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amiableness · 2 days

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Peonies ; part two

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Theo has been taking his role of helping reader get over Mattheo very seriously.

Word Count: 4842

Warnings: Unrequited love & Veronica isn't the kindest. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 Thank you for your patience with me on this part; I know it took a while! As always, thank you to @moonpascal for reading and sharing your thoughts/ideas with me! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

It’s well past midnight when a knock echoes at your door. You sigh, adjusting your shorts as you reluctantly crawl off your bed, leaving your notes sprawled across the covers. As you swing the door open, you find Theo standing there, his gaze lifting from the floor to meet yours. A hesitant smile plays on his lips, as if he’s unsure whether he’s welcome at this late hour.

“Hi.” You greet him with a mix of confusion and warmth, offering a sweet smile. You pull the door open wider, and Theo’s gaze briefly flickers over your tiny sleep shorts and oversized shirt before he meets your eyes again.

“Pansy’s at our dorm.” He says, his voice soft.

You let out a quiet laugh, “I know that.”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just thought... maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised, your lips parting as you glance over your shoulder into your room. Theo’s heart races, a wave of panic surging through him as he mentally scolds himself for not holding back. Offering to stay the night with you felt impulsive, but the moment he saw Pansy enter his dorm, his thoughts had gone straight to you.

“Shit,” Theo shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I just—when I saw Pansy, I couldn’t help but think you might need someone tonight. But if you’d rather be alone, I can go.”

After you asked Theo to help you get over Mattheo, you wondered if it had been too much to ask of him. But to your surprise, you’ve spent nearly every day of the past three weeks with Theo. You knew he had his own worries—between school, Quidditch, and the pressure from his father. But the morning after you asked for his help, he was there.

You never expected him to put so much effort into helping you move on from Mattheo, but you couldn’t be more grateful.

“No,” you quickly respond, a smile spreading across your face as you reach out and grasp his hand, gently tugging him inside. “I’m glad you came.”

Theo visibly relaxes at your touch, allowing you to gently pull him into the room. As the door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the quiet corridor, his initial hesitation melts away. He takes in the familiar surroundings of your room, which, despite being a bit messier than usual, feels even more comforting in the warm, dim light with you.

He swallows his disappointment as you release his hand to clear your bed of scattered notes. Standing there awkwardly, he tries to keep his gaze focused, making an effort not to let his eyes drift down your legs as you lean over to pick up the last piece of parchment.

After you place everything neatly on your desk, you turn to face him, leaning casually against the edge with a soft smile. “Are you okay with sharing my bed again?” you ask, your voice light but sincere. “Or if you’d prefer, I can sleep in Pansy’s bed so you’ll have more room.”

Theo bites his tongue, fighting to keep his voice steady and avoid sounding overeager. He doesn’t want more room; what he wants is to wake up with you pressed close against him, just as he did weeks ago. This time, though, he’s determined to stay and enjoy the feeling of you in his arms.

He clears his throat, “Your bed is fine.”

“I was actually about to head to bed before you knocked, but I can stay up if you wanted to do something.” You offer, your voice gentle and inviting.

Theo shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “Thanks, but I’m pretty wiped out from practice today.” He admits, and you can hear the exhaustion seeping through his words.

“You should’ve gone to bed at your dorm, you would’ve been asleep sooner.” You say with a slight frown as you notice just how tired he looks from the day.

“No,” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you were here alone.”

If your heart could have melted, it would have done so right then.

Theo's eyes hold yours for a moment longer before he glances away, almost as if he's embarrassed by his own admission. You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy smile threatening to break through. The idea that he cared that much for you made your insides flutter, warmth spreading through your chest.

Pushing away from the desk, you walk over to your bed and pull back the covers. Theo watches as you crawl in, adjusting the pillows with practiced ease before looking back at him. The unspoken question hangs in the air—are you going to join me?

He hesitates, slowly dropping his bag at the foot of your bed before moving closer to the edge. He’s slept in a bed with a girl before, but this feels wildly different. You make him nervous, and he has no idea how to hide it when he’s this close to you.

You settle into the covers, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight as you shift, and watch as Theo does the same, kicking off his shoes and slipping under the covers beside you.

Once the lights are off, silence settles between you, thick and unspoken. The only sound in the room is the soft rustling of sheets as Theo shifts beside you. You lie on your side, trying to make out his form in the darkness as your eyes slowly adjust. You can tell he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the past couple weeks.” You say softly, and Theo turns his head to look at you.

“Yeah?”

You hum, reaching out your fingers to brush against his hand, and he takes it without hesitation, his grip warm and reassuring, “Yeah.”

It’s become a habit in the last couple of weeks—intertwining his fingers with yours. He would grab your hand every time he noticed your discomfort around Mattheo and Veronica. And at some point, you just started reaching for his hand yourself. You liked the warmth of his palm against yours and the way he’d brush his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You know I don’t mind, right? Spending all this time with you has been nice. We never really hung out much, just us two.” He says softly.

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Yeah, I know. It’s been nice for me too,” you admit, your eyes meeting his in the dark. You both fall into silence, and it doesn’t take long before you drift off to sleep, your hand still clasped in his.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Panic hits as you suddenly realize the time—you’re running late. By now, you should already be at breakfast.

“Theo,” you whisper urgently, trying to shift out of his hold. The sheets are tangled around your legs, your back pressed firmly against his chest. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you close, and he’s not loosening his grip. His body is warm against yours, and even as you try to move, his grip tightens slightly, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. “Theo.”

“Dolcezza,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and you freeze at the sound of that deeper, morning rasp. “Quit moving.” His grip tightens just enough to keep you still, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

“We have to get up,” you huff, trying to slip out of his arms, but Theo just pulls you back against him, his hold firm. “We’re late.”

“We’ll just skip.” He mutters, his voice still low and groggy. The idea is tempting—staying wrapped in his warmth instead of braving the cold corridors—but you sigh inwardly, knowing better.

You’d grown used to Theo’s small gestures of affection over the past few weeks, and you’d been just as affectionate in return. But waking up tangled in his arms like this felt different—more intimate. You were certain that once Theo fully woke up, he’d be a little sheepish about how closely he was holding you now.

“We really can’t,” you sigh, trying once more. “We need to get going—” Theo grumbles in response, finally loosening his grip and releasing you. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips as you slip out of bed, quickly heading to get ready. You race through brushing your teeth and pull on your uniform, skipping any attempt at fixing your hair in the rush. By the time you step out of the bathroom, Theo is standing by the bed, just finishing the last button on his shirt, looking just as disheveled as you feel.

You hurry Theo out of your room as he finishes brushing his teeth, and he complies, adjusting his tie as you both sprint toward the Great Hall. Just before entering the bustling breakfast scene, you grab Theo by the arm, pausing to smooth down his disheveled hair.

“Is it a mess?” He asks, watching you closely as you stand on your toes to thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

“Just a bit,” you smile, stepping back on your heels and giving his hair a final nod of approval. “How’s mine?”

“Pretty,” Theo responds immediately, his gaze lingering. “I’ve never seen your hair like this before.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your smile at his compliment. You had let your hair fall naturally, and his reaction makes you feel unexpectedly warm.

You mumble a shy “thank you” before leading the way into the Great Hall, Theo trailing close behind. His cheeks are still tinged pink from the way your fingers had grazed through his hair, and he’s quietly grateful you haven’t seemed to notice. However, his relief is short-lived when he catches Draco’s eye, who immediately notices the pink tint and raises an eyebrow in amused surprise.

As you make your way to the table, Draco leans back in his seat with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Well, well, if it isn’t the lovebirds gracing us with their presence.”

“Fuck off.” Theo grumbles under his breath as he lets you slide into your new seat before settling in beside you. Ever since your usual spot had been taken, you’d claimed the one next to Theo, and not just in the Great Hall. You found yourself gravitating toward him in class, the common room—anywhere you could. It had become a quiet, unspoken habit, one that neither of you seemed keen on breaking.

“I should’ve figured that’s where you disappeared to last night,” Enzo says with a knowing smirk. “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately, haven’t you?”

You really had. Theo had taken to meeting you outside your last class of the day, content to walk around the castle or lake just so you could avoid witnessing Mattheo and Veronica together. You had learned he was the perfect study partner—far more patient than Mattheo, who would get restless after twenty minutes and start pleading for a break. He seemed to remember every little detail you shared, from how you took your tea to the smallest quirks about yourself.

He’d been so attentive to you that you overheard some girls in the year below talking about how Theo Nott was no longer single.

Theo gives him a flat, unimpressed glare, clearly not in the mood for Enzo's comments, “Yet again, fuck off.”

“Well, have you two got anything to tell us?” Blaise presses, a smug grin tugging at his lips. Theo looks up from serving himself breakfast, shooting Blaise a sharp, warning glance. He could handle the teasing from the boys himself, but he didn't want you to be caught in the crossfire, especially if it made you uncomfortable.

“No.” Theo replies flatly, his gaze flicking to you. You return it with an amused, yet sympathetic smile. Unconsciously, a soft, faint smile tugs at his lips, a detail the boys are quick to notice.

“Are you sure? Because—” Blaise starts but is quickly interrupted.

“I think you two would be perfect together,” Veronica cuts in, her voice dripping with an overly sweet tone as she flashes a saccharine smile. “Don’t you think so, Matty?” she adds, glancing over at Mattheo with a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes meet Mattheo’s for a fleeting moment, and he holds your gaze. You barely registered them, so absorbed in the boys' teasing of you and Theo. For just a moment, there's something unreadable in his gaze—something that makes your heart falter—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his gaze shifting between you and Theo while Veronica cozies up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You two would be.”

A knot tightens in your stomach, and your appetite evaporates. The lightness you’d felt just moments before vanishes, replaced by a heavy weight. Even though you knew Mattheo didn’t have feelings for you, hearing him so openly agree with the idea of you with Theo stings more than you expected.

As long as you’d known him, Mattheo had never been in a serious relationship, let alone had a girlfriend. Now that he was with Veronica, it was painfully clear that you were never truly an option for him. If you had been, he would have made a move. You had dropped hints for years, and his playful flirting had always kept your hopes alive.

But maybe that’s all your relationship was ever meant to be—a friendship with a hint of flirtation. If that’s the case, you needed to move on. Fixating on a guy who now had a girlfriend was a losing battle. If you weren’t careful, you might risk losing the friendship you valued so much.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts, pushing the food around on your plate, that you don’t even hear the chatter of your friends going on around you. It isn’t until Enzo tosses a grape at you that you glance up, “Are you coming tonight?”

You immediately know he’s referring to the Quidditch match. You’d missed the last game, which had surprised everyone, but given your recent mood, it hadn’t been unexpected.

You nod. “I planned on it.”

“Good,” Pansy interjects matter-of-factly. “I missed having you there.” You offer her a smile, but it falters when you see Veronica nudge Mattheo. He clears his throat and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“Speaking of the game,” Mattheo starts, his voice slicing through the breakfast chatter. “I need my jersey back.”

Your brows knit together in confusion, and it takes you a moment to find your voice, “I don’t understand—”

“My jersey,” Mattheo repeats, his gaze steady as he watches you. “I need it for tonight.”

“Did something happen to yours?” You ask, caught off guard. You’d always kept one of his jerseys while he kept the other. It had become a sort of tradition between you.

Mattheo hesitates momentarily, a flicker of something like regret crossing his features. “No, it’s just... I need it back now.”

“Oh.” You say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Veronica’s eyes dart between the two of you, her brow knitting in irritation as she takes in the way Mattheo’s gaze lingers on you.

Theo’s eyes watch you with careful intensity. And when he catches the fleeting hurt in your expression, he reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours beneath the table, his touch reminding you that he’s there if you need him. You squeeze his hand back immediately.

“I’m wearing it,” Veronica interjects, her tone harsh. “I’m his girlfriend. It would be a bit strange if you kept wearing it.”

Your friends exchange glances, their confusion palpable as they watch Mattheo allow Veronica to speak to you with such disdain. They’ve seen him start fights over someone supposedly speaking badly of you, so this new passivity is surprising. Enzo’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he mouths a quick ‘what the hell’ to Draco, whose puzzled expression mirrors his own.

When you remain silent, Veronica sighs impatiently, “Did you hear me—”

“Yeah, I get it,” you snap, your frustration evident. You turn your gaze back to Mattheo. “I’ll give it to you later.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You spent all your classes obsessing over returning Mattheo’s jersey, and no matter how hard you tried, it was getting under your skin. It wasn’t just any jersey—it was the one Mattheo had given you, the one you’d worn countless times. His new relationship with Veronica had stung, but this felt even worse. Maybe it was because taking back the jersey felt like a tangible sign that Mattheo was serious about Veronica, and it drove home the reality of how much things had changed.

Logically, you understood why it was reasonable. Having another girl wear your boyfriend’s jersey would be uncomfortable, and if the roles were reversed, you’d feel the same way. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t stand Veronica, and the thought of giving up something that meant so much to you—both the jersey and Mattheo—was unbearable.

As you walked back to your dorm, you considered skipping the match entirely. However, you and Pansy had made plans to sit together, and you’d also promised Mattheo you’d return his jersey. As much as you wanted to avoid the situation, you knew you had to go.

You were so irritated as you snatched Mattheo’s jersey off the back of your chair that you hadn’t even noticed the red peonies and green jersey sitting on your bed at first. It wasn’t until you tossed your bag aside and went to fix your hair that the unexpected sight caught your eye.

Your eyes landed on the familiar green jersey, the back facing up so you could clearly see ‘Nott’ stitched in bold, unmistakable letters. A smile tugged at your lips, your earlier frustration fading as you reached for the flowers, their soft petals brushing against your fingers. Carefully, you lifted them, already picturing them in a vase on your desk.

There’s a card tucked between the blooms, and you smile at Theo’s handwriting: Dolcezza—wear this for me tonight?

Suddenly, the idea of going to the match didn’t seem so dreadful anymore—if anything, it felt like something you could actually look forward to.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Finally!” Veronica calls out the moment she spots you, her voice laced with impatience. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” She stands outside the boys' locker room, arms crossed like she's been waiting for ages.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I told Mattheo I would be here.”

“I know,” She says, her tone short, before sticking out her hand expectantly. “I can take that.”

You hesitate, wanting to wait and give it to Mattheo yourself, but you know she’ll be the one wearing the jersey tonight. It feels pointless to hold onto it any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you hand it over, and Veronica’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as she takes it from you.

“Thanks.” She chirps, instantly brighter now that she’s got what she wanted. You watch as she slips the jersey on, and a slight bitterness creeps into your chest at the sight of it on her. She finishes adjusting the jersey and looks up, sending you a smug smirk that makes your stomach twist.

In the last week or so, you've noticed her once-sweet attitude starting to crack. At first, she was nothing but kind, almost to the point where you questioned if it was genuine. But now, the subtle comments slipping through made it clear—she didn’t like you, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Sure, you were close with Mattheo, but if the jersey was any indication, she had no real reason to worry.

You were nothing but a friend to Mattheo, even though you desperately wished that wasn’t the case.

She eyes the jersey you're wearing, quirking an eyebrow as if she's about to say something snide. You brace yourself, waiting for the comment, but then her face lights up as her attention shifts to something—or someone—behind you.

You turn just as she brushes past you, wrapping her arms around Mattheo’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. The sight makes your stomach twist, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to bear watching them. Her giggles fill the air, loud and lovesick, a blatant declaration that he’s hers now.

“Whose jersey are you wearing?” Your eyes snap over to Mattheo, who has one arm around Veronica’s waist as he looks at you curiously. Her arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, and she looks frustrated that his attention is on you.

“Mine.” You glance over and see Theo approaching, a flicker of relief washing over you. A genuine smile spreads across your face, and before you think it through, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He looks momentarily surprised but quickly gathers himself, encircling your waist and holding you firmly.

You lean back slightly to meet his gaze, your voice softening. “Thank you for the flowers. Again.”

A warm, gentle smile blooms on his lips, the kind he reserves just for you. “Anytime, dolcezza.”

A moment lingers between you, where your eyes lock and soft smiles play on your lips. But the spell shatters at Veronica's excited squeal of Mattheo's name. You clear your throat, gently pulling away and offering Theo a fleeting smile, even though you sense his disappointment at the loss of your warmth.

Your gaze drifts toward Mattheo, who leans in to press a kiss against Veronica's lips, a pang of longing twisting in your chest. You exhale slowly, then look back at Theo. “Are you nervous?”

“Not really,” he replies with a casual shrug, though you catch a flicker of something beneath his calm exterior. “But if I do get nervous, I’ll just search for the pretty girl wearing my name.”

Your lips part in surprise at Theo’s bold flirting, a playful spark igniting in your chest. You try to mask your smile, but it’s no use—Theo sees right through you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he revels in your reaction.

“Good luck. I’ll wait for you after.” You lean in, nearly whispering as you press a kiss against Theo's cheek, but in your nervousness, your lips brush against the corner of his mouth instead. The contact sends a spark of warmth through you, but before he can react, you pull away, leaving him to watch you walk off, the letters of his last name boldly displayed on your back.

He stands there for a second, staring after you, but as he turns to leave, he catches sight of Mattheo, who is watching you with an intensity that makes his heart sink.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You’re exhausted. Keeping track of both Mattheo and Theo is proving to be more tiring than you anticipated. You're used to focusing solely on Mattheo during the game, but tonight, your attention keeps shifting to Theo.

“Are you even listening to her?” Pansy scoffs, jabbing you in the ribs.

The unexpected nudge jolts you from your thoughts, and you turn to her, puzzled. “What?”

“Veronica. Are you paying attention?” Pansy glances over, raising an eyebrow.

You shake your head, “No. I didn’t even realize she was sitting nearby.”

“Listen to her. She’s been bragging about Mattheo.” That catches your attention. You follow Pansy’s finger as she points, and your gaze lands on Veronica a few rows ahead. As you focus, her voice cuts through the noise of the crowd, loud and unmistakable, carrying clearly despite the distance.

“Do you even know how long I waited to get him?” Veronica’s voice rises above the noise, smug and self-satisfied. You glance over just in time to see her gather her hair into a high ponytail, making sure the name on her back is fully visible. “Honestly, the effort was exhausting,” she adds with a dramatic sigh, as if she’s endured a great hardship.

The girls around her practically explode with excitement, bombarding her with questions—how did she do it? How long did it take? What’s he like? Their voices blend into a high-pitched buzz, and you roll your eyes, feeling the irritation build as you turn your attention back to the match, hoping to tune them out.

Pansy nudges you again, her voice low and insistent. “Keep listening.”

“No.” You grit out.

Pansy sighs, “Why not?”

You exhale sharply. “Because I really don’t want to hear her go on and on about him anymore.” The bitterness in your voice is hard to hide, but you don’t care. You’re too tired of hearing his name on her lips.

“You’ve barely listened!”

“It was enough for me.”

“There’s something off about the way she talks about him,” Pansy pushes, leaning in to try and catch your eye, but you continue looking forward and watching Theo. “I don’t like it.”

“I mean, I don’t either. But I’m not going to keep listening in.” “Why?” Pansy cries out incredulously, gaining the attention of some people around you.

“Because I’m supposed to be getting over him, and I don’t think listening in as his girlfriend talks about him will do that.”

“But what if somethings off? What if she’s blackmailing him or something?” Pansy asks, before she gasps and turns to face you fully. “What if he’s dating her to make you jealous?”

“Do you really think Mattheo Riddle would allow someone to blackmail him? And secondly, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“You never know. I always thought he had feelings for you.”

“Pansy. This is what I’m talking about,” You snap, sending a warning look to your best friend. “Mattheo can take care of himself, you and I both know that. There’s no way I’ll ever get over him if I start making up theories about why he’s with his girlfriend. Veronica’s a bitch, we know that, but that doesn’t mean she’s not with him for a genuine reason.”

Pansy exhales in frustration, adjusting in her seat as she finally turns her attention to the match. “Alright, I get it. I'll just share my theories with Blaise from now on.”

A smirk tugs at your lips as you imagine Blaise enduring the same conversation, likely rolling his eyes in exasperation, “Fine by me.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. Thanks to Theo's swift catch of the Snitch, Slytherin secured the win, and the stands erupted in cheers. You'd screamed so loudly in celebration that you're certain he heard you, even from across the pitch. The thrill of the moment filled you with energy, and you felt a surge of pride as he glanced your way after the catch.

You were eager to congratulate him, but held back, letting the others swarm him first. Instead, you were leaned against the wall outside the locker room, waiting for a moment alone with him. As you stood there, it wasn’t long before your mind wandered. You found yourself watching him from afar—his chest still heaving from the intensity of the match, hair tousled and damp with sweat. There was something about the way he looked after a game that had your thoughts trailing off in a completely different direction.

Had Theo Nott always been this gorgeous?

When he turns and catches your eye, you fully expect him to give the usual 'wait a minute' gesture, like Mattheo always does. But instead, to your surprise, Theo pushes straight through the crowd. In an instant, he's in front of you, pulling you up into his arms. You let out a shriek of his name through laughter, completely caught off guard by the sudden hug, his embrace warm and tight as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

“You did so good!” You cry out as he sets you down. When he grins at you, it’s almost enough to make you swoon; the sight of post-match Theo is something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. The blend of adrenaline and joy radiating from him leaves you momentarily breathless.

“It’s because you wore my jersey,” he shrugs, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I didn’t get to say it earlier, but you look really good in it.”

You nearly melt, “Does that mean I get to wear it at the next game?”

“Please do, dolcezza,” he says, his tone suddenly softer, the endearment dripping with warmth like honey. There’s a sincerity in his gaze that sends a flutter through your chest. “You make it look far better than I ever could.”

You don’t get the chance to respond as Enzo suddenly appears by his side, rambling on about something animatedly. With a quick tug, Enzo pulls Theo away, but not before he glances back, shouting over his shoulder about how he’ll see you tonight.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 days

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Musician Age Gap AU Pt 8

"I cannot believe you told my wife your date was with *Lena Luthor*," Alex whispers mid-yell, "before you told me!"

"Would it have changed your recommendation?"

At that, Kara hears Alex pause to consider.

"No," comes the final response. Then, "Did it work?"

Kara flushes-- she'd certainly gotten the reaction she'd been looking for. She just isn't sure she wants her sister to know that they hadn't fully resolved that desire.

"Well enough," Kara returns, settling on an incomplete truth. She'd explain the rest later... eventually.

A muttered curse issues over the line. "Jesus. How did this even happen? Wait-- what happens now? Esme said her next show is in, like... 16 hours, in Denver."

Kara smiles into the phone. "We stay in touch."

She's already received a picture via text, showing Lena with a tongue-out wink and a playful peace sign. Another photo had revealed a sticky bun, with a note that Lena had gotten Jess to swing by Noonan's on the way to the airport.

Though the sight of the sticky bun had made her hungry, the selfie made her pause to absorb the image. From the relaxed tousle of Lena's wavy hair, to the ray-bans hooked on the collar of her shirt, and the luxury of the private plane lurking around the edges.... she wonders if Lena realizes just how far she's letting Kara in, allowing her to see Lena in so personal a setting.

Kara's response had been simple. "Fly safe."

It had earned her a floating heart emoji and a promise to touch base upon landing.

"That's it?" Alex asks, pulling Kara back to the present.

Kara huffs a laugh. "What did you expect? She wasn't going to cancel half a national tour for personal time with someone she only met two days ago."

"Well why not? You're worth it."

"You're only saying that because you're my sister," Kara counters. "Besides, I don't want that for her."

Seeing Lena on stage had proven it's something the woman enjoyed. She thrived on the experience of it, and so did the thousands of fans who came to see her.

Which is why, a few hours after Lena's first Denver show would have concluded, Kara is surprised to receive a call from Lena. They'd facetimed when she'd landed, so the lack of video is her first clue that something isn't right.

"Hey," Kara greets, pressing the phone to her ear as she wipes sleep from her eyes. She'd meant to stay awake to check in herself, but not even a book had been able to keep her from dozing off.

"Hey."

Lena's voice is somber. It's such a difference that a wave of concern wakes Kara the rest of the way.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

There's a short pause before Lena responds. "Nothing."

"How was the show?"

"Fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be calling so late. I just... I wanted to hear your voice." Lena pauses again. "Is that weird?"

"No." Kara listens closely to the quiet that follows, as though it might give her some insight into what was happening on the other end of the line. "Lena..."

"Could you... talk to me?"

"About what?"

"Anything. Just... so I can listen."

Kara's brow furrows. She fights the impulse to dig deeper, to push to find the why. She doesn't need to know. Lena has asked for what she needs-- and it's something Kara is able and willing to give.

"Did I ever tell you that I didn't always live in National City?"

Lena hums a negative, prompting Kara to continue.

"I'm actually from a town up the coast. Midvale. I miss it sometimes. The stars mostly. In high school, I had friend named Kenny, and we would take his telescope to the old barn, and we would chart the skies together..."

Kara goes on, relating many and more of the troubles she and Kenny had gotten up to in those days. She was careful to steer clear of his murder, and the bullying they'd both experienced. Lena needed distraction, not more heartache.

As she speaks, Lena hums occasionally, sometimes even giving a chuckle. When the sounds of her following along peters out, Kara pauses to listen if Lena notices the stop. When no reaction comes, Kara smiles to herself.

"Lena?" she asks softly. "Still there?"

No answer comes, but when Kara increases the volume on her phone, she can hear the steady inhale and exhale of sleep. Kara listens for a few heartbeats more.

"Sweet dreams, Lena."

#supercorp #musician age gap au #a shortie but a goodie #just to tide yall over til tomorrow

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forhappysake · 3 days

Text

Fluffy Surprise

Author's Note: Not proofread and the first fic I've written in like six months so read if you dareeee

Summary: Reader decides to give Spencer a present when he returns to their new home.

Warnings: People with cat allergies, beware! (?) Fluff ofc.

You moved into the new house two weeks ago. Technically, you moved all your stuff into the new house two weeks ago. In boxes. Lots and lots of heavy boxes.

Spencer had come up with a system, labeling each box with the room it would go into at the new house. You had worked together to pack everything, label each box, and unload the boxes into your new home.

And it seemed like the moment he set the last box down and you were ready to start setting the place up, his phone rang.

Spencer had been gone for one week.

The case was halfway across the country, somewhere in Santa Fe. You couldn’t exactly be mad at him for being gone, but unpacking and trying to organize everything without his input was a nightmare. You were finishing the last box in your shared bedroom, carefully placing his clothes on wooden hangers and organizing them in the closet, when your phone rang.

Spencer’s name lit up the screen. You answered quickly.

“Hi, Spence,” you said, plopping down on the freshly made bed.

You could tell how tired he was from the long pause he took before responding. “Hey, honey. How’s the unpacking?” he asked with a small sigh.

You frowned to yourself, worried about how tired he sounded. “Oh, it’s alright. I’d like you to look through all the rooms when you get home, just to make sure everything is where it should be.” You let out a soft laugh, “I also had a hard time hanging up all the pictures and paintings without you, so we may have to straighten some of them up when you get back.”

Another pause followed, though this time you could envision him nodding to himself. “We can do that,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to do it all by yourself. I promise I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was fine, Spencer. Besides, I’m pretty sure chasing a serial killer or something gives you an excuse.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. We caught the unsub this evening. I’m hoping to be home late this evening, but it probably won’t be until after you go to bed.”

You smiled, content with the thought of him coming home to your freshly decorated home. “Oh, I’ll be staying up. I want to see your reaction to the place.”

“Alright,” he said, clearly too tired to urge you to go to bed instead with a list of facts about the health benefits of a good night’s sleep.

You sighed. “As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I’ve got about fifteen more boxes to go.”

“I understand. I should probably get some work done, too. Files, reports, you know how it is,” his voice was barely a whisper now, the exhaustion beginning to get the better of him.

“Don’t work too hard, Spence,” you cautioned. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.”

“I won’t. I love you too,” he answered. The end of his line promptly went dead.

You looked around the bedroom, discarding your phone on the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you could do to make Spencer’s return home a bit more special.

You sat up and leaned over, furrowing your brow and resting your head in the palm of your hand as you tried to think of things Spencer liked. Of course, Spencer liked a lot of things. He liked sweet coffee, puzzles, and a classic novel in some foreign language you couldn’t comprehend.

None of those things were overly special, in your mind. As you sat and wracked your brain, a thought finally came to you.

One month ago, walking by a local cat cafe, Spencer spotted the most beautiful calico. She had fluffy hair, one black ear, one orange. Her little paws were white and she was so well mannered. Spencer and yourself had gone in immediately and he had spent your time inside doting on the calico, whose name, you learned, was Calypso.

You bolted up from the bed and out into the living room, finding your purse sitting among the unpacked boxes. You shot out to the car, and without a second thought, drove the ten minutes to the cat cafe.

You said a silent prayer that the cat was still available as you pulled into a parking space across the street. As if on cue, you looked up to see the same cat lounging lazily in the window sill, green eyes poised on you.

The adoption process was quick, quicker than you anticipated. Fifty dollars later, you were on the road with Calypso in the passenger seat, sitting demurely in the carrier the shelter had provided you with to take her home in.

On the way home you had to stop at PetSmart to pick up a litter box, a few toys, and a scratching post with the hope that your new furry friend would not decimate your new furniture. Calypso remained in the carrier, watching quietly from the shopping cart as you agonized over which treats to get.

Soon enough, you were on your way home. The moment you walked through the front door, you set the carrier down and allowed Calypso to wander free. She was tentative at first, gently sniffing the floor and getting the feel for her new surroundings. However, after ten minutes, she perched herself on the kitchen counter, looking quite like the queen of her own castle.

You took this chance to open her new toys and scatter them about the house, as well as find a secluded corner for her litterbox.

For the rest of the day, the cat watched you unpack boxes. Beady green eyes noting your movements until you disappeared from her sight. Occasionally, if you left the room for too long, you would turn to find that she had followed you. In these moments, you would stop to offer her a gentle petting and giggle as she flopped down on the floor, furry belly up to the sky.

It was six hours after his phone call that Spencer arrived at home.

2:19 a.m. was the time on your watch when you heard the lock turn and rose to greet him at the door. Calypso, seated in the corner of the room on a side table, perked her ears up at the new noise coming from the entrance.

Spencer locked the door behind him and turned to face you, reaching out and pulling you in for a long hug.

You rubbed your hands up and down his back. “Are you happy to be home?” you asked, your voice muffled by his shoulder.

“You have no idea,” he said. He pulled away only to examine the living room. Spencer nodded in approval. “It looks really good in here. You did a great job.”

You smiled warmly, nerves settling in your stomach as you realized he’d not yet noticed the cat in the corner of the room, who was still watching him with suspicious eyes.

“Spencer, I have to tell you something,” you said, wanting to explain yourself for doing something as impulsive as adopting a cat while he was away.

His face suddenly became very serious. “What is it? Did something happen while I was gone? Are you alright?”

The questions came quickly and you shook your head to reassure him. “No, Spencer, it’s nothing bad. Here, come look.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward until the two of you were standing behind your couch in the middle of the living room.

“Look around,” you said.

Spencer’s tired eyes traversed the room. You watched as they landed on paintings, the television, the clock, and nearly everything but the cat who sat entirely still in the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he said, brow furrowed. “Did you make some major change I don’t know about? If you did, I’m sure that it’s f-”

At that moment Calypso jumped off the side table. The soft thump that accompanied her landing on the floor was enough to stop Spencer in his tracks. Finally, you watched as the feline caught his eye.

“You didn’t,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. His reaction wasn’t telling you much, and you were afraid that he was not pleased.

You started trying to explain yourself. “Well, I knew that you had a long week. I wanted to do something special. I know how much you enjoyed spending time with her at the cafe and now that we have the space I figured…”

You trailed off. In the time you had spoken, Calypso had crossed the room, climbed the couch, and began butting her head up against Spencer’s hand. Panic was setting in. Why wasn’t he reacting?

Just when you were about to push him to say something, you looked up to see a large grin plastered on his face. Spencer gently wrapped his arms around the cat and picked her up, holding her close and petting in between her ears.

“This is the most thoughtful present ever. I love her,” he said. His excitement reminded you of a little child and pulled at your heartstrings in a way that could have made you cry.

You sighed in relief. “I’m so glad.”

With Calypso still draped over one arm, Spencer reached out for you, pulling you to his side. He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you so much. I love her. I love you,” he said, smile still evident on his face.

“I love you too,” you said, turning to face Calypso, who looked all too content to be wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

“I think she’s trying to steal my man,” you joked, nudging Spencer on the side.

Spencer laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry too much about that. My heart has room for two lovely ladies.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #aaron hotchner #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid

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badomensgoodomens · 1 day

Text

Noah Sebastian x Reader (fluff)

noah + illness = a literal two year old

"shh, stop fussing, im just braiding your hair"

he mumbles and groans, pulling away from you. he yelps as you tug on a strand of his brown hair. the tv plays an episode of a random anime hes been binge watching.

he finally settles, sitting between your legs as you braid. he tells you about his day, a mumbling tired mess.

"baby?" you ask, he looks up at you. "can i do your skincare perchance?"

he groans.

"stop saying perchance."

you get up, giggling, you run to the bathroom to grab your array of expensive skincare. he sighs, getting comfy. as you settle back down again he turns to ask, "this won't hurt, right?" you almost laugh.

with a shake of your head you get to work. you pull his loose bits of hair; that had fallen out of the braids, back with one of those silly headbands. he snaps a picture.

you gently apply a serum, he whines about it being cold. The wind was picking up outside, october was amongst us. red plaid, pumpkin spice and annoying children in half-ass costumes. you continue with another serum, he bundles himself into a grey blanket.

"you getting sick, babe?" you ask, rubbing moisturizer in. he grumbles, a grumpy ass man he is. you continue massaging his face until he falls asleep, you change the channel to a show youve been watching lately. rain picks up outside. your fluffy dog trots up for cuddles, he snuggles into noah, who was now fully asleep in your arms.

3 hours later you woke up to a thunderstorm, and a sniffly, grouchy noah. you usher him into your shared bedroom and put the kettle on, you prepare hot chocolate as the wind howls outside.

"baaaabe! can i have two marshmallows instead of one?" he calls out, his voice scratchy and broken.

you sigh, smiling to yourself.

you carry the two warm mugs to bedroom, noah is under a pile of blankets with the dog. "here, let me feel your forehead."

he climbs out of the pile of blankets, flushed with messy hair. you press the back of your hand to his forehead. warm.

you hum and press a gentle kiss on his forehead. "ill get you some medicine, hm?"

he wraps his arms around your waist, rubbing his warm face on your stomach. its moments like this that truly remind you of how beautiful and raw your love is.

"what about some soup huh? chicken?"

he mumbles and tightens his hold on you.

you snicker, pulling away to look down at him.

"alright, come on lovebug. let me get you some soup and medicine hm?"

he sighs and slides away from you, he curls into your pillow.

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

you come back 30 minutes later with hot soup and medicine. hes asleep.

you gently scratch his back, just tracing over his tattoos. he mumbles, stirring in his sleep. you press a gentle kiss to his back.

"mm?" he turns to face you. his cheeks are red.

"i made you soup, baby. and some medicine. sit up."

he sleepily sits up, rubbing his eyes.

he gratefully takes the soup, whispering thank yous as he soothes his sore throat. he pats the bed next to him, gesturing you closer. you scoot over, immediately overwhelmed by the heat his body was emitting. you press a gentle kiss to his shoulder, and cuddle him back to health.

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

soooooooooooooooooo sorry i forgot about you guys :c

im trying so hard to make my posts longer but its not going very well lol.. do u guys prefer short- quick ones? or like full blown chapters/stories?

let me know!!!

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bluesidez · 14 hours

Note

Hello!!! Love that you’re taking requests now 🫶🏽 would you write a domestic!miguel fic? Like showing the chaotic but fluffy dysfunction of the O’Hara household. Miguel and the reader already have two kids, maybe reader is pregnant with the third (if you’re comfortable with writing that)

I just really need some fluff in my life lol 😅

[Five Peas In A Pod]

lab taster: @scorpihoooe 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant!Reader

summary: No family's life is exactly perfect, but it doesn't make them any less beautiful.

content warning: lots and lots of fluff, mentions of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy cravings, mentions of food, could possibly be suggestive? but not enough to warrant a huge warning, a lot of crying but I promise it's not sad

word count: 4.3k, not proofread

a/n: I apologize for this being so late! But I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

“Finally.”

Miguel slid under the covers, grunting as he inched towards your back. His breath was warm on your head as he positioned one arm under one of your pillows and another around your waist.

“How are we feeling?” he kissed your scalp and rubbed down your stomach.

“Not too great, she’s been kicking for the past forty minutes.”

“That’s no good,” Miguel shifted to place his mouth on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, mija? Did you miss me?”

Your baby girl brought her feet to where Miguel held his hand, tapping away like there was there was no tomorrow. Miguel chuckled and wrote a pattern into your skin with his thumb.

“I’m glad you two are having a lovely reunion, but I’d like to go to sleep.”

Miguel kissed up your shoulder and neck as you sighed.

“Hear that Gabi? Can you calm down until tomorrow? Mama needs to sleep so you can keep growing. We can talk in the morning.”

Like magic, Gabriella’s little feet slowed to a halt.

“She hasn’t even seen you yet and she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you weave your fingers through his over your stomach. “What’s next? She’ll look like you too?”

“Mm,” Miguel placed his lips behind your ear. “I hope she looks like you. She’ll be the most beautiful in the world.”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Miguel took his hands down your body and massaged your hip and lower back. You groaned and melted into your pillow, arching your body into Miguel’s hold. With his ministrations and your daughter giving you a break, you start to fade into dreamland.

You could almost visualize your next craving you were going to make tomorrow. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with chunks of pickles, bacon, and caramel drizzle. Maybe some sprinkles too.

The door of the bedroom creaked, Miguel looking over his shoulder.

“Daddy? Mommy? I threw up.”

Miguel’s hands paused and he heaved a heavy sigh.

There was a dip in the bed and a shuffle of slides across the floor.

“Is your stomach still feeling funny, bub?”

You turned your body to watch Miguel bend down and check your second oldest for soiled clothes. Daniel shook his head and tucked his chin into his chest, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

You got up on the edge of the bed and walked around to the other side. You sat on your knees next to Miguel and pressed the back of your hand to Daniel’s forehead. He wasn’t burning up, but he was trembling.

“We know you didn’t mean to, honey. Sometimes, we just get sick. It’s ok!”

“Yeah, buddy. Papá gets sick all of the time.”

“Really?” Daniel looked to Miguel with big doe eyes, a baby picture of Miguel brought to life.

“Absolutely.”

“And Mama has to nurse him back to health-”

“Ok! Here,” Miguel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt while you laugh. “Let’s clean you up and get you some medicine. It was probably really scary, huh?”

Daniel nodded his head as Miguel helped him take off his pajama pants.

“C’mon. Let’s take a quick bubble bath. How does that sound? No need to be sad,” you gave Daniel a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll get the sheets and clothes in the washing machine and join you.” Miguel said as he helped you up. So much for cuddles before bed.

Miguel was quick to scope Daniel’s room. Any smell of tonight’s stir fry mixed with the chocolate milk from lunch and your waves of morning sickness might come back. He was quick to transfer the sheets to the washing machine and spray the room down with disinfectant. Luckily, the damage wasn’t drastic, so a quick change of sheets and a mop to the floor was all that was needed.

By the time he got to the bathroom, Daniel was wrapped up in a green dinosaur hoodie towel with a smile on his face as you blew raspberries into his cheek.

Miguel gasped, “Are you two having a party without me?”

Daniel folded his hands under his chin and nodded meekly, face rosy.

“Nonsense!” Miguel swept him up in his arms. “There’s no party without Papá, no?”

The hall filled with giggles as Miguel airplaned Daniel back to his room. The chatter amongst them filled the noise as Miguel reassured Daniel that he and mommy would only be a room away if was feeling sick again.

He ran lotion over his body and placed him in paw print pajamas. He wrapped him tight in the covers and shifted the star night light on the nightstand. With a whisper of goodnight, Miguel inched his way to the door.

However, the crumbling face of the five year old as Miguel looked through the crack tugged at his heart. He opened the door, swept Daniel up, and trudged back to his own bedroom.

Walking into the room, you were laying down with the opposite side of the duvet flipped up and an extra pillow in between yours and his.

Your face was knowing, a shake in your shoulders as you watched Miguel rock a clingy baby in his arms to the bed.

“Joining mommy and daddy, Daniel?”

“Uh huh,” he crawls to the middle and pulls the covers up. You lay a hand on his tummy over the duvet as Miguel slips in with a deep sigh.

He turns and places his hand over yours, the two of you acting as a shield. “I love you’s” and “good nights” are exchanged and a kiss between the two of you is shared before Daniel whines about wanting a kiss too. Both of you laugh and kiss him on his cheeks as he settled into his pillow.

You rub his chest lightly, something that put him to sleep easily as a baby.

His eyes start to close, almost gone to the world, before he jerks back up, startling Miguel whose eyes were just as heavy.

“Papá, can you sing the night-night song?” Daniel pleads.

A soft breath escapes your nose as you watch Miguel blink his eyes open and comply.

“But you have to go to sleep after this, bub.”

Daniel promises to do so as Miguel starts up a lullaby about a baby that wants to sleep but can’t.

It works on you too, the low drum of his voice holding you in his arms as you held your baby in yours.

Gabriella moved, and as softly as you can, you take his hand to your stomach. With this, she taps softly to his palm.

Miguel smiles sleepily as he watches you take a little breath, the rise and fall of your chest showing that you were in a deep sleep.

He only stops singing when he’s sure all three of you are asleep.

“Jaime, I’ve asked you five times to get up already. Get it together.”

There was only one more hour left before everyone needed to be out of the house or else you’d be late to your appointment.

The lump in the bed only moves a bit before it’s still again.

“Jaime, please. I don’t want to have to pull you out of the bed.”

Today was already starting out all over the place. You woke up sweaty and achy, the heat radiating from your furnace of a husband and your snuggly son was too much. Your ankles felt a little more swollen than usual, and you wanted chewy spicy rice cakes with extra cheese, but the heartburn wouldn’t be worth it.

You sighed as your eldest stayed put. A soft pat to the bed only earned a whine and a wiggle from him.

Looking towards the growing footsteps at the door, your husband was frantic and glaring at his watch as if it cursed him.

“What’s the holdup? We need to be in the car soon and Daniel has to be at school early for a field trip.”

You held your hand out to the bed, face defeated.

“Son.”

Jaime shot up with a wobble to his lips and a scrunch to his face at the tone of Miguel’s voice.

You folded your arms, half concerned, half offended.

“I know you hear your mother asking you to get up.”

“But-“

“Jaime O’Hara.”

The tears start to fall as he shuffles out of bed and goes to the bathroom, his cries pitiful and broken.

He swings the door like he’s about to slam it only to close it softly at the end, the sound of his voice carrying through then hallway.

“Was I too hard on him?” Miguel’s shoulders drop.

“No? I don’t think so. But I think there’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Is there something going on at school? Did we miss an important date?”

The two of you stare at each other as Jaime continues to sob in the bathroom.

“There’s no award ceremonies. He hasn’t said anything strange about his classmates. His birthday isn’t until the end of the year. He does have his game coming up.”

Miguel gasps and runs his had through his hair, “He’s been worrying about his 3-pointers nonstop. He’s probably nervous about it.”

He puts his face in his hand and mumbles through his fingers.

“How could I forget?”

You pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. What’s important is that we talk to him. Check up on him, calm him down, explain things to him, and encourage him. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Miguel kisses your temple. “You’re so good at this.”

A snicker follows his statement, “And so are you. Now, can you go stop his crying while I make sure Daniel hasn’t made a mess in the kitchen? He’s too quiet.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up again as he realized he left the kindergartner to his own devices. The last time he did that, he walked onto a floor covered in flour and dusty, giggly baby.

“Smart idea.”

“Mm hm.”

Miguel turns and heads towards the bathroom, giving it two knocks before asking to come in.

Jaime takes a deep breath and pushes out a yes.

Miguel opens the door to him crying in the mirror while he puts up his toothbrush. If it were anyone else’s child or baby brother, it could have been funny and dramatic, but Miguel sees himself in the way his entire chest jumps when he breathes in.

He hopes Jaime always feels that home is a safe place to cry and yell, something his own parents never offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He left his frustration with the frantic morning at the doorway and stepped inside. With one hand on the counter and another arm resting on his thigh, he squatted down to Jaime’s level.

His son rubbed his eyes from the inside of his elbow to his arm, “I kept messing up.”

“Messing up what? Your shots?”

Jaime nodded his head, curly hair bouncing along with it.

“At practice, Coach made us do Around-the-worlds and the further from the goal, the more I kept missing. But the game is soon, and I can’t mess up at the game.”

His voice reached its highest point and he bit his lip in order not to cry again.

“Oye, está bien. That’s just practice, mijo. The game isn’t until a few more days. There’s plenty of time for us to get to a court and do some more drills. I know it feels like a lot right now, but we can always work to be better. Understood?”

Jaime nodded his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Jaime pouted as he turned to Miguel.

“I apologize for not giving you the space to explain yourself this morning. I was rushing and I didn’t take the time to check on you. For that, Papá’s sorry. Lo siento, mijo.”

With a calmer demeanor, Jaime forgives him. No whines and no hesitation.

“Still, when you’re feeling like this, you need to communicate, ok? Mamá was there and you could have told her that you were worried. You could have even called for me and I would have come running.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mamá.”

Miguel bit the inside of his lip in order to not coo, “I know you didn’t. Would you like to apologize to her like I did to you?”

Jaime collided with Miguel’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the movement of his head nodding.

“Ok, buddy. Let’s go find her after we get your uniform on.”

Jaime wasn’t budging from his spot so Miguel let him cling off his neck as he got up. One day his eldest might not want to do things like this again, so for now he’ll cherish it.

One blazer, some knaki shorts, and a button down later, Jaime was all ready for school.

“And what do we say when we’re feeling down about ourselves?” Miguel asked as he tucked in the end of Jaime’s belt.

“Nothing can stop me from the path I want to take, not even my doubts.”

“And?”

“O’Hara’s may make mistakes, but O’Hara’s bounce back. O’Hara’s succeed.”

“¡Exactamente!” Miguel patted his back.

“¿Papá?”

“¿Sí, mijo?”

Jaime held his hands up, silently pleading with Miguel.

With an easy tug, his son was in his arms. As tall as he was getting, he was still Miguel’s baby.

In the kitchen, you were leaning over the island as you listened intensely to Daniel talk about types of dinosaurs. You looked up to your son in your husband’s arms and you knew they had a good talk.

Miguel strode up to you and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“I,” he picked at his uniform tie. “I’m sorry for not listening to you this morning Mamá. I was sad but that- that doesn’t mean I was supposed to ignore you.”

Your eyes started to water, “I forgive you, Jaime. I’m glad you were able to figure out what was wrong. Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, you kiss his cheek and place a hand on his head.

“Papá, pick me up too!” Daniel huffs out.

Miguel complies, holding him in his other arm like nothing. You giggle at the three of them, all very similar in some way. Their skin, their hair, their smiles. Your precious, precious boys.

A sharp kick to your stomach causes you to suck in through your teeth.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks with a pinch in his brow.

“No, I just think a certain someone wants your attention, too.”

You gently press your stomach to your husband’s, hoping that he could feel Gabriella’s tap dance performance.

“She’s going crazy in there,” you mumble.

Miguel can kind of feel her little feet through his shirt, but really, he was staring at you.

Even as you frowned at your stomach, you were still so beautiful. Your skin was glowing, you were giving him more smiles than ever, and the pregnancy was treating your body right in his eyes.

“Mírame.”

You peer up at him and it’s like a halo appears above your head. He’s quick to slot his lips against yours and hold it, the feeling of warmth settling into his bones.

“Eugh,” Jaime scrunches his face up in disgust.

You pull back and shake your head with a heated face, brought back to reality. Daniel is giggling behind his hands.

Miguel turned to Jaime and bombarded his face with kisses to, leading the 9-year-old to scream bloody murder. You joined Miguel on his attack, not stopping until Jaime waved his white flag.

The two of you looked at each other and then at Daniel simultaneously who squeaked when he saw you grin. Laughter filled the kitchen as the three of you gave Daniel some love.

Mornings were for chaos, but they also brought you together.

By the time Miguel was walking to the car with his kids, it was far past his estimated time.

He turned and looked at you still standing by the kitchen counter.

“Baby, c’mon.”

“But,” you pause, smile growing on your face. “The baby wants to be carried, too.”

You think he’s about to brush the comment off with a sigh but he gives a “One sec” and disappears into the garage with the kids.

You go to gather your purse and your water, checking that all of the lights and appliances are turned off.

“Ok,” Miguel rushes back in and claps his hands, “vamos.”

Three blinks at his wrestler stance and it clicks. You walk to him and your feet leave the ground.

“You’re so silly,”

“Just in love, mi amor.”

The gel was still as cold as ever, you could never really get used to it.

Looking to Miguel, you could see that he could never get used to sitting next to you in these rooms either. His grip on your hand was tight and solid.

The obstetrician slid the transducer on your lower stomach, her eyes sliding over the screen.

Gabriella’s little heartbeat bounced through the room, fast and strong.

Miguel’s grip on your hand loosened as he smiled at the screen.

“Baby girl is looking good,” the doctor says. “Everything is in place and she’s growing perfectly. You both should be proud.”

She paused and looked at you both, specifically at Miguel, “I would be worried about how she big she’s getting at this stage, but I can see why. How tall are you?”

“Uh, 6’9.”

A whistle passes her lips, “Godspeed, Mama. You’ll need it for the next several months.”

“Two boys and my only girl is going to give me a run for my money,” you mumble.

Jaime and Daniel were so tiny when they came out, both of them barely showing at five months. Gabriella is close to being almost twice their size at this rate, and the soreness all over your body was showing it.

At least your husband made time to make you feel good in more ways than one.

“Is there anything that she should look out for? Other than the obvious?” Miguel asks, always the worrier.

“No, I think you guys are good to go. I’ll get you some pictures of the baby and get you checked out. Just keep taking your vitamins, get plenty of water, get those feet up, and stretch as much as you can while you still feel like it. The least stress you have, the better.”

Your stomach is wiped clean and in no time, you’re back in the car trying to decide what to get for lunch.

“I feel like I should have asked more questions,” Miguel’s fingers tapped on the wheel.

“I’m sure you’ll have more that you can call her for later, baby. Right now, I want a milkshake.”

“You need some nourishing food, too.”

“Is that what you want Gabriella?” you ask your stomach. No taps, no spins, no twirls. “What about a milkshake? Chocolate oreo? Extra whip cream?” Gabriella thumps three times.

“My girl is already so smart,” you say to Miguel who scowls.

“Already so spoiled.”

“You love it, though.”

“Mm.”

Miguel swore he would never be like those fathers that only connected to their children through their own expectations of them, and to be fair, he was the complete opposite.

Though seeing him stand at the bottom of the bleachers with a baseball cap, folded arms, and a stern face gave the impression that he was that type of dad.

“¡Ay, eso es faulta!”

“Babe. Maybe let’s let the couch and the referee do their jobs.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing. That was clearly a foul and my son should be holding the ball right now.”

You sighed and continued to chew on your nachos with Daniel who was just happy to be out of the house later than usual. Miguel was about to burn a hole in the gymnasium floor with how stiff he was standing.

Behind him was a family that couldn’t see, leaning around him.

“Miguel, honey, please sit down so everyone can see.”

He sits and folds his hands under his chin. His muscles bulge through his jacket as his legs bounce.

You place a hand on his leg and put a water bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips and focuses back on the game.

“Let’s go, Jaime! Make it count!”

He’s back on his feet again as Jaime gets ready to shoot some free-throws.

Jaime looks at Miguel, a hint of fear in his eyes. Miguel brings his hands up and pushes them down, motioning a deep breath.

“You got this, mijo. Just like we practiced.”

Your son dribbles once, twice, and takes the shot.

The basketball flies through the air and brushes the rim of the basket. It spins and the gym goes quiet. You don’t realize your holding your breath until it comes back when the people behind you stomp on the bleachers.

Jaime looks to Miguel with the brightest face he could muster. Miguel almost springs through the ceiling with how high he jumps.

“That’s my son,” he claps his hands like thunder, chest puffing up. “That’s my son!”

The game continues with Miguel milliseconds from fighting with the official, Jaime looking to Miguel for encouragement, and you smacking the back of his thighs whenever he was standing too much.

When Jaime made the final basket, you were scared Miguel might do a backflip.

Jaime ran to him and jumped in his arms, Miguel spinning him around and laughing with glee.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!”

“¡Eres increíble, mijo! I’m so proud of you.”

“Did you see me, mommy?”

“I did! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!”

Daniel jumps up and down, “You made the ball go whoosh! And, and, and when it went in everybody screamed!”

Jaime and his brother played together as the gym started to empty out.

“What do you say we celebrate with some pizza?” you ask Miguel as you watch Jaime help Daniel dribble.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“And what do you say to carton of cotton candy ice cream after the kids go to bed? Maybe even a soak in the bath?”

Miguel looked to you as you blinked your eyes at him. You slid your hands down his arm and tilted your head.

“You want vanilla wafers too?”

You nod.

“And strawberry syrup?”

“You’re such a good husband.”

You pull him down to kiss him, heart soaring.

“Mamá! Look what I can do!”

“No, Daniel! Don’t jump off that!”

“If I hear that raccoon sing that song one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Miguel bit into a slice of pizza.

You reached across the table to wipe some ranch off of his lips and lick it away.

“I like the song! He’s a little off-key, though.”

Miguel had a grimace on his face, the energy from the building overwhelming. Or perhaps it was Daniel clinging tight to his side whenever the mascot came close to their table.

A couple of kids ran by, running towards the line for laser tag.

You listened to them go over strategies, all very serious coming from them.

“God, I can’t believe he’ll be 10 soon. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You poke the straw of your cup in and out, pout on your face. It felt like just yesterday you and Miguel were setting up his nursery.

“I remember him grabbing my finger at the hospital. So strong for someone who couldn’t eat solids yet.”

“Now he’s running around and blooming into this perfect little boy,” you sigh, watching him catapult into a ballpit. You should definitely make him take some vitamins later, just to be sure.

“And this little boy is the sweetest,” Miguel kissed the top of Daniel’s head, who seemed to be pre-occupied with a coloring book you packed.

“And once our little girl is in our arms, it’ll be so special,” you say. “She’s already making an impact.”

“I’m already crazy about her,” Miguel grins.

“And I’m ready for her to come out,” you snicker. “I have a feeling that whatever she’ll do will involve these rapid fire feet.”

“I need to get some new running shoes then,” Miguel replies in all seriousness. Daniel interrupted him with a drawing of a T-rex.

“When she gets here,” Miguel comments in between his praise for Daniel’s skill, “how do you want to celebrate afterwards?”

“I don’t need anything. Just maybe a plate of food I couldn’t eat and a comfy bed.”

“Mamà, c’mon,” Miguel held your hand across the table. “That can be arranged easily. I mean something especially for you for doing something so amazing. It can be anything. I’ll make it happen.”

Your heart sped up, a bit giddy.

“Well the last time we took a trip to an island and,” you panned to Daniel, “we both know how that ended. Maybe the mountains?”

“We can do the mountains. Or just you and your friends if you want.”

Miguel thought about you all bundled up and cozy, enjoying s'mores and wine in a sweater and a blanket. Peak cuddling form.

“That would be very nice. Thank you, Miggy.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a friendly game of arcade racing?”

“There’s nothing friendly about leaving you in the dust.”

Miguel scoffed and slid Daniel into his arms.

“It’s on.”

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! This was very sweet to write!!

#to the lab testers 🩻#love lab fics 🧫#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #pregnant reader #miguel o'hara x pregnant reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #domestic miguel o'hara #domestic!miguel o'hara

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paarksunghoon · 2 hours

Text

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away.

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well.

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation.

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.”

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm.

“Drive safe.”

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long.

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them.

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash.

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another.

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people.

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another.

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life.

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day.

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life.

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up.

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since.

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb.

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own.

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time.

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning.

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes.

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist.

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.”

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.”

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.”

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.”

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?”

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.”

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay.

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft.

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this.

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.”

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh.

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.”

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position.

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you.

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.”

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.”

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him.

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.”

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you.

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.”

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist.

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door.

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys.

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off.

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car.

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp.

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling.

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile.

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.”

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried.

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.”

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment.

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him.

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him.

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck.

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs.

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over.

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use.

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.”

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.”

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.”

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.”

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone.

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.”

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face.

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.”

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose.

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you.

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat.

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy.

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.”

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.”

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh.

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head.

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it.

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.”

“If we wake up early enough.”

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.”

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep.

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #kpop x reader #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #my writing*

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lizzy019 · 21 hours

Text

𝒲𝑒'𝓇𝑒 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈.

Sub!Johnny Cade x Soft Dom!Fem!Reader

cw -> best friends to lovers trope lol, masturbation, underweight mentioning (Johnny), panty smelling :((, voice kink?, dub-con, cunnilingus, THIS GIRL STROKES HIS COCK! (yes pls on my knees)

Word Count -> 3.9K

I LOVE THIS WHAT

Consider your friendship to be a little too closely knit together.

Johnny spent long, consecutive hours at your place, often being the reason why your food and snacks were gone. You couldn’t blame the poor teenager, his family wasn’t ideal, but at least yours could afford food.

By the time you two were done hanging out in your living room, watching some random show that you two eventually got bored of, you found yourself serving him whatever leftovers you had in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you knew damn well that Johnny was the most un-picky dude ever to exist. He’d eat rat poisoning if he didn’t know it was rat poisoning.

But you couldn’t help but feed him whatever he wanted because you knew he’d like himself with more meat on his bones and less bruises on his back. You couldn’t control what his parents did, but you sure could offer him the pleasure of eating a proper, healthier meal than takeout.

So now it was just you and Johnny sitting at your dining room table under the dim but soft light from over your head with two ceramic dishes filled with warm food in front of your torsos. It had a slightly concerned but slightly adorning expression as you watched Johnny eat with such vigour. You were concerned because it seemed like he hadn't eaten since the dawn of time, but it warmed your heart knowing you were giving him something he couldn’t access often.

“Slow down, you’ll choke yourself and I don’t have room to finish your meal.” You chided softly, smiling when you saw the tiniest pink flush engender onto his cheeks.

Those shy brown eyes that could make anyone like him, he just seemed so sweet on the outside. “Hey, I’m hungry and I’m gonna eat! Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been to the hospital before, they’ll know me for sure.” Johnny muttered, slowing his eating pace to a reasonable speed.

Ah right, the church incident.

Johnny probably hated how his back and shoulders looked now too, and with all that physio? You felt a little sympathy for him.

Your plates were soon empty after a decent chunk of time, and you pushed him a napkin to clean the mess from around his mouth with a kind smile. It wasn’t to be rude, as you’ve learned that being rude towards Johnny chips away at your friendship.

He takes it graciously while you scoop the dirtied dishes into your hands for cleaning. But after a second or two, you left the dishes in the sink. They could be cleaned later, and it was already somewhat late. So the ceramic plates coated in a sheen of leftover food residue were left in the sink while you tidied up the kitchen to appease your parents’ expectations.

Johnny just watched you, eyes soft and the lovely brown irises being held by the sockets trailing your movements to exact perfection. Why did you have to be so elegant with how you moved, so effortless and perfectly postured? Poor boy was swooning.

“Alright, do you wanna go get ready for bed? We don’t really have a guest room or anywhere for you to rest, but you can take my bed while I take my parents’ bed?” You offered politely, that sweet benevolence lingering in your tone while you led him down the corridors of your home.

Pictures and paintings littering the walls of the hall, the occasional piece of work that caught Johnny’s attention until you opened a door leading to your bedroom. It reeked of your scent, something that had his insides tingling out of joy. He got to sleep in your room? Fuck yeah!

“Y-yeah, I can stay here for the night. Sorry for.. bargin’ into your home so quick, I just needed somewhere to stay and Dal was drunk outta his mind.” Johnny muttered softly, walking into your room with caution while he looked around.

Clothes scattered all over the floor, the countertops somewhat messy except for the desk you seem to barely use. Your bed, unkempt but oh so cozy looking, even the curtains which were halfway closed from rushing. Shoes just chucked about anywhere there was room, a bra littered near your hamper which he could only assume was you trying to take it off late at night before heading to bed.

But he could smell you everywhere in this room, and it sent his senses ablaze.

“That’s alright, Dally does tend to have some poor habits. Anyway, I’ll be in the shower tidying myself up, you holler if you need anythin’, y’hear?” You smiled wide, toothy grin making him smile too.

Johnny nodded, watching you leave and close the door behind you. Your soft pitter-pattering footsteps that trailed down the halls until you closed another door which he presumed was the bathroom door.

The hardening sensation being squeezed within the confines of his denim pants was getting hard to ignore, but he felt so wrong for it. But good lord, he could smell it. Smell you. The redolent, fragrant smell of you that seemed to linger no matter where he stuck his nose just drove him up the wall to pure heaven.

Meanwhile, you were just having yourself a warm shower, washing off the grime from today as well as the bit of grease you used to slick your hair out. That took the most time, you had to scrub with such authority that you were sure you had lost enough hair to re-fur a hairless cat.

The soft soap you used was being lathered onto your skin, cleansing it and replenishing what it had lost during the day. You couldn’t lie, night showers were some of the best showers after a long day.

It didn’t take long for you to finish washing your body before you hopped out of the shower to dry off. The towel now warm from the steamy, hot shower was practically a cherry on top when you patted yourself dry with it. All the little uneven droplets being soaked up by the towel’s fabric to leave you dry and soft afterward.

Johnny was hiding away in your room, stripped down only with his boxers while his hand greedily pumped at his cock, a hand grasping at the pair of panties he managed to snag from your room and stuffing them at his face to get a whiff of what your pretty cunny smelled like. He felt so wrong for doing this, he was your best friend!

Johnny instantly stopped when he heard the soft tip-taps of your feet trudging towards your room, and he used the blankets to half cover himself so his boner wouldn’t be too prominent or easy to see. He also stuffed the underwear beside his thigh away from view before muttering a medium decibel, “Come in.”

You did just that, scurrying yourself into your room you found Johnny relaxing in while you scavenged your closet for proper night clothes such as a pyjama or even an oversized shirt with some shorts. Poor Johnny was just about to go insane when he saw you bend over, the sweet sight of your ass peeking through to his line of sight.

You had to have been tempting him, right? Right?

Once you had selected what you planned on wearing for the night, you looked back over in his direction to properly wish him a good night and good dreams until you paused to look at him further.

His ribcage was in full view, the bones prominent but you couldn’t find it in you to be disgusted or revolted by the sight. The soft brown skin of his, perfect in its glory asides the bruising and scarring which you’d come to understand was his insecurity. But he seemed tense, almost fearful and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Johnnycakes? Are you okay? You look stiff, is something wrong?” You asked sweetly, innocently.

How was he not supposed to nut to just that benevolent tone you held?

Johnny gave a hesitant nod, shooting one of his sweet grins that displayed his teeth to you. You could only smile back, finding his little radiant expression to mirror onto yourself and make you do the same. But it was late, you shouldn’t stay up for chit-chatting.

“Alright, you know where I am if you need me, right? Down the hall, last room. Knock if something’s wrong.” You hummed, scampering off with your clothes in hand.

The soft click of the door when it closed rang through the silence, emitting a pitch that resonated and lingered far longer than it had to, followed by the tippy-taps of your feet against the floorboards as you rushed to your parents’ room.

Finally!

He dug his hand back under the blanket, finding his hardened cock growing a bit flaccid, and he frowned. Poor Johnny had a good rhythm going too! He fisted his cock once again, pumping mercilessly as the echoes of your voice from that simple moment when you waltzed your way in.

It wasn’t long until he was fighting himself to not make any sounds, but he began to lose his control as soon as he gained it when the muscles surrounding the base of his cock began to twitch and tighten to signal his release was upcoming.

The dim lights from the midnight blue sky shone through your half open bedroom curtains, pushing past the glass to shine into the room Johnny sat in. This was all the light he needed to see the pair of panties in his hand, and that dirty, filthy mind of his began to simply picture you in them and nothing more.

The lovely shape of your body, its colour and form, the little markings that made you so individual and unique. Perfect set of tits, nicest ass that looked just about sculpted by angels. You were just so perfect, how could he not want you? How could he not want to have you?

Meanwhile, you were sitting with a disgusted look on your face as you heard the soft but audible noises Johnny was making from down the hall, but once you heard your name tumble from his lips, everything seemed to fade into a realization which led to hope. Did he like you like that too?

Soon enough, your own hand drifted to the soft pair of lips being freed from the confines of your panties, rubbing your unhardened clit with vigour. The tingling sensation burned in between your thighs, and you too found it hard to remain silent, but you managed. Johnny’s sounds from your room simply added fire to the ever growing flame building within your lower stomach.

Poor Johnny was clawing at the fabrics of your bed’s sheets, gasping and heaving while soft whimpers and groans seemed to slip his closed, pursed lips. It aggravated him, but he still thought you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you.

Boy, was he wrong.

By the time Johnny had set off his load onto whatever fabric you had around —which you couldn’t bear to think was now stained by his cum—, you hobbled your uneasy legs out of bed and down the long corridors of your home. Your steps were as silent as you could make them, but the skin on the soles of your feet now warm from staying under the blanket made the softest sticky sound that alerted Johnny.

He sat upright in a flurry of panic, inevitably settling on stuffing himself under your blankets when he heard the door slowly creak open. Maybe you’d leave?

“Johnny?” Your whispery tone got his focus, even though he tried hard not to shuffle or move around to alert you. “Johnny, are you awake?” You tried again.

When you finally thought that he was asleep and wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, you hobbled yourself beside him under the blankets and tenderly rubbed at his back. Your nimble fingers grazed the skin of the burn scars and bruises oh so gently, his heart filling with warmth that made blood pump down in between his thighs.

You were oblivious to it, moving yourself to use his thigh as something to grind against for purchase and friction. It was selfish, it was improper, but you needed it. Lord, you could feel yourself soaking his boxers from some simple grinding against him.

Poor Johnny didn’t know how to tell you he was awake, and in all honesty, maybe he shouldn’t. If he told you, or moved even a bit, you’d become startled and embarrassed to the point where you couldn’t speak and you both knew of this well. You weren’t great at handling your embarrassment.

Those soft moans tumbling freely from your lips were like a tease, something to tempt him to see if he would break. His cock was chubbing up at your dulcet noises, and he didn’t know whether they were somewhat soothing or a bit too erotic for his liking. Regardless, he tried to subtly move his hand to that aching spot between his legs for release.

You assumed his movement was involuntary like any person would do in their sleep. Adjustments to get comfortable weren’t uncommon, so you paid no mind to it and just kept at it. Surely you had stained the hem of his boxers with your arousal juices. But you weren’t focused on that!

But it wasn’t until the movements became consistent and they weren’t your own that you began to grow nervous. Had you made him uncomfortable? Was something hurting him? Maybe he had woken up? Oh, that thought sent a sharp shiver down your spine. You were scared that he had woken up and had gotten all flustered, maybe even trying to move away with the inability to wriggle you off.

So tentatively, you moved your weight off of his body, using what little arm strength you had in you at the moment to see what was happening below you. Johnny stopped almost instantly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just jacking off to the way you were using his body. Would this be considered non-consensual? No, he liked it very much, so why were you hesitating on continuing?

“Johnny, I know you’re awake. Did I bother you? ‘M sorry, Johnnycakes, jus’ needed you..” You hummed, nuzzling your cheek to his boney shoulder to feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of his tanned skin. “Oh, but what’ll the others think?”

When you jostled him to show you knew he wasn’t asleep, Johnny allowed himself to turn over to face you and sighed happily. There you were, all pretty with your embarrassed pink cheeks and your pouty expression. Did you even understand how gorgeous you were to him? Even when he first met you, he swore you were sent from the heavens.

“Sugar, don’t worry ‘bout the others. Dal’s secretly been tellin’ Two that we were a thing anyway. I don’t mind it, would your family be okay with it?” His serene voice that wafted tobacco to your nose had confirmed just about everything you were thinking. So he liked you back, and the glances at your breasts during visits wasn’t just because he couldn’t make eye contact with you.

“I don’t care what my parents say, but your parents.. what’ll they do to you if they find out? You know that keepin’ it a secret won’t do us any good.” You murmured, a hand of yours gently holding his hip and caressing the skin while tracing the outline of protruding bone.

That had Johnny’s eyes forming hearts. Did you really think ahead of everything just to make sure he was gonna be alright? Good lord, he knew he was making the right choice.

“Ah, what’s a couple more bruises? I’ll be able to ditch them eventually, maybe move somewhere with you. How ‘bout that? We’d move far away from Tulsa, maybe somewhere warmer. No more Socs, no more fights, hell, I’d love to get rid of my cigs. I hate my teeth all yellow.” Johnny hummed at the thought of doing everything he listed off before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

It started intimately, just two idiots mindlessly kissing with smiles mashed together while fingers entangled into each other’s hair. Soft and meaningful, purposeful movements that were well thought out and calculated until Johnny moved his hips to show you what you had started. That hardening length slick with some pre-cum, and you moved your hand down to grip it and stroke it while adjusting.

Your body was now hovering over his, lips still intertwined while you wriggled off whatever clothes acted as a burden to what you were seeking. The hindrances you considered fabric to sheath your body were off of you in mere seconds, your body pulling away from his to throw your shirt off. Soon, your mouth found purchase against the soft muscle of his neck, desperately suckling some little hickeys into his flesh.

Painless bruises that expressed your affection. What was more beautiful than that?

The soft little squeaks of moans that tumbled freely from Johnny’s pretty mouth just egged you on. Your hand fisting his cock mercilessly, milking him for all he’s got while showering him in soft praises. He deserved this kind of love, soft and sweet with just enough roughness to have you craving more.

“Yeah, baby? Feels good? You can take it, you got it.” You lulled him, pressing innocent kisses to wherever you could reach your lips, listening to the sheets rustle beneath you as Johnny wiggled around.

Sprawled out while desperately grasping the blankets and sheets below him, he found himself teetering off of that perfect ledge of ecstasy that was exposed to him. He was so close to that pleasurable place of heaven on Earth, and he was worried you wouldn’t let him cum. He hated edging.

But you didn’t. Your expression seemed to anticipate his climax, and that further had the coil connecting his lower stomach and the base of his cock to tighten and tighten until he simply couldn’t take it.

A cry that was so obviously forced to be squeezed quiet had alerted you just a few seconds before his climax that he was cumming. Sure enough, his pretty, pearly cum trickled down from his urethra and onto your soft skin, the liquid creating a thin sheen over your flesh.

The aftershocks of his body instantly made you become more sweet, hands resting on either side of his waist while gently caressing the warmed brown skin of his. Poor Johnny was rattling more than a damn Mexican maraca. Shudders made him all electric, but he soon found your hands gently holding his hips, and that grounded him.

“W-wait, I don’t think I can go again, sugar. Maybe.. get on toppa me?” He asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as if you’d say no.

You were practically stunned speechless at his words, pondering for a moment before inevitably answering his plea. Johnny adjusted instantly when he saw the soft nod of your head, and you could only giggle at his ecstatic expression. Happy, just like how he deserved to feel.

Your legs were quickly situated over his head, and with nervous hands, you combed through the soft locks on his scalp. Ungreased and silky, it soothed you enough.

“What if I’m heavy? I don’t wanna crush you.” You smiled shyly, and Johnny simply shrugged while caressing your hamstrings with tender fingers. For a greaser, you still questioned how his fingers were delicate and smooth.

“Then I’d die happy. C’mon, it’ll be okay. How ‘bout this? If you hurt me at all, I’ll swat your legs lightly.” He offered, charming you with that devilishly sweet glint in his doe brown eyes.

You could only nod after he spoke, and you hesitantly lowered yourself onto his awaiting mouth. Nervousness caused your fingers to jitter sporadically, but you pushed through before sitting yourself onto his face. The warmth of his tongue caused a rattle to zoom up your spine like a racecar on a speedway, electrifying you.

The moans that were pulled from you just made Johnny all the more eager to please you, and he began to greedily feed off of your sweet nectar. The tangy taste of your juices were simply too addictive, could you even blame him? He didn’t know which he preferred, nicotine or your delicious wetness.

You were beginning to grind on his face, his nose nudging your clit every time you missed or got too careless. The mess of your arousal was smudging onto his chin and upper lip, but you were too dazed out to really notice anyway. Poor Johnny was about to bust again from your desperation to get a climax, but he knew cumming twice was enough for him.

His tongue slurped up any drops your cunny managed to spurt out for him, the overstimulation of your labia and clit being teased had your toes curling. You were becoming sheen with sweat, but you didn’t cease being quiet. Johnny was simply slurping you up like a snack, and you took it.

The coil within your lower abdomen threatened to snap, but you couldn’t sum up the strength to get off of his mouth to save him from mess. His hands groping your ass or caressing your hammies didn’t seem to let up either, in fact encouraging you to continue.

Johnny’s tongue kept hitting all the ooey gooey spots inside of you that set all the nerves in your body ablaze, and it wasn’t long until you were teetering over the thin line of release.

“Johnny! Johnny- I’m gonna cum..! Baby, I-” Your orgasm had cut you off, your legs seizing and stopping all their movements while you thrashed about from the sheer intensity of whatever pleasure Johnny gave you.

Poor boy’s face was squished to mush, but he was so happy.

Soon, you found yourself coming back to reality, your control over your legs and you used this newfound control to get off of his face. The last thing you wanted was to crush him or suffocate him!

When you got yourself seated beside him, legs still a bit shaky, Johnny licked off whatever fluid you managed to spunk onto his face with a gleeful smile. How gross! But.. somewhat hot too. Johnny grinned at you, his teeth all crooked but so sweet on his face.

“Feel good, sugar?” He asked you, smiling all happy and pridefully. Making you cum was a big deal for him!

You chuckled softly to yourself at his words, they were suave in how he spoke. You couldn’t admit to him that it was probably the best head you’ve ever received, his ego would get too overinflated and the gang already had an overconfident Dally.

“Yes, it felt good. Thank you.” You smiled, tucking yourself under the warm blankets of your own mattress. The duvet covers felt nice on your burning skin, even if it was a bit too hot for them.

Johnny beamed, getting under the blankets with you as well before throwing his lanky arms around you. It scared you for a second as it was unexpected, but you laughed and wholeheartedly accepted his hug. Warm arms encased you, and yours wrapped around him in return.

Giggles were shared and kisses were peppered all around, even some tickles to make everything seem more lively. Johnny also wanted you to feel like you weren’t just there for some sex and nothing more.

God, you were so fucking in love.

Shoutouts to:

@outsidersstuff16 @raycravens116 @johnnycadesslut @johnnycadesmuse @johnnycakesswitch

#the outsiders smut #x reader #smut #johnny cade smut #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #johnny cake #johnny cade the outsiders #johnny cade x y/n

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smilingformoney · 3 days

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Sharing Part IX | Eli/Reader

Summary: Eli reminds you who's who when you accidentally say the wrong name.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Although you were missing Lionel already, you were excited to see Eli again after six months away from him. Your flight landed quite late at night, so when the taxi pulled up at your house and you lugged your suitcase to the front door, the lights were already off, and Eli undoubtedly asleep.

You were exhausted after such a long flight, and you’d not slept on the plane in an effort to stave off jet lag, so as soon as the door closed behind you, you left your suitcase in the hall and zombie-walked to the bedroom, pausing only to strip down to your underwear, then climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.

When Eli woke up, he forgot momentarily that you were due back, and his grumpiness at being woken by his alarm was mitigated when he rolled onto his back and found a gorgeous woman sleeping next to him.

He smiled smugly and wrapped an arm around your waist. You instinctively backed up into him, and his morning wood pressed into your ass. God, he’d missed this. Letting a grad student blow him for a good grade was fine, but no one could get him aroused like you could.

You were still asleep, but Eli had no intention of letting that stop him. He pawed lazily at your breast, his cock grinding against your ass in an effort to get a bit of relief. For six months he’d been jerking off in the morning, using the sexy pics you’d sent him to spur himself on, but now he had the real thing, and boy was he gonna enjoy it.

Hoping to wake you up, Eli pinched your nipple, and you let out a squeak. He grinned.

Your eyes were still closed, but Eli saw you smile, and he knew you were awake. He pinched you again, and you sleepily tried to bat his hand away. Eli let go of your nipple and took your breast in his hand instead, massaging it as he savoured the feeling of having his hand full of your tits again.

You stirred a little more. That’s it, Eli thought. Wake up and let me fuck you, [Y/n]…

“Lionel…”

Eli froze.

“You did not just fucking say that.”

Your eyes opened then and darted around, your brow furrowed in confusion, then landed on him and you smiled as you recognised him.

“Mmm, Eli… I forgot I’d come back…”

“Yeah, you clearly fucking did.”

He rolled on top of you, pinning you face-down into the mattress, and you grunted as he winded you slightly.

“You’re not with your rich lover boy now, slut. You’re back with the boring old Chemistry professor. Sorry to disappoint.”

“‘M sorry, I’m still half asleep,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Eli slapped your ass, and you let out a yelp.

“That wake you up? This is Eli, by the way.”

“Shut up, I know who you are. C’mon, babe, lemme see you properly —”

You tried to roll onto your back, but Eli dropped his entire weight on you, leaving you squashed between him and the mattress, your face only just turned to the side enough to breathe.

“I was so looking forward to a nice morning embrace with my girlfriend after not seeing her for six months, but I guess I gotta fuck some sense into you first, huh?”

You scoffed. “Like you weren’t gonna fuck me anyway.”

“I don’t need you to get off,” Eli snarled, knowing full well it was a lie. He squeezed your ass, feeling for bruises Lionel might have left behind, and slapped you again when he found a nice tender spot.

“What, you’d rather your hand than me? I doubt that,” you teased, getting more and more frustrated by the second that he wouldn’t let you turn over to see him properly. You hadn’t even kissed him yet!

“Mmm, or a grad student’s mouth. They don’t say another man’s name when my cock’s in their throats.”

You grunted in surprise when he took hold of your thighs and spread them apart, giving himself plenty of room to get between your legs. He released one thigh to free his hand to shove between your legs, fingers diving greedily into your warmth, and he laughed at you when he felt that you were wet already, easily letting him slide his digits in and out of your cunt.

“Don’t - don’t exaggerate, Eli,” you grunted, trying not to give away how his aggressive fingering was already driving you crazy. “Those girls don’t know how to open their throats wide enough to get your stupid cock in there.”

“Mhm, that’s true. Only a slutty throat like yours can take me all the way. When did Lionel last blow his load down there, huh?”

“In the - in the car on the way to the airport.”

Eli scoffed. “Of course. Bye, honey, I love you - by the way, can I get one last blowjob?”

He curled his fingers inside you, and you squealed, your legs twitching involuntarily.

“Right, that’s enough pretending I give a shit about foreplay. I gotta get my dick in that cunt.”

Eli grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass in the air. He finally got a good look at it, Lionel’s bruises fading now but ready to be replaced by his. Your asshole stared at him teasingly, but he decided to leave that for when he had time to fuck you for as long as he wanted. Right now, he had to get to his lecture soon, so he dove straight into your pussy, his cock sliding in as easily as if it had never left.

“Mhm, Eli…” you groaned, and he smirked with satisfaction.

“That’s it — you know whose cock is whose, huh?”

“Oh, I can tell when it’s your cock, babe. Yours is bigger.”

Eli lowered himself over you, and you could feel his breath against your ear.

“You just saying that to butter me up, sweetheart? ‘Cus I don’t appreciate being lied to, you know that.”

“Nah, it’s true. Lionel’s fucking big, but you’re bigger. Now, you gonna put that massive cock to good use or not?”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Fuck, he felt good. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, and there was something about the frustrated, aggressive way he fucked you that went straight to your core. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you tight, as if worried you’d try to slip away.

“God, I fucking missed this. Did you miss me?” Eli panted.

“You know I did, Daddy. Missed - missed your cock so much - fuck, yes, Eli…”

“Good girl. Now you know who you’re with, huh? You know just whose cock is in your tight cunt.”

“Mhm, Eli, Eli…” you mumbled, your brain filled with nothing but him, the pleasure he was giving you, and the sound of his desperate pants as he fucked you harder.

“I hope Lionel didn’t fuck the respect out of you, slut,” Eli said between grunts. “I am a doctor, you know.”

“So am I!” you insisted, but Eli just wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly, just enough to make you gag.

“And yet you surrender to me so easily, Dr [L/n]. You should be fucking grateful that you get to fuck me. I’m a Nobel Laureate - best mind in my field, don’t you know? So you’d better treat me with some fucking - respect - fuck, that’s it, squeeze my cock - milk me dry —”

“Eli…”

“That’s Dr Michaelson to you, slut. Call me by my proper title and I might let you cum.”

You might be a brat, but he knew you couldn’t resist an order when you were so close to orgasm, and all your impertinence fell away when he had you on the edge.

“Oh fuck, yes - yes, that feels so good - oh, Dr Michaelson - please —”

You wished you could see his face. He always looked so deliciously deranged when he was fucking you this furiously, every inch of his face etched with a mixture of anger and pleasure. Instead, you made do with feeling his skin against yours, his cock thrusting inside you, and the sound of his desperate grunts.

“Who’s in charge here? Huh?”

“You are,” you whined. You could feel your orgasm building, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you until he was satisfied he’d fully reminded you of your place. “You’re in charge, Daddy. I’m all - all yours - fuck, Eli, please, I gotta cum!”

“Dr Michaelson,” Eli growled in your ear, and you groaned in frustration.

“Dr Michaelson, please, let me cum. I need - need to cum - need to milk your cock dry, please…”

Eli chuckled derisively.

“Such a desperate little slut. Alright, then. Show me how well you can milk me, Dr [L/n].”

He reached around your waist to flick his finger against your clit, and it was mere moments before you were cumming around his cock, crying out with pleasure into the pillow, and it was only when he was sure you’d ridden the aftershock of your orgasm that Eli let himself go, his hips slamming into yours with one final thrust as he groaned, his cock filling you up with his seed as he finally reached the climax he could only get with you.

Panting, Eli pulled out of you and rolled onto his back. You were relieved to finally be able to move, but even more relieved to be able to turn to him and look at him properly.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” you said as you looked up at him, and you meant it. His hair was a mess, his brow was dripping with sweat, and he looked exhausted. And it was fucking glorious.

Eli put an arm around you and held you close, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. He opened them and looked down at you, and grinned when he saw that you were just as sweaty and exhausted as he was.

“Mhm, I must be, ‘cus you’re gorgeous and I’m fucking you.”

“I missed you,” you purred, nuzzling his neck. You heard him chuckle and he wrapped his arms securely around you.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head. “God, I wanna cancel today’s lectures. Maybe I’ll just stay here and fuck you all day instead.”

“And deprive your students of the wisdom of the great Dr Michaelson? You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. “Besides - I gotta get to the faculty meeting this afternoon to discuss next semester. Otherwise I would gladly stay here and fuck all day.”

“How ‘bout we get takeout tonight? Rent a movie and not watch it while you suck me off.”

“God, that sounds like Heaven,” you said with a dreamy smile. You kissed his shoulder, then rolled onto your back to let him up.

Groaning his protestations at having to get up, Eli rolled out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. You, meanwhile, not having any obligations until the afternoon, stayed in bed, your face pressed into Eli’s pillow. You smiled as the scent of him filled your nostrils.

Eli emerged from the bathroom to get dressed and had to resist every instinct in his body that was screaming at him to get back in bed with you. You were so tempting lying there, a cute little smile on your face as you held his pillow. You were back where you belonged, in his bed, and he was going to make the most of every moment with you over the next six months.

He had to turn away from you to get dressed, otherwise he really would just get back into bed, as much as he loved his job. He loved imparting his knowledge onto the eager students, he loved experimenting in the lab, and he loved it when a desperate student would crawl between his legs and suck him off instead of studying.

That last part would have to go, though. All the girls he was fucking were graduating this year, and he had no desire to be with anyone else when you were around. How you’d managed to control his philandering dick, he had no idea — maybe it was the fact that you let him do it that made it less appealing. Or maybe he’d finally met his match — after all, you hardly ever turned him down when he wanted to initiate. He’d always had a high sex drive, one his ex-wife Sarah had never been able to keep up with, but you were plenty able to keep up with him. Even better, you worked at the same college, so you were pretty much always around for him when he needed you.

If only he’d spent 20 years married to you instead. He’d loved Sarah - even with all the women he’d fucked on the side, she was the only one he’d ever loved - but she was nothing compared to you. He’d do anything for you. Hell, he’d once flown 5,000 miles on a whim because he was terrified of losing you to Lionel Shabandar. He couldn’t say he’d ever have done that for Sarah.

As Eli buttoned up his shirt, he glanced at you in the mirror. From the way you were breathing steadily, he strongly suspected you’d already fallen back asleep.

He smiled to himself. Leaving you in bed while he went to work was torture, but he’d take that every day over waking up without you. Hell, he’d even take leaving you in bed with Lionel if it meant he could wake up next to you at all.

He didn’t want to keep passing you back and forth every six months. He wanted you every day, and if he had to share you with Lionel, he would.

He wanted to marry you.

He knew you’d never agree. Marriage was monogamy, and it was clear you weren’t built for that. Neither was he, and nor was Lionel for that matter. But still, he loved you, and he wanted to call you his wife.

“You’re gonna be late,” your voice mumbled from the pillow.

Eli chuckled.

“I got the best reason to be,” he replied. “Sorry I’m late, class, I was fucking my girlfriend. She just got back from six months of fucking another guy and I had to remind her whose cock is better.”

You snort-laughed, and your phone went off. You rolled over and grabbed it from the spot on the floor you’d thrown it when getting undressed the night before.

“Is that him now?”

You hummed the affirmative, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you read Lionel’s texts.

Lionel: Did your flight get in okay? You: Yep. Headed home now. Going straight to sleep. 😴 Lionel: I doubt Eli will allow that. You: He’ll be fast asleep by now. I’m sure he’ll say hello in his own way in the morning.

Lionel: Good morning. I’m just about to go to sleep. Everything okay?

You texted your reply:

You: I may have said your name in my sleep… Lionel: Of course you did 😉 I bet Eli loved that. You: I think he’s still pissed at me. Lionel: You can always come back. Clearly you want to.

“I’m going now, if you care,” Eli called from the door.

“Nooo!” you whined, putting your phone down so you could make grabbing motions towards him. “Kisses first!”

Eli rolled his eyes, though he smirked at your eagerness for his attention, and crossed the room to lean down and give you a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him back into the bed, but he was stronger than you and reluctantly stood his ground.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too, Eli.”

He gave you one last kiss, gentler this time, then straightened his shirt and made his way out the door before he could succumb to the temptation of staying in bed with you.

Your phone buzzed again.

Lionel: I miss you.

You smiled.

You: I miss you too. Good night ❤️

#alan rickman #eli michaelson #nobel son #eli x reader #sharing #alan rickman fanfic

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sharkboywrites · 1 day

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Hi, can you do Halsin and Astarion comfort (plus any others you like writing for) x trans reader struggling with top dysphoria, like to the point they actively avoid face to face contact because no matter how well they bind they can still feel them :( I've been struggling a lot (expecially since I can't bind due to health reasons)

Top Dysphoria

Halsin and Astarion x dysphoric transmasc reader

A/N: Really excited to write this bc I know how much chest dysphoria sucks, but I’m actually working on getting a binder now that I’m 18, so this is good motivation to write. Sorry I’m getting to this late, but I hope you feel better anon

Trans male/transmasc reader, dysphoria, chest dysphoria, all descriptions of dysphoria are based off of author’s experience

Halsin

- Halsin is one of those people that can immediately tell when something is wrong

- He could see the difference in the way you started to carry yourself, all confidence gone and making yourself as small as possible

- Your chatter died down, now often becoming completely silent unless you had to speak

- When you’d see up camp for the night you’d quickly retreat to your tent, not fixing up your weapons or talking to anyone else in your party

- He decided to wait until everyone headed to bed to check on you

- When he came into your tent you were just laying there

- You weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t exactly doing anything either

- You were just staring at the wall of your tent, face stained from tears

- He didn’t say anything at first, just sat beside you

- He eventually pulled you into his arms, holding you in a warm and comforting embrace, a bear hug perhaps

- When you felt comfortable enough to start talking, you told him everything

- You told him how you felt, how it was making every single day hard, how it was affecting your mental health

- He listened to you patiently, wiping away any tears that formed

- He assured you that your body does not define you, that it doesn’t change the way he sees you, but that he also understands why it makes you so upset

- He held you until you fell asleep, before laying with you, patting your hair as he drifted to sleep too

Astarion

- Astarion loves to bicker, that’s one obvious thing

- He throws small insults and comments whenever he can find the opportunity

- And you always bickered back

- It was like a game between the two of you, an entertainment of sorts while you had to walk from place to place, fighting monster after monster

- But suddenly, you stopped bickering back

- You were quiet, keeping to yourself

- You almost seemed smaller somehow, like trying to hide yourself from everyone around you

- He’d never admit it, but he missed your friendly fighting

- So, he decided to check up on you

- In his own way of course

- He’s not good at emotions, but he still addresses the problem directly

- He does it in a whiny way of course, while you’re party stopped at an inn for the night

- He companies about losing his fighting buddy, how quiet you’ve become, but beneath all that it’s clear he’s really just worried about you

- But he feels even worse when he sees you start to tear up

- He sits next to you on the bed as you cry out your feelings, telling him about everything

- His comfort comes in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a nod every now and then

- Like we’ve established, he’s not good with emotions, but he’s still there to listen to you

- He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he gives you a few assuring words about how he doesn’t care about those things and your body doesn’t determine who you are

- He stays with you the whole night, helping you stay distracted, and reminding you that he’s here for you

#bg3 x reader #bg3 fic #bg3 x trans reader #bg3 x male reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #halsin x male reader #halsin x reader #astarion x trans reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x reader

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johannestevans · 2 days

Text

Peace in the New World

Short fiction. Moshe and Yosl discuss life after work.

2k, rated T. Two Jews talking over tea in late 19th century USA. Bonding over poverty, philosophy, old trauma, that sort of thing.

CW for mentions of past abuse, although oblique. Adapted from a TweetFic.

On Patreon / / On Medium.

---

Yosl worked these days down by the docks – he was a very big man, muscular, with very strong hands, and he looks like a dockworker. He never looked out of place amongst them when Moshe saw him at the dockside or walking with the other big, burly men about the streets.

When they’d taken him on as a lodger, he’d been a little nervous of him, had thought he might be brash or a lush, but Sprintze had said that that some of the other dockworkers’ wives spoke well of him, that he was kind, respectful, and Sprintze’s judgement was always good.

He’d still scarcely been able to believe it the first evening he’d come home from his own work and seen him sitting at the table in their small living room, working so delicately with his big hands. He had been the son of a bookbinder, had worked alongside him in his shop before coming to America, and he took on little jobs here and there.

With a lot of time dedicated to his craft and a great care taken with his pens, he wrote out astonishingly beautiful calligraphy on good cardstock, and it took Moshe’s breath away sometimes to glance over at the work he was doing, the art he was creating.

He wrote out fine wedding invitations or little decorative cards, wrote out poems or sections of the Torah, and alongside the fine and lovely lettering, he could draw small etchings, would occasionally add in elements of gold or silver filigree, or splashes of colour.

“Do you miss it?” Moshe asked one evening.

They had been sitting in companionable silence for a little over an hour, Esther already laid down to sleep – she’d been struggling with bad dreams of late, and Sprintze was in with her, perhaps reading or sewing if she wasn’t asleep herself, no matter that it was so early.

“Miss what?” Yosl asked without looking up from his work.

“What it was like,” Moshe said. “The Old Country. You had different work there, work like this, creating beauty. You didn’t have to live as a lodger.”

“No, I lived in a sprawling library from one hill to the other,” said Moshe dryly, and Yosl laughed, looking down into his evening drink and shaking his head.

“I’m not disparaging your work at the docks, I’m sorry if it—”

“No, it’s not disparaging,” Yosl said. “This is fine, educated work, more respectable than hauling cargo at the docks – but work there’s little call for here in America, not enough to fund a man’s life or account for a family. Why shouldn’t I miss the comfort or respect my old life might have offered me?”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Yosl said. “But my father dying, I could not stand it, to live there, in the grief, in the shadows he left behind him. I respect the things he taught me, the skills he carried with me – I carry on his legacy when I do these little things here and there – but to step into his shoes, to take on the whole shop for myself? For people to think of the sign as being my name, and not his?” He shook his sadly, setting aside his pen. “I could not stand it. The Sefer Hasidism warns us against wearing the shoes of the dead – would I not be filling his shoes, to take his place? His memory haunted me, not as an unclean or cruel spirit, but just as so much grief.”

Moshe exhaled, leaning forward and looking at the other man properly as he rested his hands on his belly. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Yosl said, giving him a small, sad smile. “It’s good for a man to speak on his grief to another, I think – my father was a great man, principled, studied. It is that I loved him so much that I could not stand to live in the shadow of his loss. And in any case, as a practical concern, the time a bookbinder can make a living even in Poland, I feel that time is soon at an end.”

“Perhaps,” Moshe said. “It’s beautiful work, what you do, but slow, old. There is not much care for that here in America.”

“No,” Yosl said. “The New World, they call it, but it’s not just here, is it? The whole world is changing – evolving, developing. The old ways, too slow, too old-fashioned, too high-strung, too buttoned-up.”

“People are impatient, demand more speed, more haste, more rush. Why not more beauty?” Moshe asked, and Yosl chuckled.

“One for the rabbi, I think, not for me,” he said, and Moshe laughed as well. “Your father, does he live?”

“No, but we had a great deal of forewarning before his death, he’d been a very ill man,” Moshe murmured, rubbing his knuckles through his beard. “It doesn’t make the loss of him easier to bear, I feel the emptiness he left behind sometimes, the shadow of him, as you say, but at least it wasn’t sudden. We had time to grieve him while he was alive, I suppose you might say – and to share in it with him, which I think brought a little solace.” He felt a twinge of old guilt, as he did from time to time. “Does that sound awful, involving a man in our grief for him?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Yosl said. “What is grief but love at its end? How can it be anything but a privilege to share in it?”

“You’re a very soothing man, you know,” said Moshe. “As good as Reb Levinson.”

“But my mouth doesn’t dimple when I smile like his does,” Yosl pointed out, and they both laughed, taking care to keep it quiet so that the sound didn’t carry.

As Yosl picked up his card and blotted it, setting it aside to dry, Moshe said, “Sprintze said you’ve been teaching Esther. I wanted to thank you.”

“No need for that,” said Yosl. “She’s a good student, a good learner.”

“She’s a girl,” Moshe said, and he watched the shrug of Yosl’s broad shoulders, watched his expression scarcely change at all. “Why teach her? What do you think she’ll do with it, what you teach her?”

It was an experimental question, a test of sorts, and Moshe wondered if Yosl knew that Moshe was testing him, if he was pressing on him. If he did, he showed no sign of it.

“Whatever she wants,” the bookbinder answered simply. “I didn’t make the word, I was only taught it – now, I teach it. What she does with it is her own business. Argue scripture with her husband, if she wishes – teach their children.”

“A lot of men wouldn’t think to waste time teaching another man’s daughter this sort of thing,” Moshe said. “They dismiss a little girl with no thought at all.”

“I’m just one man, not a mean of them,” said Yosl, and it made Moshe laugh again, although he took care to muffle the sound with his sleeve. Yosl’s cheeks didn’t dimple when he smiled, but his eyes crinkled in a very pleasant way.

“You been to the marriage broker?”

“No,” said Yosl. “Why, want rid of me?”

“We need a lodger’s rent – and you have the money for it, but I don’t know what you got it for a wife.”

“Too true.”

“But you don’t want one?”

“I don’t have the money, you said.”

“Still.”

Yosl said, after a few more seconds of quiet, “I could be a husband, I think, but not a father. And I wouldn’t deny a woman motherhood.”

“You teach my girl – but you couldn’t father your own?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“My father…” Yosl began, and then stopped, breathing in very slowly. “He was a bad man.”

“But you said—”

“Principled, studied, a great man, all of those things, yes. I grieve him, I do, but he was not a good man. Your father, you said, was loving, mine was… Mine was not.”

Moshe reached out and touched the other man, squeezed his shoulder, and he didn’t comment on the slight mistiness of Yosl’s eyes. Half-jokingly, he asked, “What happened to honour thy father, eh?”

“I honoured my mother,” Yosl said. “Half the job is enough for me.”

“They must love you at the docks.”

“They do, in fact.”

“Esther loves you too,” Moshe said, smiling. “Sprintze says you dote on her.”

Tension showed in Yosl’s thickly corded neck, in his shoulders, and as Moshe walked past him to rinse out his cup, Yosl turned his head to look back at him. “Moshe,” he said. “Are you angry?”

“Angry?” Moshe repeated. “By God, no. You think I’m angry? My daughter has a mother and father to love her – now another to teach her, and a smarter man than me.”

“I’m just the lodger.”

“The lodger who dotes on my daughter and repaired the stove for my wife before I came home from work.”

“Sprintze’s a dutiful wife.”

“She is, and a very good one.”

“I mean nothing untoward.”

“I know you don’t – she says you don’t look at her.”

“I do.”

“No.”

Yosl didn’t seem to know what to say to that. His brow was furrowed, his expression serious. Moshe and Sprintze had talked a little more about this in private, on nights when Yosl was out overnight.

“He did something awful to you, your father,” Moshe said.

“Things, multiple, yes.”

“Things that would make you…” He didn’t know what words to use. He and Sprintze could use certain words amongst themselves, but even then, he wouldn’t use them elsewhere.

Moshe is hardly the most pious of men, but he’d asked the rabbi’s son for advice on the subject – Reb Levinson himself was too old, would never have known how to approach it no matter his nice dimples, but his son was wise enough.

“Things that would make you unable to be a husband,” Moshe said. “To, er… fulfil your duties.”

Yosl’s expression softened, and he exhaled. “Not in the way I suspect you’re imagining,” he said quietly, with a glance toward the door, but there had been no sound from where Sprintze and Esther were settled in bed. “But yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a shameful thing.”

“I don’t see the shame in it. You love, you teach, you write. You honour your father no matter his sins, his cruelties toward you.”

“How would you know shame, Moshe? What have you got to be ashamed of?”

“I’m poor, ain’t I?”

“Pah. Only in money.”

Moshe grinned at him, and Yosl smiled back. He wasn’t a big drinker, but when Moshe took down two glasses from the shelf instead of one, he didn’t make his customary protest. He took the glass as offered and stared down into it, at the strong spirit Moshe poured within.

“L’chaim,” Moshe said.

“I’d say l’chaim and v’l’vracha,” Yosl said, “but I feel pretty blessed.”

“What, we’re rich enough to be turning down blessings now?”

“We?” Yosl repeated wryly, but he smiled as he clinked their glasses together, and they knocked them back as one. “You should take one in for Sprintze,” he said – Moshe’s hand was already on the bottle, and they had to stifle their laughter to keep from waking up the whole building when their gazes met.

* * *

Sprintze took the glass when Moshe stepped into their bedroom, and she held it in her lap as she watched him undress, easing off his clothes. She had been sewing, Moshe supposed – her needlework was now set aside, but the lantern was still lit, albeit dimmed.

“That man is a blessing, you know,” Moshe said.

“I’ve been saying, haven’t I?” she responded softly. “L’chaim,” she murmured, and drained the glass, setting it beside her sewing.

Moshe leaned over Esther’s sleeping form to kiss her on the head before climbing into bed beside his wife, banding an arm around her belly.

“We should get a bigger bed,” Sprintze murmured.

“You don’t want a bigger apartment first?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“S’pose I didn’t,” said Moshe. “He’s gonna be working all night. He was picking up another card to start on when I came in here.”

“Whichever of us wakes up in the night first, tell him to bed down,” she said.

Moshe couldn’t see her well in the dark as she turned off the lantern, but he could brush their noses together, and he kissed her lips, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“Deal,” he murmured. “But if I tell him and he argues—”

“I’ll come out and whip you both,” she finished, and Moshe muffled his laugh this time against her neck.

FIN.

#musings #original fiction #writers on tumblr #short fiction #jumblr

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typicalopposite · 3 days

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Thanks @priincebutt for the tag 🫶

slowly making my way through chapter 7! 🫠 sorry this has become my whole personality lately 😂 this is my main fic at the moment!

“Kinard!” Captain Collier calls from his office, nearly causing Tommy to drop the laptop he has meticulously balanced on his (extremely, dreadfully, embarrassingly) large belly. He has long since been able to comfortably do anything at his desk— the bump getting in the way, and sitting at an angle hurts his constantly aching back— so he has been using the bump instead… God knows it sticks out far enough anyway. He lifts the laptop off, and sets it on the table; crumbs from the bag of chips he was eating topple from his shirt to the floor when he stands. He frowns at the mess and grabs the broom he keeps close by (this happens often) and sweeps them into a pile. “Tommy?” Collier repeats softer this time, poking his head out of his office.

“Uh, come— coming Cap!” He tries in vain to bend and reach the dustpan. He holds on to the desk for support but he feels like he’s going to tumble forward every time he starts to lower himself. Then he sits back down and tries again… still with no success; he even tries to flip it onto the broom and balance it up to the desk.

“Let me,” Collier says, now beside him. He takes the broom then bends down and sweeps the crumbs into the dustpan. After he throws the crumbs away he straightens back up and sits on the edge of Tommy’s desk. “Tommy…” he says again, and just from the look on his face, Tommy already knows what he’s about to say. “Listen. I know you want to work up until you deliver, but I really think it’s time.” Tommy can feel his mouth pulling down and Collier sighs. “Hey… come on, don’t do that.”

Tommy is trying desperately not to humiliate himself by ‘doing that’— i.e. crying— but it has gotten so much harder lately. He feels huge, and heavy, and tired, and sore all the time! All that meshes together and has made him somehow even more emotional.

“What did you do to him, Cap!?” Lucy gasps, walking into the hanger.

Collier sucks at his teeth and pushes off the desk. “I didn’t do anything but suggest he make these last weeks easier on himself.”

“Well,” Lucy says… more so to Tommy.

“Not you too, Luce?!” Tommy feels his pout deepen.

Lucy laughs, and comes up behind him, squeezing and massaging his shoulders before wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t get me wrong, work will suck without you, and I am going to miss you so much; I don’t want you to leave…” she says. “I just want you to get some rest… you know the whole cliche you better sleep while you can because you won’t once baby is here— except you’re gonna have two babies keeping you up, and I honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve come to work and not looked exhausted… you’re overdue for some rest.”

Tommy would argue, except he knows he can’t; she’s right. The twins are growing beautifully, which makes him so happy and relieved… and massive, and miserable. He isn’t upset at the weight he’s gained, he is confident in himself enough to know he can lose it once they're born (and honestly even if he doesn’t lose a single pound, he is so happy both babies are healthy and thriving he wouldn’t care). However, he’s not been allowed to lift above his head since he announced the pregnancy, and getting something from lower than his waist at this point is damn near impossible. Lacey says he shouldn’t be carrying anything more than 15 pounds; and between the twins using his bladder and his lower spine for kickboxing practice, he is either in the bathroom or pacing the hanger trying to ease the back pain.

He’s exhausted from the lack of sleep the pain is causing, and he needs help doing pretty much anything that’s not sitting and typing, and that is not something they even need him at the station to do. Collier has been trying to convince him to work from home for a couple months… Tommy’s just— Hell even he’s not a hundred percent sure why he’s holding on to working for so long… He looks past Collier and Lucy at the helicopter’s, and he can’t even fly at the moment, but it’s been nice being near them. Watching them take off, watching them come back… he misses it. He’s going to miss this, and his team. “You’re probably right…” he finally admits. “I guess I should take advantage of the last few weeks of calm.”

Lucy smiles, and hugs him. “Good for you; you have more than earned a break,” she says squeezing him. “I’m gonna miss you, Kinard.”

“I’ll miss you too, Luce,” he replies, voice soft and shaky.

“Hey,” she says, pulling back to wipe the tears that are starting to fall from both their eyes. “This is not a forever goodbye, okay? I am going to come by and get my baby fix every day I have off… you’re gonna be so tired of me!”

“Never,” he laughs.

Tagging: @onthewaytosomewhere @30somethingautisticteacher @judymarch15 @nine-one-wanton

@bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan @somethingaboutfirefly @bucksxkinard @mmso-notlikethat

@sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction @marvelousbuckley

And anyone else who wants to share their writing 🫶🫶

#bucktommy #wip wednesday #bucktommy wip #tommy kinard #lucy donato #cw mpreg

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sturniqlo · 23 hours

Text

! CHRIS STURNIOLO MASTERLIST !

SYMBOLS: smut * | fluff 𐙚 | angst 𖤐 | authors favorites $ | social media fics/includes ꩜

REMINDERS: pls dm, comment, or inbox me if any of my links do not work!

DISCLAIMERS: i rarely proofread my works so, sorry about any grammar mistakes or misspelling. i do not consent for my work to be copied or republished! please give credit for any inspiration.

FICS/BLURBS

WASTED TIME𖤐 | PT2𖤐𐙚 : chris and y/n have been arguing. however one fight triggers her final straw and she breaks up with him.

WAIT FOR YOU𖤐$: chris leads y/n on and things don't end well between them. what happens when they cross paths again but she's not ready anymore?

LAUNCH𐙚$꩜: chris and influencer!y/n try to keep their relationship private as much as they can, but eventually they soft launch their relationship on social media. BLURB

SOMETHING YOU ARENT𖤐: y/n wants something serious with chris, but he only likes the thought of having someone next to him.

PIERCINGS*: y/n has a surprise for chris which leads to something... more. BLURB

GRAMMYS𐙚$꩜: chris is singer!y/n plus one to the grammys, he can't help but be proud of her and her accomplishments.

HERE TO STAY FOREVER𖤐𐙚: when chris starts to turn cold towards his best friend, y/n, she thinks the worst. what happens when she starts to back off and chris is desperate to hangout with her and confesses something?

YOURE YOU*: after finding out that they're both twenty year old virgins, both bff!chris and bff!y/n decide to take each others virginity.

ROAD TRIP𐙚꩜: the triplets and chris' gf go on a roadtrip, shown through instagram BLURB

HER OVER ME𖤐𐙚: after chris, y/n's best friend, gets a girlfriend she gets left behind almost like a distant memory. his girlfriend is probably the definition of perfect, however, she couldn't be that perfect, her and nick had noticed something unusual about her. when y/n confronts him about it, he lashes out on her. once he realizes that she was right, he goes to her house but is it to late to ask for forgiveness?

FORGIVE ME𖤐: chris cannot go to sleep without apologizing to his girlfriend BLURB

PAYMENT IN KISSES𐙚: where y/n has trouble painting her left hand and chris comes to the rescue. BLURB

A HELPING HAND*: the triplets are staying over at y/n's house and chris over hears something he shouldn't and decides to give her a helping hand. BLURB.

DRUNKEN MISTAKE𖤐: frat boy!chris and nerd!y/n have been dating for over a year and thier relationship has had many bumps and he does something unforgivable.

TALK ABOUT HARD LAUNCH꩜𐙚: chris hard launching his relationship on instagram, y/n following shortly. BLURB

IS THAT OKAY? 𐙚: y/n and chris have been on a couple of dates and have yet to do anything- even hold hands however, he had a question for her. BLURB

LET HER GO𖤐: seeing her across the room with someone else makes chris realize he needs to let her go. BLURB

SERIES

POSITIVE: mini chapters of soon to be dad!chris and pregnant!y/n. (on going, on hold)

HEADCANNONS

WANT YOU𐙚$: bff!chris who is in love with bff!y/n but they're both to afraid to say anything so they just flirt and do couple things without being official.

LOVE YOU FROM THE START𐙚*: more bff!chris and bff!y/n and a bit of bf!chris and gf!y/n

WE'RE IN LOVE𐙚*: things bf!chris does/has done

OTHER

CHRIS AND MATT P!LINKS*

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ninadove · 1 day

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Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 20th

I opened today’s entry thinking I knew what to expect, but apparently I did not:

Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D.

A bit of humour in the darkest of nights. And what a power move! I love that even minor characters are given such vivid personalities!

With regard to patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended with any unhappy results.

This is what I mean! Look how this man writes. Completely redundant. He has a unique “voice” and I love it!

I went down to see if I could make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred.

I’m starting to think every staff member has a death wish.

It was, I am sorry to say, however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through the window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I called to the attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent on some mischief.

YA THINK?????

Also, what was I saying about safety protocols the other day?

The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others were both burly men.

IT’S WORKING!!!!! The DYI vampirism is working!!! Mark me down as scared and strangely proud.

The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us. Their threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology for the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their names and addresses, in case they might be needed.

Efficient crisis management. Have a sticker 🦇

Now onto the regularly scheduled horrors…

Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.

About that —

And he has been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late—Lucy's mother and Arthur's father, and now.... Let me get on with my work.

Oh so it’s official! Arthur’s father has passed! What a month!

Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said; "come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep."

That is very sweet.

There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled round—doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim—and every now and again struck the window with its wings.

Hold on hold on hold on. I think Jack might be on to something here.

So far, we’ve seen Dracula target Jonathan and Lucy specifically and relentlessly. Yes, he also attacked the crew of the Demeter, but that was out of necessity (being stuck in the middle of the ocean with no other source of food) rather than choice; and he doesn’t want to feed on Renfield, who is older and “feeble” both physically and mentally.

So he is attracted to the light, metaphorically: to young people who are full of life and love. Because that’s what he lacks. Argh.

It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close.

🥺😔

"She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and let him come and see the last; he trusts us, and we have promised him." […]

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered softly:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."

Say what you want about Van Helsing (SISTER), he’s showing incredible amounts of compassion in this chapter.

In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who, like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled him almost across the room.

"Not for your life!" he said; "not for your living soul and hers!" And he stood between them like a lion at bay.

The next few entries are going to be fun.

Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted.

Ouch.

"Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!"

He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:—

"Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:—

"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."

A heads up would be nice!!!

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#dracula #dracula daily #nina reads dracula #lucy westenra #abraham van helsing #john seward #arthur holmwood #r.m. renfield

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hikakuriyyu · 3 days

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Tension. (part 5)

⁎ warnings: romantic slasher ? neglect, mentions of murder, manipulation, female!reader.

⁎ summary: you fell for him. hard. the murders started, and you knew it was him. billy lured you into his dark and twisted intentions. it was so wrong. but it doesn't feel wrong... there was something stopping you. or someone.

⁎ author note: hii. im so grateful for all the notes and followers i got for this series :) sorry for taking so long i caught the flu :( this ones a little short :p

Living with Billy felt like a dream at first. The two of you, no more hiding, no more masks—just you and him. It was everything you’d always wanted. Billy as your boyfriend was something you never thought would happen, not like this. The thrill of being with him, knowing you were the one he chose, made it all worth it.

But lately… something was off.

At first, it was little things. He’d stay out late without saying where he was going, or he’d brush you off when you asked about it. Then he started getting quieter, not the same smirking, charming Billy you knew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pulling away. Like he was already tired of the life you’d built together.

You tried to ignore it, but every time you looked at him, there was this distance that wasn’t there before. And the worst part? You didn’t know why.

01:34 AM: Billy's house:

You are sitting on Billy’s couch, the dim light of the living room casting shadows on the walls. You have been waiting for him all night, your thoughts racing with doubt and anxiety. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. It’s well past midnight when the door finally creaks open, and Billy walks in, looking casual but distant. You stood up as soon as he entered, your heart pounding. "Where were you ? I’ve been waiting for hours… again." You said, with a hint of neglect and sadness in your eyes. You HAD to ask him what was going on, you were already suspicious of him.

"Had some things to take care of. Why ? Got a problem with that ?" Billy answered, barely looking up as he tosses his jacket onto a chair, his tone indifferent. You feel your chest tighten. This isn’t the same Billy who used to hang on your every word. There’s a coldness now, like you've become an afterthought. ''You've been doing this every night. Ignoring me. Avoiding me. What's going on ?'' You ask with a shaky voice, trying to keep it together. You were genuinely hurt. What if this was a mistake ?

Billy looked at you and sighed, stepping closer to you. ''C'mere babe.'' he said, opening his arms. You wanted to refuse, but you couldn't. You stepped in his arms and engulfed him in a hug. ''I miss the way things used to be. I miss us.'' you said, tearing up. You were overthinking the entire thing. What if you never agreed to start the killings with him ? What if you never ran away with him ? What if you never fell in love ?

''Don't cry. I'm still here...'' he said before suddenly pulling you tighter towards him, a little too tight. ''I'm the reason you have somewhere to stay. Don't forget that.'' he whispered coldly before letting go of you, walking upstairs. You look at him with shock and hurt, tears flowing down your cheeks. You decide to brush it off by assuming he was in a bad mood, even though this wasn't the first time.

Later on, you were in Billy's kitchen. His earlier coldness was still lingering in your mind. You couldn't sleep after he said what he said. You were starting to second guess the choice of being with him. Billy, having noticed your lingering frustration, decides it's time to charm his way back into your good graces. He approaches you with a gentle, almost too-sweet smile, his tone soft and sorry.

''Hey,'' he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, giving you a soft peck on your cheek. ''I'm sorry about earlier, I'm going through alot right now.'' he murmured. You sigh, not quite believing him anymore. He noticed your hesitation and sighed. ''C'mon, i said i was sorry. You could atleast forgive me.'' He looks into your eyes, his gaze tender, filled with a fake sincerity that almost makes you forget the earlier neglect.

"You’re the most important person in my life, we’re so close to having the life we’ve always dreamed of. But there’s one last thing we need to do, and I need your help..." he said. Your heart skips a beat at the mention of a new task. You're wary but hopeful that this will be the moment they can finally leave Woodsboro behind and start over.

Billy looks at you before gently squeezing your hand. "Look, I need you to trust me. This is the final step." he said before moving closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear with a feather-light touch. His voice is a soft murmur, almost hypnotic. ''I need you to kill Gale.''

You freeze. Kill... Gale...? You slowly turn to him with a shocked look on your face, shaking your head. ''Billy... you promised. You promised me we wouldn't hurt any more people ! We already did enough !'' you exclaimed. You did not want to go back to your old ways, his old ways. You were good with what was going on now. Billy's eyes darkened before stepping closer. ''I'm just saying; you kill Gale, take her money, we leave Woodsboro. You won't get caught.'' he murmured. ''Do it for me. For us. I love you.''

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth inside you. He barely ever told you that he loved you. But he did. Your eyes softened before thinking about it. If you killed Gale and took her money, you and Billy would have enough money to buy another house. But killing Gale would just be so cruel. Billy waited for your answer, staring into your eyes. ''Can't you figure out another way to earn money ?'' you asked him quietly. ''No. I can't apply for a job that would be inconvenient... please.'' Billy pleaded softly, also with a hint of impatience in his voice. You sighed and looked at the ground, considering this decision. What's next ?

To Be Continued...

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