightly, feeling the way your pussy hugs him and then tightens around him like a vice when you cum around him. His thrusts slow only for a moment before becoming harder and filled with even more purpose as Jeonghan starts to chase his own release. 

A choke groan gets caught in his throat when Jeonghan cums, filling you with each one of his thrusts. Your fingers dig into his shoulder and bicep, leaving half-moon divots to mark where you have been as he pushes you towards the headboard with each deep thrust. 

Soft lips walk across your throat and up to your jaw before finally making their way to your lips, pulling you back to reality. Jeonghan listens to your small whine when he slips from you once again, leaving you empty. Your arms and legs felt like they were being held up by strings until they were finally on the mattress and you found it hard to make them move again, causing you to pout and Jeonghan to laugh softly against your lips at your reaction to how tired you are. 

“Tired, baby?” 

You nod, leaning your head into Jeonghan’s palm as he brushes his hand over the side of your head and over your hair. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his eyes searching your face for answers and you knew it was the one he was looking for. You hadn’t been ready to give it to him at first but the more you lay in his arms and even considered anything different, the more your heart told you that you already knew. 

“I love you, Jeonghan.” 

Finally hearing you tell him that you love him, Jeonghan closes his eyes and leans forward to rest his face against the crook of your neck with a sigh. You can almost feel the weight lift from him as he nods against your skin, placing a kiss on your neck before muttering quietly against the column of your neck. 

“I love you, too.” 

With his headphones half on his head, Mingyu stands in the doorway of his shared hotel room only for a moment before groaning and lifting his hand to cover his eyes at the sight in front of him. He had assumed that you and Jeonghan were together and after talking to Dokyeom, he knew even more—he knew more of the drama behind it—but clearly, that was hopefully a thing of the past. 

He just hadn’t wanted to be privy to it. 

Glancing towards the door and hearing the sound of a groan, you smack Jeonghan’s shoulder, causing him to look in the direction of your shocked face. Nothing of what had happened had been the plan, or else he would have told Dokyeom to keep Mingyu out of the room. 

“Gyu! Can you go? I am trying to do something here if you don’t —” 

"Literally, stop talking to me while you are naked. I’m gonna go stay in Dokyeom’s room.” 

You watch the door close, hearing the lock click in place, before meeting Jeonghan’s eyes, who shakes his head like Mingyu has done something wrong. 

“He didn’t know. Why are you mad at him? This is his room, Jeonghan.” 

Jeonghan silences you with a kiss making you sigh against his lips as he speaks between kisses. 

“I’m not mad.” Seeing you smile, Jeonghan kisses you softly once more before cautiously adding, “I just didn’t want him to interrupt my first time actually getting to fuck my girlfriend. Is that so wrong of me?” 

Narrowing your eyes, you feel your cheeks burn at Jeonghan’s choice of wording but you still can’t keep the smile off your face, feeling his fingers running along your stomach as he moves to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. 

“Oh? Is that what happened? Is that who I am?” 

Jeonghan nods, wrapping his arm tightly around you, pulling you on your side to face him so his fingers can draw small circles on the small of your back as he looks into your eyes. 

“I fucking hope so.” 

Sitting on Dokyeom’s bed, Mingyu stares at the wall while Dokyeom stares at him, wondering what happened, until finally his friend looks at him and shudders in a full body cringe. 

“They were naked and possibly—you know. I will never be the same.” 

Making a face, Dokyeom pats Mingyu on the back before tilting his head and shrugging. 

“Well, it’s about damn time but better you see it than me.” 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Scarred For Half A Life ~

DP Phan Fic.

[“You want to see a danger? You should see me in a crown.”]

So uh—this is a scene I have in mind for my story. Because of the song, yes!

I mean, I already wrote it down, to add later on into the story! And I was really enthusiastic about it, so I drew Danny with a crown. An ugly crown (because it’s made out of paper). [sketch lurking at the bottom]

If you want you can read and follow it! But—BEWARE!

———————

Genre: Angst / Hurt And Comfort (and a little Horror)

AU — OOC

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress — Violence — Graphic Content

Rating: M

———————

Summary:

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, or so he thinks. Leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. What will happen to him? And why again? (Summary might change as the story goes on)

———————

So, this is a piece of that potential chapter:

“Wait! Don’t move. I want to take a picture!” Jazz exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Danny groaned, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? A picture? What are you, my dad?”

Jazz ignored his protest, already angling the camera toward him. “Come on, Danny, it’s your birthday. Let me have this.”

He sighed, slouching slightly. “Fine, but make it quick. And don’t expect me to smile like an idiot.”

Jazz smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re already an idiot. The crown just completes the look.”

Danny couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips as she snapped the photo, capturing him sitting there with the gold paper crown tilted slightly on his head, a mixture of amusement and irritation in his glowing green eyes.

“There,” Jazz said triumphantly, glancing at the picture on her phone. “Perfect. I’m definitely keeping this one.”

———————

And a piece of the scene with the song in my head that plays in the background:

“Phantom,” she said icily, her voice like a blade. “You’re not my son. You’re a danger. I was merciful letting you stay this long.”

That was it. That was the final crack that shattered the fragile restraint Danny had been holding onto. His aura flared violently, glowing with an intense, cold light that filled the room, making the shadows dance erratically on the walls.

“You wanna see a danger?” Danny growled, his voice dropping into something almost inhuman, vibrating with power as his feet lifted off the ground. His white hair swirled beneath the gold paper crown, caught in an invisible wind as the room seemed to grow colder by the second.

Danny’s arms hung by his sides, his fists clenching tightly. A brilliant green energy began to materialize, steam curling off his fingers like fire, licking up his forearms in tendrils of raw power.

“You should see me in a crown.”

A burst of cold ectoplasmic energy erupted from Danny’s palms, shooting straight toward Maddie with icy precision. She dove to the side, flipping the table over in one swift motion to shield herself. Plates shattered, the pancakes splattered across the walls, and the dining room filled with a deafening roar of energy.

———————

As for my own commentary about my DP drawing…

I hate drawing hands, and I don’t like to draw shoes. Maybe because I just can’t!! I’m not good at drawing mouths either, or I was just having a bad day at drawing. And we are definitely not going to talk about the nose. I have zero idea what went wrong with coloring/painting, and I couldn’t fix it at that moment. Maybe I was hurrying it, don’t care. I wanted it out of my head! And I really wanted to share this, because I like it for once, something of my own. As for the style, still searching my own, trying things out, so at the moment, I have no idea what I’m doing. Might redo it later.

[bruciemilf]

I’m on the second episode of My Adventures With Superman and I KNOW I know, this deserves to be Clark’s show, BUT HEAR ME OUT A SECOND.

Imagine the Waynes didn’t die and Thomas is trying DESPERATELY to buy the Daily Planet from White, but to absolutely no avail.

“For the last time, Wayne, you can have this company when the Gotham Knights win a Stanley Cup.”

“Y’all cheated last year and you KNOW it, White! Come on! We knew each other for 20 years—“

“Not true.”

“You gotta have ONE nice thing to say about me! You saw my charity records? My trip to the Amazon? I found a goddam dinosaur, for Pete’s sake!”

“And you sent it to the Gotham museum.”

“…Well yeah, it looked real pretty.”

“Look, Wayne. I can either give your ego the stroke of the century, or keep Lane and those two idiot interns in check, but I can’t do both. Now get out of here, or—“

Clark clearing his throat, holding two cups of coffee in his comically large hands, “Uh, the coffee machine broke, so I had to run to the store. Is this a bad time?”

Thomas whistling, because what the FUCK. “Christ, boy, how tall are you? How tall is he, White? You a security guard? You WANNA be a security guard?”

“Uh, Clark Kent. Idiot intern,” Clark introduced himself politely despite Perry’s grumbling.

Needless to say, Thomas Wayne is…Intimidating.

“I’ve heard about your research on metahuman physics, Mr. Wayne. It’s brilliant.”

“Oh, that? That was all my boy, really. He’s got all these ideas about reinventing the healthcare system for everybody or something like that. Hell, he wants to invent some bandaids for that Superman fella. “

“That,” Clark blinked, “Actually sounds amazing.”

“Right?. The other day he came to me like, ‘Can I have 30,000 for a research expedition?’ You should’ve seen him in his little lab coat, — cutest thing. Hold on, I have pictures.”

Clark expected a particularly eccentric 10 year not, not a — gorgeous— adult man in what looked to be a great amount of eyeliner and one hell of a scowl. “He’s…” gorgeous, “He seems interesting.”

“Ain’t he? You should meet him sometime. Hates talking to the press, but, I’m sure we can arrange something. “

“Good luck with that. I tried interviewing the kid alone for 10 minutes and Mr. Wayne here kept getting in the way. Probably because he has something to hide.”

“Bruce ain’t really made for the camera, so I had to step in, ya know how it is. He ain’t really the independent kind.” Thomas shrugs. “I know, I know, — you gotta leave em to fly sometimes, and while I bet he’d look cute tryin’,”

Thomas chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amusing. At all. “No bird leaves MY nest.”

—

Clark finds out why Perry can’t prove Thomas Wayne is Batman. It’s because he’s wrong. He’s listened to Batman’s heartbeat before. And Thomas doesn’t stutter.

Bruce Wayne does, thought.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 rice crackers

synopsis: after nami discovers a little girl stowing away on the sunny, the crew comes together to interrogate her... but she won't stop claiming to be your daughter

cw: lots and lots of fluff, comfort, zoro is emotionally constipated, your daughter's name is Yuki (i just picked something random), you and Zoro art not together yet, etc.

a/n: ending might be kinda rushed i'm tired

"And I'm out!" you cheered, throwing down your winning hand with a flourish, donning a triumphant smile.

"No way! You have to be cheating!" Usopp exclaimed, accusingly, looking down at the cards with wide eyes. "That's thirty-four times in a row!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you looped your arms around the huge stack of rice crackers, pulling them closer.

"No need be a sore loser. You know I won far and square," you teased, letting out a small giggle as you stuck out your tongue at the sniper.

"Like hell you did! My strategy was flawless! It was foolproof! There was no way you could've beat it!"

"What strategy?" your brows flattened, "Usopp... we're playing Go Fish. I don't think there's much to it."

"So? My brilliant mind can formulate a strategy for any kind of game, no matter how simple," he bellowed, proudly, as if that was some sort of feat.

"Yeah... brilliant."

The three of you, completely bored out of your minds, had plopped yourselves down on the deck to play some cards, hoping to pass the time until you arrived on the next island.

The boys had already done their daily fishing, as well as their daily kitchen raid, having sang with Brook and hung out with Franky a little bit earlier.

Meanwhile, you had already completed your training for the day, as per Zoro's workout regiment, having met with Robin for your two-woman book club after you took a shower.

But now you were completely free, and figured scamming the boys out of some food would be a good way to kill time.

"Dang. I coulda swore my strategy was gonna work," your captain huffed, glancing down at his hands, which held well over half of the deck.

"Luffy, why do you have so many cards?" you asked, raising a brow.

"More is better right?" he asked, a little lost.

"Is that how you've been playing this whole time?" Usopp sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose

"That's alright," you assured, smiling cheekily as you split your huge pile of rice crackers in half and slid some in front of Luffy. "We can share."

"Really?! Thanks, (y/n)!" Luffy beamed, eyes starry as he began to stuff his face.

"Hey! Why does he get a cut and I don't?!" Usopp fired back, feeling excluded.

"'Cause he's not a sore loser," you pulled down your lower eyelid, sticking out your tongue once again.

"No fair!"

"(Y/N)!"

Suddenly, Nami burst from her office, the door slamming harshly against the wall and sending a jolt of shock down your spine.

'The hell?!'

Surprised, the three of you turned toward the balcony, where Nami stood with furrowed brows, her body positioned in a way that concealed something behind her.

"Jeez, Nami, what's your problem?" Usopp asked, brow raised.

"Yeah, what's all the yelling for?" Luffy agreed, shoving another fistful of rice crackers in his mouth.

"Nami, my love! Is everything alright?!" Sanji came twirling out the kitchen, lovesick, as usual.

She scoffed, her attention laser-focused on you.

"(y/n), when were you going to tell me you had a daughter?! And why the hell is she stowed away in my office closet?!"

"WHAT?!"

You nearly laughed, absolutely gobsmacked by the words coming out of her mouth.

Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji's jaws nearly fell to the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates as they turned to you, utterly shocked.

"(Y/N), YOU HAVE A KID?!?"

"NO!" you scoffed, incredulously. "I'VE BEEN WITH YOU IDIOTS THE WHOLE TIME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL SHE'S TALKING ABOUT!"

"Mommy?" a tiny voice perked up, peeking out from behind your navigator's leg.

Your head snapped over to its source, and your heart nearly dropped to your ass once you got a good look.

It was you.

Or, well, not you exactly, but a younger version of you.

From her hair to her skin.

From her skin to her eyes.

From her eyes to the look on her face.

The only distinguishable differences between you two being both her youthful expressions, and her sharp scowl, which eerily resembled that of the ship's swordsman.

Though that scowl instantly melted away once she locked eyes with you, a blinding smile stretching across her lips.

"Mommy!"

Running out from behind Nami, she jumped up on the railing and launched herself off the balcony, much to your dismay.

"No!"

Without hesitation, you dove forward, catching her in your arms before pulling her into your chest, tucking your knees in to shield her from the impact as you rolled in the the grass.

In that moment, something in you awakened.

An instinct?

An obligation?

You weren't sure.

But something deep within your spirit couldn't stand seeing the little girl hurt, past the fact that she was a child.

You felt a sort of responsibility for her, despite barely having known her.

"What were you thinking?! You could've seriously hurt yourse—!"

Your scolding stopped once you felt something staring at you, forcing you to look down at its source, only to see the girl looking up with starry eyes, absolutely in awe of the sight before her.

"Mommy, you're so pretty!" she marveled, tiny hands rising to cup your face. "You look different!"

Your heart nearly melted at her wonderment, a small smile rising you your lips.

"Honey, I think you have me confu—"

"Is everything alright out here?" Robin asked, concerned, as she emerged from the cabin, looking around at the scene on the deck.

"Yohohoho! That thud gave me such a fright I nearly jumped out my skin!" Brook cackled, walking alongside her. "Or I would've if I had any..."

"Yeah, what's all the commotion? Someone fighting?" Franky asked, following after them, taking a swig of his bottle of cola.

"(y/n), why didn't you tell us you had a daughter?" your captain smiled, walking over to you. "She looks fun!"

"DAUGHTER?!" the three newcomers exclaimed.

"Woah! Uncle Luffy!" the girl gasped, taking a moment to look the boy over. "You're so tiny! Last I saw you, you were this big!"

'Uncle Luffy?'

She jumped out your arms, landing on the grass and standing on her tippy-toes, reaching her hand as high as she could.

"See?"

"Last you saw me?" he raised a brow, rubbing his chin in confusion. "But this is the first time I'm meeting you..."

"Okay, I think we need to get a few things sorted out," Nami sighed, joining the three of you, the rest of the crew watching intently.

It was now abundantly clear that you had no idea who the little girl was; but, even so, her uncanny resemblance to you was enough cause for suspicion.

They needed to get down to the bottom of this.

Carefully, Nami squatted down to the girl's level, resting her arms on her knees.

"Hun, can you tell me your name? And how you got here?" she asked, sweetly.

"Uh-huh!" the girl nodded, eagerly. "I was at home with my daddy and we were playing hide and seek, and I was hiding in the closet. But my daddy is so bad at hide and seek and I started to get sleepy waiting for him to find me. So I took a nap."

She shifted from her heels to her tippy-toes, swaying as she told the story.

"But when I woke up I was on mommy and daddy's old ship, and you were at your desk, Auntie Nami."

'Auntie Nami?'

This was just getting weirder and weirder.

"You think its 'cause of a devil fruit?" Sanji asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Someone put her here?"

"I doubt it," Robin shook her head. "We're in the middle of the ocean. With no other person on board and no island in sight, we're out of range. No one should be able to reach us here."

"Unless she stowed away from the last island and is making all this up," Usopp suggested. "What if this is all a trap?"

"Hey! I'm not lying!" the girl pouted, cheeks puffed.

"A trap that looks exactly like (y/n)? I find that hard to believe," Franky shrugged off, turning to you. "You sure she's not yours?"

"For the millionth time... yes."

"But... mommy?" her pout deepened, saddened by your statement. "It's me..."

Walking forward, she pulled a necklace from under her shirt, holding up a small, heart-shaped locket for you to see.

It was gold, with beautifully intricate engravings lining its surface, its clasp sealed with the tiniest emeralds you'd ever seen.

"You don't remember me?"

Carefully, she opened the locket, allowing you to lean forward and get a look at the picture.

And once you did, you nearly fell right through the floor, utterly shocked.

There sat a picture of you, Zoro, and the girl, wide smiles adorning your faces as the swordsman seemed to be lifting you both up at the same time, you sitting pretty in his beefy arm, and the girl sitting on the back of his neck, holding his forehead for purchase.

The two of you looked slightly older, not drastically seasoned with age, but obviously distinguishable.

It couldn't be more than ten years in the future...

But that wasn't the only thing that caught your attention.

After scanning over the whole photo once again, your eyes immediately trained on the matching, gold bands adorning both your ring fingers, the dots slowly beginning to connect—evident by your expression.

Noticing your shock, the others huddled around, stealing their own glances and sharing their own looks of surprise.

You and the swordsman not only marry in the somewhat near future, but also start a family together.

An incredibly happy family, if the image was anything to go off of.

Your entire world was being flipped upside down.

Never, in all the time you'd known him, did allow yourself to believe the two of you would end up together.

Sure, your feelings for Zoro ran deep—deeper than they'd ever ran for anyone else—but you knew nature of your relationship.

You were his best friend.

From what you knew, he'd never felt any romantic inclination toward anyone, too immersed in his goal to focus on anything else.

You thought you were just a training partner.

Just a buddy to drink with.

Just person to talk to over night watch.

Just a friend to cover during battle.

Not a lifelong partner.

Not someone he'd want to have a kid with.

Taking note of your spiral, Nami set her hand down on you shoulder, grounding you, before she turned to the little girl, one last question in mind.

"Honey... could you tell us your name?"

She nodded, looking up at the whole crew with an expression of pride.

"My name is Roronoa Yuki! And I'm gonna be the World's Greatest Swordsman!"

You nearly fainted right there, the rest of the crew gaping at the irrefutable evidence.

This was, indeed, you and Zoro's daughter.

On the balcony above you all, a spit take was heard, everyone turning around to see the man of the hour staring down at the girl, eye wide and bottle of sake long forgotten as he attempted to rationalize what he just heard, as well as the sight before him.

"Daddy!" Yuki beamed, utterly elated to see the scowling face of her father.

Eagerly, she waved at the man as he stood there, quite literally struck dumb.

Someone had a hell of a lot of explaining to do...

"Wait... I don't get it," Yuki muttered, voice small as she ate a fistful of rice crackers, turning to the green haired swordsman next to her. "You're not my dad?"

She seemed saddened by the fact, as well as confused, seeing as the man looked exactly like her father.

"If I'm bein' honest, I'm a little lost, too. I came into all this a little later than everyone else..." Zoro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But if what Robin said is right, then I am your dad, just from a time before you were born."

Her little face lit up with understanding, "Ohhhhhhh. So before you and mommy fell in love?"

Zoro's breath slightly hitched at the wording, still trying to process the multitude of thoughts and feelings racing through his head.

After Nami and Robin gave him the brass tacks breakdown of who Yuki was and how she got there, he felt the sudden urge to lay down, emotionally overwhelmed by the whole situation.

His future was sitting right next to him, eating a stack of rice crackers.

Now don't get him wrong, his uneasiness—and slight embarrassment—about the whole situation wasn't because of you, or the girl, or anyone else for that matter.

It was because you had to discover his feelings like this.

Or at least get an idea of it.

You were one of his closest friends on the crew, someone he had fought alongside since the beginning (you being among the first to join).

Someone who had saved his life as many times as he'd saved yours.

Someone who would help him to bed after a wild night of drinking and parties.

Someone whose touch sent his heart into a frenzy, and made his head spin.

He wasn't stupid.

He knew what these feelings were.

He knew what these feelings meant.

He was in love with his best friend.

Yet, rejecting that fact made it less real, less daunting, and thus, less bothersome.

But it was hard to remain in his bubble of denial and tranquility when the living, breathing evidence defying him was chowing down not too far away.

With a sigh, Zoro glanced at the small girl out the corner of his eye, watching as she stuffed another heaping handful of crackers into her mouth.

God, she looked just like you.

It was almost baffling.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he decided now was as good a time as any to ask some questions.

"So... am I training you to be a swordsman?" he asked, awkwardly, eyes slightly shifting away from her.

"Mhmm!" Yuki nodded, looking up at the man. "We started a few months ago, and its super hard! But you always tell me that the path of a swordsman is lined with countless trials, and if I wanna be the best, I gotta beat them all."

She grinned, determinedly.

"So I always push myself harder."

Zoro smiled, slightly, warmed by his daughter's determination.

She was his, for sure...

"What about hand-to-hand?" he asked again, intrigued.

"I do that with mommy," she answered. "She says she was always better at it than you."

He half-chuckled, half-scoffed, almost amused by the statement, "She wishes... you should see her now."

The rest of the crew had gone ashore on an island they'd come across, hoping to find a way to send Yuki back to her correct time.

This, of course, left Zoro on ship watching duty, which, in this case, translated to baby-sitting duty.

Just then, a smirk rose to his lips, his ego slightly boosted by the awe-struck look of the child.

"One thing you shouldn't forget, kid, is I don't lose, with swords or without."

"Except in arguments with mommy..."

His breath hitched, brows flattening at the remark.

'Shoulda figured that one...'

He couldn't win arguments with you now.

When you'd get all up in his face—brows furrowed, finger poking his chest, tone dangerous—was, oddly enough, one of the times when he found you most attractive.

You looked hot when you were mad.

And every time, without fail, he'd be too busy staring at you to pay any attention to what you were saying, which would only result in more yelling.

Speaking of which...

"Hey, kid..." he started, seriously, the girl looking at him with confusion at the sudden change in demeanor. "I wanna know something."

Yuki nodded, ready for his question.

"What's your mom like in the future?"

The girl instantly lit up, perfectly ready to gush about her beloved mother.

"She's is the nicest, toughest, most prettiest mommy in the whole, wide world!" she exclaimed, exuberantly. "She told me all the stories of her awesome fights and adventures on the sea. Even the super scary ones!"

A small smile stretched across his lips, warmed by the girl's overwhelming adoration for you.

"She did, did she?" he nodded for her to continue. "Stories like what?"

"Like how you guys were swallowed by a giant whale!" she exclaimed. "And how you met the warrior giant pirates! And how you went to war with the World Government and saved Auntie Robin!"

Practically bouncing with excitement, she grabbed Zoro's sleeve, clutching it tightly with enthusiasm.

"And how you and Uncle Luffy fought two, huge dragons!"

He smirked, pride puffing his chest at the memory of injuring Kaido, as well as the dragon he decapitated back on Punk Hazard.

It all must've sounded pretty fantastical to a child.

"That's why I can't wait to get strong! I'll be able to have my own adventures!" she stated, dreamily. "Monji's already learning from Uncle Sanji how to cook yummy food! And you and mommy are teaching me how to fight! So we'll be ready to join a crew in no time!"

"Wait..." he paused a moment, not recognizing a name. "Monji?"

'Don't tell me...'

"Mhmm! My best friend! Uncle Sanji is his dad, so he's teaching him everything he knows about kicking and cooking!"

The idea nearly gave Zoro heart burn, the man's calloused hand coming up to clutch his chest.

Not only did Curlybrow have a son—the fact that he was able to settle down already mind-boggling enough—but he also had the audacity to allow the little brat to fraternize with his daughter.

Who knows what kind of pervy, ero-cook nonsense he was teaching the kid?

The way Yuki was gushing about the boy didn't bode well at all; her little self went on and on and on about how strong and kind Monji already was.

Zoro could practically see it.

His little girl falling in love with and marrying Sanji's son, forcing the two of them to become family forever.

A fate worse than death.

"Hey, wait," he realized, suddenly remembering something gravely important, easily surpassing all the other questions he'd asked you. "If I'm your dad... and (y/n)'s your mom... then that means you know how we got together..."

Yuki nodded, tucking a small strand of hair behind her ear.

"Mhm. You told me one time," she confirmed. "You two were on a battlefield when it happened."

Intrigued, Zoro listened closely, his gaze not leaving the girl for a moment as she continued.

"Mommy got injured really bad, and you had to keep the bad guys from hurting her while Uncle Chopper patched her boo-boos. But once she was okay, you pulled her up and gave her a big kiss! Mommy says it was soooo romantic!"

Zoro playfully rolled his eyes at the cliche.

Who knew future him would be so cheesy?

Either way, he wasn't complaining. He ended up with you, and that was all that mattered.

Though... he did have one more question...

"Hey, do—?"

But his words were interrupted by soft snores, the man looking down at his lap to see the little girl had laid her head down on his thigh, no doubt falling asleep after all her excitement.

The swordsman's heart melted slightly, and his shoulders sank, his calloused hand coming up to swipe a few stray crumbs from her cheeks before resting on her back.

As much as he hated to admit it, he could get used to this...

The little girl napping on his leg brought out a certain instinct within him—one that burned with the will to protect her and her happiness at all costs.

All the awkwardness and emotional outpouring would be worth it if they came to this outcome...

And as you boarded the ship with the rest of the crew, solution to the dilemma in hand, you couldn't help but think the exact same thing—your eyes settling on the sight of your sleeping, soon-to be husband, and your snoring, soon-to-be daughter, laying peacefully together.

You could get used to this, too...

[stunie]

“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU!”

HAIKYUU + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hinata shoyo, kuroo tetsurou, & tsukishima kei x f!reader

filled request : “Since you said you write for haikyuu, can you imagine how sweet those tall (Hinata is tall in spirit) and strong green flag boys would be all very sorry and remourseful for harming their baby in accident? I think even Tsukishima (my fave asshole) would try to make it up even if it wasnt that serious.”

note : added kuroo ^ ^ <33 thank u for sending this in nonnie !!!

TSUKISHIMA KEI.

You don’t know when the brilliant idea of jump-scaring Tsukishima Kei first popped into your mind. Maybe it was because he’s been egging you on lately, resting a heavy arm on your head, then on your shoulders— snickering when you start huffing and puffing about how “You’re not a damn armrest.”

Cute- to him, probably. But today would be your turn to mess with him, show him a little taste of his own medicine, or something like that. You just think it’d be funny to hear him scream for once.

You’re as quiet as can be when you tiptoe behind him from where he’s pouring himself a bowl of cereal, your fluffiest socks already on to ensure maximum silence with the extra cushioning. All it would take was one singular hug around his middle— and then you’d squeeze, force the scream right out of his body.

You’re so close to him that you can hear his breathing now, each soft breath making your heart race a little faster, and you’re suddenly reminded of just how big your boyfriend is. You have to glance upwards to check how he’s doing, and you confirm the fact that he’s indeed.. still focused on perfecting his cereal to milk ratio.

Too much to notice you right behind him, at least.

It all happened too quickly for either of you to have reacted differently. You’re pouncing forward, arms reaching to circle around his waist, and you just barely register the sound of a loud gasp before there’s an impact directly to your nose, your body recoiling back as your vision flashes white.

“F-fuck!” You wince, staggering a couple steps back before you crouch down, hands flying to your nose to clutch it tightly as soon as the throbbing pain sets in.

“What the hell?” He sputters, eyes flickering from his elbow to your face a couple times before he’s rushing to crouch beside you. His hands are awkwardly hovering over your body as he tries to get a better look at you. “What were you doing there? Let me see.”

“Kei,” you sniffle, letting him pry your hands away from your face with a pained hiccup, “Was just gonna scare you….ouch…”

“You’re an idiot,” he snaps, but his eyes are full of worry when he leans in to examine your face. His finger comes to gently trace over your nose, other hand tilting your head up. “..At least it’s not bleeding.”

“Mhm,” you give him a nod, “..So did i get you?”

His eyes narrow at you, but he shifts, leaning forward and nodding for you to climb onto his back. “Idiot,” he’s grumbling to himself, “Do you even have to ask?”

The way you pout at the nickname has his eyes softening ever so slightly before he’s tearing his gaze away from you. “Get on already. There’s enough cereal for both of us.”

“Hm? But you only got one spoon,” you wrap your arms around him, letting him lift you up onto his back.

“And?”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Look at this one,” Kuroo laughs, tightening the arm around your frame to pull you closer against his side. “He looks like Garfield, doesn’t he? What a neat cat.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nuzzling your nose into his chest as you scroll through your own socials. It was a routine the two of you had, to scroll absentmindedly while tangled in each other’s limbs until someone falls asleep first— except Kuroo’s been laughing uncontrollably for the last ten minutes.

You shoot him a nervous glare each time his phone threatens to slip from his grasp, the scare he gives you always accompanied with an “Oops! That was close.”

“Tetsu…” you warn when he suddenly jolts again, frantically adjusting his grip with a shaky chuckle. Your head was right below his phone, after all. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he smiles, free hand rubbing your head. “I’d never let it fall on you.”

“You’d better not..” your voice trails off into a sleepy mumble, and you switch your phone off, letting it plop onto the mattress as you wrap your arms tightly around his middle. “I’m starting to feel a lil tired..”

“Hmm? I’ll be joining you soon, sleepy girl,” he soothes, hand moving to rub your upper back as you melt into his touch. “Ah! That Garfield-looking cat is back,” he gasps, followed by a hushed whisper when you stir, “Oops. Inside voice, inside voice… hm? What’s this?”

You start to fidget, awkwardly adjusting your position against his side when he suddenly falls eerily silent. maybe too silent. You count the seconds of silence— ten seconds, then fifteen. You perk up a bit, one eye opening to check on your boyfriend, but he’s suddenly jerking back and yelping the moment after, phone slipping from his hands and landing right on your head with a loud thud. “Ah-!”

“Oh— sorry, sorry!” His large hand is covering your head instantly, the other tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t mean to drop that on you. Just scared the living daylights out of me. That garfield, damned jumpscare… you okay?”

You glare at him, but it doesn’t come off threatening with the tears filling your eyes. “Tetsu…” you growl, and he flinches. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry,” he says, pulling you closer to pepper kisses over the top of your head. “I told you…” you pout, “I’m gonna get a bump on my head now.”

His lips tug into a sheepish smile at the thought of a lump forming on your head. “That’s my bad…”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m not!” He protests, his hands rising up in defensive as you angrily puff your cheeks out. “Nope. No way. This is no time for laughing.”

He pulls you into a hug, chuckling as you weakly push at his chest with a whine. “There, there. You can be mad at me all you want. I deserve it.”

“Although, I think you’d be cute with a bump on your head too.”

HINATA SHOYO.

If you ask him, Hinata would still swear on everything that his intention back then was nothing more than to squish you in a suffocating bear hug. He definitely did not mean to knock you onto the floor your very first day back from vacation or anything like that.

You just looked so pretty waiting for him at the airport, soft smile tugging at your lips as you checked on his location through your phone one last time before tucking it away into your pocket. The way you shifted between your toes and the balls of your feet was just so cute, too cute that he couldn’t help but start running towards you, arms stretching out to give you the biggest hug of your life.

His eyes were slammed shut the moment he leapt towards you, so he didn’t catch the way your mouth fell open in a gasp or the way your eyes widened as your weight suddenly shifted backwards. “S-Shoyo?!”

The sound of your voice has his eyes shooting open, a surprised “E-eh?” coming out when he realizes the two of you are falling— and fast. He’s barely able to snake a hand underneath your head before the two of you crash onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Ouch— oops,” he grumbles, eyes slowly blinking open as he shifts onto his elbow. There’s a sigh of relief from him when he sees that your fall was at least partially cushioned by his hand, and you seem unhurt with the way you’re blinking up at the passerby before shying away from their gaze when you realize they’d stopped to stare at the two of you sprawled out on the floor.

“Sorry— are you okay?” Hinata’s looming over you now, carefully setting your head on his lap. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

“N-no…” you mumble, eyes narrowing into a glare as he freezes in place. “Shoyo,” your voice falls to a whisper, “They’re all looking at us now. really closely too…”

“What?” Hinata laughs, “Shy again?”

You tear your gaze to the side, cheek puffing out a bit. “A little…”

“Want me to carry you?”

your eyes widen. “H-huh?”

“Mhm,” he’s smiling brightly, arms snaking around your body to lift you up in bridal style as you yelp, scrambling to hold onto your bag, “I gotcha. Let’s go home now!”

“..Shoyo!” Your cheeks burn when you notice the onlookers now giving you a soft smile— and the elderly couple behind them are exchanging looks before they’re whispering something to each other- you recognize it as an ‘aww’ by the way their lips move.

“This is more embarrassing!”

“Hm, is it?” He looks confused by your shyness, but his hands are tightening around you anyways, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry! I’ll get us back fast.”

[liketolaugh-writes]

Bruce looking past the fact that (recently adopted) Danny is a powerhouse and recognizing that he has other skills also. <3

Danny is a STEM kid and just as brilliant as his sister, you cannot convince me otherwise

Danny gave Bruce the handwritten list of powers in the morning. Bruce stared at it over his cup of coffee, then gave Danny a flat, somewhat disbelieving look. Danny shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said, perching on one of the stools. “I can point out the ones I don’t use if you just want to work on the ones I do. At least I have an idea of what needs improving with those.” Alfred gave him a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and French toast, and Danny smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“We’ll have to prioritize your training,” Bruce allowed after a moment, frowning down at the paper. Dick leaned over to look and whistled. “But all of these will be addressed eventually. You should have at least a moderate grasp of every tool at your disposal.” He looked up. “You intended to work in the lab today, correct?”

Danny nodded, playing with a strip of bacon. “I’ll probably spend most of today making a big batch of phaseproof coating,” he said. “Then I can experiment with mixing it with paint and maybe coat some of your spare weapons in it? That should work for the bo staff and escrima sticks, maybe a set of brass knuckles. But I’ll need to make a different solution for the edged weapons.” His mind wandered, thinking of how he could adapt what he knew of the Bats’ gear to work against ghosts.

“Who’re the brass knuckles for?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny. Danny flushed and shrugged.

“Batman,” he said. “You don’t really use a weapon, right?” Bruce grunted. “But phaseproof cloth isn’t something my parents ever really figured out. I can work on it, maybe, but I thought brass knuckles would be an okay compromise for now.”

“Hn.”

“Good thinking,” Dick praised with a smile. “It’ll be easy to add to the utility belt too. Should we ghostproof my main set or a spare?”

“The main, I think, if you’re okay with it,” Danny said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You probably won’t even notice. But the edged weapons should all be spares. Ecto-treated metal tends to glow.”

“Not great for stealth,” Dick nodded. “Whatever you think is best, baby spook. We have the resources.”

“You’re hyper-specialized,” Bruce noted without inflection, sipping from his coffee. Danny winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was easy to forget that all this was pretty useless outside of Amity Park. Bruce shook his head.

“It’s not a problem. But we’ll need to diversify your skillset. Your talent for chemistry and engineering should expand beyond ectoscience alone.” He studied Danny contemplatively. “Higher education might be beneficial, perhaps a PhD.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m barely passing high school!”

“I had Casper High send over your transcripts,” Bruce said. Danny flinched. “You had a B+ average in middle school, with a particular bent for math and science. You also participated in several advanced extracurriculars, including a junior astronaut program, space camp, and competitive robotics. Further, you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of your parents’ work, which eludes both the Justice League engineers and JL Dark. You had these talents prior to acquiring your powers, and it would be a waste to discard them in favor of your raw combat ability.”

Danny stared at Bruce, open-mouthed and speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered even the possibility that he could have a future outside of his hero career.

“…Do you think I could do that and be a superhero?” he managed after a minute, quieter than he’d meant to.

Bruce nodded sharply. “Most Justice League heroes maintain a career outside of heroics,” he reminded Danny, without even sounding like he thought Danny was an idiot for asking. “Aside from myself, there is also a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, a museum curator, a forensic scientist, and a fighter pilot.”

Danny had known that on some level, but it had always seemed unreal. Practically a myth. “When am I going back to school?” he asked, hardly able to believe that he was suddenly looking forward to it.

“At the beginning of next semester,” Bruce said. “Your parents’ trial should be completed by then. I assume you don’t want to be announced publicly until that happens.” Danny shook his head fervently. “You may need to complete some make-up classes online, but we can discuss that next week.”

“Thanks,” Danny said sincerely. He was talking about a lot more than his re-enrollment.

[dcxdpdabbles]

It's all Fun and Games Kids! Part 2

#HolidayRequests First off absolutely love your work and I'm so happy to show that by sending my support. I am not at all requesting all three just one of them. So dealer's choice. Congratulations! It's Triplets!, It's all Fun and Games Kids, or the Missing Half

Danny was buying some groceries when five armed men rushed in and demanded everyone to get on the ground. He stood by the milk, watching in fascination as the men gathered everyone near the back.

It didn't seem any of them were affiliated with big rouges, which could mean this was either a gang-related power grab or a couple of men looking for a quick buck.

They were likely taking hostages because they had messed up their big getaway and were now trying to make desperate leverage against law enforcement.

"I said get on the ground!" A man shouts behind Danny seconds before he is smacked with the butt of a gun. He hits the ground with a slight oof, but otherwise, he is okay. The same can't be said for his milk carton.

It splats in one large puddle, landing on the side and ripping a hole in the bottom corner. Hmm, that was a cheap carton. He should consider switching over to a different brand. He is then dragged to his feet and led towards a group of cowering people.

They were pushed against the vegetable bins and ordered to sit right under them so their backs were against the wood and the guards could limit their movement. It was brilliant, too, as being under the bins made it harder to see them for anyone attempting to rescue them.

Danny is shoved next to a trembling woman under the tomatoes, holding her hands against her mouth, muttering something low in Spanish. He doesn't know enough to translate what she says, but he figures it must be a prayer.

He offers her a smile. "First time?"

The look she sends him could have curdled dairy. He gives a small laugh, crossing his legs and getting comfortable. She returns to his prayers, and the two don't speak after that. Danny watches the armed men and realizes they're not new to this but aren't good at it.

These are the type of men who joined gangs for glory. The kind that would report violence at the drop of a hat and didn't care who they hurt in the process. Or worse, they enjoyed when they hurt people in the process, even if those people had nothing to do with them.

Danny frowns after a while, realizing that the men haven't looted them or emptied the cash registers. What were they after?

The store employees were all moved from the back of the store, their matching lime green uniforms an eye sore. They all wore the same horrified expressions as the group was forced to sit between the tomatoes and the onions.

The youngest one, a teenager who looked no older than eighteen, was wearing a black shirt with stripped lime lines, and Danny quickly figured out he was the manager. He was sobbing quietly, bruises on his face and around his neck indicating that the armed men had identified him as well.

Danny felt a spark of protective rage.

The manager sat beside Danny, so the Halfa scouted over, eyeing the men with the guns as he carefully slid his hand into the boy's palm. It was a testament to how scared the poor kid was when all he did was curl his fingers around his, tears rolling down his beaten face.

It made him wonder why, seeing as the other shoppers and employees did not have any indications that they had been attacked. It couldn't have been retaliation for trying to be a hero. No offense to the teenager, but he didn't strike Danny as someone brave or stupid enough to try to fight back.

If anyone, he looked more like someone who would hide in situations like these.

That's it. He realizes, watching how the men make head gestures at the manger. This isn't some off-chance hostage situation. This is a revenge plan. The kid's the target and these idiots are too low in command to realize it. No way they would have brought him out here if they did. Someone will come for him soon.

The teen had dark raven hair and the same pale skin as Danny, but his eyes were as black as coal compared to Danny's aqua blue. It might not work, but he was better equipped to handle whatever they threw at him until the bats or the police arrived.

He carefully lets go of the hand in his hold, running his fingers up the arm of the teen, keeping his eyes trained on the gunmen. He's doing it slowly, worried any sudden or fast moves will convince them to pull the triggers on their assault rifles.

The boy's breath hitches but thankfully doesn't blow their cover. The tremble in his limb has increased, and Danny wouldn't have felt bad about it had he not been on a time crunch. Eventually, his fingers brushed against the short sleeve of the manager's uniform.

"Listen carefully. You were just here to buy some groceries. You never worked here." He whispers, curling his fingers around the fabric and turning the polo shirt intangible. He pulls it right off the teenager's body in one quick swipe.

It slides off the boy's skin like water, and the second he slides it through him, Danny returns it to solid, letting it settle on top of his clothes. He quickly covers the teenager's naked chest with his own long-sleeve shirt, using the same method.

The boy's mouth drops, but he doesn't get a chance to respond before the armed men walk over to them. Danny pushes his head down, hoping to hide the bruises while hunting his own, using his hair to curtain his face.

Just in time, too, because the Halfa is yanked to his feet by two of the men, who sneer at him, and he lets the proper amount of whimpers when they backhand him and bang his head on the bin.

Danny is dragged out of the room while the third man threatens the people. He'll come back for them the second he has a chance.

"You thought you could hide in Gotham, Eric?" One of the men hisses, "After what your Daddy did? Half of my boys are rotting in cells for life because of him! "

Eric was likely in witness protection or had wronged a powerful man he shouldn't have. Maybe he was in an organized gang and had ratted someone out. There was no way Danny was letting these men get away.

They drag him towards the back, where a group of similarly dressed men and women are waiting. Glances at everything through his hair, wondering how long he had before someone realized they got the wrong person.

Maybe they wouldn't notice before they shoved him into the ain't oven; they were obviously planning on burning him in. Which would be the perfect place to shift into Phantom out of prying eyes. He had spent months chasing Batman as a regular love-stroke citizen.

He couldn't let all those dramatic swoons and pathetic flirtations go to waste by revealing he was a powerful meta now! Plus, how else would he be rescued by a hero if the man knew he could just do it himself?

He was forced to stand in the room with two guards gripping is his shoulders hard enough to bruise. Danny doesn't raise his gaze away from his shoes, so even though he knows someone is standing near the oven to give him a dramatic monologue, he won't look.

A minute passes before someone clicks their tongue.

"Nothing to say, brat!?" A kick to the back of his knees has Danny falling to his knees, gritting his teeth to stop himself from going ghost immediately. "Do you know what I'm going to-"

Whatever the man was going to say was cut off by a figure launching itself from the ceiling railing and kicking him in the back of the head.

Danny flinches as a body drops right next to him. There is a splash of blood as one of the men wails. Danny offers him a cheeky grin once the man rolls over and looks up into his face.

His wide eyes are stomped on by a dark boot surrounded by a fluttering cape, and the second pair of hands on his shoulder vanishes. Danny listens to the sound of battle, keeping his hair in his face and his eyes on his folded knees. He could get up and hide, but where would the fun be?

His favorite pass time has arrived.

"Are you alright?" The familiar voice growls, but Danny doesn't respond. It was too far away. The man needed to get closer.

Eventually, the boots and the cape returned to his line of vision, a hand slowly reaching for him, and Danny flung himself toward them. He must have caught the vigilante off guard because when Danny wrapped his arms around the legs, he did not dodge in time despite the jerk that indicated he was moving.

Dramatically, Dann wailed, still on his knees, pressing his cheek against a muscular thigh. "Batman! You saved me! I was so scard but you came to rescue me!"

A hand landed in his hair, pushing Danny away. That only made the ghost in him grin as he fought to hug the man closer. It must have been a shock to find that Danny had a lot of strength despite his young appearance.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I was so scared!" He bawls, hiccuping for good measure as he rubs his cheek against the meat of Batman's left vastus laterlis. The man must do insane squats.

"Get. Off." Batman grunts, now using both hands to try and push Danny away. It's too bad for him; Danny has super strength. "Let. Go!"

"Mr. Fenton, everything is alright! You don't have to be afraid. Please let Batman go." Spoiler shouts, appearing in Danny's line of sight. He almost breaks character to pout at her intrusion. He can't, though, as that would ruin the game. So he lets her gently pry off his arms and helps him to his feet.

He shoots Batman with looks of undying devotion, though, which might have actually made the Dark Knight shudder, and that was all he wanted in life.

"You have real bad luck, huh?" Spoiler comments, rubbing his back like a small, scared child.

"I just wanted some milk for my Oreos." He hiccups, wiping at his eye. He then ends a watery smile towards Batman, who is helping Red Robin and Robin secure the gang that had snuck into his city. "But I did get to see Tall, Dark, and Daddy, so today is not a total bust."

"I'm going to be sick," The girl in purple mutters under her breath, and Danny nearly loses it right then.

He is distracted by Eric rushing towards them, a look of hero worship on his face as he slams into Danny with a loud but sincere "Thank you!"

Phantom purrs from inside his protective core. He should shop here more often. This place is a riot.

[sp0o0kylights]

Knight Commander Stephan Harrington, Champion of Light, right hand to the newly crowned (and very young) Queen Elaine, was tied up on the floor. 

Unfortunately, so was Eddie.

Which wasn’t intentional--it certainly had not been the plan (not that kidnapping two royal knights had been the plan either)--but it was the outcome that had happened and so, Eddie had to deal. 

Now if only he could get the damn bespelled ropes from entangling him…

“You are incredibly bad at this.” The knight informed him in an amused tone. “Like, insanely bad. You should be ashamed levels of bad.” 

…which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t being heckled. 

“I am not!” Eddie defended, as he finally managed to free himself, throwing the offending, wiggling ropes across the room. Never again would he buy from the cheap spell stall in the market. 

“This is a clear and obvious ploy to get you to feel like I am in over my head and you--both of you!--are falling for it!” 

He leapt to his feet, spinning around and staring down at his captives with a look he hoped was threatening.

(It wasn’t.) 

“We've been kidnapped a handful of times, you know.” Knight First Class Robin Buckley spoke up from her position tied next to her commander. “People tend to put way more thought into it than this.” 

She’d adjusted her position sometime between her initial capture (a spell he'd purchased that Eddie had intended to hit the royal carriage and not the knights escorting it) to sit cross legged, hands bound behind her back.

“At least one thought, anyway. You gotta admit this feels pretty desperate.” Stephan piled on. He’d been more entertained than pissed ever since Eddie had taken himself down with his own tools, and the wisecracks were getting worse. 

“Thank you, Sir Stephan--”

“You can just call me Steve, man.” 

“—but some of us are on a tight deadline here. And for your information,” He brought himself to his full height, trying to loom over them menacingly, “nobody goes around kidnapping royalty unless they’re absolutely desperate.”

Not that he’d succeeded in the “royalty” department, but he’d gotten close enough. 

“Oh that reeks of a tragic backstory.” Robin said, like she was seated at a dinner party and not on the floor. “Did you get cursed?” 

“He looks like the type of guy to get cursed.” Steve agreed, head tilting like a faithful dogs as he examined his captor. 

Frustration overwhelmed him in a wave and Eddie went to angrily yank on his hair before catching himself in the act. As good as it would feel in the moment, it would not help him convince the idiots before him that this was serious, dammit! 

The result was that he flung his hands around wildly for a moment, before storming off across the room of the little abandoned cabin he’d found, face burning a brilliant, obvious red. 

“I didn’t get cursed, I got accused of--oh. Oh, no, I will not be caught monologuing, fuck you!”

He whirled on his heels, pointing a finger at their stupid faces. “Why I did it doesn’t even matter!” 

(Or rather, it did matter—a lot, actually—but not right now. Not to them.

Stupid fucking royal employees and their stupid fucking charmed lives.) 

He wasn’t shrieking, he wasn’t--except he was, and both knights traded a look behind his back as he paced wildly about. “I caught you, and I am going to use you to get what I want!” 

“Right, sure.” Steve said, nonplussed. “Say, did you maybe touch a weird looking, possibly magical item by chance? Or gave your name to a weirdly attractive looking lady who seems to love yapping about royal court band practices and who definitely wasn't one of the Fae?” 

He cast a sly look at his companion with that last line, and was rewarded when her mouth popped open in instant offense. 

“You swore you’d stop bringing that up!” Robin said, snapping a leg out in a kick, nailing her companion in the thigh with one thick boot. 

“I swore I’d stop bringing up the incident with Nancy.” Steve fired back, taking her kicks with ease. “And all those archery lessons you swore you needed, because you apparently hit your head in battle and forgot how a bow worked--”

“Shut up, Dingus!” Robin growled, in tandem with Eddie’s mounting panic. 

This was not, at all, going how this was supposed to. Not that anything had as it was supposed to, since shit went sideways, but the knights were at least could have the decency to be somewhat afraid of him! 

Or angry.

Eddie could work with angry!

This two bit comedy routine he was being subjected to instead of any rational reaction was just the icing on top of the weird cake of his life and he was this close to having a full blown mental breakdown about it. 

Which, of course, was exactly when they had to go and make things worse.

Robin stopped kicking her commander and turned back to Eddie, eyes narrowing with the sharpness of someone who had just put something big together. “Hey, hold on—aren’t you that bard half the kingdom won’t shut up about? Eddie the Balladeer?”

Because naturally, the first time anyone recognized him since his life went to hell, it had to be the people he’d just kidnapped.

(He should have listened to his uncle and become a woodworker.) 

“I was.” Eddie grumped. “More like fuckin’ Eddie the Banished now. But again,” He stressed the word with a harsh flick of both hands, “that doesn’t matter.” 

“Why not?” Steve pressed him. “Pretty sure Dustin is planning on you playing at his birthday party. He’s obsessed with that weird song you do. The one with the bed spring noises.” 

Eddie did not know who Dustin was, but after the chaos of the past two weeks, it was only a matter of time before word of his so-called crimes reached the capitol and shredded whatever remained of his reputation.

“Considering I’ve been accused of murder and my entire damn hometown thinks I’m leading satanic rituals, I seriously doubt that,” he sneered, aiming for something haughty and menacing—anything that would make them start taking this whole thing seriously. 

Steve and Robin exchanged another look, the kind only two people sharing a single brain cell could, the unspoken agreement loud and clear on their faces: ‘Do Not Laugh Right Now.

Which was, frankly, insulting, given the sheer level of trauma that came with being branded a murderer.

“Who accused you of satanic worship?” Steve managed to ask, clearly struggling to keep his words giggle free. “You look like one of those wobbly baby deer. You know, with the big, cute eyes.”

Eddie glowered at him. “Are you deaf? I just said it was the entire town!” 

(He determinedly ignored the fact that Steve had just compared him to a damn woodland creature—and called him cute, on top of it.)

“Is this one of those things wrong place wrong time things?” Robin tacked on, like this was a fun puzzle and not Eddie’s life spiraling wildly out of control. “Like, ‘there’s a dead body on the floor and I’m holding a knife but I swear I just walked in here right before the constable did’ type of situations?” 

“I bet the person he apparently murdered isn’t even dead.” Steve fake-whispered to Robin conspiratorially, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. They were crinkled at the edges in a smile, like this entire thing was getting better by the second. “Money says he helped a fair maiden get out of an awful marriage and the shitty fiancé accused him of killing her.” 

Which is exactly what happened, the fucking dick. 

Jaw swimming with his attempts to get out too many words at once, Eddie sputtered. “Of course she isn’t dea--I mean, I, no!” 

“Ha! Steve you totally nailed it.” Robin said, leaning back in triumph. “Which means Dongus here was trying to kidnap one of the Princes to get someone to listen to you. God that’s so cliche.” 

“It’s not like I asked for it to happen!” Eddie shrilled, tone hitting notes he hadn’t been aware his throat could make. 

“Man, I'm good.” Steve said, ignoring Eddie entirely. "I should've been a detective."

“Please, you’re much better at looking intimidating than actually being intimidating. Why do you think Hopper made you Champion, Mr. Model?” 

Eddie’s hands were in his hair again, and this time, he gave up all pretenses of looking cool and evil and let himself tear at it. 

“Why I’m doing this doesn’t matter because it’s not like you two can fucking help me!” 

That, at least, cut through the good cheer, succeeding in finally getting both knights to shut up. 

“I’m dead if I don’t fix this, but worse is if they go on and target Wayne, or Gareth or the rest of the band, or--” He wasn’t exactly hyperventilating, but he was breathing awfully fast. “I can’t let that fucknut Carver go on a whole rampage and hurt everyone who ever associated with me!” 

Wayne was fairly talented at talking the village down, but that had always been when Eddie had been accused of selling fake potions or replacing the town flag with Jason’s undergarments. 

He was not going to be able to fight off an angry mob, should they decide to make the trek to him. 

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice losing all the humor it had before. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!”

“We can help make it okay.” Robin said gently and it become abruptly clear that his kidnapping victims were now trying to comfort him, because life just had to kick him while he was down. “We’re Knights of the Kingdom, after all.” 

“Oh and I suppose I’m just supposed to untie you and you’ll--what?” Eddie glared at them, hands pulling hard at his hair. “Just let the whole kidnapping thing go? Help me out of the goodness of your hearts instead of arresting me and throwing me in the stockades?” 

Steve shrugged. “I mean, yeah.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Eddie said flatly. 

“Does it help if we tell you this isn’t a contender for the top ten weirdest situations we’ve been in?” Robin asked. “Like, it’s not even close.” 

“No. No it does not.”

“Okay.” Steve said, in a ‘thinking aloud’ sort of voice. “How about this? We give you our words as knights that we’ll help clear your name, and you can stick with us so no one else tries anything until we do.” 

Like Eddie was dumb enough to fall for that bullshit. 

“And why would you do that? What's in it for you to help clear my name?” He challenged them. “We both know the second I untie either of you, you’re going to overwhelm me and take me in. I’m not taking that chance.”

Not with Wayne on the line. 

“Has anyone ever told you you have trust issues?” Steve asked, pushing Eddie right over the edge. 

“I was convicted!” He dropped his hands in a crazed movement, only to smack the back of one against the other's palm in time with his shrieking. “Of! Murder!” 

He must have hit another shrill note, because Steve and Robin both winced. 

“Easy.” Steve soothed. “You know who I am, right?”

Eddie snorted. Sir Stephan’s face was plastered across a shitload of banners all over the kingdom. You couldn’t go anywhere without knowing who the Queen’s Champion was, and Robin was nearly just as famous.

“Yes.” He grit out. 

“Then you know that while I myself don’t have any kind of magic or power, I am tied directly into the Kingdom’s power.” 

In an impressive display of athleticism, Steve maneuvered himself up into a proper kneel, hands still tied behind his back with softly glowing ropes. 

He looked up at Eddie through thick lashes, expression earnest. “If you want, I will tap into it to make you an unbreakable oath. That way I can’t betray you.” 

Stunned into stillness, Eddie stared at him, before his eyes swept to his companion, trying to check if this was some kind of trick or trap or--something else he was too stupid to catch.

Instead of an answer, Robin looked just as shocked as Eddie, her jaw dropping.

“Dingus, you can’t be serious,” She protested, while Eddie finally found his voice to choke out;

“Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re the good guys,” Steve replied, with a smile so bright it could probably power the sun. “and the good guys help people.” 

That was said a little oddly--like he was quoting someone who’d said it many, many times before. 

Eddie opened his mouth, struggling to form the words. 

“How,” he started, his voice cracking on the word. He paused, biting his lip before finally gathering the strength to ask, “How do you know I’m not just lying to you?”

“You?” Steve echoed, the word practically a challenge, but he was still looking up at Eddie through those damn eyelashes, his expression calm, like they'd known each other for a hundred years and would know each other for a hundred more. “No way.” 

They stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment. Eddie didn’t know what Robin was doing, didn’t have room in his brain to even recall her presence in the room. It felt like he and Steve were connected, his entire life was teetering and this moment would decide the outcome. 

Steve had been right. Eddie did have trust issues. Big ones, and this entire situation had only made them worse, but somehow, in that moment, he felt like he could do the impossible.

He could trust Steve.

“Okay.” He said quietly, all his bluster and wild hand movements gone. 

Steve beamed at him.

“Kneel down in front of me.” The knight instructed, and as if drawn by an invisible thread, Eddie did so, dropping down so his face was level with Steve’s. 

“Come closer.” Steve ordered, and waited as Eddie shuffled, closer and closer, until they were barely a breaths width apart, so close he could see the streaks of gold in Steve’s warm, brown eyes. 

“I,” Steve started, in a voice that was both powerful and intimate, “Sir Stephan, Knight Commander of the Kingdom of Light, Queen’s Champion and head of House Harrington, call upon the bonds that make me and that I have made in turn, to hereby swear to you,”

He paused, waiting, and it took Eddie a moment to realize he had never given the man his name.

“Edward Munson, of Town Hawkins.” He muttered, bespelled entirely by the warmth in Steve's eyes. 

“Edward Munson, Bard of Town Hawkins,” Steve said, and oh, what the addition of the word ‘bard.’ did to Eddie’s stomach. The flips it made when he realized just how well Steve was continuing to read him, better than anyone else in his life ever had.

(It made him feel insane.)

“that I will aid in clearing your name, restoring your reputation, and ensuring your safe return to the life you were meant to live.” 

Something built up between them, humming with the buzz of magic. The weight felt tangible, the threads growing thick tying Eddie and Steve together.

“By the powers that be.” Steve whispered, leaning ever so slightly forward, eyelashes lowering. 

Eddie repeated the last line back to Steve, guided by the nudging insistence of the magic that circled them. 

For a second the oath become visible, strings of bright yellow magic surging about, and Eddie was almost drawn to look at it, had he not been distracted by Steve closing the distance between them.

“Wha--” Eddie started to ask, only for Steve to draw the word into his own mouth, sealing their oath with a kiss. 

In the songs Eddie sung, the world exploded when one experienced true love's kiss. Birds sang, and people cheered, fireworks rose to explode in the air. 

This kiss was nothing like that.

This kiss felt like coming home. 

Steve ended it as chastly as he started it, pulling back to smile at him. “And there you have it. One sworn Knight Commander, duty bound to clear your good name.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie said, blinking rapidly, trying to come back into himself, trying not to look as dazed as he felt. “Right. My uh, name.” 

Steve beamed at him. Tentatively, Eddie smiled back, and if a moment could be warm then this one was the warmest thing Eddie had ever experienced, like a gentle blanket being draped across them both.

It was ruined entirely by the forced coughing that started up next to them. 

“If you two are done now, my arms are going numb.” Robin announced, making Eddie jerk back and Steve roll his eyes. 

“Sorry.” Eddie said automatically, face going red for the third time that day. “I’ll uh. I’ll do that now.”

In his mad scramble to get to his feet and hide how aroused he was, Eddie missed the smug look Steve gave Robin.

In his attempts at removing the spelled ropes from her wrists, he equally missed the sarcastically mouthed ‘Slut.’ Robin aimed back at him. 

He did, however, somehow understand that Robin came with Steve, and that he had just damned himself to their bantering.

Weirdly, it made him feel better instead of worse.

xXx

 “So out of curiosity, what name did you give yourself?” Steve asked a handful of hours later, as the three of them began their trek to Castle Hoosier.

Eddie frowned at him. “Name?”

“You know.” Steve nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s playfully, like they were buddies. “Your evil wizard name, or whatever.”

“I never said I was a wizard, Steve.” 

“You cannot tell me someone as dramatic as yourself didn’t immediately decide to change your name to something ridiculous.” The knight challenged, and Eddie hated how easily the guy had clocked him. “I bet it has evil in the title. Or Mean. Or--” 

“It was Dread Lord Munson.”  Robin interrupted. 

With a grin so wide it overtook her entire face, she turned a little leatherbound notebook to face Steve. There, in Eddie’s spidery scrawl, was the offending name taking up half the page. 

“Where did you get that!?” Eddie squawked, lunging for the book. Robin, in a show of skill he wouldn’t have thought her capable of, tossed it right over his head, into the waiting hands of Steve. 

Eddie spun, cursing wildly as Steve took a look at his personal (!) writings. 

(He hadn't even seen her grab it, dammit!)

He ducked out of the way once, then twice, laughing the entire time, before closing the book with a snap and holding it out to Eddie. 

“Come on, Dork Lord, let’s go get your name cleared.” He said, a fond grin on his face. 

“I hate you. Both of you.” Eddie whined, a blush dusting his cheeks as he snatched his book back, but followed Steve anyway. 

He had the worst feeling he was going to be doing that for a while, now. Even if his name got cleared.

Fucking knights.

Bonus:

“We both know that binding ritual does not involve a kiss, Steve.” Robin said, some time later, quiet enough for only her friend to hear. 

“Ah, shut up Robs. Let me have my fun.” Steve said. “Besides, it sets the tone. Now that he knows what kissing me is like, it's all he’s gonna be thinking about.” 

“Pretty sure all he’s thinking about is clearing his name, Dingus.”

“Okay, yeah.” Steve stressed the word, “but after we clear it? That little scatterbrained bard is gonna be fully focused on me.” He flicked a finger at his own chest, and gave what he thought was his best winning smile. 

Robin made gagging noises.

In retaliation. Steve tried to push her off her horse. 

[psychoticallykind]

Purple Ink

"Purple" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 536 words

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

"Hey, love!" James greeted him cheerfully, closing the front door. "How'd your exam go? Did you get my note?"

Regulus nodded, exhausted and very much ready to curl up with James and not think of the rest of the world ever again. "It went well, I got a perfect score."

"I knew it!" James cheered. He moved to sit down next to Regulus, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, okay," Regulus mumbled, cheeks burning. "It wasn't that hard."

"You're brilliant," James adamantly replied. "Did you get my note?"

Regulus shrugged. "Yeah."

There was a second of silence.

James shifted. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

Regulus huffed, turning and burying his face against James's sweater as he spoke. "You made me cry again."

"I - I made you cry?" James sounded horrified. He tried to urge Regulus back, but Regulus stubbornly stayed right where he was. "I'm so sorry. I didn't - I didn't realize -"

"James," Regulus interrupted. "No. Stop that."

"But I made you cry," James protested.

Regulus nodded. "Yes, you did." He sighed, wrapping his arms around James's neck. "You made me cry. You and your stupid breakfast that you made me and your stupid notes and that stupid purple ink - why are the notes always in purple ink? Why don't you use black like a civilized person?"

"Uh," James sounded a little confused. "Because every time I write with purple ink you smile, and I like it when you smile?"

"That's a dumb reason," Regulus replied. "Dumb. It's a dumb reason, with dumb purple ink, and dumb notes that make me cry because it's too sweet, James, you are too sweet all the time, you are too nice to me."

James rubbed his back. "Do you want me to stop leaving you notes?"

Regulus did pull back then, giving James an affronted look. "If you ever do, I'll probably cry."

James met his eyes with a small smile. "Darling, I need you to be a little bit more clear. The notes make you cry happy tears? Is that what you're saying?"

Regulus shrugged. "I guess."

"Regulus."

Regulus hid against his sweater again. "I was having a bad morning, and I woke up late, and I was rushing. And then I didn't have to rush because you cleaned all of my school stuff up last night and put it in my bag, and you made me breakfast, and you bought coffee, and you left me a purple note with all of this nice, calming stuff about how you love me and I was going to do great and it made me cry but it also made my whole day better."

Regulus left out the part where he came home and put the note in the secret box. The box filled with notes written in purple ink.

James didn't know about that box.

"You've made my entire life better," James told him. "So I'm glad I could help a little."

"Idiot," Regulus grumbled. He cuddled closer. "I love you."

James laughed, and it made Regulus smile. "I love you, too, Regulus. I'll make sure to keep leaving purple notes."

Regulus nodded, pleased and exhausted and very much in love.

[10byten]

Last night, I imagined Jaehyun telling everyone just how deeply in love he is with his girlfriend. The way he’d talk about what makes her so special in his eyes, how she’s this perfect mix of chaos and calm that he can’t get enough of. How she’s not just someone he loves—she’s the reason everything makes sense. And that’s it. Just Jaehyun, utterly smitten, trying to put into words what feels impossible to explain.

Jaehyun finally told the guys about you. The way you live in his head, rent-free. The way everything feels a little too quiet when you’re not there. He tried to keep you to himself, but he couldn’t anymore—not when you’re all he thinks about.

-

“Wait, can you say that again?” Mark’s eyes widen like a cartoon character caught mid-thought. The boys are all gathered around the living room table.

Jaehyun had called what they jokingly refer to as an “emergency assembly” to drop the bombshell: there’s someone in his life now, and he’s planning to move in with them. It’s time, apparently, to finally introduce them to his friends.

“I mean, I don’t know, you’ve been hyping this girl up for so long, and we still haven’t seen her. At this point, I’m starting to think she’s a figment of your imagination,” Johnny teases, leaning back in his chair.

“Ha. Ha.” Jaehyun deadpans, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know I’ve been talking about her for a while, and yeah, none of you have met her yet.”

“And we don’t want to meet her,” Jungwoo says, dramatically crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, hyung. We’re dying to meet your ghost girlfriend. Like, is this some ‘Ghost’ movie situation where only you can see her, or is she gonna appear if we summon her with a medium?”

Jaehyun throws a pillow straight at his younger friend’s face.

“She’s real,” he insists, his voice softer near the end as if embarrassed. “I just... didn’t want to share her. I wanted to keep her to myself for a while.”

“Oh, you were scared we’d steal your girl, huh, Jung?” Doyoung smirks.

Jaehyun snorts, shaking his head with a calm confidence. “Not a chance, Kim. She’s not into innocent little boys like you.”

Doyoung pulls a face, his mock outrage making everyone laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you, man,” Taeyong says sincerely. “We’re all excited to meet her.”

“So, tell us—what’s so amazing about her?” Haechan leans forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Jaehyun’s gaze drops to the table, a thoughtful look washing over his face. Then his eyes light up, and a soft smile stretches across his lips.

“She has this... effect on me. When she’s not around, it’s like this itch I can’t scratch, and nothing feels right until she’s back. She’s got this way of making everything in my life just... easier. She makes me feel like even the stuff that doesn’t make sense is still okay, like it all fits somehow. Sometimes, it feels like she controls the weather—my weather—and I think maybe she does. At least in my world.”

He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy laugh. “Honestly, even I start to wonder if she’s a mirage. She must be made of some kind of magic, though, right? Because who else could do that to someone? Every time I’m with her, I feel a little more drunk on her. It’s weird, but I finally get that saying about having someone under your skin.”

The room falls silent. The guys are all staring at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“And of course,” Jaehyun adds with a sheepish grin, “she’s gorgeous, sweet, sexy, brilliant, and funny.”

Haechan is the first to recover. “Hold up—what happened to the emotionally unavailable, zero-feelings Jaehyun we know? This guy’s a clone. We need to file a missing person report.”

“Shut up, idiot. It’s called being in love,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes. “You might figure that out one day if your brain ever grows up.”

“I know this doesn’t sound like me, but—”

“But it proves you’re really in love,” Yuta cuts in.

Jaehyun blushes and nods, unable to hide his smile.

“So, when do we get to meet this ‘delicious creature’ of yours?” Johnny asks, grinning like he’s not about to let it go.

-

“Hey, love. Where are you?”

You slip off your shoes the moment you walk into the apartment, already eager to see him. When Jaehyun spots you, his face lights up, and the book he was holding is instantly forgotten as he crosses the room to pull you into his arms. He lifts you slightly, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hello, love of my life.”

“Hello, you.” You kiss him softly.

“How was your day?” he asks, just like he always does.

“Intense. And yours?” you murmur, your fingers threading through his hair.

“Long without you. Fun with the guys,” he says, stealing a quick kiss.

“Oh yeah? What did you guys do?”

He looks at you deeply, his eyes full of warmth. “Talked. About stuff. About you.”

You tilt your head, feeling a mix of flattery and slight embarrassment.

“They’re coming for dinner tomorrow,” he says casually, brushing his lips against your cheek. “To finally meet you. Is that okay?”

“I’m okay with anything that involves you or the people you care about,” you reply between kisses.

Jaehyun groans softly against your lips. “You have to be unreal. Always saying the perfect thing.”

“Then I guess this is one beautiful illusion we’re living together.”

“It definitely is. babe”

-

Part 2

[dreamingcricket]

politely requesting either halsin or astarion with a tav/reader who like..shrugs off their advances bc they don’t think someone like either of them would take interest in them. like very oblivious to the fact that people actually like them. (totally not self indulgent lmao) ((i love mutual pining to lovers i-))

CW: Mild sexual content, reader is injured

Astarion has started to question whether this is your way of gently rebuffing him, or you're actually this dense.

He's not a subtle flirt. He uses all his most seasoned tricks, exhausts every overture he can think of. He can't remember wanting anyone this much. And yet, every one of his suggestive quips is laughed off.

He's there in the morning, sliding in beside you as you drink your tea. "Good morning, beautiful. You're looking absolutely radiant today." He runs a finger down your arm. When you blush and smile back, something warms in the pit of his stomach.

He's there as you put on your armour. "Allow me, dove." And as he tightens the straps on your mantle, he lets his fingers brush the underside of your jaw. "There. Just right." He purrs into your ear.

And of course, when he feeds. He takes his time, pulling you close, cradling your head, running his fingers through your hair. He nuzzles into your neck before he bites, pressing his lips against your rabbiting pulse for just a moment longer than he should.

Even in battle, when he's swiftly at your back, flashing you brilliant smiles as he races to your defense, you jovially thank him, like you do all your companions. Like he's your friend. Just your friend.

All efforts so far, completely ignored.

So now he watches you from across camp, the firelight dancing across your features as you laugh (he tries to ignore the tender stirring in his chest at the sound).

He throws back his glass of wine, and grimaces at the pitying glances of his compatriots. Of course it was obvious to anyone except you.

You stood, bid Wyll and Karlach goodnight, but instead of disappearing into your tent, you vanished into the brush.

Astarion sat for a long moment. He should let you go. You clearly weren't interested, and he should just... move on. Like he always had.

Who are you kidding, you fool?

He didn't care that he startled Gale with his speed and he pursued you into the woods.

You were seated on a rock, your face turned up toward a shaft of moonlight, eyes closed. He stopped to admire you.

"Sorry I took off. I just wanted to enjoy the quiet."

"I'll go, if you want me to."

You start, and turn towards his voice. "Astarion, didn't expect you."

"Were you expecting someone?"

"No... just-

He's suddenly surging forward without thought, and the two of you are rolling across the grass.

"Astarion, what the fu-"

He silences you with a burning kiss, brimming with anger and desperation. You roll him onto his back, furiously returning his advance. "What-" you pant between kisses. "-took you so long, idiot."

He's furiously tugging at your linen shirt, baring your back and shoulders. You'd be angry if you weren't still reeling.

"You never flirted back!" He pins you down, only to find his hips locked between your legs.

"I flirt constantly, Astarion! You drink my blood every night! I've been waiting for you to take the next step for weeks!" Now it's you tearing at his shirt, your hands groping for purchase on his shoulders. "I thought you didn't think of me like that." Now it's your lips against his neck, and he chokes on a moan.

"That's not flirting!" He's never been this heated during sex. He's a collected lover, and for all the inherent violence of his existence, he realizes - he wants to be gentle. At least this time.

He takes your hands in his and stills your thrashing. You lock eyes, both of you out of breath, chests heaving. He places a single, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. "Shall we begin again, love?"

"I'd like that."

"My name's Astarion. You are a truly stunning creature," he leans down, and whispers to you, "... and I'd very much like to make love to you tonight."

Halsin thinks you are quite possibly the most extraordinary person he's ever met.

 

He can't erase the image of you the first time he saw you from his mind, eyes ablaze, arcane power crackling at your fingertips. 

He's had so many partners, but all of his love affairs were brief, transient. Deep, but nothing had ever moved him like this. Typically, Halsin is straightforward with his feelings. His passing dalliances with fellow druids and traveling rangers had never daunted him. But with you, making his feelings known was... complicated.

You'd been through a significant trauma, and while you put on a quite the brave face, ever the intrepid leader, he's been around long enough to see your fragility. You'd seen so many horrors in such a short amount of time. Emotions were running high, he wouldn't risk coming on too strong.

So instead... he brought you gifts. It was a very natural way to court someone, at least. Baskets of berries, a fresh catch from the river, perhaps they're gifts to his own taste, but he hopes you'll enjoy them.

He offered to braid your hair, to help ease the tension in your shoulders with a massage in the evenings (his hands are absolutely enormous, which certainly helps). 

And, unbeknownst to the rest of the camp, and to his mild shame, he couldn't help but rub his scent near your tent. He wouldn't invade your boundaries and touch your things, but he couldn't help his instincts. Lae'zel noticed at last, but only scoffed and offhandedly remarked, "The way you dance around your affections is pathetic. Tell them, or stop simpering."

Things eventually came to a head when you were injured, badly. The arrow tore through your side, and you hit the ground before you could register you'd been shot, the world became pain and a blur of color and noise. 

Halsin was by your side in a heartbeat, shielding you with his frame as spells and arrows flew overhead.

"Don't move little one, you're losing blood." He sounded calm, but there was a tremor in his voice. You'd never seen him afraid before.

"Halsin..."

"Shh, shh. Hold still." His magic flows through you, and the muscles in your side knit back together as he pulls the arrow free.

"Halsin." Your hand lifted to weakly brush his cheek. Your vision was swimming. 

The thunderous roar of battle magic echoed nearby. Gale rushed towards you. "Are they alright?"

"They will be." Halsin spoke it like an oath. "But they're weak." 

"We'll finish this, get them to safety!"

Halsin cradled your body to his chest and barreled off the battlefield. You drifted in and out of consciousness, but were always aware of his arms around you. They felt like safety. Like home.

The druid ducks behind a half destroyed wall, and begins to reassess your wound. "Gods, you frightened me." He lays you down carefully, head in his lap, and begins to clean the wound. 

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"I like this."

He's puzzled. "Being horribly injured?"

"Being held by you." 

At that moment, your body finally gave out, and your vision went black. 

When you woke, bandaged and sore, in your tent, Halsin was sitting by your bedroll with his back to you. Recalling in horror the confession you'd made, you try to pretend you were still asleep. 

"I know you're awake, little one." 

You sigh. "I'm... about what I said, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel that way, and-" 

"Stop." He turned and placed a finger against your lips. "No more words." 

You braced for his rejection. At least the druid was kind, empathetic. Or perhaps his pity would make it worse. 

His lips coming down on yours were not what you expected. He was gentle, and smelled of moss and pretrichor, dark soil and sweat. You kissed him back, laughing into his mouth. 

He pulls away, then presses his forehead to yours. "I'm here. As long as you'll have me." 

"Oh, I intend to." Your attempt to sit up is hampered by a shock of pain from your wound. "Ow. Shit."

Halsin guides you back down to your pillows. "All in good time, little one."

[illyrianbitch]

Words of Affirmation

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Even the Lord of Bloodshed gets insecure sometimes. As his mate, you always know the right words to say.

Warnings: established relationship fluff :)

Word Count: 2.3k

just a quick sweet fluffy piece to make up for all my angst. dedicated to the one and only @sarawritestories

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian would never admit it, but the assumptions of his intelligence bothered him. He was always a brute, a mindless warrior, a soldier— nothing more. He knew, deep down, that his brothers rivaled him in all matters of the mind. They were more collected, more capable with familial matters and court affairs. Simply put, they were smarter. 

And he had accepted that— at least, he told himself he had. After all, he was talented where it mattered. He was a good male, a good friend, a good brother, a good commander— and amazing in bed. So truly, it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did when his meeting with Eris went sour. 

Cassian entered the room with heavy steps, a frown on his face as he began to peel off his coat, each movement slow and heavy with frustration. A part of him hoped that he could shed more than just the layer of clothing, hoped that coming home would rid him of the insecurity that had threaded itself through his ribs.

You observed him quietly, taking in the way his muscles tensed and released with each motion, the subtle clenching of his jaw, the deep exhale. He hadn’t looked at you yet, hadn’t made his classic entrance. On most days, Cass would return home with a huge grin, door thrown wide open as he bellowed out your name with a burning heart.

But he was quiet today. And you knew exactly why– you could feel it through the bond. Cassian was sad. 

Your footsteps were quiet against the wood floors as you slowly walked towards him. 

“Things didn’t go well?” 

Your voice was soft and gentle and the sound of it sent a ripple of relief through his body. Still, he felt heavy. Tired. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally discarded his coat onto a nearby chair. “I don’t know how Rhysand does it.”

“Does what?” 

“This whole diplomacy thing, even Azriel. I just… I couldn’t. I'm too stupid for it. Just an idiot.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a heaviness settling on the glowing bond in your chest. You wanted to console him, to fight and kill whatever it was that was unsettling him so deeply. But the thing that was causing Cassian pain wasn’t anything you could fight yourself. It was his own mind, the insecurities he was too afraid to acknowledge. 

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he waved you off with a frustrated gesture.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, his tone heavy with defeat, “I’m just whining. I’ll get over it.”

You frowned, letting out a small breath. 

“No, don’t say that,” you said gently, taking a step closer to him. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. But you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed.

“I’m not?” 

You took in the sight of your mate for a moment, took in his long hair and brown eyes, took in the stubble on his jaw and the way he let out a small breath. You extended your hand to him, voice low as you murmured, “C’mere, honey.”

He hesitated for a moment before he gently took your hand and closed the distance between you, large arms wrapping around your waist as he looked down at you. 

“You are a big ole’ dummy,” you teased lightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you put your hands around his neck. You felt Cassian melt into your touch ever so slightly, eyes shuttering closed as a small hum left his lips. “But you are brilliant. Like really fucking smart.”

Cassian’s eyes opened to meet yours, somewhat narrowed in skepticality. You rubbed the nape of his neck with your thumbs. 

“I mean, you’re a war general. You’ve commanded hundreds of soldiers, have won countless battles– wars, even. You couldn’t get away with those things as an idiot.”

Cassian grumbled, but you caught the hint of a smile dancing in his stormy eyes, felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. A wry chuckle bubbled up from deep within him as he shook his head, his lips quirking up in a brief smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that one, we have Beron and Tam-”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Would you just let me compliment you?” You interrupted with a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows raised as you looked at him. 

A soft chuckle escaped him. “My bad.”

“You are so incredibly smart,” you repeated earnestly, slightly pulling him down and urging him to place his forehead against yours. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze heavy as he searched for something in your eyes. He seemed to find it as he gave you a small smile. “You really think so?”

You pulled yourself back gently, dropping your hands from his neck to take his in your own. Then, you gently guided one hand to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

“Does it feel like I’m lying?” you asked softly.

Cassian’s expression softened as his gaze flickered to where your hand held his. You watched as a glow of warmth lit up his eyes. 

“No,” he said quietly, “It does not.”

And then he was bringing his hands to hold your face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly, his lips a gentle caress against yours.

He wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, if he was comfortable enough with considering himself to be smart, let alone brilliant. But you, his beautiful mate, the love of his life— you thought he was smart, you thought he was brilliant.

And truly, that's all that mattered to him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn’t that he was insecure about his looks, no, that wasn't it. 

Cassian knew he was attractive, knew that he was hot and ruggedly handsome. He knew from the looks that he got from females and males alike, from the scent changes that he caused, and the lovers he had bedded. 

But sometimes, when standing next to Rhysand and Azriel,  Cassian would catch himself wondering if he was rough around the edges in ways that his brothers were smoother, more appealing. After all, they were the two more classically pretty males, the more softly attractive and very often audibly complimented. 

And then there was him, the rough warrior. 

Attractive, yes, but pretty? Elegant? Those were never words used to describe him. 

There was a soft glow in your room tonight, gentle shadows casted across the bed from flickering fae light. Cassian let out a deep sigh as he prepared to climb into bed, his muscles aching and head heavy as he shed the remenands of his day. 

You watched him with a tender gaze as you lay on the bed. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of your lips as your eyes traced the lines of his face. Cass caught your gaze with his own, a warm hearty brown that made your heart flutter. 

A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he noticed your lingering stare. "You like what you see, sweetheart?" 

You grinned, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you tilted your head. "Always.”

With a grin of his own, Cassian began to crawl towards you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he closed the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Admiring how absolutely handsome I am?” he said, “How Incredibly sexy?" 

You let out a small laugh as he reached your face, his body hovering over yours. With a gentle hand, you pushed back his tousled hair, your touch feather-light against his skin. A soft sigh escaped him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the warmth of your touch. His lips wore a content smile. 

"So beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced the contours of his face with your fingertips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes scanned your face. You ran your finger along the crease that they created. "Beautiful?" 

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Yes, beautiful. Maybe I don't tell you enough."

He chuckled softly as he leaned into your touch, heart swelling with warmth at your words. There was a new flutter in his chest that he didn’t recognize. For a moment, Cassian felt shy— he wasn’t quite sure why. But he laughed it off all the same. 

"That's a word reserved for you, sweetheart." 

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down his cheek to cup his face in your hands. "My beautiful mate,” you whispered, "My handsome, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and beautiful mate." 

For the first time in a while, Cass was stunned, unable to respond as quickly as he was used to. Your words held a certain reverence to them, a sincerity that made him melt into your touch— made him melt into your voice itself. Before you, Cassian never knew himself as something gentle, as something capable of softness and sensitivity. But here he was before you, in all of his warrior glory, feeling like a child with a playground crush. And there you were, staring at him like he was the most exquisite thing you’d ever laid eyes on. So when words failed him, Cassian did the only thing he saw fit. 

He leaned in to kiss you tenderly, bringing his lips to yours softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in closer, feeling his warmth against you as he smiled into the kiss. From deep within your chest, you felt a glow— a deep, ethereal, and overwhelming glow. 

Beautiful, his mind echoed, beautiful. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You let out a soft sigh as you settled onto the couch with Cassian, pushing yourself further into his warm chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You’d spent the night at the River House, drinking more wine than you could handle and eating almost all of Elain's sweet desserts. There was a smile on your face as your eyes closed, your hearing quickly tuning into the heartbeat of your mate below you. 

You frowned when the sound began to quicken, echoing like a drum in your ears. You pushed yourself up, slightly turning your body and placing a hand on Cassian's chest. When you looked up at him, his face was scrunched, his gaze distant as if lost in contemplation.

Cassian wore a specific face when he was troubled, furrowed brows and a downturn of his lips. He wore it was he was sad or frustrated, when he had thoughts that plagued him at night. The face before you was a troubled one, indeed. But it was less rough than the others he bore, more vulnerable.

You slightly tapped against him with your palm. Cassian blinked at the sensation, then he slowly looked down to meet your eyes with his own. You let your chin fall gently on his chest. 

“What's wrong?”

Cassian managed a smile, shaking his head as he brought his hand to run over your hair. “Nothing.”

You frowned. “Tell me.”

For a moment, Cassian’s thoughts traveled again. Mor’s laugh echoed in his mind, wine glass in hand as she pointed at him. You have the subtlety of a war horn. You’re so loud I can hear you across Prythian. I don’t know how Y/n handles it all the time.

"Am I too loud?" 

His voice came out rushed, drenched in a tinge of what you could only describe as worry— even doubt.

A flicker of surprise passed through your features. “What?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Mor said something tonight, it just got me thinking.”

“Mor says a lot of things. Especially when she's drunk.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement, tongue running across his teeth before he let out another sigh. “But she had a point tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

He took a moment to take you in, to trace the features of your face with his eyes. Absentmindedly, he ran his hands through your hair. 

“Maybe I am too loud.”

Cassian's voice was defeated now, lips naturally falling into a frown. The crease between his eyebrows was still there as he peered down at you, hand still caressing your head.

You stared at him for a moment before you responded. "You're so loud." 

A flicker of disappointment crossed Cassian's face. But before the thought could spread through his mind, a soft smile graced your features. You gave his chest a small kiss. “But I love it. So very much.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up, a sense of release evident in his features as his lips curved into a smile. The crease between his eyebrows faded. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you affirmed, your voice filled with a sincerity that made his heart flutter. "My world would be too quiet without you."

Cassian’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently swiping loose strands away from your forehead. “Yeah?” 

You nodded against him, chin still resting on his chest. “I hear everything I love in your voice.”

He smiled, the bond deep within him singing as he stared at you. He felt you tug at it, felt a roll of warmth run through his body— something gentle, something loving. And for a minute, Cassian could have cried at the sensation, could have cried at the way you looked at him, at how happy he felt. 

With his heart swelling, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice filled with a depth of emotion that he couldn’t quite express in words. He hoped that you could sense it, that you would hear those words and know everything he was trying to say— that you would understand just how much you meant to him, how your love filled him with a sense of peace and belonging he never knew he needed.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his now steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know,” you said, “You practically scream it from the heavens.”

Cassian let out a deep laugh, the sound reverberating through his chest. You felt his body move from under you, felt as the sound caressed you like a pair of warm hands. 

As his laughter subsided, Cassian pulled you closer to him. “I’ll keep shouting it so you’ll always hear it,” he whispered.

A warmth spread through you at his words, a feeling of love so strong it was tangible through that sacred tie that connected you.

“And I’ll keep listening.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me not writing angst?? (i’m about to write the most gut wrenching pieces ever) unheard of. but we love a sweet established relationship <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria