#not being able to get it despite looking....

[shop-of-daisies]

-> Lost in the woods, Heather was forced to take refuge in the nearest shelter she was able to seek— a stranger’s mansion.

Under the Blue Sky

“I’ll go fetch some wood.” Vivian, the athlete and one closest to Heather, said. The four of them were out in the woods, exploring. Heather shivers, feeling the cold air make contact with her skin. The sun had gone down a few hours ago. They were already under the night sky, shaded with black and blue.

Heather stepped on a few leaves which screamed a big crunch. Little were her steps, walking twice as slow as her companions. “Heather, you’re awfully quiet and distant.” Her friend with the long black hair, the oldest one, said, realizing the distance between them.

“I must’ve been lost in thoughts.” She replied, while shaking off the ominous feeling in her chest. The darkness and silence of her surroundings were eating her alive. She doesn’t understand how her friends find today’s wandering as a wonderful expedition. It seems to her that they only want to seek danger and put themselves between a string of life and death.

A howl was heard from a distance. Heather looked over to her friends who don’t seem to mind. She bit her lip in anxiousness before tugging the blonde’s sweater. “What’s wrong?” Her question came out as a whisper.

“Camilla, I’m scared. There must be a pack of wolves nearby. What are we to do if they were to find us?” The uneasy woman tried to get her breathing in a normal pace when she felt her friend’s hand on her back, trying to soothe her.

“Think it over, Heather. The howling was from far away and the woods are too massive for them to actually find us. Don’t be afraid. In any case, I’ll get bitten for you.” She slapped her friend playfully hearing her words. “Please don’t. I don’t want to feel guilty for your death.” She was still afraid, what can mere words actually ease when it’s their lives that is on the line?

“Let’s go back when she returns. I feel hungry, and we won’t last with what’s left on those we packed.”

They stopped a bit to wait for the athlete who went to fetch wood. Their village was situated a bit far from where they are currently, but hearing that they were venturing to go back after this, made Heather feel a bit relieved. She still does not understand the point of their exploration, especially without any plans at all, but now that they are about to go home, she shuts her mind off.

Thank goodness she got hungry.

Just when her heart rate got normal, they hear a familiar scream. It was so loud Heather can hear how the voice shook, how it screamed frighteningly by what was seen, and how it screamed in absolute pain. The screams tore through the air, past by the trees they had trodden, nearing their position.

The oldest one immediately ran, leaving the two by themselves without any word. Heather felt it, a buzz on her skin, acting like an alarm, telling her the danger that is about to come if she doesn’t move. Camilla grabs her wrist, urging her to run but she removes her wrist from the hold.

“Vivian’s still alive, Camilla. She’s being chased, we have to help her.” But instead of a positive response, Camilla shouts at her, “She’s already dead! We’re still alive, so hurry up because I won’t actually get bitten for you!” When Heather stayed on her place despite Camilla’s warning, she gave her a frown.

“It was nice knowing you, but I’ll say ‘I told you so’ at your grave.”

Heather felt her heart drop at her friend’s word. But despite being scared and sad, her heart swells for Vivian who was left on her own. She runs with all her might towards the direction of Vivian screaming. When she heard that it was near, she hid behind a tree and noticed that nothing is following Vivian.

She went to Vivian, and placed her hands on her cheeks. “Where are the wolves chasing you?” Vivian looked back hearing this, and realized that there was nothing behind her. Still feeling that something was wrong, she took Heather to the side, to the trees where she hid a few seconds ago.

“They’ll smell my blood, you need to go, Heather.”

“Why does everyone keep on telling me the wrong words that I don’t want to hear?” Teardrops fell from her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, as she got a cloth from her bag, wrapping it around Vivian’s wounded arm. It was bleeding, but not that bad since it was scratched, not bitten.

“We need to leave, stand up, Vivian.” She forces Vivian to stand up, holding the wrist of her uninjured arm. Vivian was crying heavily due to the pain and stress of their current situation. She couldn’t speak anymore replies to Heather, so Heather took the lead and made Vivian hold tight of her hand.

She was about to lead her friend to the path where she was before with their other friends, when a loud scream echoed through the woods. This time, it came from the oldest. Heather immediately took the opposite route. She wanted to help them too, she really does. How can she help the injured Vivian without helping her other friends?

She took a peek at her friend, she was grunting, shivering, and crying hard, but continued to run in pain for both their sakes.

But they left Vivian to die. That’s the path they chose.

A few seconds after, another shout resonated. It was Camilla. She was shouting in awful pain. Both their screams of help continued for a few seconds until silence reigned. Tears continued flowing down on both friends’ faces, knowing the reason for the silence.

Despite their tears, they remained quiet while running fast. They don’t know how long they were running for, and where they are running to, but they knew that they have to survive the night. Leaves ruffled every passing second, and the howl of the wolves continued sounding. It was terrifying for the two. But the thought of death terrified them more.

Minutes passed when Vivian suddenly fell on the ground. Heather looked at her, and noticed that she fainted. Sweat and tears were all over her face and body, while the cloth that was used on her arm was now filled with blood. Heather was shaking as she made Vivian’s body lean on her own, assisting her to stand up despite being heavy and unconscious.

“Don’t leave me, Viv. You’re the only one I have.” As she started walking while holding Vivian’s body by the side, she stumbled on a tree branch and both their bodies fell. She noticed that her knee got scraped and cried. “I’m so tired, Viv. But I don’t want to die.” She told her unconscious friend, before standing up again and holding her friend’s body.

She walked and walked. Hunger, thirst, guilt, anguish, pain— she felt them all. She was mourning the death of her friends, praying that they shall find peace while trying to find peace herself.

Her knees and arms were about to give up when she saw a light from a distance. It was from a lantern. There was a house nearby. She grunted, tightening her hold of her friend as she continued walking towards the gate where the light was attached to.

She saw signages on the gate where words were written on red paint.

‘Killers’ ‘Ghosts inside’ ‘Die already’

But that didn’t stop her from going inside. She let herself in the massive land, but not before closing the gates. She knew that they were trespassing, yet she still walked towards the mansion. This was her last hope. She limped to the door and knocked gently.

“Please, help us.” Heather’s voice sounded loud and desperate. Among the silence, she knew that whoever was inside must have heard her. She placed Vivian on the ground and stayed seated there, tired.

A few seconds after, she heard footsteps coming from the inside. She readied herself for a harsh and cruel welcome, but the man who opened the door didn’t say anything.

He was taller than Camilla, who was their tallest friend. His features were undeniably handsome, yet she can’t say if he was affable. His eyes hold too much intensity, and his expression too stern, to be considered so. He was wearing a burgundy night robe and looked like he was on his way to sleep.

She saw how his eyes scanned both of their conditions. He looked at Heather and immediately knelt down to her current height. “Can you walk?” His voice was gentle, opposite to his strict features.

“I can.” He opened the door wide before helping her stand up, touching her hands with his own and pulling her up. “Sit on the couch while I carry your companion inside.” Heather was hesitant, but she already knew that there was no other choices to choose from. Unless she wanted both of them to die from wolves.

She sat on the couch as instructed. She took notice of her surroundings and saw how massive it was. But massive was all there is. It was empty. Apart from the couch, the tables, and the few paintings hanging on the walls, there weren’t any more. Surely it was clean and dusts were not in sight, yet it was odd. Surely they have helpers for a mansion this big? Yet it was so quiet. Even at night, if there were people at a house, creaking of floorboards or snoring would be heard, but there were none.

“Me and my mother are the only beings in this house.” She heard him speak, somehow understanding her thoughts. She didn’t seem to react much strongly to this information. She was focused on her friend who was being carried by the man.

“If you would allow it, I would like to bring your companion to the bedroom. Please don’t look at me that way—suspiciously, I only noticed the scratches, which surely came from wolves. I believe it is best that she is treated with utmost care.” Heather was startled by his words. She noticed that the cloth which covered Vivian’s wound was gone, and the scratches looked worse than they were previously.

“You may follow if you would like.” He said, pointing out after the change on her expression when he suggested moving Vivian.

She followed him up the stairs, trembling in pain due to muscle fatigue. Despite this, she doesn’t want her friend out of her sight. She climbed and climbed, and it was only after a while when she finally looked up at the amount of stairs to climb and her resolve wavered. The man looked back at her, hearing her stop.

He walked back at her, still carrying Vivian. “Please hold onto my arm. I’m afraid that you’ll pass out.” Heather wanted to refuse, but her knees prevented her to. She held onto his arm gently, not wanting to cause further distress at the man who was already holding onto much weight. But he paused and looked at her.

“Lady, I ask that you hold onto my arm, leaning to it for support. And not to merely touch for the sake of obedience.” She bit her lip and did as he told. Moments of silence and pain passed by. They reached the bedroom.

The bedroom had a single bed inside, a bed-side table, storage for clothes, and a glass window covered by a thin white fabric. The walls were painted dark green. The room’s source of light was only the lampshade placed on the bed-side table. It was quite alluring yet also lonely. She did not judge any longer than the initial train of thoughts, but wondered where she will be staying if her friend will occupy the room.

The man left for a bit and came back with disinfectants, instruments for stitching, and a bandage. He nursed Vivian as Heather watched him skillfully do so. Heather started to feel drowsy and started pinching her skin to stay awake. Fearful, one may describe her. But to herself, she was only being careful. Her friends died after expecting her and Vivian to do so, but because of a twist in fate, they were the ones to pass away. There is no saying what this man shall do to them.

When the nursing finished, he faced Heather. “May I lead you to your room?” He offered her his arm for support. She eyed him before accepting his offer. She limped to the room where she was led. As he opened the door to the room where she will be staying at, she took notice of the dark blue shade of the walls. That, and the vanity table opposite to the bed were the only difference to Vivian’s current room.

Instead of leading her to the bed, he sat her on the vanity table, letting her face him instead of the mirror. She wondered what he was thinking, when he kneeled to the floor and placed the medical supplies he used earlier on the ground before him.

“It will be quite painful. But your wound will only get worse if we were to not disinfect it.” He looked up to her, and only then did she notice how fair his skin was, the mole under his eye, and how his hair looked like it wanted to be ruffled. He seemed to have noticed her observing him, but did not shy away. He saw how her hand went up, only to be placed back down on her lap. But he only gazed at her eyes in reply.

“If you find it too painful to bear, you may place your hands on my shoulders.” He glanced at her expression which remained unchanged— observing, guilty, and drowsy. Heather stared at him, finding him to be a kind man, but one to be an enigma.

Despite her distrust, the way he gently nurses oddly comforted her. It was the kindness that was not shown to both her and Vivian since the start of the day. And it made her lean on to him slightly. When she felt the contact between her wound and the disinfectant too painful, she actually placed both her hands to his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, and leaned closer to her instead, so that she won’t be uncomfortable in trying to reach him from a distance.

"You're doing well. It's almost done." Was his words.

“Aren’t you too trusting?” She blurted out. He chuckled at her words, as if finding it ridiculous to even make the assumption.

“Isn’t it you,” He paused, looking over to her eyes before tightening the bandage on her scraped knee, causing her to squeeze his shoulders. “Who’s too trusting?” She grunted in pain, glaring at the man. But he just shrugged and stood up.

“You don’t need to be wary. Unless you have other motives, there is no reason for me to act.” He eyed the woman, seemingly observing her state. She tried standing up as well, and he instinctively placed her hands on her arm, helping her up. She didn’t seem to mind the gesture.

“Do you have candles in here?”

“What are you using the candle for?”

“To pray for my dead friends.”

He seemed a bit taken aback but didn’t question it. “I’ll go get some downstairs. In case you need it, the bathroom is opposite to this room.” Needing to go, she limped herself to the bathroom with his help.

As she closed the door to the bathroom, she breathed deeply. Tears once again left her eyes. She remembered yesterday’s events when the four of them were casually planning today’s exploration. None of them knew how it would turn out. But she blames herself for not speaking up when she knew the dangers that they were about to go through. She knew that something was wrong the moment they stepped inside the forest.

She noticed some toiletries, towel, and a woman’s night robe. “It must’ve been from his mom.” She mumbled, suddenly crying again. “How painful must it be for their parents to find out how gruesome their death was? What would our parents say if they were to find us?” She knew that everything that happened can no longer be changed. But she was still guilty.

How can I think that it was their fault that they died? They were probably scared too and had no choice but to save themselves the way they know they can.

A knock came at the door. “Is there anything you need?” He said from behind the door.

“No, this is sufficient.” She put on the night robe and opened the door. He stared at her and smiled. “I figured you’d like to light the candle yourself, so I was about to ask if you’re not too tired to go to the main room?”

“Main room?”

“The fireplace is in there. It is lit up currently. I can carry you if you find it too tiring.”

“No, I can manage. What is little pain when they died for me?”

“Very well.”

They went down to room where the fireplace was. The walls were also painted in dark blue, similar to the room he placed her in. There were paintings of butterflies and bunnies that adorned the walls. He made her sit in a chair, short enough to face the fireplace directly. He then gave her three candlelights settled on holders.

She lit up only two of the candles and murmured a silent prayer.

“Forgive me.” He stared at her, placing his two hands together to respect those who died. She noticed the action and was quite pleased. She smiled at him and said words of gratitude. He allowed her to place the candles on a table and let it stay lit until nature blows it out on its own.

As they finally went back to her room for the night, he placed her once again to the chair in front of the vanity table. This time, he made her face the mirror. He opened the drawer to her right, which contained a hair brush. He got it out and started running his fingers through her slightly wet hair, before using the hair brush. He was so gentle, as if little pain can hurt her scalp.

He looked at her eyes through the mirror, and saw the wonders of her thoughts.

“I’m used to brushing my mother’s hair.” He simply mention. She also stared at his reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know why she was allowing a stranger to brush her hair without any complaints.

I’m just too tired to complain. Or maybe because he hasn’t done anything bad for me to complain. He’s been too kind.

The gentle brushing of her hair soothed her. She was getting drowsy, and he noticed it. He noticed how her eyes fluttered like they were to completely close.

He placed the hairbrush back on the drawer where he got it, and helped her up to get on the bed. He went to the lampshade, about to turn its lights off, but was stopped when she spoke.

“Heather. I think you’ve done me much good and it is only right for you to earn my name.” He gave her a smile, turning his body to her before replying.

“Mine is Louis. I’m delighted to meet you, Heather.”

“I am too.”

They smiled at each other, and as he finally turns off the lights, he hears her soft voice.

“Good night, Louis.”

A smile made its way to his lips. He didn’t reply to her, and only walked out of the room. Once he was out, only then did he mumble back a reply,

“Have a good night, Heather.”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[muletia]

my brain is literally fried because I’ve been sick with the flu for a few days, but I had to get this off my chest

as it turns out, tormenting your favorite scrimblos to make them feel even worse than you do has surprisingly therapeutic properties lmao

Thinking about obsessed!Optimus being utterly devastated by his own feelings. Withering away from love for you because it no longer allows him to function normally. About attempts at recharge that fail because your silhouette always flickers before his optics. About dreams that are always about you. About the way you constantly fill his processor. About his silent cries in your direction, begging you to free him from this hell, to accept all his flaws, perhaps even overlook them, so he could finally take a full, unburdened breath of relief, knowing he no longer has to suffer from loneliness.

But also about the boundless love he feels for you. About how much he would be willing to sacrifice to make you happy, even if it comes at the cost of his own well-being. About how he would offer you his spark on a silver platter, ripping it out with his bare servo, if you expressed the slightest desire to see it, asking for nothing in return—only to then ask if there’s anything else you might wish for. About how, for your happiness, he would spill hectoliters of his energon just to see the faintest hint of a smile on your face.

About how he would rather let himself be devoured alive by scraplets than cause you the slightest discomfort. How he would rather rust away than bring you pain. He tightens the chain wrapped around his own neck, struggling to protect you from himself and his wretched, impure feelings. Delirious. Haunted. Unworthy. And yet, still so full of love. Needing you more than energon itself, ready to give up everything for you.

About how you have complete control over his life, and yet he will never be able to tell you that. About his trembling frame when he hasn’t seen you in too long. About the incompetence he exhibits when you disappear from his life for even a few days. About the vacant look in his optics, the lack of reaction to anyone’s calls. About the frequent patrols, hoping to catch even the faintest glimpse of you. About the thousands of tears he sheds as his entire being howls with yearning, even though he can’t help himself.

He is indisputably and unconditionally devoted to you alone. Yours and only yours, even though you will likely never be his. Loyal as a dog, returning to you every time, seeking solace. Trapped in a cycle of madness, condemned to eternal torment no matter how sweet the suffering born from you might be. Consumed by love, love that has sunk its teeth into his metal and will never let go. Beautiful but merciless. Addictive and terrifying, yet sweet all the same.

Because despite the agony, the slow destruction of both body and soul, Optimus cannot give up your conversations, your shared drives and patrols. He cannot stop loving you, completely blinded by devotion, desperately clinging to the scraps of kindness you show him when your eyes meet.

Lost, certain that his love for you will ultimately kill him, yet still humble — for death by your hand would be the greatest honor he could ever receive.

[strayingawayy]

flu blues...

...the one where chan gets sick and feels guilty about not being able to attend fan call events so you take it upon yourself to make him feel better <3 (warnings: soup and being sick)

the moment chan cracked open the door, his glassy eyes peeked out, paired with a sheepish sniffle. his voice was a hoarse whisper.

“hey…”

you stepped inside, arms full of essentials: soup, medicine, and the fluffiest blanket you could find. “hey? that's all i get? you’re sick, not on a secret mission.”

chan attempted a chuckle but dissolved into a coughing fit. you guided him back to the couch where he’d apparently been living. strewn tissues, half-empty mugs of tea, and a laptop with an endless chain of apology drafts to STAYs littered the coffee table.

“before you start. yes, i postponed the fan calls,” he said, groaning as he sank into the cushions. “and yes, i feel awful about it. worse than this flu, probably.”

you gave him a pointed look, placing a hand on his forehead. “chan, your temperature is higher than what jeongin told me when he called me to come over. the fans will live. you, however, need soup.”

he pouted, rubbing his nose with a tissue. “but—”

“no buts,” you interrupted, already ladling soup into a bowl. “you’re not running the world today. you’re barely running your sinuses.”

“wow, poetic.” he sniffled, pulling the blanket around himself. “but i can’t just sit and-”

“chan,” you said, holding up a spoonful of soup. “open up or i’m force-feeding you like a toddler.”

he blinked at you, bewildered, before reluctantly opening his mouth. “this feels degrading.”

“you’re lucky i don’t have one of those airplane spoons,” you quipped, and he snorted mid-swallow.

the day went on like that: you making him rest while he grumbled about the pile of work awaiting him. at one point, he tried sneaking his laptop back onto his lap, only for you to confiscate it.

“let me remind you of something,” you said, holding the laptop hostage. “resting isn’t slacking off. it’s so you can be 100% when you do work. your body’s not a machine.”

chan groaned, flopping back into the couch. “i hate it when you’re right.”

“get used to it,” you replied smugly.

despite his guilt, chan’s mood brightened as the evening wore on. you caught him smiling as you made exaggerated commentary during a rerun of a cheesy action movie. his hoarse laugh filled the room when you made fun of the villain's over-the-top monologues.

by bedtime, his eyes were drooping, exhaustion finally winning. you tucked the blanket around him one last time.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled sleepily, his voice softer now.

“yeah, i know,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “now sleep, my star.”

as you turned to leave, his hand reached out weakly, catching yours. his fingers were warm against yours, soft despite the roughness of his usual work.

“stay?” he murmured, eyes half-lidded and a little dazed. “just… for a bit?”

your heart softened immediately. you climbed onto the couch beside him, letting him curl into your side like a sleepy cat. his head found its place on your shoulder, and you pulled the blanket over both of you.

“wait actually you shouldn't. what if you fall sick too-” he mumbled again, his words slurring as he drifted further into sleep.

“and then i'll let you take care of me,” you whispered, smiling as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “now hush, or i’ll start charging for my services.”

chan let out a contented sigh, his breaths evening out as he fell completely asleep. the domestic stillness of the room wrapped around you like a second blanket, and you couldn’t help but feel at peace.

taking care of him like this felt as natural as breathing, as natural as being home.

[supacutiepie]

Also there is an ENTIRE character plot dedicated to figure out the terms for yourself? Taash has in depth conversations looking for identity, and they wouldn't be able to name the feeling before meeting all these new people but they still felt it. Who's to say that Lucanis, now given the chance to actually meet other people won't pick up vocabulary? ALSO?? LOOK-- Lucanis could buy the damn dagger himself, but that was never the point?? The point is that Caterina had him so tightly bound by that short chain of legacy and 'family' that he couldn't even talk about Wyverns with her around. And who else would he talk about it with? Illario? Illario who was off making friends despite their Grandmother trying to smother the want for companionship out of both of them? Lucanis had literally no one to talk to about this damn dagger.. And there's Rook. Who he doesn't even need to explain the want to. He doesn't have to justify why he should have a wyvern dagger: it's durable, sharp, just enough flair for a Talon yadda yadda-- Rook gets him that damn dagger, just because he mentioned liking Wyverns? Or just because it looks cool? Doesn't matter, because Rook becomes the first person Lucanis is able to express himself to. Rook becomes the first person he can get close enough to to properly form that bond with? The Dagger is not about the damn dagger, it's about being allowed to be honest about yourself and something you want.

Are y’all telling me you looked at Lucanis and expect him to have the understanding of himself that he’s demisexual?

The man doesn’t even realize he can buy his own wyvern tooth dagger with his own money. He’s not doing that kind of reflection.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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[mountaesan]

chicken-less dreams ; m. jaehyun

pairing. drunk!jaehyun x fem!reader genre. fluff , est. relationship synopsis. your boyfriend’s drunk antics are often loud and chaotic, but they also remind you why he’s your favorite kind of trouble word count. 1.7k warnings. mentions of alcohol (but no actual drinking) , stripping in a non-sexual context ? , kissing , jaehyun is very drunk and very in love but so is reader playlist. you are in love by taylor swift , ribs by lorde notes. i actually had literally no idea what to title this… so ‘chicken-less dreams’ it is ! unless i can think of another title 😭

riwoo: 911 riwoo: emergency emergency

you: ????

riwoo: your man’s shitfaced and refuses to go home

you: i’ll be there in 15

riwoo: plz hurry he’s about to sing bigbang’s haru haru

You could spot your boyfriend from a mile away. Your eyes were immediately drawn towards him—the way he held onto a metal spoon as if it were a lifeline, singing into it with unbridled passion like it was a microphone. You folded your arms, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as you watched from a distance. Jaehyun stood in the middle of the bar, belting out the melancholic lyrics of BIGBANG’s ‘Haru Haru’, accompanied by his dramatic and melancholic acting. Despite sitting at the same table, his friends were looking away, as if embarrassed to be associated with his drunk singing. 

You caught Sungho’s gaze and he gestured to you to come over to save them all. Despite being embarrassed, he also seemed to enjoy the situation with the way his eyes sparkled with a small smile. With a small resigned shake of your head, you made your way towards their table, weaving through a throng of bodies.

Snatching the spoon from Jaehyun mid-chorus earned you a dramatic gasp and a look of wounded betrayal. “Hey! I wasn’ done!” he protested, but the moment his bleary eyes focused on you, his face lit up and he threw his outstretched arms around you. “My girlfriend! It’s my girlfriend, guys!” 

He turned to the rest of the bar, raising his voice to a volume only a drunken Jaehyun could manage. “My girlfriend came to pick me up! Suckers!”

You wrinkled your nose at the overpowering scent of alcohol wafting off of him. “How much did you guys give him to drink?” you asked the guys as you tried your best to dodge Jaehyun’s drunk kisses. 

The boys shrugged in unison. 

“Uh,” Riwoo started, scratching the back of his head. “It started with one, but then he promised to not sing if he had more, but as you can tell…” he gestured to the spoon Jaehyun had just used as a microphone. “So… yeah, this is on us. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sighed, already resigned to your fate. “I’ll take him home now. Thanks guys.” 

You nodded at your boyfriend’s friends and tugged on said boyfriend, only to find that he had somehow slouched into a near-horizontal position on the couch, looking suspiciously comfortable. Muttering under your breath, you tugged on his arm. You became highly suspicious that he would actually die if your attention wasn’t on him at all times, like he often argued. “God, this kid.”

With Taesan and Leehan’s help, you were able to load Jaehyun into the passenger seat of your car. He slumped against the window, lips smacking loudly together. “Nono… I needa sing one more song…”

“Babe, one more song and you would’ve been blacklisted from that bar for life,” you chuckled, starting the car. The engine roared to life and you backed out of the busy parking lot. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Jaehyun didn’t protest and the quiet hum of the car engine soon lulled him to sleep.

Getting Jaehyun into the house was a battle of endurance and patience. Juggling keys, fumbling in the dark, and supporting the dead weight of a half-conscious boyfriend clinging to you was more than exhausting.

“Please let this be the one,” you whispered, trying yet another key. When the lock finally clicked, you let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you murmured to the heavens, tugging Jaehyun through the doorway as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “C’mon.”

“Don’t wanna…” he mumbled, and his warm breath sent a slight shiver down your spine. “I gots to finish my performance…”

Somehow, you managed to guide him to the couch, where he collapsed in a heap. He sprawled out, stretching out his limbs in all directions. Brushing a strand of hair from his face, you observed how the pale moonlight streaming through the window highlighted the sparkle in his eyes.

“Alright, Mariah Carey. Let’s get you ready for bed. Even a diva needs to sleep, no?” you said gently, stroking his hair. “Did you drink any water?”

Jaehyun shook his head with a small pout.

When you straightened up to fetch him some, his hand shot out, grasping your wrist tightly. “Where’rr you going?” he slurred, looking up at you like a lost puppy. “Please don’ go…”

“I’m just grabbing you water, baby.”

“Nono…” he said firmly, shaking his head as if the thought of you leaving him for a second was unbearable. “I’m goin’ with you. It’s dangerous outthere.” 

“Oh, really? What kind of dangers?” you asked, amused.

He leaned in, wide-eyed, and whispered gravely, “... Chickens.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. “Okay, okay. You can protect me from the chickens, Myung Jaehyun.”

What could’ve been a 30 second trip to the kitchen turned into a 10 minute ordeal. He clung to you like a koala, stumbling along as you poured water into a glass. Perched on the counter, he sipped reluctantly while you stroked his hair, murmuring soothing words.

“Nomo…” (translation: "no more…")

“No, you’ve gotta finish everything, Jae,” you responded firmly. Your boyfriend huffed with a dramatic roll of his eyes but nonetheless complied. “Good boy,” you patted his cheek affectionately once he finished the entire cup of water and Jaehyun beamed at your praise.

When you wiped his face with a cloth, he grinned lazily, leaning into your touch. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

Jaehyun’s eyes flew open at the contact and he stared at you in shock. You burst into laughter at his reaction and brushed your fingers through his hair. “What, never been kissed by a girl before?” you asked jokingly. 

“Not by a pretty one,” Jaehyun whispered and you laughed again. “Not funny!”

“Is too,” you teased. Tucking your arms under Jaehyun’s arms, you hugged him tightly and you rested your head atop his shoulder. “I love you, Jaehyun.”

All you got was a quiet “Whoa” in response. 

You managed to get him to the bedroom, but Jaehyun’s antics still weren’t over. When you tried to pull his shirt off to help him change, he recoiled dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest like a scandalized debutante. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m sure you’re a very nice lady, but I have a girlfriend!” he protested, wagging an accusatory finger at you. “She doesn’t like it when I talk to other girls. Especially ones who—who try to take my clothes off! Like you! Perv!”

You watched with an amused smile, your hands resting on your hips as Jaehyun retreated further into his bed, distancing himself from you. 

“And I love my girlfriend! Sorry not sorry, but I’m not for the huzz,” he waved his hand dismissively. 

“Jae, I am your girlfriend,” you insisted but Jaehyun wasn’t having it. He shook his head with vigor.

“No thank you lady, I’m not interested.” 

With a sigh, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s me, Jae,” you spoke softly, watching as his cheeks turned pink.

“Ohh… hi baby,” he whispered sheepishly.

Thankfully, getting Jaehyun into bed afterwards wasn’t too difficult, his protests reduced to sleepy murmurs. Once he was settled, you took a moment to ensure he was comfortable and you brushed a stray strand of hair from his face.

You slid under the covers beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. Jaehyun was sprawled across the bed in an ungraceful manner, one arm flung over his face and the other clutching the blanket like a child with a security toy. His lips moved faintly, forming incoherent words as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Carefully, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding you. He stirred at your touch, his eyes cracking open just enough to reveal the sleepy gaze within them. A slow smile crept across his face: lopsided and utterly endearing.

“Hi…” he mumbled, the word drawn out and soft. 

“Hey,” you whispered back, your thumb brushing against the curve of his cheekbone in a slow, soothing motion.

Jaehyun’s brows knitted together, his drunken thoughts forming an odd jumble of words. “Y’know… you’re really, really pretty. Like… unfairly pretty. Like… if there was a… a contest or somethin’, I think you’d win. Every time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his rambling. “You’re too sweet.”

“No, no, no,” he insisted, his voice muffled as he turned his face slightly into your palm, pressing his lips against your skin. “It’s true. You’re, like… the queen of… uh… the stars? Yeah, like a star queen. Like, Dairy Queen but instead of queen of dairy, you’re the queen of stars.”

“A star queen?” you repeated, amused, leaning closer until your noses were almost touching.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his words slurring together. “And… and I’m just some guy… but you picked me anyway. Like what?” He blinked sluggishly, his expression a mixture of wonder and disbelief. 

You chuckled softly, your fingertips tracing the edge of his jaw. “You’re not just ‘some guy,’ Jae. You’re my guy. My favorite guy.”

That earned a pleased hum from him, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted further into your touch. “Mmm… your guy. I like that. Sounds nice. Sounds… cozy.”

“Cozy?” you echoed, your lips twitching into a smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, barely audible now. “Like… blankets… or hot chocolate…” He paused, letting out a soft sigh. “Or… you. I think you’re cozy too.

You leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Y’know what’s ridic..ous?” he mumbled, his voice trailing off as sleep began to claim him. “How much ‘m love with… y... and… ch… chi…”

You stayed there for a while, watching his breathing even out as he sank into peaceful slumber. Your hand never left his face, your thumb continuing its gentle strokes along his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your touch, a quiet reminder of his presence, his love. 

Nestled beside him, you whispered, “I love you, too, Jaehyun. So much.”

Although he was asleep, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, as if somewhere in his chicken-less dreams, he had heard you. 

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[evie-sturns]

suit - Chris Sturniolo

summary: Chris has a wedding he has to get to, but he just looks too good in his suit that you just need to take him before he leaves.

contains: smut, soft dom!chris, stomach bulge, fluff, quick sex, bathroom sex.

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

5:47pm

chris walks into the living room with a giddy smile on his face, adjusting his tie as he gives you a little spin.

"wooww, somebody looks dapper!" you grin teasingly, standing up off the couch and walking over to him.

he laughs, "matt had to help me tie this stupid thing." he scoffs, adjusting the black silk tie around his neck.

"you look so good though! i didn't know you even owned a damn suit." i giggle, adjusting the fabric around his shoulders.

"thank you thank you." he smiles, giving you a stupid wink as he tries to act proper.

"when do you have to head off?" i ask, my tone slightly quieter now as i drag my nails down his blazer, the fabric loosely hanging over his waist.

"like, 12 minutes." he says, checking his phone,

i give him a small smirk, the room going quiet.

he stares at me in silence, his arms folded over his chest.

"what do you want?" he asks, chuckling softly as i just continue to smile up at him.

"mmm, you knoww.." i shrug,

i can see it click in brain what i really want, how couldn't i? he just looks so good in his suit.

"when i'm home yeah? we don't have enough time." he whispers, pecking a kiss to my lips.

i shake my head, crossing my leg as i clench my thighs together, trying to soothe the ever-growing ache between my legs.

"please chris, i need it now." i whisper, staring up at him through my lashes with my big round eyes.

"i cant- matt and nick are waiting for me.." chris says, scratching the nape of his neck.

"just- just come." i whisper, grabbing his hand.

i silently pull him down the hallway to the bathroom, opening the door quietly before locking it.

"baby- seriously.." he whispers, hes trying to deny it, but i can see the hunger in his eyes as his eyes travel down my body, looking at the tight tanktop which hugs my curves just perfectly.

i drop down to my knees, fiddling with his belt buckle as i gently slide it off.

"please chris..?" i smile up at him, my tongue darting out to lick my lips.

"fine.. fine- we gotta be real quick though." he sighs,

my grin only grows as i unbutton his pants and slide them down his legs,

he's left standing in his black calvin klein boxers, an obvious tent forming.

i tug them down his legs aswell, his semi-hard erection springing out.

i take him in my hand, my fingers barely able to close around his girth,

he shakes his head, grabbing my hand and pulling me up off my knees.

"don't have enough time for that baby." he whispers, his voice hoarse and croaky.

he lifts me up and sits me on the counter, his hands instantly going for the waistband of my shorts and tugging them off.

he tuts, "no panties f'me?" he grins,

my cheeks heat up as i nod, "sorry.."

"'nah, don't gotta apologise for that sweetheart." he mutters, dragging a finger through my folds.

i let out a sharp gasp,

on a normal day, chris would tease me until im on the verge of tears, but today, he has to be quick.

"gonna be real quiet for me?" he asks softly, positioning his tip with my leaking hole.

i nod frantically, "yes- yes chris, promise." i mumble,

he suddenly slams his cock into me, i feel every single inch enter me at an ungodly pace.

he doesn't waste time to start thrusting, hard.

despite my earlier promise about being quiet, its pratically impossible now, i let out loud moans. his tip is abusing my cervix, his cock showing through my belly.

"oh baby, feel me right there?" he whispers, dragging his cold fingers over my tummy.

i nod with a strangled cross between a whine and a moan,

chris instantly shoves two fingers in my mouth.

thats hot.

my moans are muffled and almost silenced by his long fingers resting on my tongue, i close my eyes as i grip the counter top for dear life, the force of his thrusts nearly making me shift off.

"hurry up baby, gotta cum for me." he mutters under his breath, shifting his spare hand down to my clit,

he rubs quick circles on my clit, i feel my whole abdomen tightening as my orgasm rapidly approaches.

my head falls forward onto chris's shoulder, biting down on the fabric in a weak attempt to silence myself.

"good girll.. so good." he whispers into my ear,

i finally tip over the edge, my stomach dropping as i clench around his cock, i bite down on his shoulder hard as i orgasm, hard.

he thrusts into me a few more times before burying his cock deep, his release spilling out inside of me.

he quickly slides out of me, both of us panting as we lock eyes.

his cheeks are now flushed and his hair is messy, but he still looks somewhat presentable.

"you- you okay?" he asks, dragging his middle finger through my folds and pushing his cum back inside of me.

i gasp with a nod,

he reaches down and checks his phone,

"shit baby, matt and nick are waiting for me in the car, i gotta go." he mumbles, tugging up his boxers and suit pants, fastening the belt around his hips.

i let out a small groan in response,

"im sorry sweetie- dont wanna have to leave you here all messy but i literally cannot be any more late." he sighs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

he goes to turn away but i stop him.

"wait-" i giggle,

he turns back to look at me,

i call him over as i stare at his shoulder,

his blazer shoulder his completely damp from my pathetic attempts to muffle them on it,

i reach out and wipe the fabric free of my spit, "sorry." i grin

chris laughs, "you're good, it was better than you screaming out into the house and alerting matt and nick that im indeed not taking a shit."

i giggle loudly, "youre grossss."

"youre gross!! you've got my 'fuckin cum leaking down your legs."

------

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnn n @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo larsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette e @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101saroona a @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[amdiriel]

lonely pt. 2

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: After a vulnerable moment of comfort, Reader tries to navigate Azriel’s increasingly flirtatious behavior without assuming anything. Because she really shouldn’t. Right?

WARNINGS: FLUFF, slight suggestiveness, a bit of hurt but SO much comfort, not proofread we die like men

NOTE: thanks for so much love on part 1! I have some ideas for new Az fics, so lmk if you're interested in being on my Azriel taglist! xox diri

WORDS: ~4.2k

part 1 main masterlist

•••

It had been about a week and a half since my little breakdown in my room, my cycle coming and going just days after it. I attributed my moment of uncharacteristic hopelessness to hormones.

I hoped Azriel would too, since I had trouble fully looking him in the eye ever since out of embarrassment. After a night of deep rest post-letting-it-all-out, I woke the next morning to a spill of hindsight in my mind, grumbling at my ridiculousness into my pillow. Despite my cycle being a royal pain in my ass, it was a few days where I could hide safely in my room.

So the next few days, I was determined to be fine. I was great, living the dream, no worries here, wielding a grin and a dry joke as always.

The first day after my cycle ending, I wake up to blissful absence of pain in my abdomen, and treat myself to a long bath.

Afterwards, I take advantage of a brisk morning walk, the sunshine making the late winter weather less intolerably cold. I barely get two blocks from the River House before a shadow passes over my head.

I tilt my head back, squinting through the direct sunlight. Then the shadow descends at an alarmingly fast rate and touches down near-silently beside me. “Good morning,” Azriel murmurs.

I jump at his sudden appearance, the bubbling nervousness at his closeness making it more pronounced. “Shit—Azriel,” I gasp, calming myself with a breath. “What the hell?”

He chuckles lowly and nudges me slightly as he matches my resuming pace. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he says, not sorry at all.

I huff and roll my eyes, even as my lips curl up as well. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You need to wear a bell.” His laugh curls around me.

“I’m not sure it would go with my leathers,” he pretends to muse. “A collar would really ruin the effect of my scariness. Not to mention the whole point of being Spymaster.”

I snort, shaking my head. He nudges me again, drawing my gaze back up to him. I find his eyes warmly on me.

“I’m glad to see you out and about,” he says. “I was worried about you.”

I let the sweet words warm me for a quick moment before I huff a small laugh. “It’s my cycle, not sickness. I’m good.”

He shrugs. “Still. I know it’s much worse for you and your sisters now that you’re all fae. You handling them alright?”

My expression softens. “You’re sweet. I’m fine. I didn’t have much pain as a human, so I think as far as fae cycles go, my pain now is relatively mild. I mostly just don’t want to do anything,” I reply with a shrug of my own.

Azriel eyes me for a moment. “Alright. But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I haven’t forgotten about our agreement, you know,” he says with a sly smirk.

It takes a second for it to dawn, but soon a blush blooms on my face as I remember that night. I huff a sigh, finding it within me to laugh a little at myself. “So, what, you want me to come to you any time I have a problem?” I ask dryly.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers plainly.

I give him a look. “Are you now our resident therapist too?” I deadpan. “Your resume’s long enough, Shadowsinger, you can take a pause every once in a while.”

He laughs again, shaking his head at me. “I may be busy, but never for you. Never for family,” he replies, and with such sincerity in his eyes that my steps falter for a moment.

Fuck. What happened to cool and collected, Archeron?

But I swallow and arch a brow. “Sweet. But you’re barely here enough to be able to do so for the many members of our ever-growing household,” I say, thinking about our nephew Nyx.

He shrugs a shoulder, his wings unfurling then furling in a subtle motion that catches my eye. I’d always found them fascinating. “Then how about this—I’ll never be too busy for you,” he says, a note saucily that my widened eyes turn upon his smirking face.

I grasp for words for a moment, and I see his eyes delight at my moment of hesitation. I shut my mouth and switch tactics, laughing. “Why Az, you are positively Rhys-like today.”

His brows raise, expression lighting in challenge. “Oh am I? Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek at that damned pet name again. This male just made it so bloody difficult to be dignified at all. I swear, every moment in his presence is a fight for my life. “You’re all—” I gesticulate over his person, “Swaggering. It’s unnerving. Please, for my sanity, resume your duties as our resident brooder. You’re putting me off.”

His head tilts back with a hearty laugh that startles me into astonishment. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he drawls, suddenly feeling like he’s looming over me.

Stupid, tree-like male.

I don’t reply except for a disbelieving huff at his forward behavior. His smirk is self satisfied as he halts, taking a step back with a sketch of a bow.

“You’ll have to resume your walk without me, Ms. Archeron,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose at the use of my surname. His smiling eyes rove over it, dipping to my lips before locking with my own gaze again. “Think you can manage?”

I scoff and manage to flip him off as his enormous wings unfurl and beat his figure into the air. His rumbling chuckle disappears as his shape grows smaller in the sky.

—

The following days, he wasn’t as blatantly swaggering, as I had called him, but he was…

Forward. Disarmingly so.

I couldn’t seem to avoid his presence if I tried, if merely to kick some sense back into myself. First it was the library—when I had settled into the cozy window seat, my usual perch, an hour into my reading, he had strode in his silent yet confident way of his. I had stilled, as if hoping he’d simply not notice me. Fool. He notices everything. And he certainly had wasted no time sidling up to my perch and leaning over to observe what I was reading. His warmth and masculine scent was a pleasant yet oppressive blanket to my poor sensibilities. And I barely survived when he had hummed “Any good?” practically into my ear.

Or there was lunchtime—I’d wander into the kitchen to make something quick and simple for myself, and when I walked into the dining room he’d be sitting there already, looking up with a small, unassuming smile. When he bade simply, “Sit with me”, I had no choice but to obey and eat with him. In my suspicion, I confess that I switched the times I went to get lunch by random intervals, in which each and every time he either was already there or showed up soon after.

I couldn’t tell if it just happened that way, or if he was being overly clever in his intentional variation.

Now, three weeks post-meltdown incident, Azriel had been gone a few days on Cauldron-knows-what business, so I’d loosened up, no longer bracing myself like he could walk into the room at any second.

Which is apparently my folly, since as soon as I round the corner into the dining room one morning, I found him standing at the sideboard, back toward me, making a cup of tea.

I halted, nearly rearing back as my mouth started to form the word shit, but quickly clamping it down. But even the smallest of noise alerts someone as discerning as him.

He turns and calls my name with quiet warmth, and I banish the wince from my face. “Hey,” I say simply. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” he says, abandoning his tea to draw near. My head tilts back as he stops in front of me. “How have you been?” he asks with a soft smile.

His quiet care is almost more flustering than his forwardness. “Well. Fine,” I answer. “And you? Your mission or whatever successful?”

He huffs amusedly. “My mission or whatever was just fine,” he replies. Then he returns to the sideboard. “Tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Just bla—”

“Just black. I know,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. I blink in surprise, cheeks pink. He’s been paying close enough attention that he knows that?

Of course he has, dummy. He probably has dossiers on everyone in this city with information down to the way they take their tea, the pragmatic voice in my head deadpans. You’re no exception.

I blink again as he draws near with a second cup, passing it to me. I take it with a small thank you, sipping it gratefully.

Just when I start to squirm on my feet at the silence between us, he speaks. “About what we talked about that night a few weeks ago—” I still. “You’re alright in that regard? And don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell.”

I huff a sound between a sigh and laugh, looking down. “Well, I haven’t had a night as bad as that one since then, so that’s good right?” I say with wry self-deprecation. He doesn’t reply. “But really, I’m alright. Just winter blues, I suppose.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I roll my eyes in a small flash of annoyance. “Alright, not just winter blues. But they certainly don’t help. But I’m fine. Really. You did really help that night,” I admit softly.

I don’t really notice my teacup is empty until he gently takes it from my hand and sets it next to his already abandoned cup. “What helped most, sweetheart?” he asks gently.

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth—speaking my vulnerability aloud both impossible and foreign. Letting him in last time didn’t hurt. It helped, a small voice whispers in my head.

I take a breath. “Just—talking through it. Physical touch too, um…” I fight to stay steady. “It’s grounding.”

He hums, nodding. There’s a light touch to both my elbows, and my eyes shift down to find that he’d silently reached for me. I allow the touch, but don’t dare go further, suspended in the fear of the unknown.

“You don’t have to be afraid to ask for that,” he murmurs quietly. Suddenly I’m very aware of the air we’re sharing, how close he’s gotten to me. His hands slide slowly to my upper arms, my breath hitching as the warmth of his palms bleed through even my heavy sweater.

The panic sets in before I can think this interaction through, before I can rationalize that maybe, just maybe he wants to be close to me, wants to touch me. Instead my eyes find the clock and seize the subject change before me. “Don’t you have Valkyrie training in five minutes?”

Azriel stills and follows my gaze to the clock. His jaw works once before the fleeting tension is gone. “You’re right. I should go.” He squeezes my upper arms gently before letting his hands drop. “Stay warm today. Wind is supposed to get bad, and temperatures will drop rapidly once the sun sets.”

I nod, giving him a brief smile. “Of course, you too. Stay warm, I mean.”

He returns my smile before leaving the room.

A whoosh of air leaves my lungs as soon as I’m alone again. Idiot. Silly, foolish girl.

—

Azriel was at his wits end.

He’d been pulling far more stops than his usual personality allowed, hadn’t he? She was certainly clever enough to notice that he was acting much differently around her, right? Had he just not been forward enough?

And still, she did not allow him closer, as close as two people could be. He'd given her every sign he could think of without embarrassing himself.

Impossible girl. Can’t you understand that all I want is to comfort and coddle you?

He must not have taken care to erase any tension in his expression by the time he touched down in the ring atop the House of Wind, because Cassian’s brows raised upon seeing him.

Azriel just had to cast him a cool look for his brother to relent, though he caught the half-smirk on the General’s face as he turned toward the group of priestesses warming up and began training.

It was during sparring that Nesta finally deigns to sidle up beside him as he watches a match. “So. What the hell’s going on between you and my sister?”

He stills for just a moment before erasing the reaction. He debates lying to his friend, but she’ll call him on it. He doesn't think she’ll warn him off her sister either, so finally he admits evenly, “Much less than I would like.”

The eldest Archeron huffs a laugh. “I appreciate you sparing me a lie. Honestly, Az? My sister is just supremely oblivious, clever as she is. If nothing else has worked at this point, you just need to lay one on her.”

He chokes and turns his head toward her. “I would never. Not without her express permission—”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Gods, males can be so boring. At the very least you need to sit her down and make sure she doesn’t leave until she understands exactly what your intentions are. Then you can lay one on her, if she’s amenable to it.”

Azriel takes a deep breath, letting the words sink into his turbulent mind. “I don’t want to scare her,” he admits after a pause.

“You won’t,” she replies instantly. “She’s not afraid of you, she never could be. In truth, my sister is scared of very little. But based on the fact that she’s never had a romantic attachment before, what seems like indifference is likely just borne out of nervousness.”

“I don’t want to make her nervous either.”

“It’s not you that does. It’s just—being vulnerable. Emotionally intimate with someone,” Nesta says. “Years of fighting with her have taught me that she’ll hide anything behind biting wit or a laugh and joke. I think that’s what makes it all the more difficult to understand.”

He doesn’t reply.

“But speaking not as her sister, she definitely is attracted to you,” Nesta continues. “Speaking as her sister?” He looks at her cool features. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then she stalks away to Gwyn and Emerie.

Azriel forces down a growl. Tonight. He'd do it tonight or hell, he'd go crazy from this dance around the line. He'd spent too many centuries wanting this, wanting companionship for him to squander an opportunity with, at last, a female that he connected so deeply with. A female that seemed to need his touch as badly as he needed hers.

So...yes. He'd had quite enough of waiting.

—

True to Azriel's word, it did end up being very cold today.

I forgo any ideas of taking a walk, but I did end up camping out in the warmth of Feyre's study, taking turns with her to organize some of her paperwork or play with Nyx on the floor. My nephew (and his poor parents) had had some rough nights due to the last dregs of his teething pain, but it was good to see him smiling and playing despite it all. Rhysand stopped in frequently, unable to stay from his mate and son for extended periods of time, and after the fourth time Feyre shooed him out with their laughing, squirming son in his arms.

Our bi-weekly dinner fell that evening. Usually I enjoyed it.

Usually.

The dinner was fine. But I was so chilled that I took the opportunity of warmth from any hot dish passed around to me. I shiver for the upteenth time as Azriel passes me the potatoes.

"Cold?" he murmurs close beside me, and I shiver again. Not from the cold, damn him.

"Freezing," I retort instead, scooping potatoes on my plate. "Doesn't Rhys have this place warded to hell? Why is it so drafty?"

Azriel chuckles lowly. "How do you know that it isn't just you?" he teases.

I shoot him a look. "No, no, Mr. 'Stay Warm Today', I'm quite certain it isn't."

He laughs again, and it warms me only temporarily. I finish before everyone else, per usual. Not only do I tend to eat fast, but I'm also not caught up in constant conversation. Bored, my eyes travel the room, around my friends. My family. Even in my relaxed, two-glasses-of-wine haze, my mind doesn't fail to notice how paired up they all seem to have gotten.

Feyre and Rhys feed a fussy Nyx in his highchair, Rhys's eyes roaming over his mate and child with unrepressed love. Cassian's arm was slung around Nesta's shoulder, my usually stoic sister slumped comfortably into his side. Varian looked down at Amren next to him like she was the most fascinating creature alive, which...wasn't entirely a subjective statement, considering her interesting history.

Even Elain was speaking in shy tones with Lucien, who watched her with amused adoration. I had been so proud of my younger sister for finally realizing that she could just as well choose him as not choose him. They were taking it slow, she'd been telling me recently, but she begrudgingly had found that her mate was, indeed, her perfect match.

But as with all my friends and family, my happiness for them comes at a cost. To myself.

I turn and opened my mouth to chase away the tightness in my chest, but found that the Spymaster next to me was turned away, engaging Mor in conversation on his other side.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut and instead go for my wine.

Gods, hadn't Feyre mentioned there was some sort of will-they won't-they situation between the two of them? Something that had been brewing for the five centuries they'd known each other? It was none of my business, of course, and I hardly paid attention, but even I noticed that it had been pretty consistently they-won't in the past few years of living here.

Right?

Azriel laughs at something she says, and suddenly I feel sick.

Cauldron. Was I going to be the only one left?

And even worse—had I also been imagining his forwardness with me as of late?

There's a rushing in my ears and I tune out completely, going blissfully blank.

I hardly recall cleanup. Or the migration to the living room. My body seems to draw itself to the fireplace, a hand lifting to drag a blanket off the back of an armchair as I settle on the floor before the flames.

And as I wrap the blanket around myself, shivering minutely, I can't bring myself to look at what I know I'll find behind me—each couple in the house cuddling for warmth.

—

Azriel's heart aches at the sight of her vibrating form in front of the fire.

He'd taken his place behind the armchair she usually sat in, hoping to finally coax her into having a conversation in the privacy of the hall. Or if things went well, his bedroom.

But instead he watched her walk as if unawake from the dining room to the fireplace in the living room. Unblinking. Not looking at anyone else.

He doesn't know what to do.

He also doesn't realize that a shadow had flitted to her until it came slinking back to his shoulder, whispering, Upset. Crying.

His heart broke. Oh, sweetheart.

He felt suspended in air, in time for a moment. Everyone was lounging, cuddling in their respective pairs, speaking quietly with one another. Distracted. So he took a gamble.

And silently pushed forward.

—

I felt him before I heard or saw him.

I lock up as I feel his warm body settle on the rug, not quite directly behind me, but not quite beside me either.

His touch was warm, intentional.

Mother, I needed intentional touch so badly.

I hadn't realize how upset I had gotten until the first cold tear spills down my cheek. I wipe hastily at it.

"Hey," he coos softly in my ear, his arm coming firmly around me and drawing me into him. I sniff, shooting a panicked glance over my shoulder since everyone was in the room right now. I barely register that his wings block any sight of the two of us from the rest of the room before his gentle hand guides my chin back to look up at him. "No one can see, sweet girl," he murmurs. "You're alright."

The lump tightens painfully in my throat as a second, third tear spill down my face. "Sorry," I mouth, unable to get any sound out.

"Stop," he whispers gently. "You're alright. You're safe." His hand slides to the back of my head and I let myself be guided to the shelter of his embrace, once again in his lap as I silently shake. "Are you feeling that way again?"

I nod silently.

He sighs. "Sweetheart. Why don't you just let me in?"

I untuck my wet face from his shoulder to glance confusedly up at him. "I...I am," I breathe. "You're—you're hugging me."

He shakes his head, cradling my face with both hands. "I mean: why don't you let me into that head of yours? That world? Most importantly, why can't you just let me into your heart?"

Said heart seems to stutter and stop beating.

There's a long moment where my lips don't form words, don't do anything except lay parted, slack. "What do you mean?" I finally blurt, a note of tightness in my voice.

His jaw works and he sighs heavily through his nose. "Sweetheart, is it so impossible to understand that this whole time you've found yourself lonely at the sight of everyone paired off that maybe I want to be that person for you? Your person?"

"Wh—you?" I sputter on a whisper as everything dawns, hell, practically crashes down upon me. The denial comes a split second after. "No."

"Yes."

My expression shutters in emotion. "There's no way—"

"There is," he murmurs with an adoring smile on his handsome face, thumbs brushing at my tears. "And you can't change that, ever. But what you can do is let me in."

I take a shuddery breath, in and out. "Let you in?"

He nods.

"Be my person?" I croak. "And I be yours?"

The words seem to have an effect on him, his chest puffing for a moment before deflating again. His hands cradle my face like I'm precious. I've never felt more so than in his lap. "Yes, sweet girl. Mine. And I, yours."

A release another uneven breath, feeling my body go warm all over. "I—I never thought that I...that you could want this with me. Could want me," I rasp.

He smiles. "But I do. I have for a long time."

I let out a little wet laugh. "Gods, I—" I shake my head. "I don't feel like asking questions right now. I've wanted you too, for so long. I just didn't want to delude myself, to make a fool of myself in front of you when you're so..."

He raises a brow but his eyes remain warm. "So?"

"So perfect, damn you," I finish, no real malice behind my words. When he laughs this time, I feel it seep directly through my chest and into my soul.

"You're the perfect one, sweetheart," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my hairline like he had those weeks ago. "In more ways than one." He draws back to look at me, and I return his gaze with nothing but openness, with love. Then he breathes, "May I kiss you?"

Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I give him a little nod. "You may."

He dips his chin ever so slowly, and when his soft, full lips finally meet mine, my eyes slip shut. Tentative, and so gentle with me, he dares his tongue over my bottom lip. Though I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, I let him through.

The first swipe of his tongue, this hungrier kiss sets my soul ablaze, his hands travel to wrap around my waist, drawing my chest against his.

We kiss quietly yet needy for Cauldron knows how long. All I know is that I’m breathless, fuzzy, and light by the time I draw away softly. He chases my lips a moment more before settling his forehead against mine.

Breathing the same air.

A giddy smile tugs at my features, and I giggle with blushing embarrassment. “They definitely know what’s going on,” I whisper, fighting the urge to peek. He chuckles lowly and draws me closer, depositing a kiss on my shoulder, my jaw, then my lips.

“I sent them out,” he replies. My brows raise. “I told Rhys mind-to-mind that if he didn’t get everyone out, I’d quit.”

A laugh bubbles up within me. “Liar. He just decided to have mercy on us. On me, at least.”

Azriel grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Boyish. Free.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And he does.

That night, he takes me to his room, scooping me under the covers and into his body. I’m too wired, too happy to fall asleep right away. It’s when I watch him slip into dreamland, the most relaxed I’ve seen him, that there’s a tug within my chest.

A soft glow flickers to life deep in my soul. I smile and let the tears fall as I feel what I think is the bond.

I settle in. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

•••

NOTE: i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it! i have an idea for a short series taking place post-ACOSF, where Reader is part of a group in Montesere that’s sort of adjacent to the Valkyries, and she comes to visit the Library, so I’ll start drafting if anyone is interested k love you bye! -diri

TAG LIST: @lilah-asteria @salvatoresister1 @a-courtof-azriel @thestartitaness @casiiopea2 @kk191327 @missxmarvelous @saltedcoffeescotch

[fatuismooches]

You've been distant for the last few days. Dottore sends some friends in hopes of getting through to you. (In other words, Dottore has his crow friends deliver some gifts to cheer you up.)

You hadn't been quite yourself as of late, and it was awfully noticeable. It was something Dottore was struggling to adjust to despite the couple of other times it had happened.

For a long time, the scholar had thought he had everything about you within his grasp. He had studied you like the finest sample that had ever landed in his hands to learn as much as could be learned about you, starting from when you two had reached the status of mere acquaintances. He carefully documented everything that could be known about you, from observing your reactions in various situations and then being able to predict what you would do in others (to some extent, you being ever the enigma), to examining every inch of your body. It was an experiment that could make his head hurt at times or his body burst in pleasure.

But when Dottore really thinks back to the time he spent with you at the Akademiya, he realizes that maybe his experiment wasn't as extensive as he first thought, the reason being that he's never truly seen you sad or upset.

Yes, there were times you were tired, or burnt out, or shed a couple of tears over some harsh words from another, but you seemed to bounce back soon enough. Rather, surprisingly enough, he was more vulnerable on that front, still vividly remembering the night he bitterly cried and spat out how that village had wronged him, stiffening at your feather-light touches.

It turns out a few centuries later, that there were always possibilities that even he couldn't account for. Dottore still remembered when you started full-on sobbing in front of him for the first time. He was, naturally, at a loss as to what to do other than hold you.

Logically he had known that your illness wouldn't have been a smooth ride of course, but he still couldn't have been prepared for this. Even if he was, all the preparation wouldn't have been helpful in practice, considering the lump in his throat looking at your shaking form. He wasn't made for this - to be gentle, to be kind, to be patient and understanding.

However, those were just some of the things that you needed. This wasn't a matter of whether he could, it was that he must.

And so, during certain times, the segments had to gently coax you out of bed and clean you up as quick as they could. One dressed you and one fed you whatever your stomach could handle, while another tried to keep your attention with his fantastical stories.

But then there were days when you didn't want to talk at all. You didn't even want to feel Dottore's hands run along your body soothingly, something you always longed for. It was times like these when the all-knowing Harbinger was at a loss. How can he go about helping you if he can't even see you? How could he help his beloved this time, when you've helped him all those years ago?

He would figure it out for you.

—

The beautiful, snowy landscape always seemed to quiet your deafening mind. For some reason, it sometimes got too loud, making your head ache, but seeing snow slip off tree branches and little critters dart around brought some solace to you. Then again, it wasn't like there was much else to do. Even with those, you didn't feel like doing anything actually.

With a sigh, you lowered your head onto your desk and closed your eyes, still burning despite having slept an awful lot last night. Maybe you should head back to bed and hope a sweet dream will bless you. You idly drew with your fingers, tracing the colors of the wood table, eyelids indeed drooping once more when suddenly a loud tap on your window had you shooting straight up.

Immediately, you noticed the ruffle of black feathers with specks of white dust on your windowsill, tapping to be let in.

... Dottore's crow friends? You hadn't seen them in a long time. Upon closer look, there was something in its beak- but another hard tap quickly made you move to open the window. Then, one, two, three, four... five birds hopped in, shaking their feathers and leaving the wetness of snow on your table. Admittedly, seeing these little guys made your shoulders relax a bit. You shut it as fast as you opened it, and turned around to see a murder of crows cawing at you expectantly, wanting to give you the items they held in their beaks already.

One by one, the birds dropped a Rainbow Rose into your palm, the next a Lakelight Lily, then a Lumidouce Bell, and lastly, your favorite, a Sumeru Rose, quite simple compared to the others. They made quite an odd bouquet, meaning there was only one person who could have made it.

You carefully set the flowers aside to retrieve a small box that the last crow held. Pulling at the tiny ribbon, the lid came off and there lay a few tiny yet expensive chocolates and a card with Dottore's signature handing.

"Beloved,

A new and unusual batch of specimens came in recently. Though we typically don't use plants like these, they have their uses in some areas. Regardless, I remember you always wanted to see some flowers from other nations. I chose the ones with the highest quality. I hope they are to your liking."

The silly and sweet gesture made a small smile creep up on your face, especially considering you already knew what the flowers meant.

Passion and love. An eternal promise. The wish for reunion. Home.

You sank down in your chair and popped the sweet into your mouth, the flavor warming your dry mouth. Prodding at the lily's watery bubble, you really were touched. But you just still couldn't face him again. The gentle caws and nudges from the crows made it seem like they somehow understood your feelings. But then the flapping of wings and sudden drop of something catch your attention. A notepad and pen now were in front of you.

"W-What... you think I should write back to him?" A chorus of caws echoed in agreement and encouragement. "I suppose... it's not a bad idea." Swallowing your nervousness, you put pen to paper but you didn't know what to write, the ink blotting the paper. Rubbing your forehead, you thought hard for a while, until you ended up with the most straightforward thing.

"Thank you, Zandik."

Folding the paper, one of the crows clutched it in its beak, ready to deliver the rather short yet meaningful message. After you petted all of them a few times, they were off once again into the snowy land.

—

Only a few minutes later, tapping could once again be heard but at Dottore's office this time. Of course, he'd expected them, and took refuge in the warmth of his room as well as crowding his shoulders and arm. Seeing as their beaks were empty, he knew they had completed this very important mission. But then a poke at his cheek made him see the small paper.

Opening it up, he read the shaky handwriting that spoke of three words, and then placed it in his locked drawer for safekeeping.

—

After quite some time had passed, you finally found yourself able to ask him a question that lingered on your mind.

"So... did you teach them to do that all for lil old me?" Dottore waved your question off as you giggled, then wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his back.

"Zandik. I... I..." You struggled to finish your sentence due to how many things you could say - 'Thank you for not giving up on me,' 'I'm sorry to weigh you down,' 'I wish I wasn't like this-'.

But then the squeeze of your hands had you gasping back to reality, while Dottore had remained silent. It was his way of saying not to worry yourself with words, so you didn't. Instead, you swallowed back the lump in your throat and rested your head against him.

You can enjoy this moment, without worrying about what kind of days may lie ahead.

[capricoopla]

I always interpreted the ascension cutscenes as what the slugcat's have to see before being able to fully let go and ascend Like, the idea that in death, the brain does what it needs to do in preparations More of a mental process than anything What the slugcats see before ascension is what gives them peace of mind in order to continue beyond the cycle Which is also why I think the Artificer was able to ascend, despite it looking rather bleak in the ascension scenes Survivor sees their journey complete, seeing family back at home they were stranded from Monk reunites with their sibling Hunter is freed from illness and rests in comfort after their hardships And Artificer, likely on the verge, is finally able to let go of their hatred and forgive themselves once reunited with what they lost, their children, getting the chance to embrace them one last time and gaining the closure they need to move on Which is why they didn't echo Echos, are bound to the cycle because of something they weren't able to let go Which is why it's interesting to note that Saint is the only slug cat who didn't gain peace in their ascension cutscene, as it shows them failing to ascend a void worm, escaping from their grasp and leaving their journey of ascending everyone incomplete (this is also apart of my hc of Saint that Saint's already repeated multiple cycles even before we first start playing their campaign, also that it's a made up scenario that they live through) There is something that the Saint can't let go, and that wanting manifests in the eternal dream that is the cycles they forever live through, cycles that spiral endlessly

[anakinstwinklebunny]

LEGO TYPE OF LOVE..

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x f!reader

𝓕𝓛𝓤𝓕𝓕 ❦

────୨ৎ────

Summer - beaming sun, chirping birds, early mornings, heat up air..Yet for ANAKIN SKYWALKER it wasn't an excuse to not dress officially to school. Shirt pressed so perfectly you could cut yourself on the creases, tie snug against his collar, and his jacket, despite the heat, still near him, tied around his waist as it swung neatly around his legs as he walked. You hold his hand the entire way, fingers tangled with his, feeling the slight clamminess of his palm--a tell-tale sign he’s nervous, even if he’s trying to play it cool.

“Are you hot in that?” you teased, trying to lighten the tension

He shrugs, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. “I’m fine. I--it’s… comfortable.”

You snort softly, squeezing his hand. “Sure it is.”

When you get to his house, Anakin barely got the door open before a high-pitched squeal echoed from inside. Suddenly, a whirlwind of giggles and energy crashed into you, and you’re almost knocked off your feet.

“You’re here! I can't believe it! Ani finally brought you back! This time nothing will tear us apart” her lips curling into, what you interpreted, as too-excited and too-scary smile

Little Ahsoka clung to your legs, small arms squeezing you as tight as she could. With big eyes sparkling as she started babbling about everything that’s happened since the last time she saw you.

“I coloured a picture for you! Wanna see it? Wait, no! Look at my braid! Mom did it! Do you like it? Are you staying for dinner? Pleeease stay for dinner!”

Anakin watched the scene while taking his shoes off, muttering something about your feet being cold if you're not gonna put on some light shoes he had offered. He's trying to gently make ahsoka acknowledge the meaning and purpose of your appearance but the eight year old just furrows her brows, before taking you by hand and dragging you already further into the house.

Anakin already groans and there's a small argument between him and Ahsoka about who you should spend time with, before Shmi overheads the chaos going on, ans gets downstairs. Her face lighted up the moment it landed on yours, and she greeted you by pulling you into a gentle, motherly hug. “It’s always so good to see you, dear,” she said warmly, voice warm like a sunshine outside “I hope you’re staying for dinner?”

Before you can answer, Anakin caught the opportunity and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you away from his family. “Maybe later,” he mumbled before you could even reply, cheeks pink as he glanced towards the stairs. “We, uh… have some stuff to do. So..uh..we're gonna be upstairs..and mom please keep 'Soka away” he whined

Shmi gives him a knowing smile, gently taking Ahsoka's hand so they'd go to the garden as Anakin pulls you up to his room.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, he’s kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. He looks at you expectantly, already patting the space next to him.

“Come here.”

You don’t even get a chance to sit properly before he pulls you down beside him, wrapping his long arms around you like a human octopus. Nose nuzzled into your hair, and he exhales a content sigh, entire body relaxing against yours.

"you've made quite a scene" you mumble teasingly, although with a hint of true

"I just want to cuddle..forget about this awful day.." he numbled, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "And with 'Soka being too excited to see you I'd not even be able to breath the same air as yours.."

Time passes by and, somehow, he shifted--he’s on his back now, and you’re lying on his chest, cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his hands stroked your hair while the other rests on your hip, holding you close like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“I was thinking…”

You hum softly, fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. “Hmm?”

“Maybe…” He hesitates, and you tilt your head to look up at him. His cheeks are a little pink as he clears his throat, giving you the perfect view for his adam apple. “Maybe we could play Lego's?”

You blink, surprised. “Lego's?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, voice a little defensive now. “I’ve got a huge collection. I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—”

You laugh softly, cutting him off with a kiss on his cheek. “I’d love to, Ani.”

His face lighted up, a boyish grin spreading across his lips, but then he frowns slightly, tightening his hold on you.

“But…” He pouts “I don’t wanna stop cuddling yet.”

You giggle, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “We can cuddle and play with LEGO, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How does that even work?”

“I have no idea know,” you whisper, smiling. “But maybe if we do find out, they'll start writing about us in books" which only makes him giggle

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP Prompt - To Batman

Maddie and Jack Fenton died. It was an accident, really. Jack forgot to change the filter on the portal and it exploded, taking out the whole Fenton building and half the block. Thankfully it was in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, so not many people were home. Jack and Maddie died instantly as did 3 of the 5 other casualties. 1 person died in hospital, and the single person who survived the explosion (a woman going on a jog nearby) fell into a coma with no signs of waking.

Jazz, having recently turned 18, escaped the foster system by the skin of her teeth. Instead she got financial assistance, and an apartment paid for by the government. Despite her best efforts, she was deemed incapable of taking care of Danny, only 15 at the time. He ended up in Vlad's care. As his godfather, the duty naturally fell to him, and with no way to prove all of his misdoings, Danny couldn't fight it. He tried, of course, but Vlad won. He got what he wanted.

Vlad wasted no time ruining Danny's life.

Things he did:

Immediately slapped an inhibitor bracelet on him. It's an improved version that tracks him, and shocks him on command. Having died by electricity, there was no better way to keep Danny docile.

Pulled Danny out of school under the pretence Danny himself insisted on it. That most days, the boy could hardly get out of bed.

Took any means to contact his friends and sister, thus completely isolating him.

Forced him to be his son, including legally changing his name from Daniel Fenton to Daniel Masters.

Tortured him. Without Danny able to fight back, any time he would fall out of line Vlad would subject him to terrible punishments. This included electrocuting him until he passed out, strapping him down and threatening to vivisect him, not giving him any food for long periods of time, beat him up as Plasmius and stopping him from sleeping by electrocuting him every few seconds (enough of a zap not to hurt too much but to keep him awake).

Tucker, worried for Danny, managed to hack into Vlad's cameras. He couldn't get access to the visuals without risking Vlad catching on, but the audio was pretty incriminating as is. He knew local law enforcement wouldn't do anything. Not with Vlad able to overshadow them at any given moment. So he reached out to Batman.

Okay, maybe he couldn't get to Batman. Their systems were too good. But, Bruce Wayne definitely at least knew Batman, and he was easy to get in contact with. So, he sent Bruce Wayne an email, asking him to pass it along to Batman, with an attachment of particularly bad things Vlad did to Danny. Just audio, of course, but that should be enough to get him to investigate.

---

Bruce gets a lot of emails.

He has three accounts. One accessible to the public, through which he receives fan mail, threats, and claims of pregnancy, a work email, which is designated for Wayne Enterprises matters and nothing else, and a work email, for active cases and other Batman matters. They’re all increasingly secure, each one more protected than the previous. Which is to say, people who he doesn't give access, can't reach him by his work lines.

So it's a surprise when he receives an anonymous email through his Wayne Enterprises line one Tuesday morning that has no business being in his inbox. An hour later and he tracks it down to Amity Park Illinois, but no further. Whoever encrypted it certainly skilled, but he doubts they're any match for Oracle so he sends it over to her to look over.

In the meantime he checks it for traps. There's a few attachment in seven audio files, a subject line which states "To Batman" and nothing else. Either his identity has been compromised or the sender believes the popular theory that Bruce Wayne funds the Justice League, and thus has the means to contact its members. He'll have to investigate thoroughly to make sure it's not the former.

His algorithm deems it clean so he has his secretary call Tim up to his office. Which leads to now, with his son sitting beside him at his desk, his cursor hovering over the play button and the door locked with instruction not to disturb them for the next hour (the files only add up to twenty-three minutes long, but they'll need some time to discuss). Depending on the contents, they'll leave early.

He presses play.

[i9messi]

Hard to get — Oscar Piastri

You're a rookie, always determined to prove yourself on track, but Oscar is constantly underestimating you. He is annoying and has ben like this since you were fifteen.

word count — 2,6k

note: rivals to lovers. oscar is childish and annoying. warnings: misogynist comments made by a journalist. oh, and a car accident. i think i don't forget anything. feedback and reblogs are well appreciated.

MASTERLIST

“Why do you keep looking at him?”

Charles was standing beside you, your gaze didn't move away for a second from the certain driver who was a few meters away. Nothing but hatred in your eyes.

Charles loved to laugh at the fact you didn’t get along with Oscar. He thought it was a childish and stupid fight, where neither of you accepted you were being silly. The Ferrari driver was the one who tried to keep things cool, after all, Oscar was his adopted son and you were like his younger sister.

On the other hand, Lando just laughed and encouraged you to keep fighting.

“He’s looking at me!”

“And you’re looking at him, no need to complain.”

“I hate that stupid face and his stupid hair….”

Charles smiled even more.

“And his stupid voice… Oh, what more?” he added, jokingly.

“Charles, don't try to be on his side.”

“I'm not! This is a stupid fight and you should act like adults, not like kids.”

“Nevermind. Good luck in the race.”

You walked away and put on your helmet. The race was about to start. Starting behind Lando and alongside Carlos, you thought you were doing well in your first season as a rookie. But, bad things were, Oscar was behind you and you knew that could only mean something terrible.

Both were competitive since you had met, always fought for the lead and you didn't think this time would be different. Your relationship was reaching a point where you felt that at any moment everything would blow up.

And Oscar was the one to blame.

He must have noticed somehow that you were thinking of him, because he came to stand closer to you. To annoy you.

“Oh great, it’s you again.”

“I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

Your gaze kept on him, not believing for anything in the world that your greatest rival since you were fifteen really wished you good luck.

But Oscar didn't finish talking, because he smiled machiavelliously.

“...You’re obviously going to end up behind me. It must be a nice view from behind.”

“Me behind you? That’s funny. Last time I checked, you were two positions behind me.”

Oscar was mad, you could notice that for the way he was looking at you, with his teeth biting his lips. For a calm boy, he always showed all his emotions when he had a conversation with you.

“We’ll see how this race ends and if you really deserve your seat.”

“Go to hell, Oscar.”

Oscar smiled and touched your shoulder.

“See you later, princess.”

The race started moments later. Despite the pressure you had to give a good result for your team, you also enjoyed being able to drive the car at high speed. Nothing was like formula one, it was unique. You kept up a good pace and thought that if you fought hard enough, you could get to the podium. Oscar was behind you, but as Lewis was struggling for position and to overtake the aussie, he was busy with more important matters than bothering you. So for the moment, you were fine.

However, on lap nineteen, everything ended for you. You hit the wall on a curve.

“Damn! I’m sorry, guys.”

You were angry with yourself, with Oscar and everyone. You knew it was your fault, because that curve had been difficult for you in each lap and even though you practiced it dozens of times, a mistake had caused the car to move and you could not stop it before the impact.

“Are you all right?” they asked on the radio.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Mad as hell, but fine.”

You got out of the car and the medical staff took care of you to check that your injuries were minor. Once they finished, you locked yourself in your room to try to calm down. You were angry, sad that you failed the team and your ego was hurt.

You heard someone knocking the door, you opened to see the face of your PR manager.

“I know you don't want to talk with anyone, but you have some interviews to do.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Much more calm than moments ago, you went to the area where a lot of journalists were waiting to ask what had happened in the race. Oscar was there and you saw his evil smile. He was probably happy about your crash, and you hated him for it.

“Hi.” you said to the first person you saw, a man in his forties.

“So how do you feel about your own mistake in the race?”

Some journalists were like sharks, waiting for a drop of blood to attack. A sign of weakness.

“It wasn’t the result we wanted and... I talked with the team and they know how sorry I am. I hope the next race result will be different.”

However, the man insisted.

“We can see that women don’t know how to drive properly after all.”

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t give you time to fight back and tell what you really thought, just kept talking as if the only thing that mattered was his own voice.

“Do you think your team will replace you? You’re not having the result they expected you to have in this season, there are rumors that Perez is gonna take your seat. I doubt you’ll keep the car for the rest of the season.”

You swallowed, stopped looking at the journalist and just turned your head to the side. His words had been like daggers in an unhealed wound.

“I have nothing to say. That's my team's decision.”

You passed to the next person, this time it was a woman who was patient and kind with you. Yet the words of the man kept on repeating in your head. Keeping the seat all season was a hard job, you knew how fast a team could get tired of a driver and how the dream could end in a matter of hours. You wanted to stay there, you wanted to prove what you were capable of.

The interviews ended and you kept your head low, staring at the ground. You walked away and did the worst thing you could have done at that time, you opened twitter. There were a lot of aggressive tweets against you, saying that you were a disappointment to women who wanted to earn a place in sports. But you didn’t want to be anyone’s model or inspiration, you just wanted to be yourself, doing a sport you loved since you were a kid. Why was it so difficult?

Locked in your room, you heard a knock on the door. Someone calling your name.

“It’s Oscar, please open.”

Oscar? What the hell was he doing there? Surely your nemesis wanted to make you feel even worse than you already were. If the press were like sharks, Oscar was a crow.

“Go away.”

"I want to talk with you."

He did not stop knocking the door. Exhausted, you opened the door and saw him. Still wearing his race clothes, his hair was messy and he looked at you as if he had seen you for the first time in those years that you knew each other.

Did he look at you with concern?

“Your tears kill me, I don’t like to see you cry.”

There was still a trace of tears in your face and the only person you didn't want to see them, actually saw them.

“You are an amazing driver and you deserve the seat more than anyone else in the world. No one has the right to make a mean comment about you.”

You wanted to fight, you wanted to get angry with someone. That someone was standing there in front of you.

“So, you think you're the only one who has the right to underestimate me?”

“That's not…”

“Since we met you’ve made my life miserable. You say bullshit about me. What the press and people said about me is more of the same. You’re no different from them.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

He avoided your eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

“Just go, Oscar. I don’t need your pity.”

For the first time, he didn’t insist. He just left. Later that day you started thinking about what it meant for Oscar to come to talk with you.

Lando texted you, saying that the guys were going to the club. Just a few minutes later, Charles sent you almost an identical message, telling you that it wouldn’t be the same without your presence. As much as you were not in the mood, you accepted the invitation. Tomorrow you had a meeting with the team and you knew that that same night you would not be able to sleep. At least you’d have a few drinks and then go back to your room.

Charles came to pick you up at your hotel and together you went to the club, there you met a lot of familiar faces and among them, it was Oscar. None of you said a thing, but there was a strange vibe. The other drivers ignored the situation, and if they felt the tension, they acted as if they had not.

“Let’s dance.” Lando grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor.

You looked at Charles for help but he just smiled at you.

“Go!”

Lando danced with you, but you felt a glance on you. It was Oscar, who drank a glass of something and kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but you should talk.” Your friend said in your ear, as you kept your gaze on Oscar.

“I don’t want to talk to him, he’s despicable.”

“But he’s constantly in your head.”

“That’s not true,” you tried to argue, but you knew that was true. Oscar was always in your thoughts, living rent free in your mind. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

“If you fight, remember to talk loudly so I can record you on my phone!”

“Stupid.”

Lando laughed.

After what happened today, you thought you would try to be the adult in the relationship (even though there was no real relationship) and try to at least have a mature conversation with Oscar. You approached him, who was sitting next to Charles and Carlos.

“Oscar, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

That was different. Oscar always said something annoying but not now.

You led him out of the club, until both ended up sitting in his car.

“Do you want to go talk to my hotel?” he suggested, not really knowing where to go. You didn’t want the cameras and people taking pictures of you together, because everything could be misunderstood.

“Uhm— sure.”

Oscar drove carefully until you ended up at the hotel where McLaren was staying. The way to his room was a bit awkward, where maybe you expected him to say something but he didn’t. Oscar stood silent.

Already in the room, you sat on the bed and he stood still two meters away.

“I know you hate me because I’m a woman in sports and you think women don’t deserve a place.”

“That’s bullshit. I don’t think that. Women deserve to be in sports as well as men.”

You raised an eyebrow, confusion showing in your face.

“And why do you hate me so much?”

It was a question you wanted to ask him since the first time you met, that day when he told you that you didn’t deserve to be there and that you would surely cry on the first lap.

“Because— are you sure you already don’t know? It’s pretty obvious.”

“What is obvious?”

Oscar finally spoke, his cute eyes kept looking anywhere but you.

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen. At first, I thought it was because you were beautiful and you were the coolest kid around but I know it’s deeper than that. I kept thinking you would never notice me and I was trying so hard to catch your attention, so I guess I did what I had to do.”

“So you tried to catch my attention, making me hate you?”

He looked at the floor, avoiding your gaze, ashamed to acknowledge that he had acted in that way.

“It sounds stupid but it was the only thing that came to me at fifteen. When time passed, I couldn't suddenly say that I didn't hate you anymore and no longer wanted to fight with you. It was funny to fight before a race, knowing that it would make you go crazy and say horrible things to me. I liked to think that I drove you crazy.”

You thought about it, until you just said what you thought.

“You’re an asshole, Oscar.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

There was a rare silence, finally his eyes met yours. After so many fights, so many years in which the only things that came out of your mouths were negative aspects from each other, for the first time you were trying not to be bad with him.

“Oscar…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was seventeen. No one knows.”

Oscar’s face looked surprised, a smile coming out of his lips.

“It took two years? See, I’m still faster than you in every aspect.”

He smiled and you smiled, a joke that was offensive and harmless at the same time. Now you understood everything, Oscar was never like a polite cat with you like was with others, he was aggressive and childish. And it was all because he had feelings for you.

“We’re two idiots.”

“We are.”

It was the first time he agreed with you, after all.

You stood and walked a few steps in his direction, Oscar kept in his place. There was a lot of tension in the room, but something had calmed down after both confessed your secrets.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said to you in an almost imperceptible murmur. “and so hard to get.”

“Do you still think I’m the coolest kid around?”

He smiled. “You are, you always were.”

His lips were really close to yours, hoping for a kiss you didn’t know what it could mean. Not when you had spent years hating each other. There was anticipation, there were lots of mixed feelings.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked, as he drew his hand to your cheek.

“I do, that never changes.”

Your lips barely touched when you heard someone knocking the door.

“GUYS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PLEASE DON’T KILL EACH OTHER.”

It was Lando and with him was Charles, screaming as loud as they could. Both accents made the situation funny as hell and also the fact you weren't trying to harm yourselves, you were two seconds away from kissing.

“OSCAR, DON’T DO ANYTHING TO MY FRIEND!”

Before they did anything crazy, or called security, you and Oscar got away and opened the door. Lando looked at you suspiciously.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Charles kept his gaze on Oscar, also with a suspicious face.

“Why are you blushing?*

“We were fighting.” He said, not admitting the truth.

“Yeah, and I was winning.”

Oscar stopped looking at Lando, to only focus on you.

“That’s not true, I was winning. You’re dumb, you can’t win.”

“Oh, Oscar shut the fuc…”

“Calm, calm, calm down.” Charles grabbed you by the arm and pushed you to his side as he pulled you out of Oscar’s room.

When you turned around, you saw that Oscar gave you a smile. A sincere smile, something you had rarely seen. Hell, you were crazy for him.

[gibberishfangirl]

TOKYO REVENGERS | my girl

Synopsis ✰ they protect their girl from creeps

Characters ✰ Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji, Chifuyu Matsuno, Takashi Mitsuya, Nahoya Kawata, Souya Kawata

Contains ✰ sfw!, catcalling, inappropriate sexual remarks, violence, protective boyfriends, very feminine!reader, f!reader, usage of the words “my girl”, defensive threats, harassment, sticky situation, reader is alone in some scenarios, boyfriends to the rescue

Manjiro Sano ᡣ𐭩

Mikey doesn’t actually think he’s felt this irritated before in his life. his face was kept straight as he was fixated on the situation happening right in front of him. he and ken had gone to meet you after your classes ended only to find this. even ken was unsure of whether or not he should step in himself or wait til mikey makes the first move. “get your dirty hands off me.” you snapped yanking your arm away as the guy had tried to reached over to grab your wrist. mikey knew you could handle your own but it didn’t make sitting on the sidelines any easier. he knew the relationship between you two was kept under wraps for a good reason. it’s not worth messing up and exposing your relationship over some scummy guy… right? no it’s not. “why not? its not like you got a boyfriend or anything. never seen you with another guy.” the guy just wouldn’t take no as an answer. how pathetic mikey thought.

“she already said no. take the hint.” mikey warned. the guy glanced over at mikey understanding what mikey meant by his words. to anyone else it might’ve just sounded like a guy saying to leave the girl alone already but what mikey really meant was “take the hint before i make you back off myself” and the guy read that message loud and clear. “oh yeah? and who are you? her boyfriend or something?” ken couldn’t even help but scoff as well at the guys response. how crazy do you gotta be to not only be able to not take a hint but also challenge the person who’s warning you. “i guess you could say something like that.” mikey said stepping up to the guy. “uhm.. draken?” you whispered over at the tall guy implying that he should break it up. “alright, mikey let’s just go it’s not worth it c’mon.” Draken placed a hand on mikey’s shoulder before gesturing over towards you with his head. mikey glanced over at you before coming to terms with the fact that he shouldn’t make such a scene in front of you. it’s not very gentlemanly of him is it? ugh he can hear mitsuya’s and ken’s lectures from a mile away.

“fine whatever, better not catch sight of your face again.” mikey said before shoulder checking the guy and walking over to you two to leave. the walk to the restaurant was silent as draken led the way. you were grateful mikey was willing to stand up to the creep for you. you felt a blush creep up to your cheeks as you grabbed mikey’s hand pulling him back to you. he glanced at you to ask what was wrong but you placed a quick soft kiss on his lips before he could. “thanks for defending me.” you mumbled after trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with the man. “well yeah… you’re my girl.” now it was mikey’s turn to blush as he realized what he said. a cheeky smile was plastered on your face as mikey was now the one avoiding eye contact. he looked over to see draken still distracted as he was far ahead of you two, glancing at all the buildings you were walking past. mikey was slightly relieved to know he won’t have to deal with any teasing later… but with his luck draken most likely still saw the scene unfold from the corner of his eyes.

Ken Ryuguji ᡣ𐭩

Draken was unfortunately used to you having secret admires and despite to his own likings, he’s also used to the not so secret admirers. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care about the amount of perusers that followed you around on a daily basis. it especially annoyed him whenever there were times he couldn’t be near you due to work or being busy. you were gorgeous, it couldn’t be helped if others stared and recognized that fact as well. he knew better than anyone else how easy it was to get swept off his feet by you. he wasn’t jealous or insecure, he trusted you with his life. he was more protective and concerned about the creeps who couldn’t take no for an answer. he was working on a bike with mikey when you were walking to his place. you were so busy texting on your phone and listening to some music with your earbuds on that you didn’t catch onto the amount of catcalls being made.

Draken took notice as he heard the commotion of the busy street from his garage which was opened. he felt his mood change from frustration to a positive one as he first caught sight of your face. only for his mood to go back to frustration as he listened more clearly to the noise being made. how could you be so dense, the least you can do is be more aware of your surroundings. well draken can’t completely blame you for this, you were so used to his security and protection to the point where you knew you were pretty safe at all times. “be right back.” ken threw the dirty rag he was holding onto the floor before walking over to you. better he get to you now so he can walk you the rest of the way without any issue. at least that’s what he originally thought before he noticed another guy walking up to you as well. “hey! i’m talkin to you ya know!” the guy was clearly irritated by your lack of reaction to his catcalls. he was trying to get your attention for the past minute now while you kept walking ignoring the world behind you.

his loud voice snapped you out of your trance as you turned to find a hand try to make its way on your shoulder. luckily enough he wasn’t able to make any contact with you as his arm was stopped mid air by a strong grip of a very much taller and muscular blonde haired man. “you’re talking to me now.” draken responded for you as he threw the guys arm away from your direction. “stay outta this.” the guy glared at draken unsure of what he business he even had doing here. “can’t. not when your tryna put your hands on what’s mine.” draken was intimidating for sure with the way he towers over everyone and the cold demeanor he can manage to get at times like this. before the guy could even say anything draken cut him off by telling him “get lost before i change my mind.” draken didn’t need to repeat the phrase twice before the guy ran off. you were lost in confusion as you removed your earbuds “what happened?” you tilted your head to the side unsure of what just played out in front of me. draken couldn’t help but let out a small smile as he sighed “nothing, don’t worry about it. you’re lucky you’re my girl.” he laughed half joking at the last part since he really does tend to save you a lot of the time.

Chifuyu Matsuno ᡣ𐭩

Chifuyu always swore to protect you and be by your side for as long as you’ll let him. he always tried to be a gentleman in every way but damn situations like this made it so hard for him to not snap in front of you. sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. the two of you had gone on a date and this idiot wouldn’t stop following you around trying to ask for your number or get your attention. it was beginning to make you uncomfortable and it was pissing him off. he hated the guy already for trying to make a pass on you but he hated him for making you uncomfortable even more. the guy tried to swing his arm around you but failed at the attempt as Chifuyu slapped his hand away. “man, this shit is so uncool. cant you get a hint? she doesn’t want you. take the hint and keep your hands off my girl.” he reached his breaking point and he was done trying to be nice. “ha, your girl? you’re joking right? no way someone like you gets someone like her.” the guy laughed him off which unfortunately for him pissed Chifuyu off even more. he didn’t necessarily think he was wrong in a way since he believes your totally out of his league. he just hated how he really couldn’t take no as an answer.

“yeah well she’s clearly not with someone like you is she? trust me, it’s for a reason.” Chifuyu snapped back clearly striking a nerve as the guy was visibly upset by the comment. “you trying to start something?” “pretty sure you already did that part when you came up to us with your bullshit. so yeah. why don’t you come show me up if you think your tough shit.” Chifuyu challenged, gently placing your shopping bags down near you before stepping up to the guy. the guy was taller than him by almost a full foot but it didn’t scare Chifuyu. he’s handled bigger guys before and wasn’t afraid to take a punch. he especially wasn’t afraid to throw one either. a crowd started to form around the three of you as people sensed the tension. “uhm ‘fuyu maybe we should just go.” you tried to reason with him as you ran a hand up and down his bicep trying to settle him down. “yeah listen to your little girlfriend she doesn’t want to see you get hurt.” the guys words struck a nerve in you as you couldn’t stand the way he just tried to talk down your boyfriend in front of you.

“actually you’re the one who should be more worried. not him.” you glared at the guy who was clearly caught off guard by your statement. you took a step back well aware of what was about to happen as the fight broke out, Chifuyu gladly swinging the first punch. you had to admit you were a bit sad that you both got banned from the mall for a month. “im sorry i ruined our date.” Chifuyu softly spoke as he began to warm up the car. he really did feel bad for ruining the day, guilt and frustration was displayed upon his perfect face. “it’s okay, don’t stress about it… i can’t believe you really got into a fight for me.” you changed the topic as you were undeniably in awe at Chifuyu’s protective behavior. you never had anyone defend you the way he has before, it felt nice. “well of course! i will always defend you, you deserve the best and i won’t stand for someone treating you like a piece of meat.” he loudly spoke. his voice came out more passionately than he wanted it to. a blush spread around his face in embarrassment. however, his heart melted as you placed a kiss on the small scar the guy had left on his cheek bone. it was the only hit the guy managed to get before Chifuyu pummeled him into the ground. “my hero.” your words went straight into his heart.

Takashi Mitsuya ᡣ𐭩

Mitsuya was one of the most gentle beings you’ve met. imagine the shock that came when you found out he was a part of a gang and is even a captain. you couldn’t believe it. he never expressed any negative emotions around you and had never once lost his cool. it felt unreal at times since you were sure he had his moments like everyone else but he was still so kind. maybe being an older brother to sisters helped him with that. he was always kind and soft spoken with you which is why you never would’ve thought you would get the chance to see him arguing with another man with you right behind to witness it all. you began to wonder if Mitsuya even remembered you were there as he continued to bicker. the situation had been building up for some time so you couldn’t necessarily blame Mitsuya for finally reaching his breaking point. you had an admirer on campus who wouldn’t stop trying to ask you out despite being informed you were already in a relationship.

you felt awful for finding this so attractive. the way his brows furrowed and a sharp glare was found in his eyes made your stomach swirl. “take it easy man, it wasn’t ever that serious.” the guy tried to ease the situation as he noticed the demeanor shift in Mitsuya. “take it easy? not that serious? you go around trying to harass my girl every other day and you think i’ll just be okay with that?” you and Mitsuya don’t attend the same school so he never witnessed the guy’s behavior towards you until he decided to surprise you today after school. he had heard the rumors of you having an annoying admirer but he didn’t assume it was this bad. “you’re never even here. how was i supposed to know the boyfriend actually exists when he’s never to be found.” the guy shrugged. the way he was so shameless baffled everyone around you. Mitsuya had reached his breaking point and grabbed the guy by his collar raising his fist up. only to be stopped by you tugging his school sweater. he let out a sigh before dropping the guy. he was embarrassed. you could tell by the way cheeks flushed once he saw your face. “get outta here before i change my mind.”

“i’m sorry you had to see that.” Mitsuya spoke with shame. he never wanted you to see this side of him since he didn’t want you to be scared of him. not that you ever could be, you knew him all too well to ever think of him in a negative light. “it’s okay-it was hot.” your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up. you immediately regretted saying that as your face flushed a bright shade of red. “i-you shouldn’t say such things!” Mitsuya scolded you. his expression was mixed with shock and embarrassment. how can you find that attractive?!!?!?!!! “i’m sorry!” you bowed apologetically. that wasn’t the type of reaction he was expecting to receive from you. he didn’t think you were even capable of having inappropriate thoughts. the two of you didn’t speak much as he walked you home. “…so what about it did you find hot?” he teased finally breaking the ice. “shut up!” you blushed as you ran away from him. he of course caught up quickly but seeing your shy expression made the running worth it. he couldn’t help but smile now whenever he thought back to that moment.

Nahoya Kawata ᡣ𐭩

unlike his fellow captain Mitsuya, Nahoya had no shame in his violent behavior. he didn’t care about fighting in front of you or not. if someone started shit with him it didn’t matter who he was with he was for sure ending it right there and then. it wasn’t uncommon for your boyfriend to get into a couple fights here and there around you. if anything you being there was a motivator for him as he wanted to impress you. can you blame him? he’s a show off and loves to show off to you especially. he wants you to be able to recognize all his strengths as a person. he wants to prove that you can always rely on him no matter what. he’s a prideful man who never backed down from a challenge. of course he would never put you in jeopardy at any cost. he never acted aggressive towards you specifically (he would never even think about raising his voice at you) and he always kept a distance from you when he was about to escalate a fight. he wouldn’t forgive himself if you got caught in the cross fire.

the two of you (and souya who was sulking in the background) had been walking together to your favorite coffee shop. you were craving one of their signature drinks and Nahoya being the good boyfriend he is offered to purchase one for you. you had your arms crossed behind your back as you were skipping ahead of your boyfriend as the two of you were caught up in some chatting about his latest gang drama. he loved telling you stories about him and his friends. however, a certain wolf whistle caught his ear as it sounded particularly loud in your direction. Nahoya and Souya both looked around to try to see who made the noise. it was a busy street so you simply ignored it since you didn’t even think the whistle was towards you. “nice ass!” a guy laughed as he walked past you making sure to eye you up and down one last time as he began to walk way ahead of you. you felt incredibly uncomfortable by the comment as realization settled. the uncomfortable feeling soon got replaced by wary as you looked at your boyfriend. he wasn’t even looking at you and you had a strong feeling about what was going to happen.

“hey! watch your fucking mouth when talking to my girl asshole!” without thinking twice Nahoya swooped down to grab a half empty cup on the side of the road and chucked it right at the guy grabbing his attention. Nahoya had good aim as the cup hit the side of the guy’s head. the mystery liquid spilled all over him causing some people in the crowd to gasp or laugh. the guy immediately starting walking up to Nahoya who was already running straight towards him ready to give him a piece of his mind more like his fists. Souya ran up to you concerned “are you okay?” “yeah i’m okay.” you reassured him. once he knew you were okay he ran to go back up his brother in case of any other trouble. the way the two brothers were always ready to rescue you never failed to amaze you. of course Nahoya does it out of pure love and Souya does it because your his friend along with his brothers girlfriend.

Souya Kawata ᡣ𐭩

being in a relationship was all so new to Souya, he was still a shy mess at most times. you were both in the same awkward situation as the two of you were at a party. in all honesty you both didn’t want to be there but had assumed the other wanted to go and you couldn’t bring yourselves to say no. now there’s some creep who has been trying to offer you drink after drink. “no thank you, i’m not much a drinker.” you politely declined. you weren’t sure how to handle this as Souya got pulled away by his friends for a moment to handle something outside. you were starting to run out of excuses to reject drinks and he wasn’t taking no as an answer for long. you kept glancing towards the door hoping for Souya to return soon. you felt your hand get grabbed by someone while you were distracted. you looked over to see the guy once again, this time holding your hand while pleading in a playful tone “ah c’mon don’t be like that. it’s a weekend you should have some fun.”

your hand was pulled from his grasp by someone behind you. you looked over to finally see your savior of a boyfriend. you couldn’t fight back the relieved expression on your face as you relaxed into his embrace. “oh, i see you’ve met my girl.” “your girl?— girlfriend ?! i had no idea, my mistake.” the man apologized warily as he backed off. he made his exist soon after leaving the two of you alone. “ah thank goodness you got here it was getting a bit uncomfortable.” you admitted as you gave him a tight squeeze. “was it?? i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have taken so long. i can take care of it now.” Souya offered as he got ready to follow the guy out. he hadn’t read the situation that well and wasn’t sure what was going on. if he had known he was bothering you for some quite time he wouldn’t had been so calm. “no! it’s fine, you’re here now.” you stopped him by grabbing his hand. now this felt better, his hand in yours felt more comfortable than that other guys.

“are you okay?” he asked trying to read your expression. “yeah i’m okay.” you reassured him with a smile as he held your face in his heads. “hm. okay. let’s get outta here yeah? parties aren’t really my style.” he bashfully admitted. to be frank he was starting to get angsty by how crowded the house was becoming. “yess! i hate parties.” you admitted in response with a sigh of relief. you finally felt like you breathe as you left. “you should’ve told me sooner. i would’ve told everyone no. i always do anyway, i just assumed you would like to come. i’ll make sure to double check next time.” he apologized sweetly as he rubbed the lower of your back as an attempt to make you more comfortable. “i don’t really care what we do. i’m not too picky, as long as we get to be together.” you smiled at him causing him to blush. he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response but he definitely felt the exact same way.

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!

Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 

Peculiar

insecure!Fred x reader

3.4k words

cw: angst, fluff, y/n

One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.

Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 

Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 

Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.

“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 

“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”

Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 

“What’s it?” he asked. 

“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 

Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 

“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”

Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 

“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 

“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”

Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 

Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 

“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 

“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”

George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”

“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”

“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 

“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 

“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 

“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 

The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 

You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 

One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 

“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 

Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ‘maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”

“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.

Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 

Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 

You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 

“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 

---

Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 

“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.

You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.

“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”

Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.

He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 

“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”

“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 

You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 

You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.

“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 

“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 

You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 

“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”

“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 

You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 

You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.

“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 

Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.

“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 

In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.

“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 

The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 

Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 

The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 

The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.

“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 

You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 

“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 

The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 

You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 

“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.

Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 

You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.

When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 

“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”

“But she’s not!”

“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”

And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.

“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 

“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”

Your expression twisted. 

“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 

Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 

You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 

“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 

You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 

When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.

“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.

“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 

One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 

“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”

You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.

“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.

When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.

“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”

You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 

“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 

George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 

You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.

“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.

“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”

“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 

“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”

Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 

The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 

After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.

He smiled at you before kissing you again. 

“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”

“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 

“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 

“I can’t wait for that.”

Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'