#thought I’d better say this. better safe than sorry. I don’t want to see that shit on my dash

[robotwrangler]

I don’t usually make posts about politics or current events because that’s just not what I come here for, but - and I really didn’t think I would have to say this - please unfollow and/or block me if you support Israel’s crimes against Palestine. I don’t care if we’re longtime mutuals, I don’t want anything to do with you. I also have zero interest in debating this topic with anyone so if I get a single shitty ask as a result of making this post I am deleting it without replying.

[dismalflo]

notes in the margins

Remus lupin x reader who are strangers until they're not ✩ 5.8k words

summary: You meet Remus at a party you'd rather not be at, and you think that's the end of it... until he manages to make his way into your life properly.

cw: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, reader is quite lonely and a lil socially inept.

The house is packed with people, most of whom you’re unsure whether you care to know. The air reeks of smoke and cheap booze, and it feels like everyone is watching you. They can see it—the way you stand in the corner of the kitchen, awkward and alone, like you don’t belong. It doesn’t help that you’re staring at the liquid in your plastic cup as though it holds the answers to the universe.

As you study it, lost in thought, you come to the conclusion that you should leave. Go home. Back to your bed, where it’s safe. Keep your life the size of a box. Just as you're about to pull out your phone to text Maddison that you're heading out, a voice from your right startles you.

“The drinks are awful, aren’t they?”

You think he’s talking to someone else nearby, until the toes of a pair of converse step into view, and you look up—mostly because you’re worried you’re the punchline of some joke.

He’s smiling, but it’s not a mocking smile. It’s like he’s in on something you’re not.

“Want something better?” he asks, his gaze playful as he tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of puzzle.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands as they nervously twist the cup. A quiet confusion settles in—you have no idea why he’s talking to you.

There’s a pause. A long one. You almost expect him to walk away, but instead, he shifts on his feet and seems to settle in. You look up, hoping he’s leaving because that means you can go home. But his smile has softened, and he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, an uncertainty creeping into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I feel like I know you from somewhere,” he says, voice low, as though he’s trying to piece something together.

You shrug, trying to play it off with a small, apologetic smile. “I think I just have one of those faces.”

“I’d disagree,” he says, a small quirk of his eyebrow.

There’s something in his voice that leaves you uncertain. Your life feels like it’s a never-ending loop of work and home, and you’d definitely remember meeting someone like him. Tall, nice, warm smile—it’s hard to forget. The uncertainty gnaws at you, and you start picking at the skin around your nails. But when you look up, you see his cheeks flush slightly, a shy, almost bashful look creeping in.

It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one keeping this conversation stalled. But it’s hard, harder than it should be. You don’t know what to say, how to say it, without feeling like a socially awkward mess. And now that you're lost in your head, the words feel stuck.

“So, who do you know here?” His voice is soft, genuine, and he leans down just a little to make sure you can hear him.

“Huh?” It takes a moment for you to catch up, then you blink, trying to pull your thoughts back together. “Oh—nobody, really. Just a friend of a friend kind of thing.”

He nods, like he understands, and you do the same without thinking.

“That makes sense,” he says, his tone light but with a touch of exasperation. “Sirius invites everyone he knows. Every time.”

The way he says it, the affection in his voice, it’s clear he and Sirius are close. And for a split second, you feel a pang of envy. You don’t know them, but just the way he speaks about him, how it sounds, makes you long for something similar. Sure, you have Maddison, but she’s more of a sporadic presence, a friend you catch up with once every few months. The one time she invites you somewhere that's not a cafe, she ditches you before the night even starts. You can’t blame her. She’s always been like that.

Another awkward silence falls, but this time, you rush to fill it. You don’t want him to feel like you’re just standing there in silence.

“I came with Maddison,” you say, almost too quickly.

His smile widens. “Oh, I’ve met her. She’s nice.”

You let out a dry laugh. “She was. Until she left me two minutes after we got here.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and he bursts into a loud laugh, his eyes lighting up. You freeze, worried he thinks you’re serious and mean, but before you can correct yourself, you scramble. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, voice a little too quick. “I mean, she didn’t—well, you know. She had her reasons.”

“It’s okay,” he’s still chuckling like your bluntness really tickled him. But you have the distinct feeling that you’ve somehow made a fool of yourself. It's that exact moment you decide you have to leave.

“I—uh, I need to get going,” you mutter, watching his expression falter just slightly before he nods. “I’ll see you around…” 

“Remus,” he adds, offering his name.

You give him yours in return, and then, without another word, you’re gone.

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The next day is another loop of the same dull routine that drags on in an endless, gray haze. Home, bus, work. Last night was out of the ordinary. The hours blur, blending together like the monotony of an old, well-worn song. You drag yourself through it all, each step like trudging through mud. But at least, you’re away from the suffocating quiet of your apartment. At least you don’t have to stare at the same walls, the same empty corners, with nothing but your own thoughts for company.

You wait at the bus stop, shifting from one foot to the other. The sky is heavy with dark clouds that seem to threaten an impending downpour. The air is thick with the tension of rain that hasn’t quite arrived yet, and the chill seeps through your jacket. Eyes flicking up to the horizon, praying for some excitement, anything. Maybe the rain will come. At least that would be something.

But still, no bus.

The minutes stretch on in silence. You shuffle your feet, watching up and down the street. You can feel the weight of the sky above you, pressing down like it’s waiting for something to give.

“I knew I recognised you from somewhere.”

You freeze, heart catching in your throat. It takes a second to register the words, and you blink, turning toward the sound of the voice.

Remus.

The same guy from the party last night. His figure is tall and familiar as he walks casually down the path toward you, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. The soft glow of the ember flickers as he takes a drag, his eyes fixed on you with an expression of recognition, but also something else—something more curious than you'd expected.

“Remus?” you ask, not quite sure whether you're still dreaming or if the world really does work this way, where you run into people you barely know on the most random of days.

He grins at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I didn’t think I’d run into you again so soon. Lovely to see you.”

Your stomach tightens at his words. You shift uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at him. The awkwardness from last night floods back, the way you were so sure he was going to walk away, leaving you alone in your own little corner of the world. And yet, here he is again, standing in front of you.

“I’m surprised you recognise me,” you admit, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as a gust of wind picks up. “I wasn’t exactly the life of the party last night.” It feels a bit easier speaking to him in a place that you know. 

He chuckles softly, almost as if your self-deprecation amuses him. "Well, you were hard to miss, you know? There’s something about you," he trails off, his voice almost hesitant. Then, like he’s remembering something, he adds, “I wasn’t expecting to find you here, though.”

You can’t help but smile, even if his eyes locked on you feels exposing. "Yeah, me neither. I—uh, I take the bus home after work, so..."

“Ah,” Remus cuts you off, the look on his face suddenly shifting to something a little more serious. “The bus won’t be coming for a while. There’s been an accident up the road, a big one. You’re gonna be waiting here for ages.” he sounds apologetic, like he's really sorry he's the one telling you.

You sigh, processing the information, but your mind is too caught up in the reality of being stuck here longer than you wanted. The bus is never reliable, but this is a new level of inconvenience. You feel the familiar unease creep up your spine, the thought of the endless wait stretching before you like a dark tunnel with no light at the end.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath, staring at the pavement beneath your shoes. "Just what I need."

Remus watches you, his expression thoughtful. You feel his eyes on you for a moment too long, and it makes you shift again, the silence hanging heavy in the air between you. Your brain goes into autopilot, spiraling through scenarios—what if the bus never comes? What if you’re stuck here for hours? The thought of waiting outside, in the cold, with nothing but your thoughts for company, fills you with a strange mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Just as the anxiety begins to swell, Remus interrupts the chaos of your spiraling thoughts.

“You hungry?”

You blink up at him, thrown off guard by the sudden question. Hunger. Right. You hadn’t really thought about food until now, but when you do, it’s like your stomach growls on cue. You’re always hungry, but especially now, when your brain feels like it might short-circuit from the sheer amount of time you’ve spent just...waiting.

“Yeah,” you admit, a little embarrassed by how eager the word slips out. "I’m starving, actually."

He gives a simple nod, gesturing for you to follow him. Without thinking twice, you do.

And that’s how you end up across from Remus in a cramped booth, your knees brushing beneath the table as you dig into a burger and fries, the world outside the booth fading into the background.

As you bite into your burger, the warm grease and salt doing wonders for your hunger, you notice how easy it feels to sit across from Remus. The bus stop seems like a distant memory, replaced by the low hum of the diner and his easy going nature. It’s a strange thing, how someone can just slide into your world like that, without any pretence or pressure.

“You know,” Remus says between bites, his voice a little quieter than before, “I come here pretty often. The owner’s been giving me free refills on the coffee since I was sixteen.” He gives a shy, almost embarrassed smile, but there’s a glint of pride in his eyes.

“Free coffee, huh?” you joke, grinning, “So you’re basically royalty around here.”

He laughs, but there’s a trace of humility behind it. “I don’t know about that. I think I was probably quite annoying back then, or at least James and Sirius were. Most of the time I’m reading and writing here.” He looks down at his burger for a second, as though the words aren’t quite meant to leave his lips.

“Oh, you write?” you ask, leaning in slightly, curiosity piqued. You can’t help but wonder what kind of stories this guy has locked away.

He nods, still not meeting your gaze. “I, uh, yeah. It’s nothing serious though,” he quickly adds, as if he’s embarrassed by the idea of someone knowing. “Just something I’ve been working on for a while.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him with interest. “What do you write about? I feel like I'm always reading different stuff.” you remember yourself after, looking down as you add, “You don't have to tell me.”

Remus squirms a little in his seat, and his gaze flickers away. You can tell he’s hesitating, like he’s unsure whether he wants to share or not. It makes you even more curious.

“It’s, um, kind of a mix of fantasy and... I don’t know... life stuff. Nothing too exciting,” he says quickly, sounding almost apologetic, but there’s a subtle spark of passion in his voice when he talks about it. "I just... I guess I like to write things that feel real, even if they’re set in a world that isn’t. Does that make sense?"

You smile, the feeling of him letting you in on a piece of his world not lost on you. “It makes perfect sense,” you say, your voice soft, appreciative. “That sounds amazing. You should be proud of it.”

Remus looks a little taken aback, but a small, shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well... I’m still working on it. Not ready to share it with anyone just yet.”

You nod, understanding. There’s something vulnerable about sharing your work, even with the people you trust most. “I get that,” you say. 

For a while, you both sit in comfortable silence, your shared laughter from earlier still hanging in the air. It’s strange, but for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re not just passing time. You’re actually existing in the moment, and Remus is there with you, filling the space with his easy charm and the subtle way he listens to you without judgment.

“So, what about you?” he asks after a beat, his voice steady, as though the shift in conversation is natural. “What’s your story? What do you do?”

It’s an innocent enough question, but somehow, it feels heavier than it should. You feel a little vulnerable suddenly, how do you compare to him? But instead of feeling pressure, you find yourself wanting to answer, to let him see more of you. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Not much. I work in retail—pretty boring stuff, honestly.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Retail, huh? That doesn’t sound boring.”

You laugh softly, then take a sip of your drink. “Well, I guess it’s not boring so much as it is... repetitive? But, yeah, nothing as exciting as writing a book.”

His smile widens a bit at that, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’ve managed to take down some of the walls between you. But just as quickly, the conversation stalls, and you both find yourselves lost in the simplicity of each other’s company.

“I’m glad we ran into each other today,” you say suddenly, the thought slipping out before you can filter it. “It’s nice, you know, having someone to talk to for a change… and i'm sorry for being weird at that party last night.”

Remus looks at you as he nudges your knee under the table, his expression softer now, more open. “It’s alright, it was all a bit overwhelming.”

After a pause, Remus picks up his phone, glancing at it before looking back at you. “Hey, uh, I was thinking... Since we both end up here a lot, maybe we could hang out sometime? Like, outside of weird bus stop encounters.” His voice is tentative, like he’s worried you might decline, but the way his eyes meet yours, hopeful but unsure, makes your heart do a small flip.

You’re caught off guard by the suggestion. Hang out? With him? You hadn’t even realised how much you wanted something like that until now.

“Yeah, sure,” you say before you even really process the words. You can’t help but smile a little at the thought. “That sounds nice.”

A look of relief passes over his face, and he pulls his phone out, his fingers tapping quickly as he hands it over. “Great. Here, give me your number, and we’ll figure something out.”

You type your number in quickly, your fingers moving almost on their own. When you hand the phone back to him, there’s a flicker of something between you.

Remus grins, his eyes warm as he tucks the phone away. “I’ll text you soon. It’ll be nice to actually get to know you, you know? Be more...comfortable.”

You laugh, feeling some weight lift from your chest. “Yeah. I think we can manage that.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

When Remus said he’d text you soon, you expected it to be about a week—or, honestly, you figured he might never reach out at all. So when you woke up the next day to a text from him asking if you wanted to grab coffee, shocked didn’t even begin to cover it. But of course, you said yes, and now you’ve been meeting up a couple of times a week, sipping coffee and slowly getting to know each other.

There’s a simplicity in talking to Remus that you’ve never quite experienced before. He’s always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable, that you’re enjoying yourself. It feels effortless. He feels effortless. The only moment that’s thrown you off was one evening when he asked what kind of books you liked to read over the phone. You told him, and his response was just, "Okay, great. Talk to you later," before hanging up. It left you with more questions than answers still looking forward to the next time you get to see him.

The coffee shop smells of roasted beans and fresh pastries, the comforting hum of conversation blending with the soft clink of ceramic cups. You slide into the booth, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the walk over, your fingers curling around the warm cup in front of you. It’s a Saturday morning, and the light filtering through the windows has a gentle quality to it that makes everything feel calm and still.

Remus arrives just moments later, a little breathless, but with that familiar easy smile that you’ve grown to look forward to. He orders his usual—black coffee, nothing fancy—and slides into the seat across from you. There’s a small, almost shy smile playing at the corners of his lips as he sets down a small, worn book on the table between you.

You blink at it, glancing up at him. “What’s this?” you ask, your eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

Remus looks down at the book, then up at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. It’s not like him to be this nervous, but the way he avoids your gaze for a moment makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing himself. He clears his throat, still looking at the book with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

“It’s... a book I thought you might like,” he says quietly, his voice hesitant, as if he’s unsure of your reaction. “That's why I- uh, why I asked the other night.”

Your fingers hover over the book’s cover, the title printed in elegant, curling letters. A title that immediately pulls you in, the kind of thing you’d never pick out on your own but might really enjoy. You glance back up at Remus, noting the soft blush on his cheeks. The vulnerability in his actions surprises you.

“I—thank you,” you say softly, your heart squeezing in a way you hadn’t expected. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you now, his eyes shy but hopeful, like this small gesture means so much to him. “I’ll definitely read it.”

He relaxes a little, his smile widening. “I’m glad. I thought... Well, it’s not exactly the most popular book or anything, but I figured it might speak to you. And if you don’t like it, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, already flipping the book over in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the cover. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

The conversation moves on from there, the usual topics filling the gaps—work, the weather, the books you’ve been reading—but it feels different this time. There’s a new layer to the connection between you two, something unspoken, something that feels important but can’t quite be named yet. The coffee passes in a haze of easy conversation and laughter, and by the time you both get up to leave, you feel a strange sense of contentment—like the world is, for a moment, just right.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Later that evening, you’re curled up in your favourite armchair, the soft light of your reading lamp illuminating the pages. The book feels comforting, a little like a friend you didn’t know you needed. You make it through the first pages chapters, quickly absorbed in the world it creates, and then, as your eyes scan the margins, you pause.

In the very first chapter, there’s a note scrawled in neat handwriting:

“This reminds me of you. You get lost in your thoughts the same way she does.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you’re already turning to the next page, not thinking much of it. But as you keep reading, the notes continue, each one more personal than the last.

He's put a box around a passage that talks about someone new becoming sunshine in one of the characters lives. Next to it he's written: you.

You pause, fingers trembling slightly as you turn to the next page. And then there’s another one:

“This part just made me think of you, that you’d like it.”

It clicks suddenly like an epiphany that you really, really like him.

The tears catch you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to feel this... moved. This seen. It’s like Remus has captured pieces of you in these notes—things you never said, things you didn’t even realize were there. He’s taken something as simple as a book and turned it into a way for you to see yourself through his eyes, as if he’s been quietly paying attention, noticing things about you you hadn’t even noticed in yourself.

Before you can stop it, your tears spill over, and you grab your phone, feeling the need to reach out to him. You hit his contact, your fingers shaking as you press the call button. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Hello?” His voice sounds a little surprised, but it’s warm, comforting.

“I—Remus, I just—” You can’t even finish the sentence, the tears turning into a full-on sob.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” he questions gently but there’s a tinge of panic in his voice. “Do you need me to come get you?”

You wipe your eyes, trying to regain some composure, but the emotion is too raw. “I’m fine. It’s just... I don’t know. I didn’t realize how much it would mean to me, and now... I just wanted to say thank you. For the book. For everything.”

He lets out a big sigh of relief. “That's okay, you’re welcome, dove.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, barely able to say the words without breaking down again. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m really glad you liked it,” he replies softly, his voice warm with sincerity. “Really.”

You hesitate, wondering if this is the right moment. Part of you is almost certain that he feels the same way you do, especially after what’s just happened. But another part of you worries—what if you’re reading him wrong? What if you’ve misinterpreted everything?

“Would you…” you begin, unsure, “Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night? We could get takeaway, or... anything you want?”

There’s a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “I’d love that.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

You pace around your flat, your eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It’s almost time for Remus to arrive, and you’re certain your stomach is doing somersaults. Why does this feel so much more important than it probably is? It’s just dinner, right? Yet, everything feels magnified. The messiness of your living room seems somehow ten times worse, and the familiar clutter of books, mismatched furniture, and the remnants of your life in its chaos feels more glaring than usual. You straighten up a few things, putting cushions back in place on the couch, smoothing down the edges of the blanket. You pick up a few dishes that you’d left out earlier, trying to make the place look somewhat presentable, even though you know Remus won’t care.

You glance in the mirror, adjusting your hair for the hundredth time, frowning as you tug at the collar of your jumper. It’s nothing fancy. A comfortable knit, a bit oversized, something you know you feel good in. But suddenly, you feel self-conscious, like it’s not enough. What if he doesn’t think you’re pretty? What if you don’t look good enough? You shake the thoughts away. This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. Remus isn’t like that. He’s told you many times that you look pretty even when you’ve just been in your uniform straight out of work.

You make a mental note to stop overthinking, but your nerves don’t seem to want to cooperate. A quick glance at the clock tells you that he’ll be here any minute, and you’re still unsure whether you’re prepared for what might happen tonight. You know you’re about to open up, to tell him something that has been building inside you for weeks now. You can’t stop thinking about the way he makes you feel, how effortlessly he fits into your life. You’re nervous, terrified, but also strangely excited. You want to know if he feels the same way, even if the answer might hurt.

Your phone buzzes, startling you. You pick it up to see a message from Remus: On my way! Can’t wait to see you.

You smile at the text, feeling a wave of warmth settle over your nerves. You try to calm your breath, reminding yourself that this is just Remus—someone who’s become a friend. Someone who’s been kind and patient, and who might just be more than that.

A knock on the door jolts you from your thoughts. You take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself, and open it to find Remus standing there, looking exactly like himself—tall, with a soft smile that sends a flutter to your chest. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers, which he quickly extends toward you.

“For you,” he says, his voice low and warm, his smile a little shy.

You feel your cheeks flush at the gesture, the simple thoughtfulness of it. “Thank you,” you say, taking the flowers and feeling an odd sense of gratitude fill you. They’re beautiful. You’re not sure if this is just Remus being Remus or if it means something more, but the sincerity in his eyes makes you feel seen.

“They’re lovely,” you add, feeling a little shy as you take them to put in a vase on the kitchen counter.

“You look lovely too, by the way,” Remus says, his voice just a bit too quiet. He clears his throat and looks at you a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just—yeah. You look great.”

You blink, feeling the heat of his compliment spread through you. “Thanks, Remus. You look... nice too,” you stutter, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole for being so awkward.

He laughs softly, clearly understanding how the moment is making you feel, but there's no mockery in his tone—just affection. "Thank you."

The two of you settle into the couch, the awkwardness slowly dissipating as you begin ordering food. The simple act of choosing what to eat feels grounding, like it’s a small step toward normalcy. You both decide on pizza—something familiar, easy, and comforting. As you wait for it to arrive, you talk about the usual things. But your mind keeps drifting to the real reason why you invited him here.

You can feel it now, the weight of the conversation you need to have hanging in the air between you two. You feel restless, like there’s something inside you just waiting to burst free.

The pizza arrives, the conversation shifts, and you sit together, eating in the cozy comfort of your living room. Yet, even as you laugh and share stories, your heart is pounding. You know it’s coming. You know you have to say it.

“Remus,” you begin hesitantly, your voice catching in your throat as you look at him. “I... I wanted to tell you something.”

He glances up from his slice of pizza, a curious, open expression on his face. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You swallow hard, trying to calm the nervous flutters in your stomach. Your fingers trace the edge of your pizza box, too aware of the weight of the moment. “I... I think I like you, Remus.” The words rush out before you can stop them, and you quickly add, “I mean, I like you more than just as a friend. And... I don’t know. I just thought I should tell you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just... thought I should say it.”

You rush the last part out, your face flushing deeply, your heart hammering in your chest as you stare at your hands. You can’t even look him in the eye, afraid of what you might see—or worse, what he might not say.

The silence that follows feels endless. Your mind races through worst-case scenarios: What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if you just ruined everything? What if he laughs, or worse, gets awkward?

But then you hear him clear his throat. When you finally dare to look at him, Remus is watching you with wide, warm eyes. His lips curl into a soft, genuine smile, and for a second, the anxiety that had been gripping your chest eases just a little.

“I feel the same way.” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"you- you do?"

He nods, his smile growing just a little. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been... kind of terrified to say it, honestly. But... I like you, too. More than just a friend.”

Relief floods through you, and before you can stop it, a giddy smile spreads across your face. "Oh my god," you breathe, unable to keep the laugh from escaping. "I thought I was going to die just now."

Remus chuckles softly, a quiet, knowing sound that makes your heart race a little faster. He leans in a bit closer, his expression softening, and you feel an electric pulse between you two. The air around you seems to shift, becoming thick with everything unsaid, everything you both now understand.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he says, his voice low but warm. "I promise I’m not going anywhere."

You smile shyly, the tension in your body easing, but the words don’t quite come out right. Instead, you take a deep breath, your eyes locked with his. You’ve already told him how you feel, and the vulnerability is still there, but now it’s accompanied by a quiet kind of hope

Remus reaches out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he’s testing the waters. His fingers brush against yours lightly, sending a wave of warmth through your skin. You glance at his hand, then back up at him. His gaze is tender, searching yours for permission. There’s a slight hesitation, but it’s not strange—just... careful.

"Can I?" he asks, his voice just barely audible.

Your heart skips a beat. You nod, almost imperceptibly, too caught up in the moment to speak. The room feels smaller now, the space between you two shrinking with every passing second. Remus' hand moves a little closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, before he gently pulls your hand into his.

The warmth of his hand in yours feels like everything you’ve been waiting for, and you can’t help but smile softly. And then, without thinking, your thumb traces the edge of his hand, a quiet way of saying you're okay, you're safe. You can feel him relax in response, the tension in his shoulders melting as he inches even closer.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the anticipation growing as you both lean in, inch by tentative inch. The moment feels suspended in time. You close your eyes, a soft laugh bubbling up from you as you let out a nervous sigh.

"Remus," you whisper, barely a breath.

He stops, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching yours with that same softness, that same quiet intensity. The world outside seems to disappear. The sound of your breath and the beating of your hearts are all you can focus on.

Then, it happens. He leans in, his lips barely brushing against yours at first. It’s tentative, soft, like a question. Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re sure time has stopped. His lips are warm, gentle, and the kiss feels like the answer to everything you’ve been waiting for. You feel lightheaded with it—like everything in the world has finally made sense, like this is right, and maybe it always was.

A small giggle escapes you both, just a tiny, nervous sound, and Remus pulls back a fraction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’ve wanted to do that for a while," he admits, his voice hushed.

You smile, feeling the warmth of the moment flooding through you. "Me too."

And then, without another word, you close the small gap between you again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more certain, though still gentle. His lips press against yours with a sweet intensity, like he's savoring it, savoring you. Your fingers move instinctively to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. Everything feels soft, tender—a slow, steady rhythm between you that’s almost perfect in its simplicity.

The kiss deepens, just enough to make your pulse race, but it still carries that same sweet, careful energy, like you're both savoring each second of it. It’s a slow kind of magic, the kind that makes your heart feel full and light all at once.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dazed, you rest your forehead against his, your noses brushing lightly. The laughter that had been bubbling inside you finally spills out, soft and giddy, and Remus chuckles with you, his fingers still gently brushing through your hair.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You nod, smiling wider than you ever thought possible. “Yeah. More than okay.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3

[y3sterdaysproblem]

they said speak now - m.s.

summary: you and matt had been best friends since the moment you were born, rarely doing anything without him by your side. your families have always expected the two of you to end up together, but when matt gets a girlfriend that hates you and desperately attempts to destroy your relationship, you’re forced to confront the truth about your feelings for him. will your bond survive the test, or will the pressure of love, jealousy, and change push you apart?

wc: 2k

series masterlist

Part five

Matt called you that night, once everyone was home safe and he was in bed, guilt still rushing through him from the state he left you in. He felt awful, completely at fault for what had happened, knowing he should’ve stood up for you and let you sit next to him, but the way his new girlfriend stared at him expectantly, like she was owed the front seat now that they were a couple, there was no way he could deny either of you what you wanted.

In his mind, it was stupid. Everything from the passenger seat to the way you and Amber treated each other, it was all dumb. Just because he had a girlfriend now didn’t mean he couldn’t care for both of you, at least in his mind. He didn’t see why you had such an issue with each other, especially if both of you made him happy in your own ways.

You wanted to ignore his call, a part of you wanting him to feel worse than he already did about everything, but the part of you that loved him, even as your best friend, couldn’t hurt him like that. As soon as you answered, Matt whispered your name softly, like he was afraid of scaring you off. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice quiet and calm.

“For what?” You ask him. Your stomach was still turning slightly, your body not fully recovered from the nausea that consumed you about an hour ago in the car and you knew you wouldn’t feel better until the morning, but you couldn’t ignore the way Matt’s voice calmed you and made you feel slightly less sick.

“For everything, I guess. You getting sick, the way Amber talked to you, making you feel like I’d forget about you… I could never forget about you and I wish you knew that.” Matt sounded sincere in the way he spoke to you, his smooth voice triggering goosebumps on your skin.

“It’s just how girls are, Matt,” you tell him honestly. “I know how girls are which is why I’m so… apprehensive. She knows how girls are, too. Not saying she’s necessarily right about any of it,” you lie. “But girls don’t like when guys have friends that are girls. It’s just how it is. What hurts me is you let her have an attitude with me and you don’t defend me or tell her to stop and that’s what makes me so sure that you’ll choose her over me in a heartbeat.”

“Why does it always have to be about choosing? Can’t I have separate relationships with you both without having to change how I talk to either of you?” You hated how he had a point and you couldn’t really further explain your jealousy without exposing your feelings towards him, which in your mind would definitely ruin your relationship with him for good.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes locked on your ceiling above you, room illuminated by the moon shining in the window. “I’m just used to having you all to myself. I don’t have any other friends except you and your brothers.” Your nose burned from the onset of tears filling in your eyes, the thought of being lonely overwhelming you.

Matt’s quiet for a few beats, noticing the way your voice pinches towards the end of your sentence. “Do you want me to come spend the night?” He asks finally, tone serious. You sniffle and bring a hand up to wipe a tear that slips from the corner of your eye. “Yes,” you whisper back to him.

It’s not even ten minutes before he makes it to your house, climbing in through your window as to not disturb your sleeping family by opening the front door. It was something you guys had been doing for years at this point, ‘sneaking’ Matt in through your bedroom window on nights when it was a little too late to make noise by walking through your house to let him in, or just on nights when you had school the next day and he really shouldn’t have been spending the night in the first place.

You’re just watching him from your bed, curled up on your side and facing him as he slips his shoes and sweater off. “Why are you crying so much lately?” He asks in a quiet voice with a teasing undertone, trying to cheer you up. It does bring a small, wet giggle out of you, your hand wiping your nose as you sniffled.

“I don’t know. Too much change, I guess.” You tell him, scooting backwards on your bed as he comes closer and pulls the blanket back to slide in next to you. “Too much change?” He clarifies and you nod slightly. “You mean like me and Amber?”

The smile fades from your face and you shrug your shoulders slightly, staring over at him as his cheek rests against the pillow, his body facing yours. You always seemed to find yourself in this position with him, laying side by side in bed, facing each other as you spoke quietly, almost as if you hoped nobody else could hear you. “You and Amber, graduating, being eighteen… it’s just a lot right now and I don’t even know what I want to do. Part of me is just scared you’re figuring things out and I’m not.”

Matt chuckles at this, rolling his eyes slightly. “Are you kidding? I have nothing figured out. Just because I got a girlfriend doesn’t mean anything.” You sigh and reach over, shoving his shoulder at the way he rolled his eyes. “No, but it changes things. She’d never let you live with me, she probably won’t want you hanging out with me, I’m gonna have to spend all my time with… with Chris!”

“Oh, stop,” Matt laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, slinging your arm around his waist so he could wrap his own around your back, staring down at you now. “I’m gonna tell Chris you don’t think he’s good company.” You pout up at him and shake your head slightly. “He’s great company but he’s not you.”

Matt can’t ignore the way his stomach turns when you say that, unable to place the feeling of the skipping in his chest. His smile fades as he looks down at you, trying to focus on his breathing as his eyes lock onto yours. “Matt?” You say softly, hearing him suck in a soft breath as you break him out of his thoughts. “Yeah?” He responds at the same volume, shooting you a gentle smile.

“I dunno, you looked.. out of it,” you laugh, scooting a bit closer and grabbing the blanket to pull it higher up on your guys’ bodies. “Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Just thinking. Nothing important.”

You feel a comment itching to be spoken sitting on the tip of your tongue, and it has to be the late hour that makes you confident enough to say it, knowing you’d never say this without the comfort of the dark room you’re in. “Looked like you wanted t’kiss me,” you say teasingly, wiggling your eyebrows up at him.

A laugh rips out of him, his body shaking underneath your arm at your accusation. “Kiss you?” Matt giggles, pulling you closer and turning onto his back, shaking his head as he turns his gaze towards the ceiling. “Nah. You wish.”

You giggle as he pulls you with him, now tucked into his side as he turns over, cheek resting on his shoulder. It was funny, the interaction, enough to make you forget about whatever it was you were upset about, but it was true. You did wish.

-

In the morning when you wake up, Matt is still sound asleep, sprawled out on his back with one arm slung out to his side where you were presumably laying at one point, his other arm lazily resting over his face to hide his eyes from the sun shining in your room. You let out a sleepy sigh and stretch out on your bed, arms high above your head as your eyes squeeze shut momentarily.

It’s been a while since you’ve woken up in the same bed with Matt, the pleasure becoming a rarity now with Amber in the picture. Truthfully you understood where she was coming from to an extent. If you were a girlfriend, you wouldn’t want Matt spending the night at another girl or doing the things you guys did together, but it was all you and Matt knew. Spending time together was like second nature.

Matt could sleep forever if you let him, a heavy sleeper to the point where you’ve laid fully on top of him and he wouldn’t wake up, so once you look at the time and realize it’s already afternoon, you groan and turn to face him, reaching forward to remove his arm from his face. He doesn’t stir, in fact a small snore leaves his parted lips, seemingly slipping further into sleep as you move him.

“Matt,” you say groggily, shoving his shoulder gently. Your stomach was already grumbling, begging for food after your night of nausea. “Wake up.” He shifts and rolls onto his side to face you, away from the sun, eyes still closed. You huff and grumble something under your breath, moving your hand up to his nose and pinching his nostrils together.

It’s only a couple of seconds before Matt’s hand comes up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from his face quickly. His eyes peel open and lock on you, puffy and unfocused as he looks at you. “Why?” He asks plainly, voice laced with sleep. The raspiness makes your toes tingle and you have to fight the girlish giggle that bubbles up in your throat. “I’m hungry,” you inform him, your wrist still in his grasp as he holds it close to his chest. Matt sighs and closes his eyes again, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. “Okay,” he sighs. “What do you want?”

You smile wide at his instant willingness to get food with you, scooting a bit closer to him. “Do you have any plans today?” You ask him, pulling your hand out of his so you could bring it up to trail a finger over the stubble growing on his jaw, your touch light on his skin. “No,” he replies, yawning loudly. He finally opens his eyes for good this time, the ability to fall back asleep slipping from his grasp. “Amber’s at some family member’s house like an hour away and you’re my only other friend.”

“Can we go to that new cafe in the city?” You ask excitedly, already pushing the covers off of both of you and sitting up. Matt groans and runs both hands over his face, rubbing harshly before he turns his head and sniffs under his arm, grimacing slightly as he pulls away and looks at you again. “Sure, but I need to go home and shower first.” He sits up next to you and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, his back facing you. When Matt stands up and stretches his arms above his head, you can’t help but stare at the sliver of skin that becomes exposed due to his shirt riding up, his underwear visible from how low his sweatpants were slung on his hips.

He spins around and smiles at you as his hands slap down onto his thighs and you clear your throat and meet his eyes as quickly as you can, trying to make sure he doesn’t realize you were staring at a sliver of skin like a man starved of physical contact. “I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes?” He suggests as he slides back into his shoes and you nod your head, shooting him a smile. “Sounds perfect. I’ll be ready.” You agree.

Thirty minutes later when Matt pulls up in your driveway just like he promised, already playing your current music fixation when you climb into the car with a wide smile on your face, excited to spend your day with your best friend, alone.

You just hoped Amber wouldn’t find a way to ruin it for you.

taglist

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two four

Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, child birth

1.03

You blink away unshed tears as you stare up at Ser Harwin; the look on his face was earth-shattering. No traces of anger or bitterness could be detected on his handsome face; the softness in his eyes made you feel nothing but guilt. You should never have believed the rumors, given into your husband's taunting or gone near Criston Cole.

You’re unaware that you’re crying until Harwin wipes them away with the pads of his thumb. “Prince Daemon told me your news; congratulations, princess.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, and in a quiet voice, he says, “He also told me what he said to you. I wish I’d known sooner.”

Ser Harwin wasn’t a fool; he knew his beloved princess’s outburst of believing the rumors surrounding him and Princess Rhaenyra being true hadn’t come from thin air, but he had no idea Daemon was the one behind it. The Targaryen prince thrived in chaos, but after causing so much damage, the knight was grateful to be away from the keep for some time; otherwise, he might have done something to get himself executed.

“Do you forgive me?”

Harwin sighs, “There’s nothing to forgive. It was a misunderstanding.”

Pouting, you shake your head. “I should never have doubted you... henujagon īlva, valzȳrys.” (Leave us, husband.)

You wait until you hear Daemon leave; he didn’t need to be involved in your conversation, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if he was within earshot. You take Harwin’s large hand in yours and say, “I love my husband; he’s the other half of me. Targaryens are made to burn together, but I love you too. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s a different kind of love. Since I was a girl, I always knew I’d marry Daemon, regardless of how I felt, but I chose to be with you. You make me feel safe and—”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?” Harwin wipes away another fallen tear. “I’ve memorized each time you’ve confessed your love to me, which is how I know something is wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know whose baby this is. I forgot to drink moon tea after the last time we lay together.”

His blue eyes fill with tears. “Prince Daemon will be the father.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches a little when Harwin hugs you; he was a good man. A far better person than you, Daemon, or Criston. He wasn’t selfish, violent, or entitled. You only wish you’d never questioned his loyalty to begin with.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

—

As the months passed, your body changed, and the gorgeous gowns you had made could no longer hide how large your bump had gotten. Rhaenyra often thought you were carrying more than one baby when your bump first started to swell, but now you were convinced she was right.

Daemon smooths his hand gently over the fabric of your dress, feeling the baby kick beneath. You were comfortable laying on your left side with multiple pillows fluffed around you to keep you in that position. Your husband lay behind you with his face nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Have you spoken much with Ser Harwin?”

“No,” you say, feeling your lip tremble slightly. “Perhaps it is for the best; the less he is near during my pregnancy, the less people will talk.”

Daemon kisses your cheek. “The baby could look exactly like us, and the Greens would still gossip. I suspect the same will happen with Rhaenyra as soon as she has an heir.”

Your sister and her husband, Ser Laenor, had gone to visit various houses in the realm on behalf of your father, who was too ill to travel the distance himself. Although they had gone on dragonback, a large number of knights, including Ser Harwin, had been sent to protect them. When you confessed your antics with Cole to Ser Harwin, he was mad for a while but insisted he still wanted to be with you; he just needed some time.

“And what if the baby doesn’t look like us?” You knew no matter what, you’d love and protect your child fiercely, but you needed reassurance from Daemon. “I’ve been beyond foolish; I’ve given them the opportunity to make my child’s life miserable before they are even born.”

“I will cut out the tongues of anyone who dares question the legitimacy of our child. Any baby you have will be an extension of you; it would be impossible for me not to love them.” He rubs his hand along your stomach again. “This is my son or daughter growing inside you. Nothing anyone says will change that.”

—

“Princess, it’s time to push again.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” You sob, clutching onto the bed sheets tightly. The pain was overwhelming; you were convinced this is what dying felt like.

“Push!”

The midwives help guide you through the last few pushes until your daughter finally enters the room. She is placed on your chest, and you sob with happiness, “She’s perfect—oh fuck.”

Your daughter is quickly carried away to be cleaned up as the midwife pushes your legs open again. “Time to do this second time, princess.”

—

Daemon hums while gently rocking your daughter Daella to sleep, while your son Gaemon suckles at your breast. They were only a few hours old, but it already felt like you'd spent a lifetime loving them.

“Perhaps when you are feeling up to it, we can pick dragon eggs for the baby’s.”

You smile and say, “That would be nice.”

With Syrax having laid another clutch of dragon eggs, you were on your way to the dragon pit to pick one while being accompanied by your husband and sworn protector, but before you could leave the courtyard, your waters broke. Ser Harwin immediately picked you up and carried you back to your chambers, while Daemon sent for the maester and midwives.

“There, there,” Daemon says before gently placing your daughter into the crib next to your bed.

You smile down at her. Daella shares your pale complexion; her silver hair and the shade of her purple eyes were an exact match for yours. Gaemon got almost all his features from you, like his sister; his skin was pale and his hair silver, except his eyes were a dark brown.

“I think he’s had his feed,” you say when Gaemon stops feeding and his eyelids slowly start to close.

Daemon takes him from your arms so you can readjust your nightgown. He kisses the baby on the forehead. “They really are perfect.”

—

Sitting underneath the weirwood tree, you smile as Daella attempts to walk along one of the thick roots sticking out of the ground, with your loyal knight Ser Harwin right behind her, ready to catch her the second she slips. Gaemon lays back, his head resting against your legs, as you read a story about dragons out loud. Both eggs had hatched in the cradle, and your children were now getting to the age where they understood how powerful and magical dragons are.

“Careful, princess,” Harwin says softly. “Slow down before you fall.”

Daella grins up at the knight before jumping onto a different root. It wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of her, and she attempted to climb the tree.

When screeching comes from the distance, Gaemon points to the sky and says, “Mama, look! It’s kepa!”

You look up and see the Blood Wyrm flying in the direction of the dragonpit. Daemon always made a point of returning from dragon riding before supper time so he could dine with his family. When you lower your gaze from the sky, you are met with the cold gaze of Ser Criston Cole. You often notice the knight observing your son and daughter from a distance, but he makes no attempt to interact with them.

Although Cole would never admit it, you had a feeling he would risk his life for them just as Daemon and Harwin would.

—

Harwin takes one of the pebbled nipples into his mouth while you lean over him, your hands pressing against his chest. Daemon kisses the back of your neck, occasionally nipping at your sensitive skin with his teeth as he thrusts into you from behind. Over time, the three of you had come to an agreement that when the time came and you wished to have another baby, you and Harwin couldn’t fuck as you normally would, eliminating any chances of him getting you pregnant since you wouldn’t be drinking moon tea. But you still wanted to be intimate with Harwin, and your ever-devoted husband came up with an idea.

Daemon’s voice is cocky as he says, “So, Ser Harwin, how do you feel about our princess taking what she wants from us at the same time?”

Harwin grins. “Do you think you could take both of us?”

“Yes, I want you both.”

“Greedy girl!” Daemon smacks your ass.

Your heart races with anticipation at the thought of having both of them inside you at the same time. You're used to making love to them both, but this would feel different—more intimate, more primal. Harwin and Daemon had mutual respect for one another, but they mainly bonded over how much they loved your little family.

Your husband chuckles softly, his warm breath caressing your ear. “You’ll get what you desire, my love. I’ve bet you’ve thought about this plenty of times before, haven’t you?”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you nod.

A princess desperate to feel her husband and lover fill her up at the same time.

Daemon slowly withdraws his shaft from your cunny, leaving you aching for more. He sits down on the bed beside Harwin, but before you have the chance to move over to his lap, the knight hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you up until you are hovering over his face. Not wasting time, Harwin starts flicking at your sensitive clit with his tongue.

Daemon smirks as he listens to your whine. He had already ‘prepared’ both your holes before Harwin joined you in the bedchamber. After coming apart on Harwin’s lips, Daemon gently pulls the small cock-shaped object from your anus, then pulls you onto his lap so you are facing him, and slides his cock into your cunny again.

He leans back and pulls you down with him, gripping your shoulders and spreading them while Harwin readjusts himself behind you. The thought of having them both causes your clit to throb, “Please.”

Harwin guides his thick cock to where you’re aching for him. With a gentle nudge, he pushes past your resistance and enters your tight hole. You gasp as he fills you completely. The sensation of having them both inside you is foreign and exhilarating. Harwin begins to rock his hips gently, slowly pulling them out before pushing them back in again, while Daemon thrusts upwards at a harsher pace.

“How does it feel? Daemon asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers. “Good as you imagined?”

“So, so good.”

Your mind becomes hazy with pleasure when one of them starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. You come apart, squeezing both of them tightly. Harwin shoots his seed inside you, then Daemon follows shortly after, coating your cunny in his seed, which he will hopefully take.

The knight slowly pulls out, then brushes your sweaty hair out of your face and kisses you deeply. Daemon smirks, “Take your time catching your breath, my good knight, as we will be here all night.”

[ellfucksup]

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

Teachers Pet

Cho Sang Woo x reader

Request: anonymous

Synopsis: The strict but hot substitute takes over your college class today. College setting.

Warnings: READER IS 18+! MDNI, smut, p in v

Rushing quickly to your next class, dreading your coursework hand-in—perhaps because you didn’t do it. Technically, it wasn’t your fault. Long story short, you thought it was next week.

"We’re all human," you think to yourself, cringing at how your professor is gonna react. Hopefully the old bastard won’t notice, and you can melt into the background of the class. Perfect strategy.

Walking into the room, you head straight to the back right corner, covertly ignoring the professor at the front—trying your absolute hardest to avoid attention. Once seated and settled, you do a quick glance up… only to find someone far worse than your professor.

Professor Sang Woo. Head of your dissertation module.

What the fuck is he doing covering this class? you scream in your head.

"Hello, students. I’ll be covering Professor Stanton today due to unforeseen sickness. I’m aware I’m not the usual substitute—everything has been rather last minute.”He speaks confidently, almost bored.

"Today, you’ll be handing in your rough drafts, and I’ll be organizing one-on-one feedback throughout the day. Everyone, drop in the papers now and put your name next to a time slot on the board." He finishes as he sits at the desk leaning back. His demeanour, one of complete superiority makes your skin crawl. You hated people like him, how they enjoy being in charge.

Everyone starts lining up and taking their slots. You stay seated, watching everything unfold as the last person leaves the classroom. He doesn’t look up from his notes as you slowly approach.

"Erm, really sorry, sir, but I don’t have a full draft—just notes," you squeak out.

He huffs and looks up at you over his glasses.

“Ah, Miss Y/N, I’ve heard what you're like from Stanton. Safe to say, I will not be putting up with your behavior the way he does."

"I want you here at five o’clock," he says, standing up and making his way to the front of his desk.

Getting very close, he leans in and whispers into your ear, "I don’t respond well to poorly behaved students. Have something written by then, or I’ll have a punishment lined up for you."

He almost growls the words, making your legs shake—but you can’t quite pinpoint whether it’s from fear or a slight thrill.

He leans back against the desk, looking smug, clearly picking up on the inner war your mind is waging.

You clear your throat and nod. "Yes, sir," you manage to get out before hurriedly making your way out of the classroom. Perhaps a little too quickly. You swear you hear a chuckle as you leave.

- - - - - -

You had found a secluded corner in the library, somewhere to have your meltdown in peace.

Frantically scribbling down probably some of your worst work ever, but anything is better than nothing, surely.

You had five minutes before you had your one-on-one.

Taking a deep breath, you walk into the classroom. He’s already there, waiting, leaning back in his chair. Face blank, watching you walk towards the seat opposite him, although there is a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Sitting down, you hand him your draft—well, you weren’t even sure if you could call it that.

He takes the paper, you see his eyes skim over your poor handwriting. You fiddle with your hands, the nerves starting to really kick in. He places it down smoothly and starts taking off his glasses. You both sit there looking at each other, his eyebrow raised, clearly not impressed with your work.

“This is all you managed to do with the time I gave you?” he asks, unimpressed.

“Yes,” you squeak, feeling yourself start to shake.

“I think this deserves a reprimand, truly unacceptable work. I’d expect better from you—your grades are good, if not exceptional,” he sighs.

“Reprimand?” you ask timidly.

“Stand up and come around here now,” he demands.

At first, you don’t budge, shocked and honestly quite unsure about what his next move was. You rapidly scramble onto your feet and walk around the desk.

Suddenly, he pulls you onto his lap. You stare at him, wide-eyed with shock.

"Good girl," he whispers into your ear. "Now, lie over my lap—face down, ass up," he almost growls.

Shocked, you hesitate for a moment before obeying, heat creeping up your skin. You hate to admit how thrilling this feels.

“Bad girls get punished,” he states, pulling up your skirt and panties down. “Oh, look at you—wet for me already. Bad girl, I’m going to have to punish you for that too.”

“Say, ‘Yes, Professor, I’m a bad girl,’” he says while rubbing your cheek.

“Sorry Professor, I’m a bad girl” you whisper trying hard not to moan as you feel his fingers dip to your core. Before he got any further you get a slap to your cheeks, followed by another and then another. He groans out clearly enjoying himself.

Out of nowhere you both hear a knock at the door. Frozen in place you start shaking. “Shit” he mumbles under his breath.

———————

I never finished this but I thought I’d post let me know if anyone wanfts a part 2

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[loveinhawkins]

“Still super jealous as hell by the way,” Eddie says; Steve laughs, elbows him in the chest—disguising a want to touch by shoving him away.

There’s a brief flash of warmth against his skin before Eddie teeters back.

He stays close though, dances in and out of Steve’s space as they walk, almost close enough to…

“D’you know what’s adding an extra layer of, uh…” Eddie clicks his fingers then says with relish, “Of batshit insanity to everything?”

“No,” Steve says, and he feels a smile growing; he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. He doesn’t want to. “But I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“My, uh. One of my favourite games as a kid was… uh well, it didn’t really have a name, it was more—”

“No jump rope for you?” Steve asks in mock surprise.

Eddie snorts. “Nah, nothing as normal as that, Harrington, honestly. Kid me was a visionary.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve says.

The words hover in the space between teasing and genuine; he means both, of course.

“At, um. When I was at my dad’s.”

Eddie’s smile flickers, and Steve tries to fill in the gaps: has vague memories of middle school halfway through one year, of murmured interest, you seen the new kid? He just moved here.

“Our place backed onto some woods, and I’d just… kinda wander.”

Eddie scoffs—his foot makes an aborted motion as he walks, like he’d gone to absentmindedly kick a twig and thought better of it.

Better safe than sorry, Steve thinks. Hive mind and all that.

“So your favourite game was wandering?” he prompts when Eddie goes quiet.

A tease again. Softer. Really means you can tell me. I want to know.

He wonders if Eddie can hear it.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds shit. And it was more, like, active up in…” Eddie taps his temple. “I’d just… uh. Pretend the woods were haunted, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Steve says, amusement growing. “So all this,” he gestures to the vines and trees, to the fog creeping along the forest floor, “is real immersive for you, then. Got it.”

“Um, no,” Eddie says, and his voice is going up into that wobbly tone that only comes from suppressing genuine, ugly laughter. “The stuff in my head was gothic, Harrington. It had class.”

“God, man, I’m sorry. Is the alternate dimension not living up to your expectations?”

“I’m gonna make a complaint.”

“Yeah, do it in writing. Make it professional.”

“To whom it may concern,” Eddie starts, all comically snooty.

Steve laughs.

And Eddie’s up close again, grinning, and Steve presses the side of his forearm up against his chest; the moment lingers, until Eddie moves back, until Steve drops his arm a fraction too late.

“I’ve found the experience provided—”

Steve snorts. “Experience?”

“—thoroughly lacking in both atmosphere and charm. I expect appropriate compensation as soon as possible.”

“Tell you what,” Steve says, “show me a picture of your haunted woods when we’re outta here. I wanna see how they compare.”

“Um,” Eddie says through the tail end of a chuckle. He sounds embarrassed. “I don’t have… My dad, uh, he wasn’t exactly the kinda guy to take a lot of pictures, y’know?”

And Steve doesn’t know—or at least, he thinks he doesn’t.

What he does know is that in the back of a cabinet there’s an old baby book: he can tell exactly when his grandma first began to get sick—and when everything else went to shit—because the milestone entries stop a third of the way through.

He doesn’t mention it. He can’t find the words, not here, not now—even if he could, he’s worried it’d sound a clumsy, weak comparison at best, self-centred at worst.

So he waits. Feels when the abrupt silence becomes less heavy.

“Did you, like, do speeches to yourself in the game, too?”

Eddie gives him a sideways, bemused look. “Maybe.”

Steve pretends to mull it over. Nods. “Yeah, figures.”

A pause.

“Uh, hold on,” Eddie says, chuckling again, like he’s been surprised into it. “You can’t just leave it there, man, you—”

“Nah, it’s just.” Steve smothers a grin. “Just fits you, that’s all. Like, you would’ve dramatically narrated your own birth if you could, I know it.”

Eddie laughs hard; he nearly drops his flashlight.

“You’re funny,” he says eventually, still smiling.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve quips back, “was I not supposed to be? Ruined your doctrine again?”

“No, just—” Eddie laughs again. Sighs. “Just timing, man. Wish I was finding out in a more, uh, low stakes kinda way. Like…”

His eyes go a little far-off, and for a second Steve can see that kid in him, the one who kept himself company in his own imagination.

“Like we’re just walking past the lockers, or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, with probably more feeling than it strictly calls for. “Anything beats these goddamn vines.”

He could add that there is no ideal timing, really: that if there’s one thing he’s learned throughout all this, it’s that there’s hardly ever time to dwell on things. It’s more do or die.

Besides, he thinks, you could wait all your life for a perfect moment, and it still passes you—

The earth trembles.

Eddie sways; Steve lunges to the side so Eddie falls backwards, away from a nearby vine. He tries to plant his feet, realises he’s inevitably going down, too, and course corrects.

Falls.

Feels the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his hand.

“M’definitely filing that complaint,” Eddie says breathlessly.

He turns so he’s facing Steve. Stays close.

They’ve both dropped their flashlights. The effect is dazzling—Eddie’s face is illuminated, eyes bright.

No atmosphere, my ass, Steve thinks.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie says—gasps, really. Steve feels how his breathing shakes.

There’s barely a disguise now; they’re both leaning in.

And for a moment, they’re not here at all; they’re just at school, hiding by the lockers.

Then again…

Maybe it could only happen here.

Maybe wandering—maybe everything—has been leading up to this: the moment before a chance taken.

[cupidseok]

Hello! Can I request about how riize acts differently when with you? I'm not too sure how to phrase it but something like a part of them only you can see? Sorry, I hope this makes sense to you. Thank you :)

the different sides of riize that they only show when with you

WARNINGS slight mentions of insecurity

AUTHOR'S NOTE hope this is what you meant anon 😭 thank you for requesting !

☀️ — SHOTARO

his serious side. sunshine taro is always smiling and laughing at just about anything ! whether he's feeling awkward or uncomfortable, he'll just giggle and hope the moment passes by quickly. he doesn't like it when the mood gets heavy and no one is smiling. however, when you attempt to bring up a serious issue and shotaro just laughs it off, it makes you upset :( he immediately notices how your eyes start to tear up and he embraces you in his arms. hushed apologies continuously fall from his lips as he rubbed your back, softly reassuring you that he’ll listen to whatever you have to say. that night, the both of you talk about the things that has been bothering you both. shotaro then understands the need to be serious in relationships in order for it progress further and he really hopes to never hurt you again.

🪨 — EUNSEOK

his cute side. our seemingly emotionless and unbothered stone ! eunseok almost always has a blank expression plastered on his face, it’s just in his nature to do so. although he’s someone who’s independent and stable, he still needs love ( even if he doesn’t say so verbally because he’s embarrassed to admit it ). so when you don’t give him enough affection and attention, he gets sulky. “what do you want,” you questioned eunseok, your eyes still glued onto your phone screen intently. he’s tugging on the sleeve of your shirt, “look at me please,” he nearly whines. when you finally divert your eyes away from your phone screen, you’re met with large boba eyes begging for your love and affection <3 he would rather die than let the other members of riize find out that the cool and collected song eunseok has to act cute to get his girlfriend’s attention.

👿 — SUNGCHAN

his jealous side. sungchan is someone who is confident in himself, he is clear of his own strengths and weaknesses and he tries his very best to make up for his weaknesses. he’s aware he looks good and he’s also proud of his body ! however, when he sees you laughing so happily while catching up with your childhood sweetheart, he suddenly doesn’t feel very confident anymore. he feels jealous; he thinks that if you both had met eariler, he’d be your childhood sweetheart instead. when sungchan sees the man lean one more centimeter closer to you, he can’t contain his overflowing jealously anymore and speed walks towards the both of you. “hi babe,” his arms wrap around your waist tightly, “i was waiting for you. who’s this ? aren’t you going to introduce him to your boyfriend ?”

🔐 — WONBIN

his protective side. wonbin who loves you so much, wonbin who cannot stand being away from you for more than 3 working hours, wonbin who is so protective of you ! he just cares for you so much, he can’t stand the thought of you possibly getting hurt, so he needs to be by your side 24/7 to ensure you’re safe and sound ( which you always are when with wonbin ). he gets slightly anxious when you aren’t around him, because what if a zombie apocalypse occurs suddenly and he isn’t there to be your knight in shining armour !! “wonbin i think in a zombie apocalypse i’d be more likely to protect you. also, i’m just going to a party with my friends. please let go of me,” you try your best to pry wonbin’s hands off you but all of your attempts were futile. “but what if the zombies get to you before i do ?”

💝 — SEUNGHAN

his insecure side. hong seunghan is and always will be your #1 hype boy ! he’s your admirer, your fan, your enthusiast, your supporter and much much more. this boy never shut ups about you and sohee thinks that he knows you better than yourself at this point ( sohee gets the brunt of seunghan’s talks about you unfortunately or fortunately ). seunghan could write an entire trilogy ( each with more than 10000 pages ) about how much he loves you if he wanted to. but !! when you reciprocate his energy and compliment him back, he gets so shy and his face turns an adorable shade of red. “you look so handsome here !” you look up from scrolling though seunghan’s selfie album and he just shyly shakes his head. “no, you always look so much better, my love,” seunghan buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide his flustered state. “what are you talking about ? my boyfriend always looks so handsome, he’s the prettiest boy i know.”

🗝️ — SOHEE

his authentic side. sohee is not someone who reveals his true personality easily to others. one may think that they know sohee well until they delve deeper and realise that they actually don’t know much of him. he’s just good at concealing the parts of himself that he deems vulnerable and sensitive. with you, however, sohee always feels at ease, as he doesn’t feel like he has to put up a facade. with you, sohee knows that you’ll love and cherish every part of him, even the parts that he himself dislikes, you’ll love all the same. he finds solace and warmth in your nurturing nature and seeks for your love and understanding of the true sohee !

💭 — ANTON

his attentive side. anton can sometimes be random and voices out his weird thoughts for you both to ponder over, you often wonder what goes on in his head but you usually just leave him to it. he’s also someone who is rather soft-spoken, so at times, it’s hard to figure out what he’s feeling or thinking. however, anton often greets you with pleasant surprises in the form of gifts, little things that you’ve mentioned in passing like how you’ve lost one side of your earrings or how you’ve run out of milk. you’re also often shocked when he tells you about your habits that you’ve never noticed yourself. “huh ? i do that frequently ? really ?” confusion evident in your voice. “yep, i’ve seen you do that more than a thousand times.”

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[reverie-starlight]

so this is the bday fic I had planned for 2024, and it’s been sitting in my drafts since then. I finally finished it like six months later, so this is just gonna sit in my queue until march 2025. I'm sure my characterization of kaiser will be much better different by then, but oh well!!

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. I will never not make kaiser soft, sorry not sorry <3 FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. vague mention of reader having bad b-days in the past. self-ship coded!! no angst!!! just fluff! happy birthday to me!!!!!!!!

birthdays are… complicated for you.

complicated enough that you can’t even scrape the surface of your feelings on them. you don’t hate yours (technically) but it does bring up a lot of emotions in the weeks leading up to it. then those feelings get mixed with the fact that you’re not good at accepting that there are people out there who want to take care of you and make the day special when you haven’t known it to be in a long time.

people like kaiser.

kaiser, who knows all of your birthday troubles and always wants to make the day pleasant as possible for you.

(“trying to make up for all those awful years, liebling”, he always says when you try to protest.)

kaiser who always has to one up himself year after year, despite your insistence that he doesn’t need to.

kaiser, who would never give up the chance to see the beautiful, bashful smile on your face when you finally give in and accept the full force of his love and appreciation for you.

kaiser, who is currently leading you to this year’s birthday surprise, repeatedly assuring you that he didn’t go over the top this time.

he slowly removes the blindfold from your eyes and watches with a smile as you take in the unbelievably large pile of presents in front of you.

you inhale sharply and turn your head between him and the gifts multiple times in quick succession. “what-“ you spin on your heel to look up at his shamelessly smug face. he’s practically glowing with pride at having surprised you like this. “michael, I thought I said you didn’t need to get me anything.”

he shrugs and places his hands on your shoulders to calm you. “I know, schatz, but did you really think I’d let your birthday pass without at least one gift? do you even know me?”

you click your tongue and look back at the pile. he recognizes that your body language looks a bit guilty, and your wide eyes confirm that. “first of all this is way more than one, but… I told you that I just wanted to spend time with you. this… this is so much… and… and probably so expensive…” you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that this massive pile of gifts was yours.

your boyfriend grins. “I’m an athlete, baby, and a damn good one at that- I can’t imagine a better way to spend my funds than spoiling you from time to time.”

your pupils dilate and his grin only grows as you shake your head and look away bashfully. “I can think of a few…” he hears you mutter.

he laughs. you’re always so quick to deny anyone the pleasure of treating you. he doesn’t ever blame you for that, though. “well it’s a good thing it’s technically my money, and not yours then, hm?”

at least not yet, he thinks to himself and pictures the ring of your dreams that you’ve unknowingly designed, tucked away safely in his drawer for a later date.

your boyfriend notices you getting slightly overwhelmed with all the thoughts running through your head, so he decides to make it easier for you.

he turns you around to face the gifts once more and wraps his arms around your waist. he sways you back and forth for a bit, letting you sit with the fact that all these gifts are actually yours.

in between pressing gentle kisses to your neck to calm you down some, he says “so which one do you want to start with, angel girl?”

almost an hour later, you’re both cuddled up on the couch with a pile of gift wrap and ribbon surrounding you all over the floor. kaiser had mumbled some promises of cleaning it all up tomorrow morning against your lips before slipping into the kitchen and bringing out your cake. he does his rendition of happy birthday and lets you blow out the candles, teasing you about letting him in on your wish before grabbing the knife to cut you a slice.

“can we…” you stop mid sentence, hesitating. he sits back and waits for you to find your words. “can we share a slice?”

he doesn’t question your request and cuts a huge wedge away from the cake. “big enough?”

you nod and settle against him, swinging your legs over his lap and stealing the fork from his hand to have the first bite.

“it’s really good, michael.”

“of course it is, I got your favourite.”

you knock your head against his in thanks and move to feed him a piece. “no, let me do it from here, hase.”

kaiser takes the fork and a bite before offering you another. “you spoil me, my love.”

he shakes his head, frowning a bit. he meets your eyes and you’re a bit surprised to see that he’s grown sentimental. “well how could I not? you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted- a chance to be loved and to love in return.”

he grabs your hand with his free one and presses his forehead against yours. “giving you a good birthday is the least I could do, mein schatz.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i luv him :3

[razorblade180]

A Little Space

Yang:*walks into dorm* Who’s ready for scary movie night and-

Ruby:*sitting on the floor* Yo!

Yang:Yooo! Where’s Moody #1 and Mood #2 at? Popcorn run?

Ruby:I had them step out really quick. I wanted to take a moment tell you something important. Something that might make you Moody #3

Yang:What did you break?

Ruby:Nothing! Why’s that the first thing you- sit please!

Yang walks over and sits crisscross in front of her sister like they used to do all the time when they were younger.

Yang:What’s up little sis? Did you bomb a test and dad knows? Oz planning some type of leader extrovert training?

Ruby:Ugh, he better not. I’d die on the spot.

Yang:Haha, then what’s up? You have me a little worried if you’re asking for a private-

Ruby:I’m seeing someone!

Yang:…Huh?

Ruby:*red* Jaune. I’m…I’m seeing Jaune, romantically.

Yang:Ah…okay then. Umm for how long exactly?

Ruby:A few months now.

Yang:Months?

Ruby:Time flew by! I really didn’t mean to not tell you for so long. We were sorta just figuring things out a bit.

Yang:I see, a few months huh? That’s… that’s a a fair amount of time. So are you telling me now cause you found the nerve, or has something changed? *squints*

Ruby:…..

Yang:….Ruby, be honest with me. Just how much has your relationship progressed?

Ruby:More than you would approve, but less than what you fear.

Yang:*nods* Is that so? Hmm, excuse me.

Ruby:Yang no! Wait!

Thank goodness for speed semblances. Ruby managed to get herself in front of the door before Yang, grabbing both of her hands to hold. Yang could’ve easily pulled the girl out of the way but suddenly tensed as she felt Ruby’s hand tremble violently. That alongside the pleading look in her eyes was more than enough to cool Yang’s head off.

Ruby:Please, don’t confront him over this.

Yang:Ruby, you can’t ask me not to look after you. Look, Jaune is a nice guy but I have to say something. You’ve been together for months in secret! What would day think in this situation?

Ruby:He…knows.

Yang:Wh- You told dad before me!?

Ruby:Dad actually listens to me all the way through! He’s always also way more levelheaded.

Yang:That’s- I mean… so everyone know!?

Ruby:No, but I’m sure Blake and Weiss have their own suspicions. They just have no reason to press me about it like you would.

Yang:….Is that why your hands are trembling? You were afraid to tell me?

Ruby:I wasn’t afraid. I…I know how you are when it comes to protecting me. I love it; I really do. This time is different though. *inhales* Yang, I am asking you to please give me some space with this. I don’t want to go behind your back but I don’t want you to ruin this.

Yang:Ruin? When have I ever-

Ruby:I’m excited, okay!? *blushing*

Yang:….What?

Ruby:It…It feels so weird and like a rush being around him. I’ve never cared much specifically about romance in my life and this feels crazy for me. I’m not nervous to talk about all of my thoughts. I stumble around him and laugh about it. Little things feel like a rush of adrenaline! Yeah I’m nervous but…I’m not afraid in the slightest. I’ve never this safe, this…secure around someone quite like this. Have you ever felt this way!? It’s almost like-

Yang:The sun is actually shining.

Ruby:Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what it’s like. *smiling* I can’t help but wonder if this is what mom felt for dad. Maybe I’m wrong, and I know relationships aren’t like love stories but this space have I him right now, I want to keep exploring it. I want to feel these feelings.

Yang:And you think he might change if I give him the riot act. *sighs* I… can see how that would “ruin” things.

Ruby:I really am sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner. *tears up* All of this has been so confusing and new. Also maybe…maybe I was a little scared letting you know. I just…I really do like him, Yang.

Since when did being a big sister get this difficult. Yang still can’t believe their father chose the path of peace! Definitely a youngest daughter privilege. Then again, if Ruby has told him even half of this speech, Yang could see how he gave his grace. She looked towards the ceiling away from the misty doe eyes and channeled the strength to ask a few questions.

Yang:Are you both being safe about?

Ruby:!? Of course! We’re not dumb and like I said, we haven’t…ya know? *red* We really are taking our time with things. He’s figuring this all out too! Cut Jaune a little slack.

Yang:(Okay, maybe I didn’t take that into account. Of course this is uncharted territory for him too.) Fiiiiiiiiine! Fine! I won’t talk to him about it, for now!

Ruby:Really!?

Yang:But you still have to tell him I know!

Ruby:That’s fine. He knows dad knows. I also talked to him about telling you. Jaune actually encouraged me for this.

Yang:That’s a bold tactic.

Ruby:He has seven sisters. I’m positive on some level he gets where you’re coming from.

Yang:Seven!? Actually…yeah, yeah that makes sense.

Ruby:Are you still mad at me?

Yang:I was never mad, ya little-

She pulls Ruby into a big, warm hug. It kinda hurt to think about how big her sister was getting. Then again, maybe this is how dad felt whenever she confronted him about needing some more space? The more she thought about it, it made sense why he was relaxed with Ruby. It would be cruel if both of them gave such a strong response to her feelings.

Yang:I love you so much. Remember, you can tell me anything.

Ruby:I know, and I love you too.

xxxxx

As always, scary movie night happened; although Yang couldn’t really say she was watching the film. As her teammates and friends from JNPR watched the film, her gaze occasionally shifted downward towards the floor at Jaune and Ruby, who shared a popcorn bowl. Funny, have they been sitting that close to one another all this time?

Yang watched the blonde jolt as another jumpscare caught him off guard, earning a stifled giggle out of Ruby while he smiled sheepishly. Lightly, Ruby leaned against him and continued watching the film with a grin that warmed Yang’s heart.

Yang: (Perhaps some space isn’t so bad? The view from here is pretty cool.)

[lyn31]

Hi Hi! I love your writing so much!! Could I request Zayne&mc and their second pregnancy. Sorry if I got the age gaps wrong but it seems like mc gets pregnant shortly after “Seed Baby”. I’d love to see Rose’s smug reaction to the so called “careful couple” and then later when mc & Zayne discover it’s twins mc is convinced Rose cursed her.

Eyyy, I’m glad someone picked up on that! Ahahaha—because the twins definitely weren’t a planned pregnancy 😂 I actually had it planned out (another reason I gave that little nudge with the last bit in “Seed-baby”). I was going to write the smut for it too, but that can wait! It doesn’t happen right away from Seed-Baby, but the next year technically!

And this is helping me—I’m not procrastinating! Yay! Let me know what you think! 👀💕

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

Little Surprises

Summary

A heartfelt and humorous story about a couple's unexpected surprise pregnancy, turning their lives upside down as they navigate the joys and challenges of this new chapter and the thought of adding new family member.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Family fluff, pregnancy surprise, banter, silly, sweet, emotional!

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

The mission’s long over, but you’re still at the base, running end-of-day reports while Tara complains about paperwork, Rose pokes at the vending machine, and Lara’s being overly generous with ginger tea distribution.

She walks up to your desk just as your stomach turns for the third time that today.

You blink at her, glance down at the steaming mug she sets near your elbow, and then everything lurches. You’re out of your seat in a heartbeat, bolting toward the office bathroom.

You barely make it in time.

Your knees hit the tile as you grip the sides of the toilet, gagging. It’s awful. And loud. You hear the door creak open behind you—soft steps.

A familiar hand gathers your hair.

Rose.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just holds your hair and rubs a slow, grounding line between your shoulder blades.

“You’ve been off for a while,” she murmurs. “You should probably get it checked.”

“I’m fine,” you croak, flushing the toilet and leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. “Probably something I caught on the trip.”

Footsteps creak in the hallway. Lara’s voice floats in. “Even if it’s just the flu, better safe than sorry.”

You don’t even lift your head. “Not you too.”

Tara leans in against the door frame, sipping from a coffee can. “You know your husband’s gonna check you anyway, right? If he see you, it’s over.”

You sigh, dragging your hand down your face.

Rose offers her hand and helps you up. You rinse your mouth, wash your hands, wipe the sweat off your forehead.

Then she says it, too casually.

“Speaking of the trip… are you sure you caught something from there and not brought something back instead?”

You blink. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

She just raises an eyebrow, glancing from your eyes to your stomach and back again.

You frown. “What—”

Your voice cuts off as your own eyes widen.

Tara’s the one who gasps. “Oh my god. Are you pregnant?!”

“What?! No! I’m on pills!”

Rose’s tone is maddeningly calm. “It’s not a hundred percent, sis.”

“And wasn’t the trip for your ten-year wedding anniversary?” Lara adds, too amused. “I doubt you two were holding back.”

You rub your forehead. “This is not happening. We weren’t planning to try again for another four years.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Rose, gentle this time. “You don’t want them?”

“Of course I do!” you snap, too quickly. You exhale hard. “It’s just… not the plan. And besides, I’m not pregnant. You’re all being ridiculous.”

Rose hums, unfazed. “One way to find out.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your pulse and get your replu ready, when Tara suddenly claps her hands.

“Right! Stay put. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

You turn. “Tara—don’t you dare—” call after her, but she’s already halfway out the door, yelling something about a convenience store and how she’s buying the good brand.

You slump into Rose’s side as Lara hands you tissues and a water bottle like a war medic. “This is excessive,” you mutter.

“No,” Rose says dryly. “This is justice.”

Twenty minutes later, Tara returns triumphant—waving a plastic bag overhead like she just came back from a holy quest.

“Okay,” she says, dropping it on the desk. “We’ve got options. Pink box, digital one, and the one with the stupid little lines no one can ever read properly. You’re doing all three.”

“Why?” you deadpan.

“Because if I have to watch you puke your soul out, I deserve to confirm if you’re creating life.”

“I’m not!”

“You might be!”

With an exaggerated grumble, you snatch the bag from her and march back to the bathroom. You hear Lara mutter something like, “She’s definitely pregnant,” and Rose whisper, “I can already hear the existential spiral.”

You do the tests.

You sit on the closed toilet lid, arms crossed, eyes locked on the trio of plastic sticks lined up on the sink like tiny instruments of destiny.

Five minutes.

You glance once. Blink.

You lean in.

All three. Positive.

You stare at them in stunned silence.

Then you start laughing.

Loud. Unfiltered. A little hysterical.

The kind of laugh that bubbles up from deep in your chest—raw and unguarded. You laugh so hard it aches—until it doesn’t. Until it’s something else.

The sound fades, leaving only silence. Heavy. Humming.

You wipe at your eyes, not realizing they were wet.

And then you look at the tests again.

Three positive lines. Clear as day. No ambiguity. No denial.

You go still.

Like your whole body’s trying to catch up to the truth.

Your hand moves to your stomach, instinctive. There's no bump, no flutter, not yet—but the memory of that weight, of that fullness, is still in your bones. You remember.

You know.

Your chest tightens, not with panic, but with the kind of ache that carries echoes. Of swollen ankles and early mornings. Of doctor visits and sleepless nights. Of being stubborn, pushing through deadlines you didn’t need to meet, convincing yourself you could juggle everything without slowing down.

And then the first kick. The first cry. The way it all changed after.

You sink a little into the toilet lid, a breath leaving your lips in a slow exhale. Two years back at work. You’d just started to feel like yourself again—or at least, the version of yourself that knows how to juggle everything. But this time... this time, the thought of pausing doesn’t make your skin crawl. It doesn’t feel like a threat to your identity. It feels… almost like a relief.

You tilt your head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers stay on your stomach, loose and still. You don’t know what’s coming. You’re still scared. That won’t change. But the fear doesn’t drown you this time. It doesn’t win.

A quiet smile tugs at your lips.

“Okay,” you murmur, just to yourself. “We’ll do it different this time.”

You open your eyes, a little watery, a little dazed—but certain.

And for the first time in minutes, maybe longer, you breathe in fully.

Deep and steady.

Because this time… you’re not afraid to slow down. Not afraid to rest.

The door swings open a second later—Rose, of course, but this time her brow furrowed in worry, probably from whatever she heard outside the stall. “Are you okay?”

You turn the sticks toward her like you’re displaying cursed evidence, but you can help the curve on your lips. “All three.”

Tara lets out a whoop from behind her. “Knew it! Knew it!”

Lara peeks in with a grin. “Guess your body's not great at waiting four years.”

You shake your head slowly, dazed and still grinning. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rose nudges your knee with hers. “Do you want it to?”

You look at her, really look, then down at the three test results.

A wave washes over you—warm, slow, terrifyingly tender.

Your hand moves to your stomach, resting like it’s already real.

“…Yeah,” you murmur. “I think I do.”

Then louder. “I mean, I was hoping for more eventually. I just didn’t think eventually meant now.”

Lara smiles. “Well, the universe disagrees.”

“And so does your uterus,” Tara adds helpfully.

You throw a wad of toilet paper at her. She dodges it with a cheer. “So! How’re you telling Zayne?”

You blink. “I’m just gonna tell him?”

Rose snorts. “After what happened the first time, he might actually tie you to the bed.”

Without missing a beat, you shoot back. “He doesn’t need a reason to do that.”

Three overlapping “ew”s hit your ears. You roll your eyes.

“Oh, come on. We’re all married—don’t be dramatic. It’s not like Rose doesn’t overshare about her married life.”

“Yeah, but we’re used to Rose doing it. Not you too!” Tara protests.

Rose just rolls her eyes.

“Right. The hormones are definitely kicking in already,” she says, crossing her arms.

Lara leans in, more serious now. “But seriously. This time, you need to slow down.”

“I already plan to take a break, chill!”

That shuts them up.

You look at all three of them, confused by their silence—and then Tara gasps.

“Holy shit. It’s the miracle of parenthood. She actually wants to take a break from work!”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Rose sighs, wiping away imaginary tears.

“Truly historic,” Lara adds, miming the same.

You roll your eyes. You’re too tired to argue. But then Rose nudges you again, and the glint in her eye tells you exactly what she’s about to say.

“Don’t you—”

“What did I say before?”

You groan and chuck a different roll of toilet paper at her.

“Please don’t destroy company property,” Lara says calmly, like this is just another Tuesday.

“Hey, what did I do? I’m not the one who bragged about being the ‘careful’ one,” Rose says, dodging the toilet paper.

“You jinxed us!”

“Nah, I predicted it. Honestly, I was more surprised when you two planned Serena and actually succeeded.”

“Hey!”

“Actually, same here,” Tara chimes in.

“Hey!!”

“To be fair,” Lara says, deadpan, “I thought you’d have kids right after the wedding.”

“Oh, screw you guys!”

You end up throwing every toilet paper roll at them. They shriek, dodge, and laugh—but so do you.

Three tests in one hand.

Your squad by your side.

And a quiet, undeniable bloom of disbelief turning into joy.

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

It’s late afternoon when you arrive at Serena’s preschool. The moment the door opens, a wave of tiny voices bursts out.

“Bye, Serena!”

“See you tomorrow, Serenaaa!”

“Bring your cool star stickers tomorrow!”

She walks out slowly, her soft footsteps nearly lost in the chorus of chaos. One hand waves delicately, her expression calm despite the flurry of goodbye shouts. You swear her classmates treat her like the lead of a drama troupe heading off-stage.

You take her hand and squeeze. “Popular as always, huh?”

She glances up at you with a small smile, holding her snow rabbit in her other arm. “They talk a lot, but they nice.”

You laugh. “Yeah, they really do.”

As you walk down the sidewalk together, you give her hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey… remember when you and your cousins asked Daddy about where babies come from?”

Serena nods, expression thoughtful. “Willow’s still drawing baby trees.”

You chuckle. “Of course she is. But you… you understood it really well.”

She hums quietly.

“So…” you say lightly, “what would you think if we planted another baby seed sometime? Like… if you had a little sibling?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She frowns at the sky like she’s waiting for a cartoon idea bubble to pop up. Then she looks at you, asking, "In Mummy's belly?"

You stifle a laugh. “Yes. In my belly.”

“Hmm,” She hugs her little stuffed rabbit to her chest. “It might hurt you. But it’s very worth it.”

Your breath catches for a second. That was almost word-for-word what Zayne told her once, when she asked if it hurts. You remember the way he said it so gently. “Sometimes, yes. But the doctor and everyone around the mom help take care of her, so she’s not alone. And when the baby finally arrives, it’s… very worth it.”

You don’t say anything else about the baby for the rest of the way home. You just smile to yourself, asking how her day was, listening to her quiet little ramblings, and remembering all over again that yes, this will definitely be worth it.

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

Dinner is done, the dishes are stacked, Serena’s belly is full, and your feet are finally up. Zayne’s just finished showering, fresh in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair still damp, trailing a faint scent of eucalyptus soap.

Serena is curled up on the rug with a picture book in her lap, giving each character a wildly different voice. You’re half-watching the TV, half-dozing, one arm slung lazily over the backrest.

Zayne sinks down next to you with a quiet sigh. He stretches his legs out, then turns to look at you properly. Not just glance—look.

“You okay?” he asks.

You blink at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Before you can respond—before you can even begin to find the words—Serena pipes up from the floor, completely unbothered, completely unprompted.

“Mummy wants to plant seeds in her belly.”

You blink. Zayne blinks.

There’s a beat of pure silence.

Zayne turns to you, confused but processing fast. “I thought… we were going to wait?”

You lift a hand, half shrugging, half suppressing a laugh. “Apparently, the decision was made for us.”

His eyes widen slightly.

“Wait. Are you—? Now?”

You nod.

“Probably from our anniversary trip,” you say, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Y’know. That romantic getaway where someone kept insisting on no distractions. I was on pills. Apparently that’s not enough.”

Zayne just stares at you.

For a second, there’s no calculation. No analysis. Just silence.

Then—the faintest breath escapes him. His eyes soften. And then the smallest smile curves at the corner of his lips—not the usual amused one, not the teasing kind. It’s quieter. A little stunned. A little awed.

“...Another—?”

You nod again.

He exhales, almost a laugh but gentler, and reaches for your hand. Like he needs to touch you just to make it real. His thumb brushes against your fingers, reverent, like you might disappear.

And then you see it. The math kicking in.

Anniversary trip. No distractions. No interruptions. No protection.

He blinks. “That... does make sense.”

You snort. “Took you a second.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m a doctor, not a psychic.”

You both laugh softly, and then his hand finds yours, fingers lacing with warm certainty.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks again, quieter this time.

You squeeze his hand. “Still a little shocked. But… yeah. I’m good.”

He leans in, presses a kiss to your temple. “Then I’m good too.”

“This time I’m going to take a break right away.”

You didn’t expect that to make him react, but you can practically see his eyes shining—watery, actually—so you lean in and kiss the corner of his eye, your thumb brushing lightly under the other.

“Don’t cry on me, dear.”

“You said I’m allowed to cry if I feel like it,” he murmurs, his voice suspiciously thick. He pulls you in closer, holding you tighter. And apparently, you taking care of yourself is included in that category.

You laugh softly and tuck your head against his chest. You can feel it—his heartbeat, steady and warm, his arms tightening just enough around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Like the future has started to take shape already, quietly wrapping itself around the two of you.

You raise a brow. “How couldn’t I? Even if I didn’t, my husband would do it for me anyway.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, nose brushing against yours. “Good. It only took ten years for you to surrender.”

“Mm. I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll let you have that.”

There’s a beat of soft silence. Your cheek rests against his, his hand over your belly even though there’s nothing to feel yet. Just the idea of it. The weightless beginning.

And then—

Serena flips her book shut with a dramatic thwack and scrambles onto the couch, wedging herself between you like she’s been summoned by the gods of mischief.

“Can I name the baby?” she asks brightly, eyes shining the same way as Zayne’s.

Zayne blinks. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” you say at the same time.

He sighs. “We're doomed.”

You smile into his shoulder, heart full.

Not exactly the plan.

But exactly right.

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

Bonus

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

The room is dim and cool, the hum of the monitor the only sound for a moment as the ultrasound tech moves the wand across your belly.

Zayne’s holding your hand, thumb brushing absent-mindedly over your knuckles. You’re focused on the screen, trying to make sense of the blur of black-and-white shapes when the tech tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Hm.”

Your heart stutters. “Hm what?”

She smiles, calm. “I’m just adjusting the view... ah, there we go.”

She taps the screen.

“You see this? That’s the baby.”

You nod slowly, relief softening your breath.

Then she shifts the wand slightly. “And that… is baby number two.”

Your brain blanks.

Zayne blinks. “I’m sorry. Two?”

The doctor grins. “Congratulations. You’re having twins.”

There's a beat. Then Zayne turns to you, slow, like the movement is physically difficult.

You’re already staring straight ahead, mouth slightly open. “Rose cursed us.”

He lets out a stunned, breathless laugh. “Blessed,” he corrects automatically, dazed.

You turn to him with a look. “Yes… bless,” you echo flatly.

The doctor tries not to laugh, adjusting the image again. “They’re both looking healthy. Strong heartbeats. Congrats again, Mom and Dad.”

Zayne leans forward slightly, eyes locked on the screen now. You feel his hand squeeze yours tighter, but it’s not panic—just awe.

“…Two of them,” he murmurs.

“Double everything,” you whisper. “Double diapers. Double crying.”

He’s already smiling now. “Double the love.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too.

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

Serena is lying on her stomach, coloring a lopsided rainbow on the living room floor. You and Zayne sit across from her, your phone ready with a grainy printout from the scan.

“Okay, sweetie,” you start carefully. “Remember how we said Mummy has a seed growing in her belly?”

She nods seriously. “It’s gonna be a baby. I know.”

“Well…” Zayne says, nudging the printout her way. “Turns out, there’s two seeds.”

Her eyes go wide.

You grin. “Which means two babies. Like Willow and Jace.”

She gasps dramatically, hands flying to her cheeks. She whispers. “Two fruit?”

Zayne chuckles. “Exactly.”

Serena stares at your belly like she’s trying to x-ray vision through your shirt. “Your belly gonna be extra big. Like what Auntie Rose say before?”

“Yes. And thanks, honey,” you mutter, patting her head while Zayne snorts.

She beams. “It’s okay. I’ll help take care of them. I’ll be a big sister times two!”

You smile, heart swelling, as she scoots closer and presses her ear against your stomach like she’s trying to hear a secret.

“They’re talking,” she says solemnly. “One said I want cookies.”

“That one’s definitely yours,” you tell Zayne.

He leans back, lips twitching. “Smart already.”

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

Notes

Since I already did a planned pregnancy announcement before, I thought this angle would make sense—especially because, well, it is a surprise after all! Hope y’all enjoy! 💕

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

Although if you missed the Newlyweds series! Here How it all happen And also the Pregnancy series, starting with Try For Baby

[thistlecatfics]

Omg nobody has asked for post Azkaban Sirius in therapy yet??? Well I am asking now!!

Haha no one asked because it’s a doozy!!! And I’ve been sitting on this for weeks, and I keep thinking about it and writing nothing. 

Here are some scattered thoughts (which obviously includes some discussion of suicidality and alcohol):

(also ugh sorry the formatting is getting messed up? oh well)

Safety

Assessing for suicidality which he’d probably feel super insulted by

EXCEPT also it’s nice to finally have a space to talk about those thoughts

My boy is definitely experiencing some SI, judged to be at low-to-moderate risk for attempting because of the protective factor (wants to live for Harry, will endure any suffering for Harry) mixed with the major risk factor (heavy substance use making impulsive behavior more likely) (and the fact that Grimmauld Place abounds with lethal means.)

He does not want to safety plan, and so we’d have to do some sneaky safety planning instead. 

Maybe he's self-harming too - I could imagine when he tries not to drink he ends up self-harming. Harm reduction around potential infection risk and monitoring for any escalation but also giving him so much nonjudgmental, non-freaking out support and understanding.

Alcohol (and other substances) 

Harm reduction - like please drink water, please eat, maybe no drinking before a certain time of day. What kind of deals can we make about that? Definitely no trying to tell him he CAN’T drink. That’s stupid, and he’d just stop going to therapy or just start lying. 

Psychoeducation - yes this is making your depression worse not better. This is the brain. This is alcohol. This is the impact. No, you are not special. Your brain reacts to alcohol just like everyone else’s, potentially with even more severe depressive impacts given we don’t know the long term implications of Azkaban. I’m not going to tell you to stop drinking but I’m also not going to join you in any fiction that this is making you feel better overall. 

Animal assisted therapy and getting the fuck out of the house

Buckbeak!!! Also other animals. Sirius is like the number one candidate for animal assisted therapy in my opinion. I have no specialized training in it, but I’d get some for him. 

Are there small ways he can leave the house? Balance safety and risk? What about even the roof? (Though obviously assess for suicidality in terms of encouraging rooftop jaunts.)

We’re working on finding small ways of accessing safety

Grounding in space and grounding in the body are both very unsafe!

If we’re going to engage in any form of grounding or mindfulness, I think it would be using the senses to notice Buckbeak (smell/sight/feel etc). 

If we can build some trust, I think somatic movement might help too though I can see him saying no to that at first. 

Using animagus form as a coping tool

Being a dog >>> killing yourself or drinking to the point of passing out. 

Sooo angry and resentful at the therapist - a safe place for those feelings

Depending on how much time we have, rupture and repair cycle with the therapist might be really healing.

He doesn’t have a lot of outlets for his anger (other than Snape’s occasional visits and depending on how you read his relationship with Remus potentially Remus too), and so being able to tolerate that anger in the therapeutic space would be really important – while also setting clear boundaries. (Personally, I welcome anger, but I have no tolerance for specific demeaning language or slurs directed at me. I’m not worried he’d do that, but I do think making that boundary clear can make it clear how much other behavior is ok in therapy. 

Harry as motivator

Motivator for living, motivator for participating in therapy

While he is stuck in the house, we are not doing any trauma processing. We’re just working on building some safety and coping skills and having a space to vent. We’re only getting into the past/family stuff if he wants to vent about something, but otherwise I’m not even prompting him to go in that direction at all. 

Maybeee we work on beliefs around usefulness and needing to be of service to justify his existence in the world! 

He’s going to believe James and Lily’s deaths were his fault, and I’m going to say they weren’t, and then I’m going to say we can disagree and that’s ok. 

Definitely the type of sessions where I need to lie down afterwards because of the sheer scale of unsaid but deeply felt pain.

[linos-luna]

My Queen (Pt. 5) ❣️🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

(Pt. 4) (Pt. 5) (Pt 6)

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Yandere, delusions, 18+ SMUT, body worship

—————————————————— 👑

Being with Hyunjin has made you lose track of time. The days just seemed to blend together. Everyday was just so lovely and blissful. Hyunjin, your lovely boyfriend—no Fiancé!, treated you like royalty and perhaps you’re also falling victim to his delusions. But does that even matter?

So imagine your surprise when you woke up to Hyunjin telling you that it’s your birthday.

For the past week or so you’ve been so focused on your dream wedding. You were ecstatic about marrying the love of your life and had so many ideas. Hyunjin loved hearing them all and was in the process of figuring out how to make them all reality. Heck, you felt like you were in a dream.

One day your sweet prince sweeps you away from the cruel world and brings you home to the castle. That’s what happened, right? He loves and spoils you every day all day. He serves you like a queen. You didn’t give much thought to your past life. It was probably boring. It was probably bleak and mundane. No one loved you like Hyunjin. At least that’s what he said, and why would he lie to you?

You didn’t think about anyone else. Parents? Family? Who cares? Bosses? What bosses? Hyunjin says your family were abusive. Of course that’s why you don’t care. You can’t even remember some of their names. But they were awful to you! Your father? He would beat you! Your mother? She’d neglect you! You don’t remember it much but that’s what Hyunjin said happened. They never kept you safe! That’s why you need Hyunjin.

Friends? What friends? You had none that cared and didn’t think of them. Well… You did think about one friend…

The day you were proposed to… when was that? 2-3 weeks ago? You ran into your old friend Jihyo.

You know that Hyunjin said that you have no real friends and if you did, they don’t care but you knew that’s partially a lie. You can’t seem to remember any other friends or relationships but you remember Jihyo. She’s been your best friend since childhood. You trusted her and know she cares.

~~~~ 👑

“What do you want to do for your birthday, my queen?”

You were watching as Hyunjin made your breakfast, deep in thought before his voice snapped you out of it.

“Hm… not sure…” you replied. “Any ideas Jinnie? You know better.”

“Perhaps I’ll think of something.” He said with a shrug before putting a plate of French Toast in front of you.

“Actually…” you perked up as you had an idea. “I’d love to see my friend… remember Jihyo?”

“Friend?” He chuckled while cutting a piece of toast for you. “My love, you have no friends.”

“Well not true…” you said while taking a bite. “There’s Jihyo. My friend since we were little. Probably my only friend.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes Jinnie, I’m sure.” You replied with a frown. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Jihyo is my best friend.”

Hyunjin was silent as he continued feeding you. He’s not sure why you’re bringing up this friend now. It bothered him. No one cares for you more than he does!

“Jinnie, I wanna see her for my—”

“No.” He interrupted.

“We maybe she can visit the—?”

“No!”

“Jinnie—”

“I SAID NO!” He snapped, slamming his fist on the table which startled you. It’s been a while since he’s gotten mad at you like that.

“I’m sorry, darling…” he said with a sigh when seeing your frightened expression. He took your hand and kissed it. “Don’t be scared…”

Once breakfast was done, Hyunjin was quick to clean up the kitchen while you went to brush your teeth.

“Never yell at the Queen! Never never never!” He whispered to himself as he washed the dishes, now feeling awful.

You just really wanted to see your friend… Why did Hyunjin get so mad? 

After you were done, you felt Hyunjin come behind you, putting his hands on your hips and resting his head on your shoulder. He was so soft and gentle, and his breath tickled.

“Would you like a bath, my love?” He asked sweetly. “I bought some new soaps that I think you’ll love.”

“Okay Jinnie.” You smiled. Hyunjin didn’t bathe you every day, mostly days he let you shower by yourself, but when he does bathe you, it’s always so nice.

Hyunjin was so gentle when bathing you. He had your hair braided and pulled away from your face as he gently scrubbed at your body. You sat in the tub, taking in the warmth of the water and lovely scent of the soap. He hummed softly as he cleaned you and smiled whenever you made eye contact, making you blush. How could this man be so handsome?

After bathing, your fiancé dried you up and put a fluffy bathrobe on you. It was warm and fluffy, so cozy and comfy. He pulled out some lotion and started moisturizing your body.

You briefly pulled out your arms briefly to let him put the lotion on before slipping the sleeves back on. Hyunjin had you lay down against the pillows and started with your legs. Going from your legs to your thighs, had him blushing.

So so beautiful. He thought.

His hands shook a little as he lotioned up your legs and stomach. You couldn’t help blushing when he was close to your inner thighs. Even after there was no more substance on his hands, he continued rubbing your waist and now your breasts, massaging them while rubbing his thumbs over your now hard nipple.

You moaned a little at the feeling and couldn’t help feeling a little wet between your legs…

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” He whispered while leaning in to kiss you. “Did you have a good day?”

“Mmhm…” you nodded with a sigh as he massaged your soft flesh.

The man kissed your lips and down your neck. He adored your small whimpers and went back to your lips to catch them.

“My Love…” he said between kisses. “Let me spoil you with my love…”

“You spoil me all the time, Jinnie…” you giggled while putting your hands on his shoulders.

Hyunjin kissed down your chest and soon to your breasts. He massaged the skin while kissing and now sucking on your nipple.

You moaned as he harshly pinched your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

You held onto his hair, tensing up as he nipped at the soft skin.

“No, darling.” Hyunjin paused while moving your hand. “Let me do all the work… let me worship you like the queen you are…”

Hyunjin made small groans as he continued sucking on your breasts, only letting off for air.

The man then rubbed down your sides and to your hips. Since you were just bathed, he took in the sweet scent of your body and kissed around your thighs. Your thighs were pretty sensitive and it took a lot for you not to move.

“My love…” He mumbled. “So beautiful…”

Hyunjin got closer to your cunt and you whimpered when feeling his hot breath on you.

Your fiancé started kissing at your cunt. It was slow and gentle, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t making you moan out loud.

“Jinnie— fuck—”

Your thighs were shut around his head; he squeezed them as he ate you out. It was hard for you to keep your voice down and your back was arched.

It was unexpected but you came fairly quick. But Hyunjin didn’t mind; instead he lapped up your essence before looking up at you.

You were pretty fucked out. Breathing heavily as you tried thinking clearly.

“Did you like that, my love?” He asked while gently rubbing your sides. “Shall I spoil you more?”

“Mmhm~” you said sigh. He just felt so good.

Hyunjin was quick to remove his pants and boxers. He kissed your lips before rubbing his cock against your cunt, making you cry out. He didn’t want to tease you much longer and thrusted right it. He loved how you were tight around him and he pinned your wrists to each side of your head.

His thrusts were slow. You thought maybe he was teasing you, but no. He was just getting you warmed up. It wasn’t long before he went a little faster… and deeper.

Soon enough, the sound of skin slapping was in the air and your breathy moans echoed off the walls. There was no volume control as your eyes were rolled back. He kissed at your neck while whispering praises in your ear.

“My lovely Queen~” his voice was soft and breathless. It had your head spinning. “so beautiful…”

“Fairest woman… purest queen… your body glows with beauty…”

As corny as his compliments were, they were always nice to hear.

He was close to his own high, losing some control as he went faster.

“Fuck—” he grunted while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Fuck-… my love—”

“Jinnie-!” You cried out at the feeling of him thumb, bucking your hips to meet his as you were just as desperate. “Jinnie-… I wanna cum—”

Hyunjin only continued rubbing your clit some more until you finally let go. He was about to pull out when you grabbed his arm.

“Fill me, jinnie…” you whined. “I want your cum… I want you~”

Who was he to question you? Of course he’ll listen! He held your hand as he came, painting your walls white. And it felt so good.

You just knew the substance would be dripping out when he pulls out, you were stuffed as he stayed still to catch his breath.

He was amazing. With his handsome features and luscious hair, you wondered how you were able to find a man so amazing…

——— 👑

As you got dressed, Hyunjin was pacing in the living room. He felt bad; You wanted so badly to see your friend.

“She wants to… the Queen wants to…”

You paused, listening to him from the other side of the wall.

“I must do what the Queen wants… no but it’s dangerous…”

You were confused, as he… arguing with himself…?

“No— what if— no! No exceptions!” He snapped. “That girl… she’ll steal my queen away!”

That’s ridiculous. He’s probably just thinking out loud

“She wouldn’t… but maybe she would… I trust my Queen…”

Hyunjin rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Bring her to the castle… it’s safer— no! Away from castle— no not outside…”

You were a bit worried. He seemed really frustrated with himself.

“But she won’t be happy—… she has to be happy!” He blurted out now smacking his head. “She has to be! Happy! Happy! Happy!”

You came out as you could hear his frustration and ran to him when seeing him harming himself. “Jinnie stop!”

“Happy- are you happy?!” He yelled out while grabbing your hand and falling to his knees. “My queen must be happy! Are you satisfied?!”

It was a bit unnerving how frantic he was. He wasn’t even looking at you, instead staring at the floor while rocking slightly. He was distraught but not crying. He was even shaking a little as he squeezed your hand.

“I am happy, Jinnie—”

“Good! That’s good!” He interrupted while kissing your hand. “See she’s happy!”

It was hard to tell what exactly was wrong with him. You didn’t hear him talk to himself like this often… and when he did, you never knew what to do.

“Does my queen want to see her friend?” He asked, still looking down but holding your hand to his head.

“I-I… um… yeah…” you replied awkwardly.

“I’ll make it happen… anything for my queen… anything for her…” there was a moment of silence before he looked up at you with a blank expression.

“Jinnie?”

“Yes Love?” He replied with a smile as if nothing was wrong.

“A-are you okay…?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He said while standing up. “We should call your friend. Let me get your phone.”

“You… broke it… quite a while ago…”

“Really?” He asked sounding genuinely confused. “Perhaps it’s somewhere… can’t be that broken…”

After some quick searching through the drawers, Hyunjin was able to find it. He plugged it into a charger and surprisingly it turned on. The screen was practically shattered but he was sure to be able to get the number he needed.

——— 👑

Your friend was actually surprised to get a call from you. She was afraid he locked you up forever, never letting you out again.

“Y/n?”

“Jihyo! Jinnie says it’s my birthday!” You said excitedly. “He says we can hang out!”

“Oh… that’s great.” Your friend replied, taken aback. “Am I going to your house?”

“Jinnie says you can’t come to the castle.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t.” You replied with a shrug. “No one is allowed in the Queen’s castle.”

“But he’s allowed?”

“Yes because he rescued me silly!”

“Right…” she replied awkwardly. “So… where are we going?”

“Jinnie picked out a restaurant. To get late lunch and maybe dessert!”

“Alright then… text me the address.” She said with a sigh. “I’ll meet you guys there…”

Hyunjin was behind you as you had your little conversation, a bit nervous to how this outting would pan out. Sure he wants you to be happy, after all it is your birthday, but how is he going to keep your friend in check?

Jihyo also wondered how this would play out. Maybe she can snap you out of whatever spell this man has you under. Maybe she can save you from his brainwashing…

————————————————— 👑

Sorry to keep y’all’s waiting. I got busy 😅

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You enter your apartment. It doesn’t really feel like yours anymore. That man, that gargantuan invader, has tainted your safe space. You keep your head down as you brush by Sy. He reaches to squeeze your wrist and promptly lets you go. 

You cringe as you march stiffly down the entryway. 

“Thank you, officers,” he says, “sorry to trouble ya like this. You have a good one.” 

“You too, sir,” one responds, “hopefully your homecoming gets a bit warmer.” 

The door shuts and you flinch. You stop in the living room, shoulders sloped, head down. You can’t stop the shaking. You hear him coming as Aika sits obediently in the corner. You glance at the dog, you don’t think she can help, you don’t know that she would. She’s loyal to her owner. 

Sy stalks into the front room as you cower, wring your hands in front of your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you watch his shadow as he fumes and paces around. He exhales, small mutters you can’t discern. Circling around and around then suddenly stomping towards you. 

You whimper and your eyes flick up as you take a step back, eyes watery with fear. He stops, just an inch away, chest puffing with fury. You bat your lashes as you wait, for what, you don’t know. For him to do something, anything. 

“How could you hurt me like that, sweetie?” He hisses. 

“I... don’t know--” 

“You hide from me. Scare me, like that?” His voice rises, quaking as you hear him struggling to control it, “call the f—the cops?” 

He can’t keep his voice from booming. He’s so loud. Like thunder crashing down around you. 

“After all I did for you, you treat me like a monster. Actin’ all scared like I’d ever hurt you!” He snarls, “I wouldn’t, sweetie, and you know it. What did I ever do to make you think that, huh?” He starts to pace again, throwing his hands out as he rants, “I told you—I'm not a bad man! I’m not! I wouldn’t hurt you!” He barks as Aika puts her head down, eyes on her own, “but you hurt me. You. Hurt. Me.” 

He growls and his nostrils flare as he comes back around it front of you. You peek at him from beneath tear-webbed lashes. Your heart thrums in your ears and your chest thumps. He raises his hand and you wince as he smacks himself in the head. You cry out in horror as he does it again, each time harder than the last as he continues his angry prowl. 

“Sy!” You squawk. 

He snarls again and beats himself with both hands, “maybe I deserve it, huh? This is what you want. For me to hurt.” 

“No, I--” you heave as a sob bubbles up your throat. You don’t like violence. You never wanted this. You just want him gone. To be left alone. 

He roars and throws his fist around, hitting the flower lamp off the end table. It flies off and the cord snags, sending it shattering to the floor. You whine and put your knuckles to your lips, horrified as he continues his fit. He grabs the table next, hurling it with one hand as if it weighs nothing. The draw slips out and the continues scatter. 

He spins again, puffing and panting, his face red and furious. He storms towards the opposite wall and before you can understand what’s happening, he bashes his face against it. He staggers back, grips his head and blindly stumbles around. 

You stand, dumbfounded, as he falls onto the couch. He sits and hangs his head, gripping it between his large hands. He breathes loudly as he leans his elbows on his knees. Your tears spill out as you hug yourself and sniffle. 

You babble as you feel something against your leg. You look down as Aika nuzzles against you. You reach down to touch her snout. She licks your palm and you turn your attention back to Sy. You’ve never witnessed anything like that. You never ever wanted to hurt him. You pity him more than anything, he seems so lost. 

You suck in a breath and swipe the wetness from your cheeks. You drag your foot forward as Aika stays close. You back up and go through to the kitchen. You take a clean dishcloth from the drawer and wet it under the faucet. You’re buzzing with adrenaline. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

You cross the room to Sy as his breaths huff in and out. You can see the blood on his forehead as he nears. You hesitate, furling and unfurling your fingers before you touch his muscled shoulder. 

“Sy,” you say softly. 

He ignores you, fingertips curling into his skull, “so stupid...” you make out the words under his breath. 

You squeeze him as Aika pokes her head under his arms and noses him from below. He sits up and scratches her head. He wobbles as his foggy eyes come into focus. He looks at you, a gash on his forehead and another across the bridge of his nose. You try not to react as you offer the wet cloth. 

He considers it and takes it with a sigh. He dabs at the blood on his face as he watches you. You bring your palms together, rubbing them nervously, as you bounce on your feet. 

“Thanks,” he mutters as Aika nudges his hand for more pets. He looks between you and the dog, “I-- I’m sorry. I let you down. Both of you.” 

He stands up and you back away, folding your hands over your chest as you make yourself small. He holds the cloth against his nose and grunts. He scowls and turns away. You don’t move as he marches to the bathroom. The door snaps shut just as Aika reaches it. You hear the lock click. 

You bite your lip and slowly glance towards the entry way. You stare. You could try again but to what end. Blair wouldn’t let you back in after you brought that chaos into her world and the police won’t do anything more than blame you again. 

Maybe it is your fault. Sy means well... 

No, no! He doesn’t belong there. This is your life.  

Aika’s paws pad down the hall and she sits by the door. She knows what you’re thinking it seems. Doesn’t matter, you have nowhere to go and no one to go to. 

You pivot carefully, searching for a distraction. What can you do now? You’re too addled to sit down and work or even hide away in the bedroom under the covers. You walk a circle around the room and stop yourself. You look at the wall, a smear of blood and a dent left by his collision. 

You return to the kitchen and grab a paper towel. You come back to wipe away blood. When you get most of it out, you start to clean up the rest of the mess. The lamp is broken. You put the shards in a box and leave it by the door. Then you gather up the random pens and notebook and right the table before tucking it all back in the drawer. 

As you stand up, you hear another click. You peer over as Sy appears. His shirt is gone. The cuts on his face are no longer bleeding but his eyes are still blazing. You gulp as his jaw tenses. 

“I’m sorry I broke your lamp,” he utters dully. 

You wet your lips with your tongue, “Do you want some tylenol?” 

His eyebrows arch and his cheek ticks. He nods slowly, “yes, sweetie.” 

You try to smile and your mouth quivers. You retreat and go to fetch the bottle of pills and some water. When you come back, he’s on the couch again.  

“Head sure does hurt,” he says as he accepts the glass and the tablets. 

You hum and nod. He throws back the pills and drains half the glass. He set the cup down and leans back, once more holding his head. 

“Do you think... maybe you should see a doctor?” You suggest. 

“I’m fine,” he growls, “got worse over in the sh—in the war.” 

You scrunch up your lips and twiddle your fingers. He drops his hands and brings his head straight. You fidget as he takes you in, his eyes narrow and his expression pained. He waves you closer, “come here.” 

You stop moving. You’re completely still as you stare him. His brow lowers dangerously. You near him reluctantly, wary of riling him again. 

“I’m sorry I yelled, sweetie,” he takes your hand and leans forward to kiss your knuckles, “I was worked up. I thought—I was crazy. I thought I lost you, you know? But I get it. You wanted to see your friend and she... she put her nose in our business and called in the cops, huh? Jealous, I bet.” 

You blanch. That’s not the truth. That isn’t what happened at all. You won’t argue. 

“Yeah,” you let him cling to your hand, “I think she was just worried because she didn’t recognise you. I’m... I’m sorry.” 

He looks up at you and his lips curve, “I know you’re sorry, sweetie,” he tugs on you, “but we’re all good now, aren’t we? I got you, you got me, everything’s as it should be.” 

He moves you and you let him. You know better than to break the illusion again. He angles you onto his lap and your body locks up. He hugs you to him, a hand on your leg, his other arm across your back. He purrs as he holds you close, leaning back as the tension seeps from him. 

“Just like this, sug, me and you,” he grits. 

🧸

You escape Sy’s embrace for the excuse of making breakfast. The task helps you keep your fears at bay though his presence looms just on the other side of the wall. Your helplessness is starting to feel like acceptance as the last of your denial dissipates. This is real. You are trapped. 

You plate up a heaping plate of bacon and eggs. You scrape butter onto toast and bring it out to the table. You teethe your lip as you stand in the archway of the front room. 

“Food’s ready, Sy,” you squeak. 

He sits up and groans as he stretches. He stands, towering over you as he looks even broader without his shirt. Somehow you keep forgetting how big he really is. 

He crosses the room and you scurry back to the kitchen. You hear him pull the chair out as you grab your leftover french toast and bring it out. You’re not very hungry, in fact you feel sick to your stomach. Still, you know you have to play along. 

That sound, the one of his head hitting the plaster, keeps replaying in your head. You hate it. As much as he scares you, as much as he’s a stranger, you don’t want to be the reason he’s hurt. You stare at your plate glumly as you cut into the cold eggy bread. 

“Thank you, sweetie,” he undercuts your gloom with his bright tone, “sure smells good.” 

You glance up, poking at the toast with your fork, “sorry, all I had was turkey bacon.” 

“S’all good,” he tears a strip in half and takes a bite. 

You muster a smile and drop your gaze back to your food. You take a bite of the stale, syrupy bread. You chew mechanically, bite by bite, and choke it all down. You think of how he might react if you let the food go to waste. He paid for it after all. At least the berries add a bit of flavour. 

“You should make a video today,” he says abruptly. 

Your eyes flick up and you blink, “oh, uh, maybe not today--” 

“Your followers will be wanting to check in, won’t they? You can’t leave them hanging.” 

“Um, well, I’ll think about it later---” 

“You know, sweetie, like I said, you got me through some tough days. You’re all I had out there. Who knows, maybe there’s others who feel the same, you know?” He scoops up eggs on his fork and hovers them over the plate, “and you’re special. The world needs more of you.” 

“Thanks, er, I’m just... tired is all.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t snuck out to the couch, huh?” He challenges. 

You’re surprised by the admonishment. You wince and give a shrug, “yeah, I guess--” 

“I could help ya with the video. We could do something fun. Maybe... we could go for a walk with Aika. She loves the wilderness. Specially when there aren’t bombs hidin’.” 

You look down guiltily. You don’t blame him for wanting out of his old life. For being so excited to be away from the chaos. And you feel worse because you’ve taken all you have for granted. Each time he talks, he reminds you of your ignorance. 

“I guess... that sounds nice,” you sniff. 

“Sounds perfect to me,” he swallows his mouthful, “walking around with my girls, showing ‘em off.” He grins, “couldn’t ask for anything more.” 

[alrawabi-imagines]

Green with envy

pairing: Elphaba x Reader

Slot: Squirt Spanking Praise kink @tinybada

You and Elphaba were arguing about how she was so emotionally unavailable to you,you knew she was a bit distant but you wanted at least a bit more. And Glinda gave you the perfect opportunity to make her jealous,and see how much Elphaba loved you and if she was willing to show it. You made your way over to Glinda and pretty quickly Elphaba realized what you were doing when you called Glinda "Pretty girl” Elphaba tried her best to hide the fact that she was getting annoyed, Glinda smirked a little as Elphaba watched the two of you intently. Glinda played along with you,knowing what you were doing. Elphaba got more and more annoyed as the two of you continued to jokingly flirt, Glinda laughed a little as she put her arm around your waist. That set her off and she made her way over. She stormed over, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Glinda, she huffed a little as she dragged you away. When you two were a safe distance away she turned to you. 

“What are you doing?” She questioned, though it was more of an accusation

"Just going to the one who shows me she likes me" She huffed once more, crossing her arms 

“Glinda? Really?” She asked, almost insulted

"Then who else?"

“Me, obviously.” She replied in a huff

"And yet you don't show it"

“Yes I do, I-” she stopped, not being able to find an example of her showing she loves you

"You have tonight,so fucking prove it"

“Fine then.” She said firmly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind her as she quickly made her way to an unoccupied broom closet. She pushed you to the wall,your back to her as her hand rubbed your ass and it was clear she was planning on making you pay for flirting with Glinda. “You’re mine,got that?” She asked, clearly jealous, though you couldn’t quite tell if she was actually mad, or just possessive. She placed a few small kisses on your neck before then smacking your ass,making you gasp.She smirked as you gasped, gripping your hips and pulling you as close to her as possible. 

“Say it.” She whispered into your ear,she smacked your ass again. “Say. It.” She repeated, her voice a bit more demanding

"I'm yours"

“And who else’s?” She asked.

"No one,only yours"

“That’s what I thought.” She said smugly, leaving a few more kisses on your neck as her hands remained on your hips, gripping you tightly. She still wanted to punish you,pulling you clothes until your ass was on full display for her to spank. She let out an almost animalistic chuckle as she squeezed your ass a few times. “Count for me, understood?” She asked

"Yes" you breathed out.

“Good girl.” She said with a smirk before slapping your ass, fairly hard. “One.”

"One" She spanked you again, a little rougher. 

“Two.” You bit your lip as her hand landed.

"Two" the next couple came in quick succession.

“How many have we got now?” She asked when she paused.

"Six" that was the one you were at,but you felt like you might have missed one.

“Seven, darling.” She said, spanking you a little harder. “Can’t you count?” She asked, though it was more teasing that anything else

"I'm sorry,I didn't mean to miss count" you hoped she wouldn't be harsher.

“Count to ten. And don’t count wrong again.” She started over.

"one" She nodded a little, letting you continue “Two, three..” You managed to count to ten but each spank felt stronger than the last. After the tenth one she paused and took a deep breath.

“That was better.” She remarked, rubbing your sore skin lightly. “Though I’d still say I’m not quite satisfied.” She stripped you,slowly taking everything off. Changing from scolding you to praising you. “Such a good little girl..” she whispered as she tossed your clothes aside, looking you over intently. “You’ve behaved so well for me.” She looked you up and down once again, admiring you for a moment. “Such a pretty thing.” She purred, her hands resting on your hips. She stood up,pressing herself against you and her thigh between your legs. Commanding you. “Grind against me.” She ordered, her tone commanding as she stared at you intently. Her gaze was unwavering and intense. You slowly moved your hips,rubbing yourself against her thigh. She smirked slightly, watching you grind against her, clearly enjoying how desperate you were. “Good girl, just like that.” She whispered, her voice low. You slowly moved faster. “Keep going.” She demanded, wanting to see you get more desperate for her. “Such a pretty little thing.” She muttered, squeezing your hips a bit tighter

"Elphaba" you moaned her name as you kept moving.

“So needy..” she said with a smirk, enjoying how desperate you were. “Keep moaning for me, darling.”

"Elphaba,please I...I need you"

“That’s what I thought.” She said smugly. “Needy little thing, grinding against my leg, all desperate.” Gripping your hips even tighter “Beg.” She ordered,her tone demanding.

"Please please Elphaba,I need you to touch me more"

“Good girl, so polite and desperate.” She praised, still holding your hips tight. “Want more?”

"Yes,yes please. I need you to touch me,I need you to fuck me"

“Such a dirty mouth.” She teased, her hand trailing down to your inner thigh. “Beg again.” You were now grinding against her faster and harder.

"please Elphaba I need you,I want you" She chuckled again, her grip on your thigh tightening. “Eager, aren’t you?” She asked, clearly enjoying having you desperate for her. "Stay here" she suddenly said before leaving. And returned a few minutes later and lifted her dress to show the green strap on between her legs. She smirked as she reentered, knowing you’d like the surprise. “Ready, darling?” She asked, her voice low with intent. She thrusted it all in,making you gasp at her quickness. Roughly but she did give you a moment to get used to her size. The strap wasn’t too big, but it was large enough that you needed a moment to adjust to it. She quickly started moving, picking up a quick pace. Her hands were on your hips, gripping you tightly. “Does it feel good, darling?” She asked

"Y-Yes"

“Good.” She said with a slight smirk. “You take it so well, don’t you darling?” She asked, her pace quickening a bit

"Please give me more"

“So polite, I suppose you deserve a bit more.” She said with a slight chuckle, her pace quickening further. “Such a good girl for me, you know that?” She quickly turned rough and thrust insanely fast,hitting a sensitive spot. 

"Elphaba E-Elphaba"

“Say it again,beg for me darling.”

"No,Elphaba I'm about it."

“What?” She asked, confused for a moment. Then she smirked again when she figured out what you meant. “You’re going to cum already?”

"No,I'm about it-" you cut yourself off with a moan as you squirted with one more thrust from her. You struggled to catch your breath. She was a bit stunned, clearly not expecting that. But then a smirk crossed her face as she realized what had happened. 

“Did you just…,” she asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and amusement. She chuckled as she watched you, waiting for you to be able to speak again. “You’ve never done that before.” She said, almost in mock-surprise

"Only once before"

“Oh so you do know how to make yourself feel good then.” She said, an almost teasing tone in her voice. “But I guess you feel better with ME helping.”

"I can't help that you're so good" She chuckled as she began to kiss your neck, nipping at your skin before mumbling “could Glinda do that?”