#EXCELLENT to know it is actually something you can bring up with him

[queen-scribbles]

WHOOP THERE IT IS YOU TELL HIM ABIGAIL ELIZA

[akalyndraw]

It's a little late but happy Mother's Day! I take this opportunity to introduce LeoYur's future babies, twins Laia and Lia and little brother Jul. I'll take the opportunity to write about them ^^

It's a good time to remember that Yura's eye color is brown 🤎 the olive green is actually contact lenses (she doesn't see well far away)

Yura and Leona's children:

Twins - Laia (🐆) & Lia (🌺):

Age: 9 years old

Birthday: June 15

Birthplace: Sunset Savanna

Eye color: Esmerald

Hair color: Dark Brown

Favorite Food: Meat (🐆) Lasagna (🌺)

Hobby: Training (🐆) Singing (🌺)

Dislike: Salad(🐆🌺) and insects(🌺)

Younger brother - Jul (🐾):

Age: 7 years old

Birthday: October 8

Birthplace: Sunset Savanna

Eye color: Brown

Hair color: Dark Brown

Favorite Food: Beef liver

Hobby: Read

Dislike: Noise and people talking behind one's back

The twins are a bundle of energy that came into 🌼🦁 life when they least expected it on one of their trips, but it was the greatest joy for both of them. Both have outgoing and curious personalities, Laia can be the more whimsical one. She likes to tease her brother and father, plus she has fun doing little mischiefs here and there, however this gets her in trouble almost every time. On the other hand, Lia is kinder although she follows her sister in her mischief, she is the “voice of conscience” (which Laia never listens to)

They are the female version of their father in appearance.

🐆: She is very smart and strong for her age. She enjoys watching her father's and the rest of Sunset Warrior's workouts. Occasionally she trains by imitating the movements of others, she likes adrenaline and is surprisingly good at leadership (in the future she becomes leader of the Sunset Warrior) Despite her personality she has a good heart.

🌺: cheerful girl, she will always greet you with a smile. Like her sister she is quite intelligent however she prefers to avoid physical training and instead rehearse her singing in the palace gardens next to her mother while she draws. She excels in creativity and perseverance, she often gets into trouble with her sister but you couldn't be too angry with them for too long, you won't resist her puppy look.

The arrival of the little princesses at the palace was a joy for everyone. Cheka and Falena were constantly dropping by as babies to bring them presents. Leona is a bit protective of them so she tries to get them to leave quickly. They are the darlings of the place, if any cookies are missing from the kitchen the chefs already know who they were. Kifaji even let out a few tears when he saw them and they both took his fingers in their little baby hands. Whenever she gets the chance she will spend time with them and tell them stories about their father.

🐾: Unlike his sisters, he has a calm personality and a normally stoic expression. He wants to grow up fast and be like his father, whom he admires a lot because of the stories his mother used to tell him. Despite the admiration and love he feels for his father, he is more attached to his mother, although he tries to act more mature, he is still a child. His ears and tail always give away his true emotions even if he seems disinterested in something.

He secretly asked Kifaji to teach him how to play chess so that he could play with 🦁 later and surprise him. You can find him in the royal library or somewhere quiet reading/studying

He is a polite little gentleman but if he sees his sisters nearby he will run away quickly (they like to bother him, often interrupting his study time)

His magic took quite a while to show up, which made everyone worried since 🌼 lacked magic and they thought he couldn't use it either. It was basically his worst moment, as he always wanted to use magic since he was little and even started hiding to practice more hours.

However, one day he heard some employees talking bad about his mother and since Leona could choose someone better, then he got angry and his magic woke up, making a mess of the surroundings (unintentionally because he still didn't control it).

Yura was left alone with him tending to the small wounds on his arms and they talked. Jul never blamed or felt resentment towards his mom, more than anything, he wanted to be strong to defend her and his sisters. To be a reliable brother and son. Little by little, although it was hard, he practiced with Leona until he mastered his magic power.

I've gone on quite long 😅 but here I leave the basics, I have the story of the three brothers overdeveloped in my mind hehe

As a spoiler they enter NRC in the future!

[moonstruckme]

Hello icon ✨Could we have a poly!wolfstar x reader where she thinks that they are mad at her for something (or they could actually be a bit miffed) and it just a bit of hurt comfort with cuddles and kisses at the end😔🙏🏻

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re being weird. 

The three of you are doing a puzzle, which usually captivates your attention but never Sirius’, which is how he’s so very aware of how little attention you’re actually paying to the puzzle. You keep glancing at Sirius, at Remus, like you’re nervous about something. You’ve been like this all day. It’s in and out, sometimes waning like you’ve forgotten to be anything but normal, but Sirius has a keen gauge for tension. He can sense it every time it ticks back up.

You’re pretending to look for sky pieces, though Sirius suspects you forgot what color the sky in your puzzle was a while ago. He feels like you’re building to something, and it makes his skin itch. Remus is too absorbed in his tree bark pieces to notice—the nerd—so it’s up to Sirius to get it out of you. Luckily, James has always said that Sirius is a master of tact. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You were halfway to sneaking another glance at him, and you react as though you’ve been struck, jumping a little where you sit on the rug by the coffee table. “What? Nothing.” 

“Well, that was very believable.” Sirius smiles to take some of the bite out of it. “Come on, you have me on the edge of my seat. What’s got you all worked up?” 

“I am not worked up,” you insist, though your expression says otherwise. 

Remus appears confused, but he notices your guilty eyes as well. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say again. 

“Clearly something,” Sirius counters. 

Your lips press together, corners downturnt. You’re not looking at either of them.

“Hey.” Sirius softens his voice. “What is it? You’re freaking me out, babe.”  

This only seems to distress you further. “I wanted you not to freak out,” you say.

“Sweetheart, about what?” Now Remus sounds worried too, though the look he gives you is more patient than anything Sirius could ever manage. He ducks his head to catch your gaze. 

After a moment of looking at him, your shoulders droop. “Okay.” Your voice has quieted. “Just a second.” 

Sirius’ anxiety ratchets as you stand, going down the hall towards your room. 

“Why does it feel like she’s going to bring us back a school report?” he murmurs to Remus. 

Remus shakes his head, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No idea.” 

When you return, it is with papers, though Sirius doesn’t at first know what they are. 

“This came this morning,” you say in that same resigned voice, laying them down on the coffee table as you sit back down next to Sirius.

With Sirius and Remus on opposite sides they can’t both read the text at once, and Remus picks them up first. Sirius spots you bringing your hand to your mouth and reaches for it silently, drawing it away before you can start chewing your fingernails. Your nervousness is making him nervous. He pushes his thumb up the lines of your palm. 

“Oh,” Remus hums. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, in a tone that clearly communicates if somebody doesn’t start talking I’m going to throw a wobbly. 

“It’s the gas bill,” says Remus. He’s making his old man face, where he leans away slightly and squints like he needs glasses. Ordinarily Sirius would tease him for it, but he’s not in the mood. “Bit high.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. 

Sirius looks at you. Frowning, your hand still trapped in his. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Is this…” One glance at Remus, and it’s clear Sirius is now the one lagging in understanding. “Is this because you left the oven on?” 

Your expression says enough. 

Oh, well. In fairness, Sirius had thrown a bit of a wobbly over that. 

It was weeks ago. You made cookies just before bed. They were warm, gooey, the perfect precursor to sleep and an excellent excuse, in Sirius’ opinion, to trade chocolate-flavored kisses until all three of you were snoozing on your pillows. It hadn’t been until he and Remus were making breakfast the next morning that Remus smelled the gas. You’d come out of the bedroom, confused, to find them throwing open windows and calling the fire department for advice. Your gas oven had been left on all night. 

You felt awful. Your boyfriends gave you an appropriate amount of shit for it, but it was only thoughtless, not malicious. Your apartment hadn’t blown up. The smell drifted away within a few minutes, and in all honesty Sirius was left feeling a bit bad that what began as you trying to make them all happy had resulted in you being so thoroughly chastised. But it had been let go. 

Until now, evidently. 

“I can pay it,” you offer meekly. “The difference, or all of it.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his brow. “Dove…” 

“Let me see that.” Sirius reaches with the hand not holding yours. Remus gives it to him. He finds the total quickly. “This isn’t even that high.” 

Okay, it’s a bit high. But genuinely, Sirius was expecting worse. 

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. 

“Baby, is this what you’re all wound up about?” Sirius sets the papers down to gawk at you. “Really? I thought something happened.” 

You’re shrinking, your hand tense in his. “Something did happen.” 

“Yeah, a whole month ago!” 

“Sirius,” Remus murmurs, in a tone Sirius knows to mean you’re not helping. He asks you, “Did you think we would be angry with you?” 

Spiderweb cracks spread through your expression. Your mouth wobbles. 

“Oh, you absolute moron.” Sirius grabs for you with both hands, hauling you into his lap. 

“Pads.”

“You ridiculous, sweet idiot.” He kisses your head. Once, twice, three times. “Why’d you have to go and get all worked up? You got me worked up, silly thing.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly. 

“Alright, that’s enough apologizing,” Remus says gently. Underneath the coffee table, a socked foot bumps into Sirius’ leg before presumably finding yours. Sirius grins. Remus is tactile in the oddest ways sometimes. Like a cat. 

He loves you both so very much. God, you really had him going. He feels liable to squeeze the life out of you. 

He satiates the urge by kissing you all over your face until you look significantly less upset. You look at Sirius with tentative relief, the beginnings of a smile curled up in the corner of your mouth. 

He’s about to ask you again how you could be so stupid, but Remus speaks first. Probably for the best. 

“It really won’t be so much more for each of us once we split it,” he says, looking again at the bill. 

That guilty look is back on your face. Sirius gives you a squeeze in hopes of banishing it. “I can get it,” you say. “It wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t been so…if I hadn’t left the oven on.” 

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Remus tells you. “It’s all right.” 

You fidget. “I feel like you should probably be angrier with me.” 

“We already have been angry with you,” Sirius points out. “We got over it. Time to move on, babe.” 

“It was a mistake.” Remus’ gaze is steady. Knowing. “It was scary, but it happens. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for us, lovely.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

Sirius scoffs. “I can be angry without anyone’s help, thank you.” Then, at your wary look, “But I’m not angry about this.” 

Slowly, the tension Sirius has been sensing seeps out of you. You relax in a way you haven’t all day long. 

Remus notices, too. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, in a soft, fond voice. “Talk to us next time, okay?” 

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sheepish look. “I was going to. I just really thought you’d be upset.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius kisses your head, sharing an eye roll with Remus. “Shows what you know.”

[kermits-cup-of-tea]

house episode where cuddy tries to call him in for extra hours but due to some old bylaw the hospital never got rid of, house realizes he can call out gay and spends the entire ep dodging phone calls from the hospital/cuddy after leaving a message that goes "i can't come in, im too busy being gay. check the bylaws"

cameron spends the ep trying to figure out if house is actually gay/bi because then she has one more thing in common with him, foreman tries to focus on the patient while cameron and chase bicker about if house is gay. wilson is also mysteriously absent. then at the end, after they finally cure the patient, foreman says something like "and he is gay, you know. or at least being gay today. he went home with wilson, and hasn't talked about seeing strippers in a month"

cut to house at home and wilson brings him tea or something and house teases him about it and wilson responds with "yes i'd make an excellent housewife" and house-not very jokingly-asks wilson to marry him and wilson says ok and the ep ends there and it's never brought up again until house gets admitted to the hospital 2 seasons later and they won't let wilson in to see him because family only, and wilson drops the marriage bomb

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, the GCPD and the Batfamily having a dysfunctional working relationship would be hilarious. Like, the cops know they need the Bats to help keep Gotham’s streets clean, but man, they are fucking troublemakers.

Take Dick, for example. He’s already naturally at home in a police station, so he’ll regularly waltz into GCPD headquarters to give pointers on cases, act as a translator, and will occasionally bring donuts for the night officers. But he’s also been trying to get them to unionize since 2009 and will also unabashedly steal things from the evidence locker. (He always returns it, usually with the adjacent case completed, but it’s a lot of red tape and that’s very annoying.) He also fucks up the coffee machine every time he uses it.

As for Jason… On one hand he is excellent at tracking down perps that have escaped custody or gone to ground. It’s not uncommon for him to pull up with a van full of criminals on the wanted list, which is great… expect for the fact that Jason is also on the wanted list. So whenever he shows up the GCPD cops have to put in effort (minimal as it may be) to try and “capture” the Red Hood so that they don’t get audited by Homeland Security. So now like once a month they have to chase the Red Hood across Gotham proper, because he handed the Penguin into their custody or something, and they have to look good for their bosses—it’s a waste of resources and really fucking annoying, but, hey, they got the Penguin?

Surprisingly, Tim and Stephanie are the most frequent visitors of the GCPD—and they are also the most dreaded. Because Tim is a plucky little know-it-all, but also he can and will update their entire database in a single night and will, at random, solve a cold case they’ve been sitting on for 20 years. The problem is that he’s just fucking annoying about it, and every other week he’ll break into the vending machine to steal the energy drinks—that shit is impossible to get replaced. And Steph? She’ll talk the ears off the night shift and get everyone off task, because they’re busy gossiping about the accounting department in the Manor’s office and planning a prank war on the fire department.

You would think Cassandra would be everyone’s favorite because she’s quiet and much less destructive then her siblings, but you’d be wrong—Cassandra is an absolute menace and the night shift workers have spent years trying to prove it. She will sneak up behind people, leave random pebbles in people’s shoes, and will put googly eyes on anything she touches. The day shift thinks the night officers need to chill because, “isn’t she the chill one?” (No. No she is not. None of the Bats are chill.)

And then there’s Damian. As Robin, the closest he usually gets to the GCPD is through Batman, via his consultations with Commissioner Gordon. But on the rare occasions he’s permitted inside the GCPD, he is dotted on extensively by the officers. He’s deadly and abrasive but they love him. They give him candy and head pats and let him use the sketch-artist supplies to do drawings, which they religiously pin to the break room refrigerator. Damian will pretend to despise this despite the fact that he so clearly loves it.

Lastly, there’s Duke. As the only day shifter, he’s widely considered to be the most well adjusted and relatable Bat. Half a year into his tenure as Signal, he’s on a first name basis with half the GCPD, has his own locker and fridge space for his lunchbox, a coffee mug with his logo on it is kept in the break room, and he’s already been nominated for Employee of the Year despite the fact that he does not actually work for the GCPD. The night shift refuses to accept that he is real.

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Daylight savings ( Night Bravings)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn

Summary: When Lando shows up uninvited to your backyard with iced coffee and taking his hoodie off, you know trouble is ahead.

⸻

The sun was unapologetically bright, the kind that soaked into your skin and made your bones feel like they were humming. You were stretched across an old striped towel in your backyard, sunglasses crooked on your face, legs lazily splayed and still damp from the garden hose.

Your phone lay beside you on the grass, playing soft music. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Boring, even.

Until your back gate creaked.

You didn’t move at first—too content to be concerned. “If you’re a murderer,” you called, “at least bring me a cold drink before you kill me.”

“No promises,” came a familiar, smirking voice.

You turned your head and squinted over your sunglasses. There stood Lando, curls slightly wind-tossed, wearing a hoodie far too warm for the weather and a self-satisfied grin.

And in each hand? A large iced coffee.

You stared. “You actually came.”

He raised the drinks. “You sounded like you were melting. I figured it was a caffeine emergency.”

“I was also enjoying the solitude,” you teased, sitting up slightly.

“Sure you were.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the towel next to you without hesitation. “Your Spotify taste says otherwise.”

You snorted. “You mean excellent and unbothered?”

“I mean chaotic and vaguely nostalgic.” He set your drink beside your knee and then—without warning—reached behind his neck and peeled his hoodie off in one slow motion, tossing it to the side.

You blinked as your brain short-circuited.

He was already tanned from traveling, the sun catching golden on his shoulders and arms. He was only wearing swimming shorts underneath. No shirt. No warning. Just him, stretching out beside you like it was nothing.

You took a long sip of coffee mostly to hide your face. “Okay. You can stay.”

He gave you a smug little smile. “I already did.”

The two of you sat in the sun, quietly sipping, the air warm and comfortable. His bare shoulder bumped yours once. Then twice. You didn’t move.

After a moment, Lando said, “You know, this could be a trap.”

You tilted your head. “Me, in a swimsuit, sunbathing in my backyard, drinking iced coffee… is the trap?”

“No, the trap is me letting my guard down because you look like that,” he said, casually, but with just enough edge to make your stomach flip.

You choked slightly on your coffee. “Excuse me?”

Lando turned his head to look at you, eyes glinting. “I’m just saying, you know what you’re doing.”

“I literally look like a swamp witch trying to get a tan.”

He leaned in a little, voice low and amused. “And yet, here I am. Flustered.”

You raised a brow. “You’re flustered?”

He hesitated. “Slightly. It’s the sunglasses. The smugness. The legs.”

You fought the smile tugging at your lips. “Wow. So much power I didn’t know I had.”

“I’m deeply uncomfortable,” he said, sipping his drink again to hide his face.

You smirked. “Want me to cover up?”

He shot you a quick look. “Don’t you dare.”

Silence settled again, thick with amusement and a little bit of something heavier.

You were the one to break it. “You’re not usually this easy to fluster.”

“I’m not usually around you when you’re laying in the sun looking like a smug little goddess.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Okay. That one flustered me.”

He grinned wide, triumphant. “Finally.”

You shook your head, leaning back beside him. “You really just show up in my yard with coffee, take your shirt off, and make me blush?”

“Apparently.”

“Rude.”

“Effective.”

You both laughed, and something warm settled in your chest. Something that wasn’t just the sun.

After a while, you whispered, “You said you were flustered…”

He hummed. “Mhm.”

You grinned slowly. His eyes flicked to yours. That familiar smirk returned—but fainter this time. Softer.

He leaned back again, arms folded behind his head like this was just any normal day. His stomach stretched as he yawned, obnoxiously comfortable.

“You still drinking that coffee?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Good,” he said. “Because I think I’m staying a while.”

And you let him.

⸻

The sun had started to sink, lazy and golden, casting long shadows across the grass and dipping everything in that soft, almost-fictional light that made the world feel dreamlike.

You were still lying beside Lando, half on your towel, half on the warm grass, your now-empty iced coffee cup abandoned somewhere by your foot. The silence between you was easy, broken only by the occasional flutter of leaves and the soft clink of ice in the cup Lando kept swirling around just to annoy you.

But then the breeze picked up. Subtle, but cool. Enough to make your skin prickle.

You shivered just slightly.

Lando noticed instantly. “Cold?”

You considered lying. Then considered freezing. Then gave up. “A little.”

Without a word, he reached over to the spot beside him, grabbed his hoodie—the one he’d casually stripped off earlier, ruining your afternoon in the best possible way—and tossed it onto your stomach.

“Put it on,” he said. “You look like a sun-drunk cat who forgot the temperature drops after 6 PM.”

You made a face. “It probably smells like you.”

He grinned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”

You narrowed your eyes but tugged the hoodie on anyway. It was warm. It was soft. And—ugh—it smelled like him. That mix of sun, something expensive, and just a little bit of mischief.

It was also so soft.

He snorted. “You look like a child who stole from the laundry basket.”

“You chose to give it to me,” you said smugly, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. “Now you’ll never get it back.”

“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “What a loss.”

You turned your head and looked at him, his curls now glowing from the dying sun, his bare chest freckled with gold. He looked… calm. Too calm.

So naturally, you had to ruin it.

“You know,” you said sweetly, “it’s getting a little unfair how good you look shirtless in this light.”

His head whipped toward you. “Don’t start.”

You batted your lashes. “I’m just appreciating the view.”

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“No, I’m trying to enjoy my evening.” You stretched dramatically, arms above your head, hoodie sleeves flopping uselessly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours. “Too late.”

You swallowed. The air suddenly felt warmer again.

After a beat, he shifted a little closer. Not a lot. Just enough that his knee bumped against yours.

You didn’t move.

“Do you do this often?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Lay out here like this?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “When I want to escape my brain.”

“Is it working?”

You looked at him. The way his fingers played with a stray blade of grass. The way he wasn’t looking at you, not really—just watching the sky above with a soft frown.

“Yeah,” you said honestly. “But you’re kind of making it worse.”

That caught him off guard. “Me?”

You smiled gently. “My brain doesn’t shut up around you.”

Lando blinked. You could see the moment he froze, like his brain couldn’t decide between laughing or running away.

“You just say things like that?” he muttered.

“What, the truth?”

He finally looked at you. “No one’s supposed to say that stuff out loud.”

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up on your hand. “Then why are your ears red?”

He groaned and flopped backward, covering his face with his arm. “I’m never going to recover from this afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.”

He slowly peeked out from under his arm, curls sticking in every direction. “You’re dangerous.”

You leaned a little closer. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t let you suffer.”

That got him. He laughed—bright and surprised—and reached over to flick your hoodie sleeve.

“You’re not even trying anymore,” he accused. “You just know it shuts me up.”

“And yet,” you said, dramatically flopping onto your back again, “you’re still here.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“You’re mine.”

Silence.

Too much silence.

You panicked a little and added quickly, “I mean—technically. Just in the sense of—like—this backyard? I claim it. You’re on my turf. So.”

He was still staring at you.

You were not going to scream into the grass again.

Then—softly: “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t like that.”

You blinked.

He was still staring.

You were 90% sure your heart had just stopped.

And then—his voice broke the quiet. Light. Casual. But not.

“Move over.”

“What?”

He nudged your leg. “The grass is poking me. Your towel’s softer.”

You slid an inch away. He slid in, closer than before. Your arms brushed. Your knees touched.

And just like that, the sun disappeared behind the trees, and all the light that was left seemed to be coming from him.

⸻

By the time the last of the sunlight dipped below the fence line, everything had quieted. Even the breeze held its breath.

You could hear the distant buzz of summer—bugs, maybe, or far-off lawnmowers—but it all felt miles away. Here, in the tiny world you and Lando had carved out on one towel in your backyard, there was only warmth, silence, and the sharp, steady beat of your heart.

He hadn’t moved much since sliding in beside you. Maybe his breathing had slowed. Maybe yours had quickened. All you knew was that every inch between you felt alive.

Lando exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding something in. “You know,” he said, so quietly it almost didn’t register, “I wasn’t planning on staying this long.”

You turned your head slightly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at you, just traced a faint line in the grass with his finger. “I was just gonna drop off the coffee. Make a dumb joke. Leave.”

You smiled faintly. “You still made the dumb joke.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. But now I’m here. And I… don’t really want to go.”

That made your chest ache a little. The good kind. The kind that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one caught in this slow-burn spiral.

You tilted your head, voice gentler. “Why’d you stay?”

He glanced at you then. Not a full look—just enough for his lashes to catch the light. “Because it’s quiet here. And warm. And I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your breath hitched. You opened your mouth to deny it. To joke. To change the subject. But nothing came out.

Lando finally turned to face you fully, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. His eyes searched yours, like he was looking for permission he wasn’t sure he deserved.

And then he said, very quietly, “Can I try something?”

You nodded before you even understood the question.

His hand moved slowly—almost uncertain—as he reached up and pushed your sunglasses up into your hair. His fingers brushed your temple, lingered just a second too long. The world seemed to pause.

“I like your eyes better when I can see them,” he murmured.

And just like that, your body forgot how to function.

You were still processing that when he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, leaning in—not fast, not demanding, just close enough that your noses were nearly touching.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, like the words might break if he said them any louder.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t say anything at all.

You just closed the space between you.

The kiss was soft. Careful. So much tension threaded through it that it almost came apart at the seams. It wasn’t desperate—it was deliberate. A question wrapped in warmth. A quiet confession dressed in sunshine and old towels and iced coffee.

When he finally pulled back—barely—he pressed his forehead to yours and sighed like he’d been holding that breath for years.

“Well,” he murmured, “there goes my afternoon.”

You laughed. Quiet. Breathless. “I think it was already gone the moment you took your shirt off.”

“Tragic,” he whispered. “But fair.”

He shifted again, this time flopping back onto the towel with the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard. His arm, without really asking, found its way beneath your head, pulling you gently to rest on his shoulder. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stayed there. Together. Quiet. Close.

And when the stars finally began to show up—one by one like shy guests—you felt his thumb trace idle circles along your arm.

“Hey,” he murmured eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Next time,” he said sleepily, “can I still be flustered? Or is that a one-time deal?”

You smiled against his shoulder, heart impossibly full. “Depends on how short your shorts are.”

He snorted. “Evil.”

“You knew what this was.”

“I didn’t. But I really, really want to.”

You didn’t say anything. You just reached down, tangled your fingers with his, and held on.

And in the cool night air, wrapped in his hoodie and something that felt like the start of everything, you stayed.

⸻

Eventually, the stars multiplied—spilling across the sky like someone had cracked it open and let the light leak through. The warmth of the day had faded, replaced by something quieter, something slower. Lando was still beside you, arm beneath your head, fingers linked with yours.

You weren’t sure how long you lay like that. Long enough for the last bits of light to vanish. Long enough for your heart to settle into a rhythm that matched his.

And then his voice broke the silence, low and hesitant: “So, uh… do we just… sleep out here now?”

You turned your face into his shoulder to hide a smile. “You’re the one who said you were staying a while.”

“Right. I meant like… emotionally. Not physically.” He paused. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”

You laughed softly, and it made him grin. “You’ve stayed over before.”

“Yeah, but that was Mario Kart and couch blanket territory. This feels different.”

You lifted your head just slightly, enough to look at him. His curls were a little messy now, his expression open in a way that made something in your chest twist.

“It is different,” you said quietly.

Lando blinked. Like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

Then, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

You tilted your head. “Lando…”

“I’m serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I don’t want this to be a moment we pretend didn’t happen.”

You studied him. “Do I seem like someone who forgets kisses that easily?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re kind of intimidating, actually.”

That made you laugh again. “You’ve literally watched me cry over a burnt quesadilla.”

“And I still showed up in your backyard with iced coffee. Clearly, I’m in too deep.”

You hummed. “Yeah. You kind of are.”

Another beat passed.

Then: “Wanna come inside?”

He blinked, surprised by your question.

You added, “There’s leftover pasta. And probably a blanket that doesn’t smell like grass.”

“And toothbrushes?”

You grinned. “I might even let you borrow mine.”

Lando sat up, stretching with a dramatic groan, and then offered you a hand. “You’re the worst host ever, but I’m weirdly into it.”

You took it, standing slowly, a little cold now that you’d left the towel behind. His hoodie still hung around you, the sleeves long past your hands.

“You are keeping that, aren’t you?” he said, eyeing it.

You nodded solemnly. “Forever. It’s mine now.”

He just smiled, slipping his hand into yours again like he didn’t even have to think about it.

The two of you wandered back inside—quiet footsteps, soft laughter, the sliding glass door clicking shut behind you. You didn’t bother with lights. The moonlight spilling in through the windows was enough. Familiar shapes, soft shadows, the comfort of a home that already knew him.

You tossed your empty cup in the sink. He leaned against the counter, still shirtless, still golden from the sun.

And he was still looking at you like he hadn’t quite recovered from earlier.

You gestured toward the hallway. “Blanket or pasta first?”

He hesitated. Then crossed the room in a few slow steps and tugged gently on the hoodie sleeve that hung from your arm.

“I think I want you first.”

Your heart gave a traitorous skip.

You didn’t say anything—you just stepped in closer, arms looping around his waist, forehead resting against his chest.

And in that quiet, kitchen-lit moment, Lando wrapped his arms around you and held on like he wasn’t going anywhere. Like this was exactly where he was always supposed to be.

He kissed the top of your head. “This is a very emotionally reckless hoodie.”

You mumbled into his chest, “Should’ve thought of that before you took it off.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing two.”

You felt his laughter vibrate through his chest where your cheek rested. It was warm, steady. Familiar.

Then came the quiet again—the kind of silence that didn’t ask to be filled. His arms stayed around you, fingertips tapping a slow rhythm against your back like they had nowhere better to be. Like they already belonged there.

But after a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him. “You’re still not getting it back, by the way.”

Lando raised a brow. “The hoodie?”

You nodded. “It’s legally mine now. Common law ownership.”

He grinned, lips twitching. “I see. You’re going for emotional squatter’s rights.”

“Exactly. It now lives in my closet, between my emotional baggage and the sweater I stole from my sister.”

His smile softened again, like it always did with you. “What if I asked nicely?”

You stood on your toes just a little, nose brushing his. “Then I’d let you visit it. Supervised.”

His breath caught, almost too quietly to catch. But you did. You always did with him.

“I think I’d rather visit you,” he said.

It was barely above a whisper.

You stepped back first, only because you had to. “Okay, Casanova. Pasta’s going to get lonely.”

He groaned, throwing his head back like you’d just delivered the greatest tragedy known to man. “You can’t just flirt like that and then pivot to carbohydrates.”

You smirked, already padding toward the kitchen cupboards. “Watch me.”

He followed you anyway, of course. Still barefoot, still a little dazed, like gravity didn’t quite work right when you were near. You grabbed the pasta container from the fridge, popped it into the microwave, and leaned against the counter while it warmed—arms crossed, hoodie sleeves bunched at your elbows.

Lando watched you in that quiet way he sometimes did. Less teasing, more observing. Like he was memorizing you in the mundane.

“You really gonna let me use your toothbrush?” he asked finally.

You tilted your head, playful. “I said maybe.”

He squinted, suspicious. “So that wasn’t a flirty offer? That was a trap?”

“Everything’s a trap with me. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“I’m learning it the hard way,” he said, inching closer. “Still here, though.”

You looked up at him just as the microwave beeped, loud and ridiculous between you. He didn’t move away. Didn’t stop smiling.

“I’m not kidding,” he added softly. “I think I could get used to this.”

You opened the microwave door to buy yourself a second. “Leftover pasta and emotional sabotage?”

He bumped your hip with his. “Exactly.”

You plated the food—he stole a bite before you could even grab forks—and the two of you ended up curled on the couch with a shared bowl, legs tangled under the blanket you found in the linen closet.

He fed you a spiraled noodle with way too much ceremony. You retaliated by flinging a bit of basil at him.

The laughter came easy. So did the closeness.

Eventually, the food was gone, the bowl abandoned on the coffee table, and your head found his shoulder again like it was meant to. The room was dim, TV humming low in the background, some sitcom neither of you were really watching.

Lando shifted slightly, resting his cheek on top of your head. “So… this is definitely not Mario Kart and couch blankets anymore, huh?”

You hummed, content. “Nope. It’s hoodie theft and pasta-based intimacy now.”

He grinned against your hair. “God, you’re dangerous.”

And you smiled—because he said it like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You stayed like that for a while, the kind of while that made time stretch and slow and feel like it didn’t need to be counted. His arm stayed around your shoulders, your legs draped across his like they’d done it a thousand times before.

The TV murmured some laugh track in the background, and you could feel him breathing—steady, calm, like the day had wound down into something safe.

“You know,” he said eventually, voice soft, “I used to think nights like this only happened in movies.”

You glanced up at him, your cheek brushing his collarbone. “Because of the pasta?”

He smirked. “Because of the girl who keeps stealing my clothes and making me feel like I belong somewhere.”

Your chest tightened. That quiet, aching, warm kind of tight.

“I’m not trying to make you feel that way,” you murmured.

���I know,” he said, eyes on you now. “That’s what makes it worse. Or better. I haven’t decided yet.”

You reached up, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “You belong, Lando.”

His breath hitched again—barely. But it did.

The teasing was gone now. So was the grin. What was left was this soft sort of awe, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he didn’t know what to do with how he felt.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

You blinked.

Not because it shocked you—no. You’d felt it, too. In the way he looked at you. In the way he always came back, always stayed.

But hearing it out loud made something inside you crack open.

So you whispered, “Then maybe you should start bringing a toothbrush.”

Lando stared at you. Then laughed—quiet, breathless, full.

“I’m serious,” you added, your fingers playing with the hem of your stolen hoodie. “I can’t exactly be seen dating a guy with poor dental hygiene.”

He pulled you in again, arms tight around your middle, face buried in your neck now.

“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin.

“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin. His voice was muffled, warm, a little dazed.

You felt the soft brush of his curls against your neck as he lingered there—breathing you in, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and steady, until his grip loosened enough for you both to breathe again.

“Come on,” you whispered, nudging him slightly. “Bed before one of us falls asleep on the kitchen floor.”

“I’d risk it,” he said, but let you lead him anyway.

The hallway was dim, the kind of quiet that made the whole house feel softer somehow. Familiar shadows, creaking floorboards, your hoodie sleeves still swallowing your hands as he followed close behind. His fingers brushed your back lightly as you walked, never quite letting you get too far ahead.

You pushed the bedroom door open and turned back toward him, only to find him already watching you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want you here.”

He didn’t say anything—just stepped closer and kissed your forehead in a way that made your knees go a little weak.

It wasn’t rushed, what came next. It wasn’t fumbling or heavy or unsure.

It was slow.

He waited as you pulled back the blankets. Let you crawl in first. Crawled in after, his arm sliding beneath your head like it belonged there, like this was already routine. And when you turned to face him, eyes adjusting to the moonlight slicing in through the blinds, he was already looking at you.

You tucked your hand beneath his shirt, just at his ribs, fingers brushing warm skin. He didn’t flinch. Just sighed, a little content noise, and moved in closer.

His nose bumped yours.

“Still not over today,” he whispered.

You smiled sleepily. “Me neither.”

You leaned in and kissed him once, soft and slow—no pressure, no rush. Just two people who had been circling something for far too long finally letting it happen.

And when you pulled back, his eyes were still half-closed, his lips still curved.

“I like falling asleep next to you,” he murmured.

You buried your face against his chest. “Then don’t stop.”

His arm tightened around you. “Not planning to.”

And with your heart steady against his, the two of you drifted—wrapped in borrowed clothes, lingering affection, and the quiet kind of comfort that didn’t need any more words.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[hxney-lemcn]

Prince and the Frog — Housewardens x gn! reader

summary: you find yourself cursed and you go to your prince to lift it.

tw: none that I can think of.

a/n: I saw something about the princess and the frog and got inspo. This is so fun, goofy, and lovely, I hope y'all enjoy <3

wc: 1.9k (~300 each character)

Master List

You weren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve this, but even you felt it wasn’t enough. I mean a frog? Really? And the cure was a true love's kiss? Seriously? Can it get any more cliche? You might as well search for a princess and turn her into a frog as well and then set off into a journey of personal growth…you suppose a prince will have to do. You went to the first person you thought could help, time to see if they really would still love you if you were a worm, err…frog.

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Okay, so maybe Riddle wasn’t technically a prince, but a queen is a step above that, no? You were a little scared of his reaction, but you couldn’t stay a frog forever. Not to mention that someone else had cursed you, it’s not like you turned yourself into a frog. So when you managed to find him he freaked out, mouth agape as you explained your situation. Thank the sevens you could still talk. Riddle’s face soured, lips twisted into a scowl. At first you thought he was going to find a way to collar you in your current slippery state, but he ended up ranting about the person who cursed you, asking for any details that you could provide. The thought of kissing you to break the curse hadn’t even crossed his mind, instead skipping straight to punishing the fool who’d curse the Queen’s rose and making them reverse it. It was then that you learned just how quickly Riddle could sniff someone out if he wanted to, because the effects had been reversed by the end of the same day. (If that doesn’t show you how much he loves you then I don’t know what can).

❥ Leona Kingscholar

…are you sure about this? I mean…yeah he’s a prince and all but he might just toss you mistaking you for a random frog who dared to encroach on his space. The type to argue he wouldn’t have to love you if you were a worm cause how ridiculous is that? Well…not so ridiculous now, huh? Thankfully, you had found Ruggie first, explaining your situation and asking for him to bring you to Leona. Not so thankfully, Ruggie found the entire thing hilarious and had to take a moment to calm himself down. He kept snickering to himself the entire way to Leona, making you want to die, or just stay a frog and live a happy life in a nice little pond and start a little froggy family. When Ruggie managed to tell Leona what was going on in between laughter Leona just stared at you like you were the stupidest motherfucker. Hey! It wasn’t like you were asking to be cursed! Has an internal conflict on what to do. On one hand he wants to prove he’s your true love, and kissing you seems to be the quickest way to get this over with…on the other you are a literal frog. Shooing Ruggie away, Leona bemoaningly gave you the quickest peck ever, making a face of disgust as he pulled away. The transformation back took a few seconds, but the look of disgust quickly turned to a smug smirk, feeling proud that you were truly his. 

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Okay, so again, not an actual prince…but he excelled at potions, so it only made sense…except he’ll probably make you sign your life away. So maybe not a good choice once again. I pray for you because one if not both of the Leech twins are gonna find you first and they’re gonna have a field day. ‘My, you’d look perfect in one of my terrariums’ Jade would note. Floyd would probably accidentally kill you because this entire situation is oh so hilarious and he forgot he’s supposed to be holding you gently. After the two have their fun (Jade plays with you and his terrarium like you're a doll in a dollhouse), they finally bring you to Azul, laughing their asses off in their own ways. Azul stares at you blankly as the two eel brothers leave, trying his hardest to not laugh. His face is red from concealing his humor, looking to the side to collect himself. He’ll offer you the cure, but for a price. Kiss you? He has a reputation to upkeep you know. He can’t be seen kissing frogs, imagine what that’ll do to his image! No, no, just sign the contract, and to sweeten the deal he’ll have the twins deal with the pest who thought it was a good idea to curse his angelfish. If you really persist, he’ll give in eventually. To be fair, he is also curious to see if you're his true love, but on the other hand he’s terrified if you're not. He doesn’t want to lose you. And to both your delight, you transform back after he gives you a small kiss on your little froggy head…he’s also running laps in his mind at how happy he is.

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

He’s a prince and won’t think twice! He loves you truly, so it has to work! Too bad Jamil stumbled upon you first. Adamantly tries to hide you from Kalim and he feels his headache growing ten times worse. Why did you stupidly get yourself cursed? He asks like you did it on purpose. You didn’t know why the guy cursed you either! Jamil keeps you tucked in his hoodie until he can find time to bring you to Professor Crewel. You tried to fight him at first as you’d rather stay a frog than get detention for something you had no control over, but Jamil knew how to keep a tight leash on the unruly…it was his job after all. Unfortunately for him, Kalim walked into the kitchens right as you hopped out of his pocket. At first he was confused, and then even more confused, and then ecstatic. You hopped over to him, asking for him to protect you from Jamil (who was giving you a major side eye). Then you explained your predicament, and Jamil butted in about bringing you to Crewel. Innocently, Kalim offered to kiss you. No need to bother Crewel if the cure was so simple! Jamil couldn’t stop him in time, as Kalim kissed you the second he finished the sentence. Even Jamil couldn’t hide his disgust for a second at the action. Thankfully, Kalim was your true love as you had transformed back, and he hugged you gleefully. Unfortunately for Kalim, you refused any of his kisses until he rinsed his mouth (lmao).

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Another queen. Best person to go to. He can whip up any cure just as fast as he can whip up any potion/poison. Rook, saw the whole encounter with the other student, and brought you to Vil without a second thought. He already knew everything about the idiot who cursed you so no need to stick around. Vil’s gaze turned into a disapproving stare as he looked at you. Even though Rook tried to stick up for you, dramatizing the whole event as stating how brave you were to face such a curse head on, Vil only shook his head. He motioned for Rook to follow him, not wanting to pick you up. He loves you, really he does, he just can’t afford to get his clothes dirty or stained. He picks the ingredients effortlessly, starting to brew the cure without a second thought. Both you and Rook seemed to want to get on his nerves as you both prattle on about true love and how he should kiss you. He didn’t expect you to be a cheesy sap (he’s lying), besides, don’t you know how many curses list true love’s kiss as the cure? The meaning is pointless. Besides, he doesn’t need some curse to prove his love for you, hasn’t he shown you how much you mean to him already? Or was he lacking, because he didn’t think you’d doubt him. Either way, you’re drinking the cure, he couldn’t risk that your slimy frog skin might make him break out. But don’t worry, if you really have room to doubt his love, he’ll make sure you can’t within the week.

❥ Idia Shroud

Hahaha. Again, are you sure? He’s always holed up in his room, the only chance you're brought to him is if Ortho finds you (or vice versa). At first Ortho found you adorable, cooing at you as he floated to Idia’s room. He thought this was the perfect opportunity to show both you and Idia just how much you care for the other. How could either of you doubt the other if it's sealed with a true love's kiss? It was a brilliant opportunity! (Orthos a little too into this). He barely let his brother welcome them in before barging in and shoving a frog (you) into Idia’s face. At first Idia screeched, falling out of his gamer chair and scrambling away from the amphibian. Was Ortho pranking him? That’s totally uncool, he wasn’t some normie. But then Ortho happily blabbed about you and the curse and then it clicked…YOU WERE A FROG? Now he’s rolling on the floor laughing at you. You’d smack him if you WEREN’T A FROG. After he’s done laughing it up, he then freezes. Ortho wants him to kiss you? B-but that's gross! Who knows what diseases he’ll get if he kisses you. k. Wait, don't go to someone else! Fine, he’ll do it, but he won’t like it. Inside, he’s absolutely terrified. His mind is running a mile a minute. He doesn’t think you’ll actually turn back, someone like him doesn’t deserve true love…so imagine the face he makes when you do. Face a bright red, his hair a bright pink. Oh no, he feels faint. Give him a peck on the lips to finish him off.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Uh oh. Queue the thunder and lightning. Whoever cursed you is the stupidest motherfucker. Malleus is the one to stumble upon you this time, to the disdain of his family. Lilia on one hand wanted to laugh about the situation, on the other, he knew he’d have to protect the stupid human from being smite for cursing Malleus’ love. Silver and Sebek are sweating as Malleus holds you gently in his hands. If he thought you were gentle as a human, he’s being ten times more careful with you in your froggy state. On the outside, he’s silent and brooding, on the inside he’s lamenting on finding you an enclosure where you can be happiest. What type of tank, soil, plants, water…someone please tell him this is reversible. Lilia chimes in before the rain outside can get worse, mentioning true love's kiss is able to reverse the effects. Malleus’ green slitted eyes never move from your tiny form, he finds you absolutely breathtaking even as a frog (this man is down so bad), but he’s nothing but relieved when he hears the news. Human lifespans are already small as is, he would’ve been completely gut wrenching if that time was cut even shorter. Another one who doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. This man would love you if you were a worm. He strokes your moist skin gently as he leaves a small kiss to your adorable head. His entire being, soul, mind and body all belong to you, and if that isn’t true love then I don’t know what is. His eyes shine brightly as you transform back, holding you gently as he promises to protect you from any miscreant that dares even look at you wrong…yeah so the guy who cursed you is still fucked and now you have a protective dragon at your heel 24/7.

[abbotsanatomy]

FLUFF ALPHABET !

⨳ jack abbot hcs

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader wordcount: 2,800 warnings: age gap (28 and 49), some innuendos, it’s pretty sfw! this isn't beta'd. author's note: i’m so obsessed with this silver fox…someone run me over in pittsburgh between the hours of 8PM and 8AM pls! here's the template btw!

A for Admiration What Do They Absolutely Adore About You?

Jack admires your drive. He adores seeing you excel at your field. Whenever you’re passionately rambling on about something, he’s all ears (with actual hearts in his eyes). He’s so proud of your every achievement. Even when you fail, he’s proud of your ability to recover with so much grace.

He’s never necessarily been a proud man, but he can't help but puff his chest up a little more when he watches you do practically anything. Knowing you're all his is enough to turn him into one arrogant fucker.

B for Body What Is Their Favorite Part Of Your Body?

Your hair. He likes to grab ahold of it, and not necessarily in a sexual way. It grounds him. The scent of your grocery store shampoo, mixed with that specific perfume smell that never really leaves your hair, brings him down to earth.

He likes to nose at the strands in the early morning, before getting out of bed, with his arms still wrapped around you. It reminds him you’re really there. The scent your hair leaves behind on his pillow is one he cherishes for days after you sleep over.

bonus: This might seem cheesy, but I definitely think your eyes are a big thing for him. He'd stare into them for hours. Even if you aren't staring back, he just likes to be the first to know exactly how you're feeling. And staring into your eyes is the closest he'll ever get to reading your mind. Plus, they're just so uniquely you, in a way he can't explain but certainly shows every day.

C for Cuddling How Do They Like To Cuddle? Little Spoon or Big Spoon?

His chest pressed all the way against your back, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Only way. He’ll hook a leg over yours if he’s feeling really cuddley.

I think he just likes feeling like you're the only thing there is for a few moments. When he's got his arms wrapped around you, there's nothing else on his mind. The world goes quiet for a while, and he can really zero in on something as little as your every breath, or your every heartbeat, as he rests his palm on your chest.

D for Dates What Does Their Ideal Date With You Look Like?

Your dates are almost always simple. Indian food on the couch. Listening to albums all the way through on his record player, as you enjoy each other’s company. Cooking a meal after work. Playing a game of chess on the board you forgot you owned, which he found under your bed.

He does go all out on special occasions, though. Your birthday, anniversaries, the like. I honestly think he might forget to plan something ahead of time sometimes, but he'd still make something work that day. He's an emergency guy. He'll always be able to pull something together, even if he just has an hour. And he has.

E for Emotions How Do They Express Emotion Around You?

This guy’s so emotionally constipated he needs an enema (medical joke). You are probably the enema! That's a compliment.

He definitely just needs a good push in the right direction. He'll try to deny his feelings for you in the beginning, on account of the age difference, and his glaringly obvious issues with self worth. Eventually, he'll figure it out. He'll let himself feel it, if you help him. He has a lot to unlearn.

A few years into your relationship, he doesn't deny himself any of his emotions around you. You know when he's sad versus happy or if he's had a good day at work versus a very shitty one. It's mainly because he expresses himself better around you, but also because you've learnt all of his cues and quirks. You’re probably the only person he lets see all of him, the good and the bad.

F for Family Do They Want One? If They Do, When?

He’s never really seen a family for himself in the books. If it happens, it happens. He wouldn't ask you to get an abortion or anything like that (or shame you for your decision to get one, obviously), but it'd definitely take a lot for him to open up to the idea. It’d take a lot for him to want it.

Not that he'd be a bad father. On the contrary, I think he'd be so, so gentle and nurturing and loving, in his own way.

He wouldn't like how a family affects his job (bc let's be real, of course it does), but it's just a learning curve he'll get over. He'll deal with needing to change his shifts, or the whole being more on edge than before, whenever he sees children in the ER, but it won't be easy.

G for Gifts How Do They Feel About Gift Giving? What Are Their Habits With Gifts?

He feels gifts should always be sentimental. If they don’t have sentimental value, he doesn’t see the point. This doesn’t mean he wouldn’t buy you anything expensive. He’d definitely buy that hair thing you mentioned, because it’d make your mornings so much easier. He’d buy that ring you eyed in the jewelry store window, as you walked arm in arm at night.

He's just meticulous about the gifts he chooses. And he buys you things at the most random times. He doesn't believe gifts should be exclusive to holidays or special occasions.

It's a habit you learn from him. Anytime something nice reminds you of him, you buy it. And you know he'll do the same.

H for Holding Hands When/How Do They Like To Hold Hands?

Interlocking fingers is reserved for intimate moments in bed or in the kitchen as you sit on the counter, watching him cook dinner.

Every now and again, he'll brush his fingers against yours in passing. It’s all he’ll let himself do in public. It's enough. It steadies your breathing and reminds him you'll always be there. It's become a habit you both cherish.

I for Injury How Would They Act If You Got Hurt?

He deals with all kinds of injuries every single day. If it's something minor, like a fall, he'll still be on edge initially. Until he checks you from head to toe to ensure you're completely fine. Then, he'll crack a little smile and help you up and into his arms for slightly closer observation.

A serious injury is a whole other story. There's a complete shift in his demeanor. It's almost like he's reverted back to his military training. He doesn't let himself feel it in the moment. He focuses solely on your well-being and making sure you're receiving the best care possible.

When it's all over, and he’s safely behind the walls of your apartment, he completely breaks down. You can see him pay closer attention to you, too. He does it for a few days after, until it gets annoying and you beg him to stop baby-ing you. The wording might throw him off, but he backs off when you promise you're fine.

J for Jokes Do They Like To Joke Around With Or Prank You? How?

He may come off as an intense guy, but he is SO unserious. He has an unhinged energy about him that I'm 100% sure makes for the best jokes ever.

When he's off the clock, he's almost unrecognizable with how extremely his energy shifts. He's still broody, but very funny. Maybe it's just because you like him so much, you can never know.

K for Kisses How Do The Like To Kiss You?

Jack kisses like he’s been starved of it. He consumes. His hands everywhere, his mouth pressed to yours until your lips are bruised. His kisses are always an all-consuming experience.

He hasn't always been this way. He's had partners before, he's always been able to control himself in the moment. All of that carefully curated control somehow just dissipates when your lips are on his.

He doesn't usually lean in for a kiss in public. I don't see him being big on PDA. If he's desperate, he'd love a quick peck until he can actually have the real thing for as long as he needs. It’s just what he prefers.

L for Love Language How Do They Show They Love You?

Acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch! In that order.

Little, subtle touches throughout the day keep him afloat. Every touch, no matter how small, is a little gesture he pours his entire being into. He'd be lying if he said each brush against your arm or hand on your shoulder doesn't make him want more, but he couldn't live without any of it.

He's not great with his words. He can't write you poems or monologue about how much he loves you. So, he does the next best thing. He praises you. Constantly and consistently. "You look gorgeous," "You nailed that," and "You're doing so great," are regular phrases in his daily vocabulary for you. You've heard them so often, they're embedded in your psyche. That’s exactly his goal. He wants to say these things so often you really, truly believe them. Because he sure as hell does.

The place he truly finds himself in your relationship is when he's doing things for you. His time is valuable, and he loves spending it on making you happy. He makes your coffee in the morning. He cleans out your apartment when you're too busy to take care of it. He takes care of you when you're sick (obvi). Or gives you head.

He spends all day taking care of people, so the fact that he's more than willing to do it all over again when he gets home isn't just any small thing. Every action is meaningful and intentional. I mean, he's literally a universal giver (O-), need I say more? It's in his blood.

M for Memory Favorite Memory Together?

Hands down, the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. Ironically, it wasn't anything romantic. You were both out on a coffee date, when a kid started choking on a piece of candy. You flawlessly performed the Heimlich Maneuver, as he talked you through it.

The way you carried yourself, the way you didn't hesitate to help, the way you stayed calm through it all and listened to his every order, trusting him completely. It reminded him of all of the reasons he loves you. He couldn't have chosen anyone better to spend the rest of his life with.

A close second is probably the one time you took a warm bath together at a hotel in Aspen, overlooking the snowy mountains. Can you blame him? Moment like that only happens once, especially with your incredibly busy schedules.

N for Nightmare What Is Their Worst Fear?

You ending up in his ER.

In any context, but mainly you ending up in his ER and then needing to be wheeled out for surgery. He'd be completely helpless. Your life would be in someone else's hands. He hates the thought of it.

O for Oddity What Is One Quirk They Have?

SO MANY QUIRKS. This man is a vet. The things he's learned are very difficult to unlearn. Working in the ER really reinforces all of these habits, too.

He eats so quickly, you think he'd choke, if he wasn't so simultaneously careful. It's like he's expecting to be called away to care for a dying patient at any moment. Even if you're just sitting at the dinner table at home with a nice, home-cooked meal. He can't help but scarf it down so quick it's gone before you're even half way done with yours.

On that same note, he sleeps anywhere and everywhere. He's catching Zzzs no matter what. He can sleep with the TV on at full volume. Or in the car on the way somewhere. He can sleep with the curtains fully pulled back and the sun shining in his eyes. It's impressive, truly. It's a survival tactic, though. It isn't sustainable. You have to pull him away from it. Whenever you’re around, you close the curtains or turn off the TV. You hold him close and make sure he's comfortable. Sometimes he thinks you've ruined him, because he's begun to find it a lot more difficult to sleep right away after a shift, without you there.

P for Pet Names What Do They Like To Call You?

Jack's never been a pet name kind of man. It's weird, because it just seems like they slip out of his mouth, before he can help it, whenever he's around you. He calls you honey, because you're so sweet it makes his teeth ache. He calls you gorgeous, because you are and it makes his head spin.

Q for Quality Time How Do They Like To Spend Time With You?

In the most mediocre ways possible. Privately.

Doing laundry at home, cooking up a recipe you found online, cuddling in bed. He likes the domesticity of it all. Plus, he doesn't get a lot of time with you. So when he does, he wants you all to himself.

R for Rhythm What Song Reminds You Of Them?

No comment.

It isn't even necessarily a good song. You probably just came across it one day on TikTok and sent it to him to get his reaction. He probably gives you shit for it constantly. But he’s well aware of how hot you find the age gap, don't need a song to prove it.

S for Secrets How Open Are They With You?

Very open! No filter. It took time for him to get there, but he sees you as his second half, truly. There's virtually nothing he'd keep from you.

He doesn't like to talk a lot about his job in great detail, though. He doesn't want to upset you. It wouldn't be a secret, but he wouldn't bring any of it up unprovoked.

T for Time How Long Does It Take You To Get Together?

A long time. He had some issues to overcome before he could fully embrace a relationship with you. He still made it very clear he was into you, he just wasn't sure he'd be able to commit, so he didn't want to lead you on.

Jack might've also felt like a creep, being with someone so much younger. He has friends with kids as old as you. He weirded himself out thinking about things like that, but every time he looked at you he was met with the reality that you are, without a doubt, a grown woman. Gorgeous. And grown. Eventually, he got over it. After a lot of encouragement from you.

U for Upset How Do They Act When You’re Upset With Them?

He GROVELS. He loves you. You know this, without a shadow of a doubt.

He's just afraid you might stay upset with him long enough to forget it. He can't lose you. So, he lets go of any pride and dignity he has left and grovels better than anyone has ever groveled. It always works.

V for Vaunt What Are They Proud Of? Do They Like To Show You Off?

YES! He constantly tells you how proud he is of you. You think you could just wake up and roll over onto your side, and he'd give you endless praises for your technique.

He definitely loves showing you off. He's confident in the fact that you both belong exclusively to each other, so he doesn't mind letting people see it too. He's just private with his gestures. It's a vulnerability thing. PDA just doesn't feel good to him.

W for Warrior How Do They Feel About You Fighting? Would They Fight For You? Beside You? Etc.

If it comes down to it, and you're assaulted on the job or something, he's ready to fight. He logically doesn't want to be violent towards anyone, but it'd just be instinctual in the moment. He's more focused on caring for you and making sure you're alright afterwards.

X for X-Ray How Well Are They Able To Read You?

Very well. He's taken the time to learn your habits, your cues, and your body. There's just this unspoken language that flows between you. Both of you can communicate so much with just your eyes, or your subtle touches.

He can point out even the smallest changes in your demeanor, and predict your mood changes very successfully. That isn't the most impressive part, though. The fact that he can take you from crying hysterically to smiling in under ten minutes is.

Y for Yes How Would They Propose To You?

Very casually. Probably in a spur-of-the-moment type of way.

He'd probably blurt the question out during dinner one day. Or while you're in bed, sharing a cigarette.

He uses the moment to gauge your reaction and then plans something sentimental and big for later. He thinks it should feel a little more official. You find it endearing that he asked before he even bought a ring.

Z for Zen What Makes Them Feel Calm?

Your voice. He's so glad you're always a phone call away. You've gotten him through a great deal of panic attacks over the phone. He's fallen asleep listening to you talk about your day on the couch one too many times.

You always know what to say. Your voice always has this calm and collected cadence to it, which leaves him amazed. It's a direct contrast to his time in the ER. He needs it more than he could ever tell you.

author's note: i apologize for the medical jokes. please forgive me.

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

We all know Tim and his extreme attachment to coffee.. now what if he's just extremely reliant on a certain brand of coffee?

Tim always drinks the same brew/roast, has the same amount of cream&sugar, and always has the same brand.

He may just be very particular about it.

So, the rest of the bats make it a game to see who can slightly change his coffee and get away with it.

Dick walks into the kitchen and sees Alfred preparing to bring Tim a coffee.

Dick: "Hey Alfred, I can take this over. I needed to go to the cave anyway."

Alfred walks away and Dick giggles mischievously and sets the coffee back on the kitchen counter.

Steph, walking in: "What're you trying this time?"

Dick: "Last time, he noticed when I brewed the coffee with a single lemon seed in it.."

Steph: "I do recall that. He tasted it and immediately dumped it out."

Dick: "Well now.." *Opening the freezer and taking an ice tray out* "I'm putting in a single ice cube!"

Steph: "You're actually so right- you can't taste water!"

Dick takes the coffee down to Tim after the cube was fully melted. He hands over the mug and Tim takes it without even looking in his direction.

Tim takes a sip and scrunches up his nose.

Dick's face drops.

Tim, turning to Dick: "This tastes more watered down than usual. Did Alfred put water in my coffee?"

Dick, sighing: "No.." *turns around and walks away sadly*

Tim: "..Uh, ok?"

Duke walks into the living room to see the bats surrounding the coffee table. He peers over and sees Damian in the center holding a mug.

Duke: "Woah, Damian, you're participating too?"

Damian: "Yes. It is impossible to believe you guys are doing this correctly. I wish to prove my excellence."

Duke: "So, what are you doing?"

Bruce: "He put a piece of paper in there."

Duke: "Paper?"

Damian: "Paper."

Damian takes out the coffee soaked paper and stand up, mug in hand. He walks over to the cave, the rest following behind to listen from around the corner.

Damian, holding out the mug: "Here is a coffee, Drake."

Tim: *Squints his eyes* "What did you do to it?"

Damian: "What makes you believe I tampered with your coffee?"

Tim: "You never bring me anything. You did something to it and I'm not drinking it."

Damian, sputtering: "Well- fine! I didn't want you to have it anyway!" *Stomps back outside*

Damian, walking passed the rest: "This is a stupid, pointless, childish game!"

Jason walks into the kitchen and sees everyone standing around the table staring at a mug.

Jason: "The fuck are you guys doing?"

Cass: "We are thinking."

Jason: "Congrats. About what?"

Bruce: "About how we can mess with Tim's coffee without him noticing."

Dick: "We've tried everything! Lemon seeds, dirt, paper, ice-"

Duke: "Oh, we stuck a finger in it that one time-"

Dick: "fingers, different brand of sugar.. I don't know what else we can do!"

Jason: "You guys are stupid."

He takes the mug and puts it in the microwave, setting it for three seconds. He takes it out and hands it to Alfred to take to Tim.

The bats sneak around and watch as Alfred gives Tim the coffee. He takes a sip and goes back to work.

Jason: "I win, you lose, and goodbye." *Leaves*

[belowablue]

Definitely Not Boyfriend Material - James Potter x Reader

Part 2/3. Everyone say thank you to lilians17 and taypop21 without which this never would have happened. I also split this up so it wasn't ridiculously long, so expect part 3 sometime!

part 1 part 3 <3

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

It had been a week since your strange hookup with James Potter, but in that short amount of time your life had seriously deteriorated.  

When you told Lily that you’d slept with James she was firstly shocked that you’d actually gone thought with it and secondly somewhat superficial about the whole experience, which threw you off immensely. She didn’t ask half as many questions as you thought she would and mostly shut the topic down when you tried to bring it up. 

Majorly confused and slightly hurt that your best friend didn’t want to talk to you, you backed off completely. You two still spent a lot of time together, but you stuck to safe conversation topics like Flitwick’s latest essay or the Quidditch scores. You weren’t sure how you were going to talk about the gaping hole in your friendship but thankfully, she addressed it first. 

Cornering you in the library one afternoon she said your name softly, “Look I know I haven’t been the best friend lately.” 

Your brow furrowed, perplexed, but she carried on, “About James.”

You audibly gulped, preparing for a barrage of anger, but Lily quickly clarified, “I’m sorry I’ve let your, err, experience with him come between us I just-“ She sighed, ‘I just can’t understand why you did it.”

“I- what?” 

“Why! I mean, I thought we both hated him, I know after all he’s badgered me I do, so I thought that meant that you would too, but I guess not.”

She said all of that so quickly you had to think about it for a moment. 

“Lily,” You said slowly, “I told you that, if given the chance, I would shag him.” You stared at each other. “And you made no complaints then.” 

“I know,” She dragged a frustrated hand through her hair, “I just never thought you’d actually do it.”

You prickled. “So what, you don’t take anything I say seriously?” 

“No, no, no,” She said quickly, “Fuck no, of course I always take you seriously I just,” She paused again, clearly trying to articulate herself, “It was always something we'd joke about it. I didn’t think it would actually become real.” 

You stared at her, suddenly seeing everything from her point of view. One of her best friends spontaneously sleeps with the guy they’ve been making fun of for tormenting her for years. Yikes. When you put it like that…

“I don’t accept your apology Lily,” You said firmly. 

She gasped and her eyes filled with tears. She began to turn away but you grasped her arm to hold her firmly facing you. 

“I don’t accept it,” You continued, “Because I’m the one who should be apologising. You have done absolutely nothing wrong Lils, fuck I just went and shagged your own personal hell.”

The last line sounded slightly hysterical and Lily opened her mouth but you quickly continued, “I don’t know why I expected you to be okay with it all, fuck I'm so sorry Lily, Merlin please-.“

The look on her face made you pause. Though the tears were still in her eyes, she was smiling. 

You closed your mouth, afraid to shatter what you hoped you’d just fixed.

“It’s okay,” She said softly, “it’s alright.”

You shook your head vehemently. “It’s not alright Lily, I-”

Her expression made you stop again. “It is alright.” She gave a half-laugh, “Maybe it’ll get him off me.”

You cringed at that. 

“It’s not real,” You said firmly. “Sure James has proven he can be nice, but he’s still not demonstrated excellent boyfriend behaviour. He doesn’t help me with my homework or buy me flowers,” You said the next line quietly, somewhat ashamed to admit it to Lily but it was clearly something she needed to hear, “I think I’ve just become another notch in his belt. Another name added to the roster of girls he can call when he can’t be bothered to wank himself.”

Because it did hurt a little to say. After that morning you’d somewhat expected hand-written notes at breakfast or roses on your bedside table, but James had gone straight back to shouting his adoration for Lily from the Astronomy Tower.

You had to shake yourself quite hard to get over that dream. 

Lily sighed. “Well, he’s made us work on our communication anyhow.” 

You giggled and the tension between you two dissolved smoothly. 

She gathered up her things and you did too, feeling a thousand times lighter now you and Lily had talked this out. 

“Not even chocolates after he left those vicious bruises on your hips?” 

You let out a strangled laugh. “Not even then.”

She hummed, “Definitely not boyfriend material then.”

You nodded in agreement, wearily heading towards the exit. 

As you walked side by side, you thought 'fuck James Potter’ and then, even more angrily ‘fuck James Potter and his ability to cause arguments when he wasn’t even there. Fuck James Potter and his inability to grow up.’

Unbeknownst to you, James had caught the tail end of your conversation, having been loitering behind a bookcase once he realised Lily was there. 

Her words were bouncing around his head as he watched you go, ‘definitely not boyfriend material.’ 

Well then, he’d just have to work harder. 

——————————————————————————————————

After you and Lily made up you expected your life to go back to normal, minus the occasional Potter hookup. Merlin you could not have been anymore delusional if you’d actually tried. 

It started slowly. 

Your scarf, that had been missing for weeks, was placed on your bed one evening when you got back from dinner. Your books were organised in alphabetical order. All your hairpins that had become scattered across Gryffindor tower were studiously found and collected in a pretty flowery dish. Your ink pots were always full. Your makeup brushes were cleaned on a weekly basis. Your broomstick was polished after particularly muddy practices. 

It didn’t register for a while that someone was doing these things for you. You had been putting it down to house elves or sheer luck. It wasn’t until Marlene was talking about how her latest boy toy always made sure her water bottle had a slice of lemon in it that something slotted into place in your brain. 

Someone had been doing this for you. 

Someone had bothered to watch you so carefully that they knew what inconveniences you faced in life and magically fixed them all for you in a matter of weeks. 

But the annoying thing was you didn’t have a clue who could be doing this. Was it a crush trying to quietly make themselves known? Was it one of your friends who had suddenly gotten the idea to start doing anonymous good deeds? Or was it actually just overly devoted house elves? 

You didn’t know. After many consultations Lily decided she didn’t know either. You’d both agreed to keep an eye out for anyone displaying suspicious behaviour, but either they were really sneaky or you were really unobservant because you got nothing. 

Still, in someways it was nice to think that someone was looking out for you. Someone cared about you enough to help you out, with such mundane tasks too. And to top it all off, they helped you anonymously. They weren’t looking for praise. They didn’t want your open gratitude. They just wanted to make sure you were okay. That thought gave you a fuzzy feeling somewhere near your stomach and you had to suppress a smile when you were in public. 

However, your fretting over a potential stalker was soon overshadowed by one overwhelming fact. 

——————————————————————————————————

“Shut the fuck up.”

Lily sat opposite you on your bed, eyes shining bright. 

“No fucking way.”

She only nodded again, smiling too wide to utter a response. 

“You have a girlfriend. An actual whole real-life living breathing girlfriend.”

She nodded again. You threw your arms around her. 

“Ohmygod this is so exciting! Have you gone on a date yet?” You gasped loudly, “Have you kissed yet? Oh my days when can I meet her?” 

Lily laughed, pushing you back by your shoulders to face her, “Her name in Daisy. She’s the Hufflepuff I mentioned a while back.” 

You both had to pause then because you were squealing too loudly. 

She continued, “Yes, we went to Hogsmeade the other weekend, no we haven’t kissed.” She paused before adding “Yet.” 

You laughed, so overjoyed for her. “This has to be the best thing that’s happened all year!”

‘Well’ you thought, ‘Not for James.’

——————————————————————————————————

It was late one evening when you came through the portrait hole to see James hunched on the sofa by the fire, a box wrapped in pink paper in front of him. 

You paused. He looked upset. Should you go talk to him? But what would you even say. It’s not like you had any decent conversation starters for you ex friends with benefits. 

James turned slightly at the sound of someone coming in. 

“Oh it’s you.” He said. Your heart skipped a beat. Had he been… expecting you? 

‘Duh’ you told yourself, ‘it’s your common room too, you’d have to come through at some point.’

You didn’t know what to say so you stayed still. He got up, picked up the box and made his way over to you. Your heartbeat grew louder with each step he took, until he was in front of you and all you could hear was blood rushing in your ears. 

Wordlessly, he handed you the box. 

You gently pulled the pink tissue paper off to reveal a box of expensive chocolates. 

You stopped breathing. No way. No fucking way. There was absolutely no way that James had been behind this. That he was the reason your life had been going so smoothly lately. Had he really been creeping into your dorm to sort things out? 

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Oh my god he’s been in your dorm.

You quickly considered it. Had the thought you hadn’t dared to think actually come true? Did James Potter like you back? Oh he did. He must. That’s why he’s been helping you out, like a little helper elf or some shit. Your brain short-circuited, dizzy with excitement. James Potter liked you back! You hadn’t let yourself admit that you liked him in the first place, not when he so clearly felt nothing for you but now, now. Now you knew it was him who’d been acting like your boyfriend, making sure you had everything you wanted-

You looked at him, smiling. “James,” You said softly, reverently, “I-“

He looked up at you and your eyes met. Your smile faltered. He didn’t look anywhere near as excited as you. 

“Give those to Lily would you?” He said tiredly. Your heart dropped. “Or have them yourself I don’t really care.” 

He turned away, carding a hand through his hair. 

You were left standing there, mouth slightly open. “What?”

James laughed humourlessly. “Was gonna try ask her out again with those since she mentioned them, but I haven’t got a chance now that she bats for the other team.”

The words fell onto your ears and pierced your heart like bullets. Sure the news had gone round the castle but, ‘you thought that meant he would finally take an interest in you’ the voice in your head verbalised. 

Something about your reaction must have registered with James because confusion appeared on his face. You stared back, thinking. 

“You heard us?” You asked, “In the library?” 

James nodded. 

“Has it been you polishing my broomstick? Filling my ink pots?” You had to know.

“Yeah,” he said, still confused. “I thought you knew.”

You blanched. 

“I thought that if Lily heard from a source she trusted about how great of a boyfriend I can be she might warm up to me.”

Shakily, you clarified, “You did all those deeds, tasks, chores whatever for me, in order to show Lily how doting you are?”

He shrugged, “Was pointless anyway wasn’t it.” 

You couldn’t believe it.

Used. That was the only word to describe how you were feeling. James Potter had used you as a way to get at Lily. He had played with you like a chess piece, toying with your heart unknowingly as he made an effort to reach the girl he wanted. 

Something in his eyes cleared. "Wait,” he said slowly, “You didn’t think, you didn’t actually think I was going for you, did you?”

You could’ve died on the spot. Your heart was shattered into a thousand shards on the floor and James had just done a jig on the pieces.

Your silence was answer enough. He sighed irritably, “Listen,” he said your name, “You’re a real cute girl and all but-“

He had to duck quickly or risked receiving a black eye from the box of chocolates you launched at his head. 

“Fuck you James Potter,” you snarled at him, “Don’t you ever speak to me again.” 

You marched past him up to your dorm, willing the tears not to fall in front of him. He would not hurt you more than he already had. Fuck Lily was right, how could you have thought James would ever love anyone but her?

Behind you, James was staring at the staircase you where you had vanished. 

He’d never had that kind of reaction before. He’d expected more of a whining tantrum like the other girls gave when he ended things with them. Because it was always him doing the ending. He would’ve gladly still fucked you, and he was just about to tell you too when you forbade him from contacting you. But now, it sounded awfully like James Potter had been ended, which wasn’t the way things went at all.

The longer James stared, the more he realised he had a chase on his hands. And if there was one thing James Potter knew how to do, it was chase. 

AN: guys just know every time I see someone has interacted with my posts this is literally me on my phone, thank you all so much xxxx

[junezsq]

Hii could you do Harry bf headcanons?

(⁠^⁠^⁠)

harry james potter as your bf … ! 🤍💫

˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ a/n! these were so fun to write, i hope this meets your expectations,, enjoy<3

۶ৎ . was pretty awkward when you first started dating but after a while the flirting just came naturally. from calling you affectionate nicknames to random compliments; half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. however, the second you flirt back he becomes all flustered with rosy cheeks and stutters

۶ৎ . loves it when you show up at quidditch games to support him and calls you his lucky charm. most of the time he’s not even paying attention to the game; the moment he sees you in the stands—with his initials painted on your cheeks and dressed in his spare gryffindor jersey—he cannot take his eyes off you

۶ৎ . you’re one of the few people who’s allowed to touch and play with his hair. it actually comforts him when you do so and he loves it when you run your hands through his messy curls

۶ৎ . likes to just watch you and will listen to you very intently. it doesn’t matter if it’s as simple as telling him about a mistake you made during one of your classes, he will pay attention to every detail; a small smile growing on his lips and twinkles in his eyes as he watches you speak

۶ৎ . really attentive and an excellent gift giver. he remembers details about things you’ve told him you might not even remember yourself. so, don’t be surprised when you receive a bouquet of white roses on a random wednesday just because you told him you thought they were pretty a few days earlier

۶ৎ . can be really sassy and enjoys teasing you. probably about either your height or your grades. you pretend it annoys you but the fact it makes him laugh makes you happy too

۶ৎ . gets jealous pretty easily but can control it well and doesn’t really show it. you know when he’s jealous though, and you will tease him about it

۶ৎ . will go on study dates with you in the library, but not much studying gets done. he can’t stop staring at you and when he gets the chance he will swoop in for a kiss

۶ৎ . slightly insecure. he’ll go quiet after you fight or when you’ve had a discussion, thinking it was his fault. he knows communication is key, though, so you’ll give him the time he needs and he will come to you when he’s ready to talk things through

۶ৎ . slipping each other love notes in classes. he’ll also hide them in your books for you to randomly find

۶ৎ . really supportive; he’ll side with you and protect you no matter what

۶ৎ . when you start dating you make a routine of falling asleep together wherever you can; the common room being your favorite spot. it started as a way of being able to comfort him if he’d have a nightmare but it slowly turned into a routine

۶ৎ . swings your hands whenever you walk hand in hand

۶ৎ . loves it when you wear his hoodies. he will leave them laying around for you to find because he knows you’ll steal them

۶ৎ . so funny. the two of you are almost always laughing when you are together and it’s mostly about something dumb too

۶ৎ . not that big on physical touch considering his past trauma’s, but he adores holding your hand. it doesn’t matter if you’re walking the hogwarts corridors to your next class, or if you’re just sat down next to each other. whenever he’s anxious or deep in thought he’ll automatically reach for your hand; holding it brings him a great sense of comfort

۶ৎ . is not the most careful person so often breaks his glasses. he’s perfectly capable of fixing them himself but loves seeing you do it for him. neither does he care for cleaning his glasses, but when you do it for him he’ll be immensely grateful and will thank you with kisses

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Hello! Could I request a one shot with yeosang and female reader where they are best friends, super close to the point the boys swear they’re together but they aren’t, and they accidentally kiss. They panic a little because they like each other but didn’t know if the other did and it makes them realize feelings. Maybe leads to some smut. Thank you!! 🥰 -mxnsxngie

Unspoken

Yeosang x Best Friend Reader

Warnings/tags: smut, friends to lovers, drinking, mutual pining, angst, fluff

Your phone buzzed with a notification at 3 AM. Without even checking, you knew who it was.

Yeosang: You awake?

You smiled in the darkness of your bedroom. This had become your routine—late night texts when Yeosang couldn't sleep after practice, or when you were stressed about work.

You: Always for you. Rough day?

Yeosang: Just can't turn my brain off. The usual.

You: Want me to come over? I can bring those honey chips you like.

There was a brief pause before his reply came through.

Yeosang: It's 3 AM. You have work tomorrow.

You: So? When has that ever stopped me?

Twenty minutes later, you were punching in the door code to the ATEEZ dorm, grocery bag in hand. You'd been there so often that Hongjoong had given you the code months ago, joking that you might as well move in since you were practically Yeosang's shadow anyway.

Yeosang was waiting in the dimly lit living room, his hair tousled from running his hands through it—a habit when he was overthinking something. His face softened when he saw you.

"You really didn't have to come," he said quietly, careful not to wake the others.

You plopped down beside him on the couch, pulling out the chips and two banana milk cartons. "That's what best friends are for. Besides, I couldn't sleep either."

This was your safe space—the quiet hours you shared when the rest of the world was asleep. It had been this way since you met Yeosang in high school, years before ATEEZ debuted. Back then, you'd stay up talking about your dreams—his of becoming an idol, yours of working in your current field. You'd supported each other through every step, every setback, every triumph.

"So," you said, poking his side gently, "what's keeping the great Kang Yeosang awake tonight?"

He smiled slightly, accepting the milk you offered. "Just thinking about the new choreography. I can't get this one section right."

"Show me," you encouraged, standing and pulling him up by his hands.

"Now? Everyone's asleep."

"So we'll be quiet. Come on, I know you won't rest until you work it out."

This was familiar territory. In the small space between the coffee table and TV, Yeosang demonstrated the move that was troubling him. You watched attentively, offering suggestions even though you had no dance training. It wasn't about expertise—it was about giving him someone to explain it to, helping him process it out loud.

"Maybe if you shift your weight here instead," you suggested, demonstrating awkwardly.

Yeosang laughed softly at your attempt, the tension leaving his shoulders. "That's definitely not it, but thanks for trying."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm an excellent bathroom mirror dancer," you protested with mock indignation.

"The best," he agreed, his eyes crinkling with affection. He tried the move again, incorporating a slight adjustment. "That feels better actually."

"See? I'm basically a choreographer now. You can tell your dance instructor I'm available for consultations."

Yeosang shook his head, amused, as you both settled back on the couch. This easy banter was the foundation of your friendship—the ability to be completely yourselves with each other.

"San was asking about you today," Yeosang mentioned casually as you opened the chips.

"Oh? What about?"

"The usual. 'Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two?'" he mimicked San's teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes, settling deeper into the couch beside your best friend. "We're just friends, San. How many times do I have to tell you?" you responded, as if San were actually there.

Yeosang nodded in agreement, though you missed the way his eyes lingered on you a moment too long. "Yeah, stop making it weird," he echoed.

"The members are convinced we're secretly dating," he continued. "Wooyoung even had a theory that we're hiding it because of some company policy."

You snorted. "Right, because we're so good at keeping secrets. Remember when you tried to surprise me for my birthday and ended up telling me three weeks early?"

"That was different," Yeosang defended himself. "You did that thing with your eyes that makes it impossible to lie to you."

"What thing?" you asked innocently, widening your eyes dramatically.

"That thing exactly," he laughed, throwing a small cushion at you.

The ATEEZ members had collectively decided you were secretly dating, despite both your insistences to the contrary. It had been like this for months—ever since you'd become a regular fixture at their dorm, having been Yeosang's friend since before their debut.

What they didn't understand was how deep your friendship ran—how Yeosang had been there when your parent was hospitalized last year, sitting with you in the waiting room for hours without a word; how you'd stayed up all night with him before his debut, calming his nerves and reminding him how far he'd come; how you knew exactly how he took his coffee and he knew precisely which songs would lift your mood on bad days.

If only they knew how your heart raced whenever Yeosang's shoulder brushed against yours, or how you sometimes caught yourself staring at his profile when he wasn't looking. But you'd buried those feelings deep. Your friendship meant everything, and you weren't about to risk it over what you assumed was one-sided attraction.

"I brought something else," you said, reaching into your bag to pull out a small sketchbook. "Look what I found while cleaning yesterday."

Yeosang's eyes lit up with recognition. It was the sketchbook you'd kept during your high school days, filled with doodles, quotes, and notes you'd passed in class.

"I can't believe you still have this," he said, carefully turning the pages.

"Of course I do. It's a historical artifact now. Look—" you pointed to a page where you'd written 'Kang Yeosang, future K-pop star' with little stars around it. "See? I always believed in you."

He looked at you then, something unreadable in his expression. "You've always been there," he said quietly. "Even when no one else was."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. "And I always will be," you promised. "That's what we do, right? We show up for each other."

A comfortable silence fell between you as you continued flipping through the sketchbook, shoulders touching, the occasional laugh when you found something particularly embarrassing.

"It's late," Yeosang eventually said, glancing at the clock. "You should stay over. The spare room is made up."

This wasn't unusual either. You'd spent countless nights in the dorm's spare room, especially when your hangouts ran late. The members joked it was basically your room now.

"I'll stay," you agreed, stifling a yawn. "But only if you promise to actually sleep instead of overthinking that dance move."

"Deal," he said, getting up to fetch you a clean towel and the spare toothbrush you kept there.

As you followed him down the hallway, Wooyoung's door cracked open. He peeked out, hair sticking up in all directions, and gave you a knowing smirk.

"Just friends, huh?" he whispered theatrically.

"Go back to sleep, Wooyoung," Yeosang sighed.

"I'm heading to the kitchen. Want anything?" Yeosang asked later, his voice pulling you from your thoughts as you settled into the spare room.

"I'll come with you," you replied, ignoring Wooyoung's theatrical whisper of "See? They can't even be apart for five minutes!" as you passed his room again.

In the kitchen, Yeosang leaned against the counter as you rummaged through the fridge for water. The quiet moment between you felt comfortable, as it always did.

"They're never going to stop, are they?" you asked with a small laugh.

Yeosang shook his head, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. You resisted the urge to brush it away. "Probably not. Does it bother you?"

"No," you answered honestly. "I'm used to it by now."

What you didn't say was that sometimes, in moments of weakness, you wished their teasing had some truth to it. You didn't see how Yeosang's fingers tightened around his glass, or the way he swallowed hard before nodding.

"Me too," he said softly, his thoughtful eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before looking away. "It's funny how convinced they are."

Little did either of you know that you were both harboring the same secret—a longing that remained unspoken, a love that felt too precious and too dangerous to confess.

---

The dorm was alive with laughter and music, bottles of soju scattered across the coffee table as the members celebrated the end of their latest comeback promotions. You sat cross-legged on the floor, cheeks warm from the alcohol and the proximity of Yeosang beside you.

"Let's play a game!" Wooyoung announced, his voice carrying over the music.

San clapped his hands. "Truth or dare!"

A chorus of groans and enthusiastic agreements followed. You caught Yeosang's eye, both of you sharing a look of amused resignation. These games always led to chaos with this group.

Several rounds later, the questions and dares had grown increasingly ridiculous. Hongjoong had rapped while standing on his head, Mingi had prank called their manager, and Seonghwa had revealed his most embarrassing training memory.

"Yeosang, truth or dare?" Jongho asked, his powerful voice softened by a slight slur.

"Truth," Yeosang replied cautiously.

Jongho's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Have you ever thought about kissing Y/N?"

The room fell silent. You felt your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared intently at your half-empty glass, afraid to look at Yeosang.

"I—that's not—" Yeosang stammered, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

"Too late! You chose truth!" San singsonged.

Yeosang stood abruptly. "I need some air."

Without thinking, you followed him to the small balcony, closing the door behind you to shut out the whistles and teasing comments from the others.

"Hey," you said softly, leaning against the railing beside him. "Sorry about that. They're just being stupid."

Yeosang stared out at the city lights, his profile illuminated by the soft glow. "It's fine. I'm used to their teasing."

"Still..." you began, turning to face him. The words died in your throat as he turned simultaneously, bringing your faces inches apart.

Time seemed to freeze. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, the moonlight, or years of suppressed feelings, but neither of you moved away. Instead, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned closer until your lips met his.

The kiss was gentle, hesitant, a question neither of you had dared to ask aloud. For a blissful moment, everything felt right—until Yeosang suddenly pulled away, his eyes wide.

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered, panic etched across his features. "That was... that was the alcohol. A mistake. I didn't mean..."

Each word felt like a knife to your heart. You forced a smile, even as you felt something breaking inside you. "Of course," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "Just the drinks. Don't worry about it."

You stepped back, creating physical distance to match the emotional chasm that had suddenly opened between you. "We should go back inside before they start another round of teasing."

Back in the living room, you sat as far from Yeosang as possible, laughing at jokes you barely heard and avoiding his gaze for the rest of the night. If the others noticed the sudden tension, they didn't mention it.

But inside, your heart was shattering. The one thing you'd feared most had happened—you'd crossed a line, and now your friendship with Yeosang might never be the same.

---

Two weeks had passed since that night, and you hadn't set foot in the ATEEZ dorm. Your phone was filled with unread messages from the members—everyone except Yeosang. His silence spoke volumes.

You'd made excuses—work was busy, you weren't feeling well, you had family obligations—but the truth was, you couldn't bear to face him. The memory of his words echoed in your mind: *"A mistake. I didn't mean..."* How could you go back to being just friends when now you knew exactly what you were missing?

At the dorm, Yeosang wasn't faring any better. He moved through rehearsals like a ghost, his usual quiet thoughtfulness replaced by a distracted melancholy that concerned his members.

"Okay, that's it," Wooyoung declared after Yeosang had missed his cue for the third time during dance practice. He grabbed his friend's arm and dragged him into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from the others.

"What did you do?" Wooyoung demanded once they were alone, his usual playfulness replaced by genuine concern.

Yeosang blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. Y/N hasn't been around for weeks. You look like someone stole your favorite hoodie and set it on fire. Something happened, and I want to know what."

For a moment, Yeosang considered deflecting, but the weight of carrying his secret alone had become too much. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands.

"We kissed," he admitted quietly. "That night we were all drinking."

Wooyoung's eyes widened. "Finally! But wait—why is that a bad thing? You've been in love with her forever."

Yeosang looked up sharply. "What? How did you—"

"Please," Wooyoung scoffed. "You look at her like she hung the moon. We all know. So what's the problem?"

"I panicked," Yeosang confessed, shame coloring his voice. "I told her it was a mistake, that it was just the alcohol. I was scared, Wooyoung. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if I ruined our friendship?"

Understanding dawned on Wooyoung's face. "So instead you rejected her and now she's avoiding us all. Brilliant move."

"I know," Yeosang groaned. "But what was I supposed to do? I've been in love with her for years, and I was afraid to lose her."

"And how's that working out for you?" Wooyoung asked pointedly. "Seems like you've lost her anyway."

The truth of those words hit Yeosang like a physical blow. He had been so afraid of rejection that he'd ended up pushing away the person he cared about most.

"I've been such an idiot," he whispered.

Wooyoung nodded sagely. "Yes, you have. But luckily for you, I'm an expert in grand romantic gestures." He pulled Yeosang to his feet. "Go to her. Tell her how you feel—the truth this time. Before it's too late."

For the first time in weeks, hope flickered in Yeosang's heart.

The knocking at your apartment door came just after 9 PM. You weren't expecting anyone, and for a moment you considered ignoring it. You were in no mood for company, dressed in your oldest sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of your head.

But the knocking persisted, growing more urgent. With a sigh, you padded to the door and peered through the peephole.

Your heart skipped a beat. Yeosang.

For a moment, you considered pretending you weren't home, but you knew you couldn't avoid him forever. With trembling fingers, you unlocked the door and pulled it open.

He stood there, slightly out of breath as if he'd run all the way to your apartment. His hair was tousled, his eyes intense in a way you'd rarely seen.

"Yeosang," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you—"

You didn't get to finish your question. In two steps, he closed the distance between you, his hands gently cradling your face as his lips found yours. Unlike the hesitant kiss you'd shared before, this one was certain, deliberate, filled with an urgency that took your breath away.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours. "That wasn't a mistake," he said firmly. "And I'm completely sober."

You stared at him, afraid to believe what was happening. "But you said—"

"I lied," he interrupted. "I was scared. I've been in love with you for years, Y/N. Years. I thought you only saw me as a friend, and I was terrified of ruining what we had." His thumb brushed over your cheek. "But these past weeks without you have been unbearable. I'd rather risk everything than spend another day pretending I don't love you."

Tears welled in your eyes as the words you'd longed to hear finally reached your ears. "I love you too," you confessed, your voice breaking. "I always have."

Relief and joy washed over Yeosang's face. He kissed you again, deeper this time, backing you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

"I've imagined this so many times," he murmured against your lips. "Being with you, telling you how I feel."

Your fingers tangled in his hair. "Show me," you whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. His kisses grew more intense, trailing from your lips to your jaw, then down the column of your throat. Your hands slipped under his shirt, exploring the warm skin beneath, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

His shoes and jacket were discarded as you made your way to your bedroom, neither of you willing to break contact for more than a moment. In the soft glow of your bedside lamp, Yeosang looked at you with such adoration that it made your heart ache.

"You're so beautiful," he said softly, his usual quiet demeanor giving way to passionate conviction. "I've dreamed of this moment."

"No more dreaming," you replied, pulling him down to you. "This is real."

Yeosang's confession still hung in the air, vibrating with hope and panic.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The space between you was small, but it crackled with things unsaid—the years of laughter, quiet companionship, late-night confessions, longing glances, words hidden behind "just friends." All of it condensed into this one breathless moment.

Yeosang lifted a shaking hand, brushing a flyaway strand of hair from your cheek, thumb lingering on your skin as if memorizing the shape of you. His touch was hesitant, reverent, and you turned your head into it, letting your lips ghost against the pad of his thumb. You felt, more than heard, his inhale.

"Can I…?" he whispered, voice rough, as if afraid to finish the sentence.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly, your answer coming out as a trembling sigh.

The first kiss was more an exhale than a meeting of lips—a tentative press, careful and soft, as if he was certain you'd vanish if he pushed too far. It was slow, so painfully slow, all gentle coaxing and exploration. Your hands found his shoulders for balance, fingers clutching fabric as if you needed the anchor, needed him to ground you to this new, impossible present.

His other hand slipped to your waist, warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. His thumb traced delicate circles just above your hip, hesitant yet possessive, and the gentleness of it made tears sting your eyes. When his mouth slanted across yours a second time, you both melted into the kiss—soft, searching, tasting what you'd both denied yourselves for so long.

Yeosang made a quiet, needy sound as your lips parted for him. Your tongues met in a slow dance, less about lust and more about revelation. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath mingling, letting his eyes flutter shut as if he was savoring the moment, tucking it away to keep forever.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, careful, awestruck, like he was saying it for the very first time—even though you'd always seen it in his eyes.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, looking up for permission. The way he nodded—swallowing hard, gaze never leaving yours—made something fragile inside you come undone. You pulled the shirt up and over his head, your hands skating over the planes of his chest—a place you'd known in comfort for years, but never allowed to discover like this.

Yeosang was warmth and muscle and nerves, skin prickling beneath your fingers. A faint scar at his ribs caught your attention; you traced it gently, looking at him in silent question.

"Training accident," he murmured, smiling wryly, "back before we debuted. You remember?"

You nodded, recalling the night you'd bandaged him in your college bathroom, your hands trembling as you tried not to let your fears show. Now your hands shook for an entirely different reason.

He gently tugged your shirt upward in return, giving you time to change your mind. You lifted your arms, baring yourself under his gaze, heart racing as his eyes swept over you—awed, hungry, yet still reverent. He pressed feather-light kisses to your shoulder, the hollow of your throat, the space just above your heart, as if paying tribute to every inch.

His hands found your waist again, and you gasped as he guided you toward the bed, never breaking eye contact. There was nothing hurried—every movement was deliberate, filled with years of longing finally spilling over. When you lay back, he followed, settling beside you rather than atop, propping himself on one elbow so he could still see your face.

You studied him in the warm light—his flushed cheeks, the way his lashes fanned against his cheekbones, the way his hair kept falling across his eyes. You reached up and finally—finally—swept it back, letting your fingers tangle in the dark silk.

His breath stuttered. He leaned in to kiss you again, deeper now, lazy and exploratory. His palm flattened over your stomach, sliding up your ribcage, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the soft slide of skin on skin.

He murmured your name between kisses, worshiping every reaction—a gasp here, a shiver there. He traced patterns along your torso with careful, unhurried hands, learning you by touch as if memorizing a favorite song. When his thumb brushed the edge of your bra, he paused, lifting his eyes, waiting for your go-ahead.

You arched your chest upward—a silent invitation. He smiled, breathless, and hooked his fingers under the band, easing it away with gentle insistence, his lips following the path to kiss the bare skin he uncovered.

You sighed, hands weaving into his hair as he lavished slow, reverent attention; he nuzzled and kissed each sensitive peak, his tongue tracing light circles until you shivered. His name slipped from your lips, barely a whisper, and he moaned at the sound, growing bolder as the line between friendship and something softer, deeper, inevitable, blurred then snapped altogether.

He kissed his way back up your body, settling over you. "Tell me if anything's not okay," he whispered, voice hoarse with need but sweet and careful as ever.

You pulled him in, fitting your mouth to his, pouring years of longing and loneliness and hope into a single, searing kiss. He pressed himself to you, skin to skin, and you both trembled with the enormity of what was finally, finally happening.

Clothes were eased away with patience and awe, hands and lips and whispered reminders: "You're perfect," "I love you," "I've wanted this for so long.”

Yeosang’s kisses grew hungrier as you drew him down to you, the taste of his lips becoming addictive, each press deeper and more desperate than the last. His shyness fell away under your hands—each caress and sigh fanning a fire you’d both kept banked for too long.

He trailed kisses down your neck, teeth scraping lightly over your skin and drawing soft, startled gasps that he swallowed eagerly. His breath was warm, lips gentle at first but quickly growing demanding as he mapped your body with his mouth—the hollow of your throat, your sensitive collarbone, the rapid pulse beneath your skin. Your hands roamed his back, feeling every muscle tense and ripple under your touch, each reaction proving how deeply he felt this.

Your bodies pressed closer, too close for shyness, not nearly close enough for the want threatening to undo you both. Yeosang slipped his hands over your bare waist, sliding lower, fingers digging into your hips with a need you hadn’t seen in him before. “I never thought I could want anything this much,” he whispered, voice rough.

You arched beneath him, emboldened by every tremor you could coax from his body. “I want you, Yeosang. I want all of you.” The words fell from your lips with abandon; you wanted him to know, to never doubt what he meant to you again.

He groaned—an honest, needy sound that settled low in your belly—and pressed himself to you, completely bare, letting you feel every inch of him, the hard proof of his longing flush against your skin. You opened your legs, inviting him between, and he settled in the cradle of your thighs, grinding slowly, unhurriedly, making you both shudder.

Your hands fumbled, greedy and reverent, over his chest—feeling how his heart thumped furiously, tracing down his stomach to grip his hips and pull him even closer. He hissed, pleasure and disbelief blurring in his voice. “You drive me crazy,” he gasped. “Tell me if you want me to stop. Please—”

You shook your head. “Don’t stop. Please, Yeosang.”

He kissed you again, slower but deeper, one hand slipping between your bodies to touch you—gentle at first, then firmer as he discovered exactly how you liked to be touched. His finger slid through your wetness, circling, teasing, learning what made you gasp and moan. He watched your face, drinking in every reaction. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, breath trembling. “So beautiful—I could stay here forever.”

You couldn’t bear to wait. You pressed your hips against him, curling your fingers around his wrist, silently urging more. “Yeosang, I need you,” you pleaded. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He lined himself up, touching your cheek for one heartbeat longer, his gaze asking, Are you sure? When you nodded, he pressed forward, filling you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The stretch was exquisite—both familiar and completely new, an ache and a relief all at once. You gasped, clinging to him as he pressed in fully, groaning at the sensation of being joined at last.

He stilled, forehead pressed to yours as he breathed through it, giving you time to adjust, his hands shaking where they gripped your hips. “You feel…god, you feel incredible.”

“Move,” you begged, barely coherent. “Don’t hold back.”

He did—rolling his hips, withdrawing and thrusting slowly, then faster as your bodies found a rhythm that sent molten pleasure streaking through you both. His control frayed quickly in the heat of your body and the intensity of your gaze. He thrust harder, deeper, his hand sliding under your thigh to hitch your leg higher, changing the angle and making you cry out his name.

Your head fell back against the pillow; he kissed down your neck, nipping, soothing with his tongue, marking you as his. Your nails sank into his back, holding him close, feeling the tension building between you, the feeling that you could fly apart at any moment if you didn’t hold on.

He fucked you with a reverence that bordered on worship, but his voice was guttered now, every word raw with want. “God, you’re mine—say you’re mine. Let me hear you.”

You met his hips on every thrust, letting go of any shyness, letting him see all the need and love in your eyes. “I’m yours, Yeosang. I’ve always been yours.”

He kissed you hard then, devouring, as his rhythm grew frantic, chasing both your pleasures. The bed creaked beneath you, sheets twisted in your fists as you came, the pleasure cresting and breaking you apart with his name on your lips. He groaned, coming moments later, deeper than before, clutching you like a lifeline as his body shook against yours.

You stayed tangled in each other afterward, damp skin pressed together, hearts pounding in tandem. Yeosang tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your lips, your jaw, your eyelids, murmuring your name between soft, stunned laughs.

As you lay in his arms, Yeosang traced patterns on your bare shoulder. "I should thank Wooyoung," he mused.

You raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For knocking some sense into me." He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "He told me I was being an idiot, and he was right."

You laughed softly. "Remind me to thank him too."

"The others are going to be insufferable," Yeosang groaned. "They'll never let us hear the end of this."

"Let them tease," you said, nestling closer to him. "They were right all along."

Yeosang's arms tightened around you. "Worth it," he whispered. "You're worth everything."

As sleep began to claim you both, one last thought drifted through your mind: sometimes the greatest risk isn't taking a chance on love—it's never taking that chance at all. Thankfully, you and Yeosang had finally found the courage to cross that line from friendship to something far more beautiful.

In the morning, you would face the world—and the inevitable teasing from seven other K-pop idols—together. But for now, wrapped in each other's arms, you were exactly where you both belonged.

[duskbornraven]

Midnight Oil

When I die send me to The Pitt, but only on night shift. Wrapping up some wips I've been sitting on for way too long.

Paring: John Shen x f!Reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, minor injury to reader, general work crush embarrassment, no use of y/n, female reader, not beta read

Summary: You get hurt trying to check out the local hot doctor who visits your coffee shop. He winds up checking you out as well.

Word Count: 3k

You never minded working Thursdays at the coffee shop, especially on nice summer nights like tonight was shaping up to be. You could manage to actually work the floor most of the night compared to the weekends, which is why you had even agreed to come on as shift manager. And for a manager role there  wasn’t really much to it outside of helping with schedules and being the authority figure. 

At least on the night shifts, you had heard some crazy stories from the opening shift. Granted open was at noon and compared to the hundreds of other shops in the city it was a very late start to the day. Though that was the entire point, the shop was open from noon to seven in the morning. It was meant to be specifically for the night shift. Those who found comfort in the way the city moved in the shadows. Or the more common occurrence of the overtaxed college students and unfortunates who got saddled with the night shift until something opened on days.  

You honestly would have probably burnt out at any other customer service job. This place had its perks. Being able to leave the door open to bring in the warm breeze was certainly one of them. The gentle rumble of traffic and the occasional shout echoing down the road was excellent background noise when the place was empty. 

One of the nicer perks was the owner tending to hang around for the first few hours of your shift, meaning you could get most of the way caught up in the office. Angel generally would linger in the doorway to the office while you got yourself set up at the computer, telling you about first shift drama or what was new with her and the family. 

It very much helped that your boss was phenomenal at making coffee and would always have something new for the shifts to try throughout the week. And the free coffee, good or not, was really one of the main reasons you kept coming back. 

“And I am sick of him calling in at the last minute, I think we need a new day shift lead.” Angel was explaining while you updated availability for one of the new hires starting next week. 

“You’ve been saying that since before I started. He’s your brother, fire him if you want.” You didn’t look up from the computer, focused on not getting the rows mixed up while comparing the paper form in front of you. 

“Yeah but you know-” She trailed off and started out of the office “Hey John, you’re almost never on Thursdays.” She had turned her attention to whatever regular had walked through the open doors. 

“Normally, but I swapped shifts so he can have my day off next weekend.” You froze the second he started talking. You would be mortified if anyone called you on it, but recently the biggest perk was getting to see this specific regular. Doctor John Shen. The man was the ideal customer, always knew what he wanted, never complained about the lines. He was all some of the girls on the night shift would talk about initially.  

You hadn’t thought anything of him at first admittedly, he was handsome and left a decent tip most of the time. But the more he came in the more you caught yourself noticing him, how he carried himself, memorizing his drink order and schedule without really meaning to. He was laid back, to put it mildly but not in the overly confident sense. It was like the man was just good at carrying weight on his shoulders and not letting it drag him down. 

You pushed the rolling chair back to better look at him through the door. Which, to your absolute mortification, managed to crash backwards into the hard wood of the back office floor head first. Instantly a sharp throbbing pain shot through the back of your head, the sharp stab of heat that usually accompanied pain close behind. 

“Jesus, you alright?” The sound of fast approaching footsteps broke past the ringing in your ears. 

You managed a groan and tried to force yourself upright, blinking tears out of your eyes. Only to have a pair of hands stop you. “Woah,stay still for a second alright?” 

Your vision clearing slightly your eyes focused on your boss kneeling beside you and keeping you still beneath him was John. His eyes flicked between each of your pupils. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay” The back of your head was throbbing still, the occasional sharp sting adding to the aching pain. You went to sit up again and once again were held back by a firm hand on your shoulder. “I’m fine, really.” 

When he didn’t let go right away you pushed his hand from your shoulder. “It’s Thursday night, I’m at work, I just fell out of the chair.” Sitting up did very little to ease the pain at the base of your skull, a now persistent sting accompanying the warmth. 

“No nausea?” John adjusted to sit back in front of you on the floor,his eyes still searching yours carefully.  

“Not as far as I can tell.” You were also mentally checking off what little you knew about head injuries. Which admittedly wasn't much more than had already been checked off the list. “I’ll ice it and keep an eye on it to make sure. 

“Let me at least check you out in better lighting.” He held out a hand to help you to your feet. “Make sure you’re okay before I get into work.” 

You let him pull you off the floor, a little too aware that despite the injury this was the closest you had ever been to him. Usually there was at least a foot of counter between the pair of you. But now following him out to the floor you felt more aware. There were no machines for you to hide behind out here. Luckily for you the odds of making more of an idiot out of yourself were almost impossible. 

The shop was, thankfully still empty, or you would have insisted that you went back into the closer, darker space of the office. Out here it felt less like some secret thing. You sat yourself at a table, the ach in your head already slowly subsiding. 

“Yell at me if this hurts too much.” A familiar voice from behind you, the sound of latex stretching followed. 

“Good thing you came prepared.” You hissed lightly as his hand brushed over where you must have landed. 

“I honestly don’t know how many gloves I’ve taken home. Mostly by accident.” His touch was light as it brushed hair out of the way to get a better look. “But I don’t think I needed this one, you’re not bleeding at least.” 

He dropped heavily into the chair across from you, as casual as always. “You’re lucky. Could have been a lot worse and I would have made you come visit me to work.” You couldn’t pretend your cheeks didn’t burn a little at that. “You should be good, get some ice on it, take it easy and if you feel worse go get checked out.” 

Angel joined you at the table, sliding a coffee over to him. “For the help” She offered  with a smile. 

“Well how can I turn that down.” John accepted the drink, taking a slow sip from the mouth of the cup and checking the display on his watch. “I do have to run actually. I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m late to cover.” 

He was halfway out the door when he turned back to look you in the eye once more. “I mean it about seeing a doctor if that gets worse. I don't want to come back to find out that something happened to you.” With that he was out the door and down the street. 

You watched him go, the usual excitement that followed his visits was there as alway, but something more also bubbled under the surface. Last week you had hardly said a word to him when he came through for his usual. And today he had taken care of you, gone out of his way to double check. You knew there was some level of responsibility for helping even off the clock. It was still nice to know that he cared enough to take care of you, and didn’t give you a hard time for it. 

It was hard to deny that seeing the doctor in him come out, the softer demeanor, the sole focus on you. It was sweet, and incredibly attractive. You hadn’t realized that you had been lost in thought until a voice behind you snapped out of it. 

“Are you okay? I can hang around for a little longer.” You winced away as something cool was pressed to the back of your head.

“I’ll be okay once some back up shows, you don’t have to stay late for me.” You took the makeshift ice pack and held it to the back of your head. She was still watching you like you might break on her. “I swear I will call you if I need to leave early. And besides I already saw a doctor technically. I’m as close to medically cleared as I’m going to get tonight.” 

That got the world weary sigh from her that you had come to expect. Along with the familiar smile. “Just try not to let the shift get any worse, I don’t know if I can handle any more stress in one day.” 

You spent the rest of the hour finishing your paperwork in the office. Occasionally venturing out to get a drink or refresh your ice. Often shooing your worried friend away to actually work when there were customers in the shop. 

Once the rest of the night shift began to filter in you transitioned to working the floor. The pain was mostly gone by now only the dull ache and the shame lingered. You had fallen on your ass and made someone else late to work, probably. All because you wanted to look a little cooler when you were checking him out for once. 

Not to mention that now your co-workers were stuck doing most if not all of the heavy lifting the rest of the shift since they instituted that you took it easy. You had hit your head, it wasn’t like they found you lying unconscious in the walk-in but they had been bullied into making you take it easy. It was hard to refuse Angel even if you ignored that fact that she owned the place. 

Your night was turning into a painful, embarrassing slog as you had to explain over and over to the overnight team as they trickled in that you had fallen on your ass. That you would be fine because with your stupid luck a doctor had happened to be on standby. 

Unfortunately, most of your team knew you well enough to start putting the pieces together of what that meant. Which made for far too many jokes about you getting hurt just to get the doctor to check you out for a change. By the time you were finally making your final rounds it felt like you had been there for an eternity, a special shift from the depths of embarrassment hell. 

John however had spent the first hour so half expecting you to come wandering into the ER. And yes, that may be the doctor brain rushing to the worst case scenario. But it also wasn’t impossible. When you didn’t show up though it was easier to let himself slip into the flow of work, focusing on actual patients. 

It wasn’t until after his first full rotation of the unit he was actually able to stop and clock that hours had passed and the pretty barista hadn't come through the doors. He took the minute he had to catch up on his charting, before the next crisis knocked him off his feet anyways. 

“You better be careful coming in the next few weeks.” He slid up to Ellis at the computer, catching her eye over the monitor. 

“Why would you say that?” She sighed, head falling back in exasperation. “Are you trying to spread your weird back luck curse to me?” 

“I’m just saying, I had that barista take a fall at my coffee place and Abbot’s whole car accident thing a while ago. You better be careful.” He shrugged. “Night shift has some weird luck going around.” 

“And now you’ve said it to me so for sure something’s going to happen.” She sighed, pushing away from the computer. “Do yourself a favor and quit talking about it before you put the poor girl in the ER tonight.” 

To his credit, he kept his mouth shut about it. It did help that it was a nightmarish night all around. He didn’t even really have the time to think about you let alone bring up his pre-shift heroics again. 

But as the day shift trickled in you crept back into his head. It wasn’t lost on him that you could have gone anywhere else in the city to get checkout if you had gotten worse. Something that didn’t sit right with him at all. 

Over the next few days he swung by the shop, even if he was technically off. If you were in he could at least follow up and make sure that you were okay. And if you weren’t? He would at least get the coffee and he could come back the next night. 

He probably could have called ahead and asked, he was well aware he was enough of a regular that the owner knew his drink order. But that was hardly on him, the shop was on the way to work and made some of the best coffee he had been able to get his hands on. 

So here he was making his regular coffee runs, just a little more frequently. And for his peace of mind it was worth it. Besides, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not, the coffee wasn’t really the only reason he liked visiting the shop. Maybe he had been swinging by specifically on nights you usually worked for a while. 

Maybe he had just so happened to notice that you always made sure to make his order for him. He had been hoping for a better excuse to actually have a conversation with you. Offer to hang out when both of you could get off, which shouldn’t be difficult to plan considering your shifts usually lined up. 

It was a few nights after your encounter and the front door opened letting the scent of fresh summer rain in with it. Along with a very rain soaked John. Still as relaxed as ever, seemingly unbothered by the sudden chill of the air conditioning. 

He wasn’t dressed for a shift this time around, which wasn’t totally out of the usual. It wasn’t like your shop was in an inconvenient location. But the way the rest of the shift vanished on you was in fact out of the usual. Leaving you alone on the floor to take his order. Which was something you were sure you could recite in your sleep by now. 

“Yo, there’s my favorite barista. Glad you didn’t wind up coming to visit me at work.” He leaned in, arms folded on the counter. “Though I am apparently cursed so I didn’t put that out there.” He shot you a knowing smile, like you were already in on the joke. 

“Cursed?” You stepped closer to the machines to get his drink at least started. Ignoring the rush that came with being his favorite. Not that it really meant anything, he just happened to see you more than the others. One of those perks that came with management. 

“So I’m told, if you believe in that superstitious shit.” He followed you around to the machine as he spoke, warm eyes catching yours whenever possible as you worked. “Though I don’t know if I’ve actually seen proof of it yet.” 

“Well thank you for not spreading that to me I guess.” You laughed, steam blocking your vision for a moment. “That’s another thing I owe you for.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head slightly. “Literally just my job, doesn’t hurt to help.”His hands were in his pockets while he watched you work. “Though I have been known to work for coffee, every once in a while” His head tilted as he spoke, that smile widening. 

“Well luckily for you, I am something of an expert when it comes to coffee.” You offered him the cup, as usual relishing the tiny moment of contact when your fingers brushed over each other. He is free and sliding a torn and folded piece of paper across the counter to you. 

“I’m not doubting that.” His tone didn’t change but you felt the way his gaze shifted, refocusing on the paper between you. Once the paper slipped into your hand he added, “A little old school I know. I figured we could broaden your horizons a bit. Maybe get you some expertise in some of these local restaurants? We could go and grab dinner one of these nights.” 

The scrap of paper in your hand suddenly felt a little heavier, a little more alive in your hands. Unfolding it revealed John printed in classic, half legible doctor handwriting. Below that his phone number, perfectly legible. “I think it would be good to explore.” 

He would have had to be blind to miss the way you hardly fought back your smile, the way your hands shook just a little. From nerves or excitement it was hard to say, maybe a little of both. It almost didn’t feel real. Like it was all some fever dream and you really had hit your head much harder than you thought. You would wake up any second on the office floor, back at square one. 

Instead you watched the smallest hint of tension drain from his shoulders. “Good, I might already have a place or two lined up. Just in case.” Another easy shrug, his hand returned to his pocket. “Just text me when you have some time off. We’ll make it work.” 

“I’ll get back to you before the shift is over.” Happy with your answer he backed away from the counter, drink in hand and headed for the door. He had turned around and went to push out the door before he glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh and be careful the rest of the night, would hate to have to have you show up at work before I see you again.” With that slightly ominous warning he dipped back into the rain and vanished into the night. 

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

tw: dubcon, incest

michael kaiser. he’s a great brother, he loves his baby sister and she loves him too. he’s an excellent brother, actually. except for when he’s not. except for the times like now. he’s angry. he just got home from practice and he’s mad, you don’t know what at, what do you know about football? you don’t pry and you don’t ask, you know how he is when he’s stressed. you know he’s home because of the loud bang from downstairs. you’re thankful you aren’t the wall because you can all but imagine the hole that kaiser’s tattooed fist has more than likely just left there. you’re thinking about it still, so hard you don’t even notice your bedroom door slam open.

kaiser looks pissed, and stressed. he’s looking at you with rage and desperation. you’re confused, what are you supposed to do? “mic-“ he pins you to the bed before you can even speak his name fully, hand over your mouth and wrists over your head. “don’t talk, please, just let me have this.” have what? you don’t know what he’s talking about? poor you, you’re so innocent, it’s funny. kaiser would find it cute usually, but not right now, he needs this so bad. he smashes his lips onto yours, this isn’t the sweet kisses you’re oh so accustomed to; this is desperate. if he wasn’t your brother you’d think he was about to cannibalise you or something, seriously. kaiser is a little rough sometimes, but never in this setting. usually it’s a punch or a few insults, not this. but ah, you’re so wet already; and you’re so ashamed of that.

he’s already on top of you, peeling off your cute pajamas that he graciously gifted you just last week (thanks big brother) and pinching you everywhere harshly. you can see in his eyes something is seriously up, he’s so desperate. he pinches your tits in his much larger hands, and you whine. “all mine, you’re all for me, aren’t you? say it.” his tone is stern, and you know better than to disobey, but he also looks so desperate, what has gotten your brother so riled up? “all for y-you micha, everythin’ for y-you-“ you sputter out between breathy moans. he’s toying with your nipples, and it hurts. he’s so mean, and you hate yourself for liking it.

if he didn’t notice your arousal before he definitely has by now, you’re grinding on the knee he has slotted between your frail legs. “you want me? say it, tell me you want me” and you shake your head no. no way, you don’t want this, it’s too rough for you. he has to be nicer with you. and he doesn’t like that, are you out of your fucking mind? your brother is michael fucking kaiser. he’s done everything for you, he raised you and you tell him no? “you fucking whore, just listen for once, don’t you remember everything i’ve done for you? is that how you treat your brother who gave up everything just to give you a good fucking life?” he’s right. how could you do that to your brother? you’re a bad sister aren’t you?

before you know it you’re kicked onto the floor between his legs as he pulls his shorts down and palms his erection through his boxers. and you’re so cute down there. you’re clinging to his leg looking up at him like he’s a god passing judgement on you. “‘m sorry mikka, sorry f-for real- i’ll be good i swear-“ you sniffle. and man are you cute. you look like a kicked puppy. god you’re so easy to bend to his will. it’s a miracle you’re his sister, because if anyone else was your brother you’d be done for, they would take so much advantage of you. he muses to himself, even though he knows he’s probably way worse than anyone else that would ever even interact with you (if he allowed it, which he’s never going to.) he brings a finger to your lips to hush you as he pulls out his cock completely. “it’s ok, just be good for me now, ‘kay? i had a long day.” and you are good. you’re so good, opening your mouth so pliantly to take your brothers dick.

he’s gripping your hair so hard you’re scared he’s about to pull your scalp off, but don’t worry, he knows better, he knows how to make it as painful as he can without causing you any actual harm. lucky you, or something. it hurts really bad, you’re too delicate for this, but when you open your eyes and look up to see your older brother in complete ecstasy it’s so worth it, so worth gagging on his fat cock ‘cause at least it makes him happy. at least you’re repaying him for everything he’s done for you, right? he deserves this! everyone deserves a break ‘specially your brother ‘cause he does so much for his beloved baby sister. kaiser loves it, seeing you on your knees between his legs, the girl he raised like a kid, his sister, the one he shares the same eyes with, the same hair, the same smile that you wear so much better, everything. so fucking cute. you’re so perfect, he’s secretly so insecure you’re going to pack up and leave him one day. it’s why he’s been so stressed ontop of soccer. please don’t leave your brother after he did so much for you! you look so docile down there, and you are, he knows ‘cause he trained you to be like that. you’re good for him always, and he likes that.

it’s so rewarding when he finally cums. you’re panting so much, some of his cum almost spills out of your mouth. he’s quick to close it with his hand and you feel a little embarrassed. don’t be such a wasteful idiot, you have to take everything your brother gives you so generously. both of you are worn out, he thinks you look so cute, mouth stuffed full of his cock and seed like a cute hamster. he wipes his spent dick on your cheek and ruffles your hair affectionately. “good job, you did good” all of his anger dissipated as soon as he came, he’s so lucky he knows it. having a baby sister is the best, seriously, the best remedy for any negative emotions at all.

you’re still so wet, and you’re so ashamed! you shouldn’t feel like this, but you do, and kaiser knows it too. good thing you did so well at taking his cock tonight, now he’ll indulge you a little too. you’re still on the floor, sitting with your legs up and a little spread. you look so cute, looking up at him with so much admiration and love, like he’s some deity. to you he is, he’s your whole world actually, you don’t have anyone except him. you’re kinda like a pet, he thinks. the saying that you should be nice to your pet because you’re their whole life, but they aren’t your whole life because you have other people, other things, other responsibilities. that’s kind of how your brother views you. you’re so closed off from everything else, it’s funny. a pet sister. he wants to laugh at the thought, but he simply looks down at you. you were really good, weren’t you?

he brings a socked foot between your legs and massages your soaked panties with it. ah, it’s so degrading, and you moan so sweetly afterwards. he’s teasing you, you know you probably look pathetic, mewling at your brothers foot tormenting your aching pussy, but you don’t care, you want it so bad. he’s toying with you, he’s so mean sometimes, you think. but it’s better than before, at least he’s not mad. he’s smirking down at you. “feels good? little slut” he chastises you, but his words don’t hold any real malice, only love. you don’t need to answer, you won’t be able to form a real sentence anyway, don’t worry, he knows that. he just keeps toying with your aching core with his foot. like you’re some insignificant pet cat on the floor.

and then comes what he was waiting for. your sweet begging, it’s so cute, you’re so cute, adorable in fact. “s-stop playin’ mikka- please- need you- please i was so g-goodddd” you whine at him. and he agrees, you were good. such a good girl for your brother. fine, he’ll indulge you. you’re on his lap with 3 of his fingers rubbing on your cunt, your brother’s fingers are so nice, he knows exactly what you like. he stops for a second to shove his fingers in your mouth. “can you taste how sweet you are on your brother’s fingers, hm? prinzessin?” he laughs. he’s so condescending the whole time, you feel so pathetic for enjoying this. he probably thinks you’re a fool! and he does, but in a different way, he thinks as he goes back to rubbing your little pussy, you’re a fool, but it’s okay, you’re only the product of your elder brother. he made you this way so he could enjoy you, let him reap his reward, okay? don’t overthink! your brother likes how pitiful you are under his touch. under his presence. under simply him.

it’s deplorable how much you’ve enjoyed tonight, your brother’s fingers still toying with you til’ you can’t take it anymore, but neither of you care. you can’t care anyway, this is normal to you; you’re a well trained girl and your mind is elsewhere on this subject. he could care, but he doesn’t, if you don’t care why should he? finally, his skilled fingers coax you to your orgasm, and you pant in his arms. he brings his fingers to your mouth again and you mindlessly open for him to insert them. see, well trained and cute. you’re so pliant, he loves it. he truly outdid himself raising you.

you’re asleep straight after that, clinging to his side in bed as he scrolls his phone. man, having a baby sister is the best, he’s almost sorry for everyone else who pays for therapy and medicine, when the best cure to every problem is free! it’s just having a younger sister to use!!! he kisses your head and smirks “sleep tight, katzi” and closes his eyes too. what a good day he’s had.