#explodes and tries to go to sleep (failing)

[kumatm]

Tumble should also know that I’ve got a girlfriend and I love her very much

[prythianpages]

'Cause It Was Always You | Azriel x Reader

summary: After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

word count: 1,741

warnings: I guess angst at the beginning? But I promise it ends with fluff!

a/n: Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather has been on repeat in my head and it prompted this cute little idea. Also shoutout to @nocasdatsgay for helping me with a codename for Az.

“I fear I’ll love Lapis until the day that I die…until the light leaves my eyes…until I’m in the grave, rotting awa–”

“y/n, you’re drunk,” Feyre had giggled.

“Drunk in love,” you sang in response with a giggle of your own.

And when one of Azriel’s shadows reported the silly little smile on your face, the silly little sparkle in your eyes, he shrunk back into the ones that had remained. His heart sank to his stomach, a cold, heavy weight settling there. 

Because you were in love. 

With someone that wasn’t him.

Azriel told himself that was the last time he’d eavesdrop. And perhaps, that wouldn’t have been a lie, if it wasn’t for the pesky little shadow that followed you around. It enjoyed dancing and flitting around you. Sometimes, it’d make its presence known by weaving through your hair or slithering up your arm. Most times, it’d trail behind you, like a little duckling.

Azriel tried to call the shadow back home but it was unwavering, choosing to linger in your presence instead. The same way he wished to linger by your side. And recently, the inky traitor had gotten into the habit of summoning more of his shadows to your side, weaving an invisible bond between you and him.

Every time a shadow returned to him, it brought whispers of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the softness in your voice when you spoke of Lapis. Each word you uttered about that male tore him apart, every confession cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

“If you don’t ask Lapis out, Jasper will do it for you and believe me when I say you do not want that to happen.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll ask him out. Tomorrow.”

That was a snippet of a conversation his shadows had reported to him earlier, cutting his morning training short. It lingered with him, haunting him throughout the day. And now, he found himself unable to sleep, constantly turning in his bed.

Azriel’s stomach twists into a tight knot, the storm raging outside echoing his inner turmoil. Tomorrow. He was running out of time.  Fear and perhaps, even pride, kept him from telling you how he truly felt about you. But now, he found himself fearing something even worse. Losing you before he even had a chance to say it…

He didn’t want to wake up one day and regret his silence, regret not telling you how he felt because of pride or fear. He needed to do this for himself, to break free from the shadows of his past. He had failed to confess his love twice before, and the thought of a third failure was unbearable. This time, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. The risk of losing you to someone else was a pain he couldn't endure.

With a deep breath, Azriel steeled himself. He needed to find you, to tell you the truth about his feelings. Before anything between you and Lapis could blossom. He couldn’t let another moment pass without you knowing how deeply he loved you.

Which is how he found himself at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to him like a second skin as the rain pours relentlessly down on him. His shadows stir in excitement, whispering anxiously as they hear your approaching footsteps. His heart is pounding, so fast and hard that he fears it’s going to explode.

“Azriel?” 

Your voice is still marred by sleep as you blink up at him. That traitorous shadow hovers behind you, peering at him over your shoulder. He glares at it, and it quickly hides behind your hair. You don’t seem to notice it, either unfazed or truly oblivious to the shadow that had been following you around for so long.

“Did something happen?” You speak again, brows furrowing in concern. You step back into your apartment, a silent gesture for him to follow after you and come inside. 

“I–” Azriel begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He can’t even bring himself to move as his eyes catch the movement of your arms wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill of the downpour. The nightgown you’re wearing is thin and short. A  glimpse of your exposed skin has a warmth rushing to his face and he’s blushing.

"I—" He tries again but when his eyes meet yours, his heart leaps into his throat, choking off his words. Oh gods, he can’t do this. He’s grateful for the rain as it masks the tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He thinks he’s going to be sick and–

“Are you okay?”

His shadows push him forward, wings shuddering in response. It’s now or never. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you.” 

The words spill out in a rush, raw and unguarded. He watches you with bated breath, his shadows whispering every nuance in your expression—from the way your eyebrows raise and your mouth parts as a gasp escapes, to the way your eyes glisten with something he’s too scared to discern.

You’re rendered speechless, the silence that follows feeling like an eternity. Azriel’s wings slump, growing heavy. He clears his throat, averting his gaze. The need to retreat is overpowering what little courage he had gathered moments ago. 

“That’s all I had to say. I should, um–I’ll be leaving now,” he stammers, so unsure and so unlike himself.

“Az–” you start, reaching out to him, but he’s already stepping back into the rain. He doesn’t think he can face your rejection, much less witness the look on your face if you don’t feel the same.

“Goodnight.”

His shadows are like a wall of resistance, fighting against him as he turns to make his leave. He asks them—begs them, even– to swallow him whole. To winnow him away and save him from further mortification. But they refuse. Stay, they insist, tugging and weighing his wings down. 

It leaves him with no choice but to walk away. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rain soaking him to the bone. Listen, his shadows urge as they continue to tug relentlessly at his wings for him to turn back around and face you. 

But he can’t. Not when the Mother has seemed to have cursed him with loving those who could never love him back.

“Azriel!”

His mind screams at him to keep going, to keep walking away. However, the plea echoed in your voice has his chest tightening. His heart overrides his mind, shadows only encouraging him further. He turns around just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a desperate effort to keep him from leaving. His own arms respond immediately, securing you to him. 

“Don’t go.”

Your breath is warm against his neck as you tighten your embrace, and his wings curl around your smaller form in response, wanting to shield you from the relentless rain. He feels you shift in his arms, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. One hand reaches out, tenderly brushing the dark fringe from his forehead. His breath catches, and you must sense his inner turmoil because you gently smooth away the furrow of his brow with your thumb.

“I love you,” you say, your hand caressing his cheek. Despite the cold, harsh downpour, your touch is warm and soft. A balm to his frayed nerves.

His heart swells with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He had prepared himself for rejection, for the familiar sting of unrequited love. But here you were, confessing your love to him with the same vulnerability he had shown you.

“Really?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Really.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. “I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you.”

“Lose me? Azriel, you’ve always had me.”

“But you said you loved Lapis? You were going to ask him out–”

“So you were spying on me!”

Azriel’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing all over again and he’s glad it’s dark enough to conceal it. “No–I–not intentionally…my shadows, they…,” he trails off, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

Yes, his shadow refused to come back to him. But he didn’t stop the others from reporting back to him so with a defeated sigh, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Azriel,” you giggle and he’s frowning at you, not finding the humor in the situation. “You are Lapis.”

“What?”

“You’re Lapis. Cas is Jasper and Rhys is Amethyst.” You explain, lips curling into an amused smile at the sigh of relief that comes from Azriel. How had he not realized that all those names shared one thing in common? And more importantly, that they were color coded to his and Cassian’s siphons?

“I needed a codename for you so I can gush about my feelings for you without, you know,” you tilt your head toward that nosey, barely visible shadow that had been following you around. Sensing the attention, the shadow dips and hides again, curling around the back of your neck. 

“I fear it’s yours now,” Azriel replies, almost sheepishly.

“Good,” you smile at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it. Just as I have over its master.”

His shadows take your words as a welcome invitation, swirling and dancing around you both. Azriel’s arms hook underneath your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. Your arms find their place around his neck again.

Then, you're closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Warmth spreads throughout him, reveling in the sweet sensation of your lips against his. The rain continues to pour, but neither of you care. 

When you finally pull away, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as if in fear that this is all just a dream. You gently kiss his nose, your soft voice reminding him that this moment is real.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes open, looking right into yours. “Until the day that I die,” he tells you, echoing your devotion.

There’s a knowing spark in your eyes as they search his own for answers. It has his lips lifting into a smile that mirrors yours, confirming that he had been eavesdropping on your drunken confession weeks ago.  Your smile widens. 

 “Until the light leaves my eyes.”

This was a better idea in my head but hey, at least I finished it. I also don't know the logistics of having a conversation in the rain but that's the beauty of fanfic, I guess?lol Anyway, I could not get these lyrics out of my head. They were so Azriel coded for me:

I'll love you 'til the day that I die 'Til the day that I die 'Til the light leaves my eyes 'Til the day that I die I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya

the way I keep fixing these lyrics but I think tumblr is glitching or something uggghh, pls ignore the random mismatched sizing

Also just wanted to point out that if Az hasn’t confessed, reader would’ve done it the next day anyway 💀

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

[softtdaisy]

daddy kissed the babysitter / Aaron Hotchner

summary. its time for hotch and the babysitter to tell jack they are dating -except the boy already knows.

words count. 2 200

what to expect. pure soft and teenagers in love at this point

a/n. guess who's back THE BABYSITTER i had this idea when i couldn't sleep last night and i needed to do something super soft and i'm so happy to write for my babies again!!!

babysitter masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

“So Jack, verdict?”

“Hm,” the boy put a hand on his chin, thinking for a good ten seconds in a very mysterious silence. You and Hotch both waited, you with your hands joined in front of your face, and he with his arms crossed on his chest and a very amused smile on his lips. “Nine out of ten!”

You let out a joyful scream that made Hotch explode in laughter. He watched as you ran to Jack, grabbing him and making him spin around with you. The boy couldn't help but laugh as he wrapped his arms around your neck to ensure his safety. 

“That’s a victory, my friend!” you said, sitting him on the counter before offering your hand to check him. Something Jack did immediately before reaching for his dad, who was patiently waiting next to you. 

If Jack had been a very good eater for years, he had developed a kind of aversion for vegetables these past weeks. You swore to Hotch that it wasn’t your fault—you always made sure to give this boy good, varied, and balanced meals. But none of your questions lead to the answer to why Jack refused to eat anything with vegetables.

And so you made your very own mission to find new meals to prepare that Jack would love. Needless to say, it has been very difficult and full of obstacles. 

The good thing out of this, something that made Jack happy about the whole game, was that you decided to take a picture of everything you made and asked Jack to grade it. So you could have a book of all the attempts, the successful and the failed ones.

And tonight was a victory.

“See, I knew we could do it!” you told Hotch, hitting on his chest playfully. If you felt his hand on your back, you didn’t see the look he gave you. Full of love and appreciation. 

He knew the time you spent finding new recipes. You called him when he was away about your ideas to get some advice. Even when you slept there, when Jack was asleep and you had a great time loving each other again, you would tell him about your latest tries. You took this mission at heart—like everything when it came to him and Jack.

“I can confirm it was a nine out of ten,” he replied with a smile that couldn’t leave his lips. And one of his favorites. Because if Hotch wasn’t there to try some of your latest meals, you always made sure to keep him a portion. With Jack’s grade and comment on it. 

And sometimes more. 

He remembered laughing at your “If you don’t like it, I will quit.” or “Remember you love me, and if you hate that, it doesn’t mean you hate me.” Or feeling his heart melt at your simple “I love you” with hearts around the words.

You loved him, and he loved you. And Hotch felt bad sometimes that you were the only one to know that. Even though you kept saying you were fine with having a secret relationship.

“Can I get an ice cream to celebrate it?” Jack asked with his not-so-innocent smile. You bit your lips because that little boy knew how to play with your heart. Thank God, you weren’t alone in the room; otherwise, you would have had another ice cream night.

But Hotch’s hand left your back to ruffle Jack’s hair. “Not on a school day, buddy.” 

Jack’s pout didn’t even last long—he knew it was a lost battle before asking for his dessert. 

And soon he was in Hotch’s arms, ready to go to sleep. 

You were finishing cleaning the last dishes when you saw his little head straighten up. “You’ll be here tomorrow morning?” He sounded sleepy already, and you wished you could give that boy good news before sleeping.

“Sadly no, buddy.” You dried your hand before walking to them. “But I’m picking you up after school, ok?” You caressed his cheek softly before putting a small kiss on his forehead while he nodded to your offer. 

And one look up proved to you that Hotch had listened to your exchange too.

They both disappeared to Jack’s bedroom, and after you finished cleaning, you went straight to the balcony to enjoy a moment of calm.

After a few minutes, Hotch joined you outside. Sitting in the chair in front of you just to grab your ankles and put them on his thigh. There was something intimate in the way his fingers started caressing your naked skin in the most natural way. 

For a minute, he took the time to appreciate his life like this. Cases over, and no need to go to the bureau the following day. His son peacefully sleeping in his bedroom you three redecorated over the past weeks. And you, sitting on his balcony, in the very same chair you sat on every night. Just like you always belonged there. 

You weren’t even facing him, your eyes lost in the sunset playing in front of you. The way the sun was going down on the city. You could get used to the view. You already did, somehow.

And Hotch could get to this view too.

“I think we should tell him,” he said, with a sweet smile on his face. 

You turned your head to face him, a confused but playful look in your eyes. “Tell him what?” 

“That we’re dating.”

Oh. Was the only thing that left your lips. Because it was also the only thing in your mind. And Hotch waited for the thoughts to build in your head, still tracing lovely figures on your legs. He knew it was a lot, especially coming from him.

You had the discussion once or twice. 

When Jack came home one day, he asked in a very serious tone why his babysitter was sleeping here sometimes when none of his friends’ did.

Or when Jack got sick one day, the very same day Hotch was coming home late, and he asked you if you would be his new mom. You blamed the fever for the question, especially since he never asked that again. But it did something to you. And to Hotch too.

Knowing his son wasn’t only looking for a maternal figure, he was looking for it in you.

You got up only to sit on his lap a few seconds after. “Is that what you want, Aaron?” you asked Hotch, feeling his hand going up and down on your back. You didn’t want him to go over his own limit just for you. This wasn’t the plan. It won’t ever be.

You brought a hand to his cheek so you could feel his head move when he nodded. “I want us to be a family.” 

The face you made, full of tenderness, made him laugh softly. Hotch brought his hand to your neck to move your face closer to his. And the kiss you shared, short and sweet, was the only agreement you both needed.

“What we can do,” you started with your hand traveling on his chest, “is to make and have dinner all together on Saturday night, like a family. And then we can tell Jack, Is that ok for you?”

His laugh resonated in your ears. “You’re really buying our love with food, aren’t you?” He asked with his frowned brows and his amused expression.

“I’ve learned how to seduce the Hotchner boys,” you replied with a wink before kissing him again.

The thing was, Hotch went on a date the following day, and your family weekend got compromised.

Until he assured you he would be on the jet on Saturday and here for the dinner—just not for the making part. “That’s a big excuse to not make dinner, Aaron; you could have just said it,” you texted him. 

With Jack’s approval, you decided to go on a pizza night. Hotch had asked Rossi for good addresses to grab everything because apparently “you can’t make a pizza night with my nephew with the wrong products.” At least, these were the words that had been reported to you. 

So there you were, preparing the base while Jack was writing the ingredients each of you three wanted on their pizza. 

“Does your dad have good taste, or do we need to sell him?” You asked Jack with a serious tone but a playful smile that made him smile back at you. 

“Yeah,” he started before putting his pen away. “I think he’s good.” That kid was raised well. 

You kept talking about everything and anything until Hotch came back and the pizzas were cooked. Everything was going perfectly. Except for the little stress you and Hotch felt at the idea of telling Jack the truth about you two.

At some point during the dinner, he grabbed your hand and kept caressing your skin with his thumb. 

The dessert. The plan was to wait until dessert to tell Jack. And so when you went back to the kitchen to grab the ice cream you bought for the night, you knew it was coming. 

Having no idea it was coming closer than you thought. “When will you move here?” Jack interrupted his dad to ask the question directed to you.

Your head still in the fridge, putting everything away, you heard Hotch ask, “What do you mean, Jack-Jack?”

“Well, you two are lovers, and lovers live together.” 

You hit your head against a shelf. “Lovers live together,” you repeated in your breath while turning around to face the boy. A boy who clearly didn’t seem to understand the importance of his words. He was looking at you both like you were the weird ones for not understanding what he meant. Like his question just popped up in his head, and he didn’t think more of it. “What do you mean…me and your dad are lovers?” you said, walking back to the table—with no ice cream in hand.

This time, he was the one to look up with a confused face. “He called you ‘love the other day. And Dad looks at you the same way he was looking at Beth. And I saw you kiss.” He saw you kiss.

You couldn’t resist the laugh that was growing in you. A nervous but very relieved one. You put a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, a hand that he grabbed immediately. You could feel the relief in the way his fingers were softly squeezing yours. “Since when do you know that?” he asked his son, who simply shrugged.

“I don’t know.” 

“And…” Hotch continued. He looked up at you for a second before putting his eyes back on Jack. “How do you feel about that?”

Again, Jack simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I like you,” he said, looking at you. And that was the only explanation you needed. Jack liked you. Not just the babysitter that he was seeing almost every day. Not just the babysitter that was taking care of him. 

You. He liked you.

And Hotch felt the same way. You could tell from the way his face moved again to look at you. Everything looked peaceful on his face, from his eyes to his smile. You could almost swear he won a year or two with the stress away from his features. He didn’t have to hide his love for you in his own home anymore.

“Hm.” Jack’s voice was low. “Where is the ice cream?”

“Right, the ice cream,” you laughed, pointing at him like he made a great point. And so you went back to grab it, making sure not to hit your head this time. 

The subject didn’t come up again for the rest of the night. Turns out Jack had a lot of subjects in his little head that could keep you all up for hours. 

This time, having Hotch’s hand in yours didn’t feel like a secret or forbidden gesture.

This time, when Jack went to sleep, you promised to be there without feeling like you were hiding anything from him. 

“You know, he might be right.” Hotch said later, when you were lying in bed together. Your head on his chest, your legs tangled up together, and his hand creating new forms on your back. 

You moved to rest your chin on his chest. “Sure. About what?” 

“You could move here.” His head slowly moved to your hair to brush it. And you could imagine it. A life where you didn’t have to wonder if you would even stay the night or come back home. Where you didn’t have to pack another bag anytime you came to his place. Where you could spend every single morning with your two favorite men in the entire world. Where you could wake up to Hotch’s kisses and be greeted by Jack’s smiles. 

Yes. You could. And you wanted that.

“One thing after another, Aaron Hotchner.” You still replied, moving to give him a small kiss on his lips. “I don’t want you to get tired of me already.”

He knew you were joking. Because there was no way he could ever get tired of you.

Tag List: @kiwriteswords@monzabee@raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[novvabee]

We're Just Glad You're Ok

summary: poly!marauders x reader, you have a sleep potion mishap

cw: sleep potion malfunction, passing out, health scare?, hospital, swearing a few times, i guess you can call some of it angst?

word count: 2.2k

You only had twelve hours left until this stupid potion needed to be ready in order to show Slughorn. 

This potion had taken you over a month to complete, and here you were, down to the wire, rushing to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. You wanted the highest grade possible, and if you were being honest, thought that was what you deserved. 

You didn’t even want to take advanced potion making, but in order to keep your prefect title, you had to be enrolled in at least three advanced classes, so you endured the tortuous stirring, grinding, and burning. 

And this potion was your crowning achievement of this semester. You had spent countless nights brewing and stewing, not to mention the three failed attempts already.

You were attempting to brew a sleeping draught that would take only one drop to put anyone to sleep in under five minutes. It was practically unheard of, most sleep potions were an entire vial that would start to take effect somewhere between thirty minutes to an hour to set in, but you wanted to prove it could be done quicker and with less potion. 

There were a few tricky ingredients that needed to be tweaked between all of your attempts, but you were certain that you had gotten it right this time.

You just wanted to be done with this, to get this project completed and wrap yourself in bed along with your boyfriends who you had been slightly neglecting due to this potion. It was taking up all of your time and you felt like you hadn’t seen Remus, James, or Sirius in ages. Once this project was turned in, you were more than happy to spend a few days doing absolutely nothing with your boys.

In your tired and overworked state, you must have forgotten to turn the burner down or maybe you added a drop too much of the chamomile extract, but before you could react, your potion exploded.

The liquid got everywhere, drenching your notes, your clothes, your hair, thankfully it smelled heavenly, but you froze.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath to yourself. Shit indeed. This wasn’t good. A singular drop of this was supposed to put any human to sleep, and you just drenched yourself in the concoction. 

You knew that you needed to move fast. You had very little time before the potions fumes knocked you out, in fact, you could already feel the effects of the sleep draught taking hold. You shook your head and tried your best to power through. You knew that it was late, probably past midnight, which meant that no students would be roaming the halls, no one to see you if you passed out on the cold dungeon floors.

You frantically grabbed your sopping notebook and shoved it in your bag. You turned the burner off, not bothering to clean up or put any of the ingredients away. Slughorn could deal with it, you’d just explain to him what happened and why you rushed out without properly cleaning up after yourself.

You turned to make your way out of the room, but you felt the room spin with you. You caught yourself on a desk and made sure you had a strong footing. This was going to be incredibly difficult.

You fought your heavy eyelids and focused on getting out of the damn classroom. When you made it to the door, you about fell, the weight of your body becoming almost too much to handle.

You made a quick decision to turn right instead of left down the hall. Sure it was quicker to get to your dorm if you had gone left, but that also meant braving the moving staircases. You felt woozy even thinking about trying to make your way up those in this state, so you decided to go the long way, which at least would take you in front of the Slytherin common room. Maybe that way someone would find your incapacitated body. 

You stumbled your way along the long narrow hallways, trying your best not to knock into any statues or painting. You were certain one of the paintings actually scolded you for waking it up, but you couldn’t quite focus your mind on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. Right, left, right.

You didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself up. Oh well, one night on a cold, hard castle floor wouldn’t kill you, right?

Through your hazy vision, you could make out a figure headed your way.

“Y/N?,” the voice called out. You weren’t sure if it was because of your current state or because of the acoustic castle walls, but the noise bounced around over and over, echoing and making you even more dizzy than you already felt.

You groaned and leaned yourself against the wall, the figure appearing in front of you. You forced yourself to look up and see who it was.

You were met with a very confused and concerned looking Regulus. The sight of him left you with a breath of relief. You don’t know why he was roaming the halls this late, but you were sure glad to have him now.

“Reggie,” you gasped. Time was running out quickly now. 

“Y/N, are you alright? What happened?” he asked, dropping his bag and closing the gap between the both of you.

You felt your legs finally give and saw the hallway start to tilt. Regulus caught you quickly and helped you to the ground, laying you down softly but still worried.

“Reggie,” you started once again. You needed to tell him to get you to your dorm where you had countless antidotes and nullifying potions, at least to Slughorn who would know what to do, but fatigue was winning this battle. “Potion… exploded.” you managed to get out.

Regulus shook his head, still not understanding what was happening. “W-what potion? Y/N!”

You knew you were a goner now, your eyes had finally sealed themselves shut and your limbs were incredibly heavy with lethargy. The last thing you remembered was the words coming slowly out of your mouth, “Get… Sirius.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You felt sheets under you. Cold and scratchy. You don’t remember falling asleep last night. In fact, you don’t remember much of anything. You heard hushed murmuring around you, but the words were quiet enough for you to not pick up on.

You cracked your eyes open, light flooding in. You were still a bit groggy, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed the high ceilings and the stained glass. This was certainly not your dorm, these sheets definitely did not belong on your bed. No. You were in the hospital wing.

You sat up straight, the movement making your head pound. You looked frantically around, noting the antidotes and potions on the side table, Madam Pomfrey must have been quite confused about your situation.

You looked down to see James at your bedside, hunched over the bed and resting his head on his crossed arms. He looks surprisingly peaceful given the way he was sleeping. You reached your hand lazily out to him, running your fingers through his hair.

This action roused him from his sleep, his eyes fluttered and brows furrowed as he woke. You smiled down at him.

“She’s awake!” he announced.

Not a moment later Sirius and Remus were rushing into the small curtained off room, taking you in and seeming to sigh a breath of relief. 

“Y/N, love.” Sirius said, approaching the opposite side of the bed that James was taking up. He moved around fast and frantic, looking you over for any injuries.

Remus moved in closer as well, slotting himself in right next to James. He took your face in his hands, feeling for your temperature and checking to make sure you were alright.

You didn’t understand at first why they were fussing so much, but the memories started slowly filling your head. You came to the realization that you passed out in the dungeons after your potion mishap. How embarrassing. 

“Love,” Remus said softly, bringing your attention out of your thoughts and onto him, “what happened?”

You groaned again as he helped you lie back down. “Well,” you began, “You know that potions assignment I’ve been working on for so long?”

The boys all nodded their heads, understanding. How could they not, it was practically all you talked about, what you spent all of your free time on, what you ate, slept, and breathed for the past month. Sirius even complained about it taking you away from them.

“I don't know what happened, I was doing everything right. I had all the ingredients measured properly and in the correct order. I just think that the cauldron was too hot or… i don’t know,” you rambled, “anyway, long story short… it exploded.”

The boys blinked at you for a moment. “Exploded?” James asked. You nodded your confirmation.

“But that doesn’t explain why my brother found you collapsing on the dungeon ground.” Sirius mentioned, still confused and worried.

You turned to him and took his hand into yours, squeezing gently.

“It was a sleeping draught, I guess the fumes of the entire thing just affected me.” you explained to him. You laughed to yourself, “at least I know it was a good potion now.”

Remus smiled but didn’t laugh. “We were really worried, love.” he said, shoulders relaxing knowing that you were alright. 

The feeling of guilt rushed into you. It was probably really scary for them, especially since they had no idea what was wrong. Seeing a loved one in that kind of a state and in the hospital must have been stressful and worrying.

“I’m so sorry,” you started apologizing to them, “It was an accident but, I know that must have been really scary for all of you.” 

James shook his head. “No love, you don’t need to apologize. We’re all just glad you’re alright.”

“Yes but, I know that can’t have been easy, especially not knowing what was happening. I hate that I caused you to worry like that.” you continued.

“Hey,” Sirius stopped you, “like you said, it was an accident, you don’t have to apologize for that. And besides, we are your boyfriends, we worry because it’s our job.”

You went to interject but Remus stopped you. “It’s true,” he said playfully, “James about had a panic attack last week when you went out to Hogsmeade without a jacket.”

You laughed and looked at James who nodded and mouthed ‘it’s true’.

“Luckily you made a smart decision and went towards the Slytherin common room so that Reggie was able to find you,” Sirius said. “I owe him big time.”

“Oh Regulus,” you sighed, “I should definitely apologize to him. It probably looked like I was dying and putting that on him…”

“He was actually pretty calm,” Sirius said, “I was impressed. It seemed like he knew exactly what to do. I’m proud of him, I would’ve been a total mess.”

You giggled. “Noted,” you said, “I’ll make sure not to need life saving in front of you then.”

“Glad to see you have your spirit back.” James laughed.

Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtain closing off your bed area and walked in. “Oh good! You’re awake.” she chimed. “gave us all quite the fright, dear, luckily you were brought straight to me, I had just the antidote for you.”

“And what would have happened if she weren’t brought to you, exactly?” Remus said from beside you, asking out of curiosity.

“She probably would have been out for a couple days.”

“Days?” James asked, shocked.

“Well it’s a good thing I was there then wasn’t it?” Regulus said from the open curtain.

“Reggie!” you called out, glad to see your savior.

Sirius instantly made his way over and in the most exaggerated and over the top way, hugged his brother, making a big display out of it. “Oh my wonderful baby brother. Thank you for saving my love! How will I ever manage to repay your kindness?” he said dramatically, hanging off of Regulus.

“Ugh, get off!” Regulus said, shoving Sirius off of him. Sirius laughed and backed up. “I was just dropping by to see how you were doing.” He said to you.

“I’m doing better now, thanks to you.” you said. “Reggie, I am so sorry, that must have been sort of frightening and-”

“No need to apologize,” he interrupted, “I’m just glad I found you and you weren't spending the night on the cold dungeon floor.

“Well, thank you anyway.” you chuckled. “But if that’s the case, you could have just taken me to my dorm, I have all the antidotes there, you didn’t have to make such a dramatic show of your heroism, dummy.” you sarcastically joked to him. 

“Oh is that so?” Regulus laughed, “Well in that case, I’ll just step over your body next time instead of saving your life.” You laughed along with him.

 Madam Pomfrey cleared you to leave and the boys collected your things for you. You were excited, you knew that now the whole day would be spent with them pampering you to no end. That would mean unlimited cuddles and relaxation and much needed time to make up for with your boys. Exploded potion and Slughorn be damned, you were doing nothing with your boyfriends today.

just some cute poly!marauders content for Remus's birthday :)

[satowooo]

kiss it better

Suguru always hated it when you break up with him when you're having a mental breakdown. So what's he gonna do to make his baby feel better?

contents. slight academic rivals to lovers (barely mentioned), suguru x reader, eventual smut, fluff, cowgirl, bottom suguru, slapping, rough sex, pet names, degration, not proofread.

Do what you gotta do, keep me up all night.

your relationship with suguru became on and off ever since you two started dating. he could vaguely remember why, but he knows one thing.

your relationship with him started off as enemies. he remembers how you were always so angry at him, your bratiness showing every time he was a step further than you in academics.

being a straight A student is something that he likes to brag about, knowing that you're right there to keep him on his toes because you're just as smart as him. he knows how you tire yourself to study every night and day, sleeping and almost living in the library whenever an exam week is coming, never going out of your room and not eating until you understood and memorized all your notes, and how you'd never talk to him the whole time you're busy studying. and what does he hates the most? you breaking up with him for it.

you're a top student, but you're always in second place because he beats you to it. it never fails to make you upset, but you don't really blame suguru for being good at what he does. rather, you blame yourself for not studying enough as if your brain is already not about to explode for every information that you try to force into your brain.

and suguru hates it enough that you have to break up with him just for you to torture yourself in the confines of your room with all the papers and academic works controlling over your body and mind. he hates it everytime because he knows how hard you are being to yourself.

“baby, i’m coming inside, okay?” suguru called outside your door after knocking several times. he didn't wait for another answer as he twists the knob, pushing the door open.

“suguru, no-”

he heard your sniffles. and his heart ache at the sight before him.

you were sitting at your study desk. papers scattered around in a mess, some of it drenched in your tears. your eyes reddened, and you looked at him in frustration as you stood up.

“i told you to leave me alone, suguru.” you said, wiping your tear stained cheek.

he looks over at your bed, to the crumpled sheets, feathers flying around from your pillow, knowing that you probably had been punching it in your frustration. he sighs and walks over to you, immediately cupping your cheeks to look you in the eyes.

“you think breaking up with me would solve the problem?” he whispers softly, kissing your eyes, your tears.

you looked away, tilting your head to the side so as to not look at him. “it's for the better. you're only distracting me from my studies.”

he closed his eyes tightly, before holding your jaw so you could face him properly. your hands clutched his shirt at the proximity between you. “i’m distracting you?” your words sting, his heart clenching at the way you're trying so hard to push him away. but he wouldn't have all that. “come on. i know you're mad. punish me then.”

“suguru-”

“i always tell you that i’m here to help. but you're too hard headed to ask for it.” his tone was firm, his eyes turning dark at the way you tried to get away from his grasp. he lets out an exasperated breath before loosening his grip from you. “don't hurt yourself, baby. hurt me instead.”

“suguru, you don't understand. i am angry, fine, i admit.” the grip you had on his shirt tightened, a shaky breath escaping from your lip as tears started to form on your eyes again. “i don’t want to take it out on you when i’m clearly a mess, suguru. you don't get it because you're always too good and i’m not enough. i can't be enough for you if i’m like this-”

once again, suguru cut you off. your words flying off his ear as he interrupted you with a fierce kiss. his tongue darting out for entrance and you didn't push him away. your words muffled from the way he pressed his lips, making you shut up and revel onto your desires as your lips parted, your tongue delving out to taste him.

all your worries easily slipped away. his thumb swiftly wiping the tear that escaped your eyes while not breaking the kiss. he pulled away for a moment before capturing it once again, this time gentler than the first.

to suguru, it was always the same words no matter how much he reassured you. so what's he going to do? make you feel like the queen you deserved to be.

“come on, princess. just like that.” he grunted, his hand gripping on your hips as he slammed you down on his cock. “come on, tell me how mad you are right now. let me hear you.”

“f-fuck you, suguru…” you gasps, your hips rocking back and forth deliciously on his shaft. your teeth were clenched in frustration, your anger still brewing inside your heart by the way he had you easily straddling him.

“that's it, baby. let it out, let it all out on me.” he coos, gently running his fingers on your spine. the action sent shivers all over your body, your thrust rapidly increasing by each second. “you're so mad, aren't you? you don't like it when i'm doing good?”

"s-stop... ahh..." you huffed, face flushed as your pussy clenched around him. your hips were beginning to ache for how harsh you were slamming against his lap. and he had that annoying look on his face that got you riled up.

you know exactly what he's trying to do. suguru wants a reaction. for you to let it out on him. to be mad at him instead of being mad at yourself.

he gripped your ass firmly, a knowing smirk etched on his lip. “do i make you cry, princess? because i’m better? in studies… and even in fucking you?”

that definitely strikes a nerve right there. your pace increasing, your nails digging on his shoulder from how hard you're holding onto him. “shut up… sh-shut up…”

“that all you got?” he said darkly, sweat forming in his forehead. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before landing a smack, making you jolt in pleasure. “you're so fucking pathetic, princess. you're really crying over that? you look so fucking dumb with my cock inside-”

a harsh slap on his cheek echoed all over the room. your breathing coming in short gasps, while suguru was smiling. he was fucking smiling.

the slap reddened his cheek but it didn't even look like it hurt him. he huffed and squeezed your hip. suguru was drowned in pure bliss as he groaned, your hips thrusting so harshly, squeezing his cock like there's no tomorrow.

“fuck, baby…” he growled, the sting of your slap erotic and pleasurable that it got him ramming his hip upward. you could see the veins on his neck popping out, his eyes darkening as his fingers found your breasts. “fuck y-yeah… do that again, hm? show me how much you fucking hate me…”

you moaned, your back arching and body pressing against his chest. his lips latched on your nipple, while his other hand found your clit. he rubbed circles against it, making you cry and scratch your nails on his chest.

“you’re so worked up for all your studies, and for what?” he sneered, chuckling darkly at you. you bit your lip as another slap went across his cheek, feeling all the anger forcing its way to give him what he wants. you knew damn well that suguru was enjoying on riling you up, coaxing you to take it out on him by saying those words that he knew would gain the right reaction that he needs.

“fuck you, sugu… f-fuck you…”

“doing so well for me, baby.” he leaned forward to capture your lips, his lips grazing your earlobe. “you can do more than that, don't you?”

your thrusts became more erratic as his voice rang over your ears. you grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it down so he could look at you. your face was a mix of both anger and pleasure, a sight that made suguru feel more aroused. he groaned as your hand flew over on his cheek again, his eyes glistening with lust.

“ohh, f-fuck!” the thumb on your clit increased its pace, as slaps after slaps on his face kept coming, eager to erase that stupid grin on his lips.

suguru grunted, his moans getting louder each second that it syncs with your sounds. your hand traveled up his throat, pressing on gently enough to restrict his breathing.

he let out a strangled laugh causing you to land another slap on his face. he can't believe that he felt so fucked out, enjoying the pleasure and roughness that you were giving him. the angered look on your face made his cock twitch inside you.

your hips thrusts up and down. up and down. unrelenting. it became frantic as his cock hit your right spots, driving you wild in ecstasy.

he could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, your thrusts became more urgent, your gripped on his neck beginning to tighten. his eyes were tied shut, suguru’s chest heaving as your wetness engulfed his cock.

“i’m cumming, baby. f-fuck, you gon’ cum, princess? you're doing so good- f-fucking hell…”

he hears your whines. his name rolling out of your tongue in desperation to reach your high. he bucked his hips, thrusting forward to meet yours, pistoning in and out furiously as the pleasure built up.

“suguru! ahh! hhk-” your hips shattered, your body convulsing with your orgasm reaching its peak. suguru let out a growl in pleasure, his hands squeezing your ass firmly. his own orgasm quickly approached, hot semen spurting right inside your sweet hole.

he breathes heavily, thrusting his cum right inside you slowly, making sure that nothing would come to waste. your hands released his neck, seeing how it turned red by the way you gripped so harshly. even his face was all flushed from all the slapping you did, with a small bruise forming on his temple, but suguru had a grin on his face.

his hair disheveled, chest heaving as you both catch your breaths. “still mad, baby?”

you shake your head, looking at him apologetically. “not anymore. i’m sorry, did i hit you too hard?”

suguru chuckled, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure you just gave him. he took your hand in his, kissing your palm softly. “i fucking loved it, baby.”

he looks at you lovingly. suguru has already memorized you like the back of his hands, from your body to your heart and beneath your soul. and he'll do anything to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and cared for. he adores you so much that he wouldn't allow letting your insecurities pull you down.

suguru holds your hips, rocking yourself gently on his cock. your eyes rolling back, a soft moan escaping from your lips. he smiled, resting his head on the crook of your neck. “you're enough, baby. always remember that, okay?” he looked up at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. you basked into the aftermath of your lovemaking, your head falling on his chest as you nodded at his words. “don't ever doubt your abilities. failure is inevitable, it's a part of ourselves that symbolizes the efforts we do for trying.” suguru whispers, gently placing kisses all over your face. “and i love you for all your flaws and failures. don't ever think that you're not enough for me.”

🙂‍↕️ i genuinely want to make an academic rivals to lovers fic/series with suguru

[platypus-brained]

▲ My Phineas Headcanons ▲

-> ▇ My Ferb Headcanons ▇ <-

❀ At school Phineas was constantly getting into trouble for talking over the teacher in class, which he does unintentionally

❀ And when he’s assigned a group project with his classmates Phineas has the habit of automatically doing most of the work and talking (which most take advantage of)

❀ Phineas will let his anger build up and up over time until he explodes like a volcano

❀ His favorite shape is a star! He could’ve picked triangle but that’s too on the nose (see what I did there?)

❀ And he has trouble picking only one favorite color but he favors orange and blue the most

❀ Contrary to popular belief, being optimistic doesn’t always come naturally to Phineas but he always tries to see the light inside the dark (“Summer Belongs to You!”)

❀ On rare bad days Phineas can go non-verbal and when this happens Ferb automatically takes over the talking (or they’ll both write notes to exchange with others)

❀ Before Ferb joined the family little Phineas was constantly Candace’s shadow and would copy everything she did (to both her annoyance and delight)

❀ When little Phineas had a nightmare he would often go to Candace instead of Linda because his big sis never fails to make him laugh

❀ Little Phineas would call Candace “Candy” and he still does on occasion (he likes nicknames)

❀ Phineas impulsively blurts out the first thing that pops into his head (he regrets it sometimes like in “Misperceived Monotreme”)

❀ It actually took some trial and error for him to learn all of Ferb’s subtle facial expressions at first but now he can read Ferb like an open book

❀ Phineas tends to accidentally interrupt people (especially when he’s enthusiastically info dumping) and will feel guilty afterwards

❀ Phineas invites Ferb along when Isabella is only asking him because he doesn’t want Ferb to feel left out (Recall “Out to Launch” for one instance) but this has varying degrees of success

❀ He doesn’t mind being the shortest out of his siblings and friends (short king!)

❀ He can be very clumsy and has hit his big nose on multiple occasions while walking past something (leads to some nose bleeds)

❀ Phineas ends up needing braces when he’s older but he invents something to speed up the teeth alignment process so he doesn’t wear them for long

❀ Phineas has the BIGGEST sweet tooth and especially loves all things chocolate

❀ His camera roll is filled with a ton of Perry pictures/videos and he’ll look at them when he has to leave Perry behind to go on a trip that doesn’t allow pets

❀ He likes to use Perry as a temporary hat and loves to come up with a ton of Perry related invention ideas (Recall “Across the 2nd Dimension”)

❀ Phineas develops a natural “sixth sense” for when Perry disappears and reappears (he’ll be the first to sense Perry’s presence when the platypus walks in a room and will point it out to everyone)

❀ He’s good at at balancing things on his head or nose like a seal (Ferb can as well)

❀ While Ferb has a particular interest in aquatic animals, Phineas has an interest in birds! (hinted at in “The Beak” and “A Chip to the Vet”)

❀ Phineas comes up with original song lyrics on the spot, especially when the mood strikes him, and will write them down in a notebook (he needs to buy a lot of new notebooks as a result)

❀ He snores and sleep talks a lot much to his embarrassment to which Ferb tenses him for it

❀ He has tried and failed to copy Ferb’s and Lawrence’s British accents much to their amusement but he does use British slang on occasion

❀ Phineas feels like something’s wrong or missing when he and Ferb are separated for a long period of time, which is why he struggles with coming up with invention ideas without him (“It’s No Picnic”)

❀ He struggles with grammar and spelling mistakes (“It’s About Time”) even when he’s older so his text messages are usually misspelled

❀ If Phineas gives you and only you the silent treatment after you’ve upset him you messed up BIG TIME

❀ Phineas (and Ferb to a lesser extent) love robots but he can never fully trust them after experiencing a few mishaps of them turning against their creators (“I, Brobot”)

❀ He struggles to sit still and prefers to sit in unconventional ways like upside down

❀ He can’t stand dead silence and needs any kind of background noise no matter how insignificant!

[cheegu3]

Hi there! I love your new piece on tbz new 🔥 can I request a jealous yandere non con (or dubcon) smut with enhypen sunghoon? Perhaps he can be a prince and y/n a maid. As for the premise, it could be him harboring interest in you despite already being bethroted to another princess and you never returning as much as even a glance. It all kind of exploded when he saw you hanging out and laughing with the gardener (who was your childhood friend). It riled him so much to see you not only talk but laugh with someone as lowly as a gardener and yet spare not even a glance towards a royalty like him. And so he drags yn to his chambers, hoping to seduce yn and when failed proceeded to eff the hell out of her for hours. Thank you in advance 😸

hi, thank u sm, also sorry for the wait! I LOVE this idea ur a genius are u kidding???

I love prince fics & I got super invested pls ;-; in honor of their amazing comeback <3 I did do a little twist tho based on your prompt, I hope that was okay c:

warnings; non-con / dub-con, yandere themes, self victim-blaming, mentions of hanging & bones, possessiveness & jealousy, sexual content, swearing, non-con kissing, sunghoon being super pushy; sexual harassment & mentions of it, misogynistic undertones, allusions to baby trapping, sickness, wrong use of royal terms

pairing; sunghoon x f.m reader

wc; 3.8k

prince!sunghoon - mine only

Sunghoon hated any other girl but you. Any time he laid his eyes on them, he was filled with such disgust he couldn't help but let show on his face. His delicate features, the ones fitting of a prince, twisted into the most cruel face as his mood soured the longer he was forced to look at them.

His lips curled in spite. But then a small movement would cause his gaze to shift, to you. The change in softness didn't go unnoticed by the others in the room. They shifted uncomfortably, hoping the king and queen hadn't noticed who their little prince was really in love with.

You cleared your throat and mentally prepared yourself, hands hovering near the curtains. One last glance at the sleeping man in the bed was made before you dragged them to the side.

''Good morning, sir. ''

Despite the cold winter weather outside, bright sunlight streamed in through the wide windows, casting a big glow on his face. He fluttered his eyes open slowly, blinking as you became clearer in his view.

He closed them again, and you grimaced as he smirked, you were his favorite maid. He felt happy that his parents had noticed that at least. Even if they didn't notice how obviously deep his feelings for his little maid actually went.

'' Good morning, '' he mumbled, his voice raspy from sleep.

You went over to the dresser and pulled out his clothes for the day which you placed on a stool. Then you turned the tap on in the bath and hurried towards the door.

But like always, he was quicker than you. In an instant, he had jumped to his feet and ended up between you and the door.

'' Where are you going? ''

You swallowed down your irritation. '' Sir, you do not need me to help you bathe. ''

You sounded formal, and your words were polite, which always made him smile in amusement. But there was an edge to your voice. Quite admittedly, you were sick of him playing this game every single morning and also the other games he'd try with you ever since he seemed to have taken a special interest in you.

The other maids fawned over him, they would've done anything to be in your place now. You had taken the job out of absolute necessity, with your mom being sick and your siblings too young, you desperately needed money.

You had tried to keep your head down and not catch any attention. However, it seemed that those who tried not to get noticed always did.

'' But I do, '' he said slyly. '' You wouldn't want me to go to my mother now, would you? ''

There it was, the threat that always came after you defied his wishes. You had a hard time hiding your true feelings, somehow especially in front of him. His eyes flitted over to your clenched fists; you had to dig your nails into your palms for you to hold yourself back.

'' No, sir. Of course not. ''

He nodded, like the thing had been settled peacefully, and then walked over to the now full bath. You flinched away when he casually took off his only clothing and slipped in.

You inhaled shakily. With wobbly legs, you kneeled at the bath, trying not to make eye contact with him. You could feel his predator-like eyes on you, practically could vision the satisfied look on his face too.

Rapt knocks on the door followed by the shrill voice of his mother saved you. '' Sunghoon! You need to hurry, we have guests arriving soon! ''

You looked down into your lap where you had busied your hands by rolling up and then flattening your maid dress and smiled to yourself. You didn't really care if he saw it, if anything you wished he would so he could see that not everyone was so eager to be in the presence of the beautiful prince.

He rolled his eyes but managed to answer his mom in a normal tone. '' Almost done. ''

You got up and felt light on your feet when you laid out the bathrobe and moved the clothes near the bathtub. He'd be busy today. You weren't sure if that was the reason his mood all of a sudden soured, or if it was because of what he was doing today.

'' No need to look so happy just yet. I'll still have you all evening. ''

Your face fell, which only made him light up again. He chuckled and got out, draping the bathrobe around his broad shoulders.

For some reason, he paused before getting his clothes on. You felt your stomach turn even though you had no idea what he was thinking of.

But you found out soon enough when he pushed the robe off again and looked at the towels stuffed under the basin. You met eyes with him, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from sneering out in the open.

'' Dry me. ''

'' What? '' you gasped.

He had never asked you to do that before. Even though he was generally horrible and extremely annoying, this was taking it a step too far; judging by his face, he knew that too.

There was no way you could refuse a prince however, so you pulled yourself together and approached him, your hands crinkling the towel.

You turned him around and lightly dragged it over his back. Your eyes met in the mirror above the basin and you quickly looked away when he turned to you.

At the speed of light, you dragged it over his chest and arms and then crouched down, your head turned towards the ground with cheeks red in humiliation while you dried his legs.

You got up, hoping he hadn't seen your embarrassment, and turned away as he finally pulled his clothes on, being able to take the breath you'd been holding in at last.

'' Your Highness? '' another voice came by the door, it sounded like one of the other maids.

'' Coming, '' he rolled his eyes.

You felt like you had been saved by him being in a hurry, instead of stalling he walked right out without playing with you any longer. Outside, two other maids, one guard, and his mother stood, all looking stressed and impatient.

'' They are already here, '' his mother leaned in to whisper panicked.

You walked at the very back but still got a good look at the guests she had been referring to. A beautiful young girl who seemed to be about your age stood between an older male and female, presumably her parents.

Your eyes went over all of them, and from their good looks to their straight postures and the fine material of their clothes, anyone could tell that they were noble born just like the royal family.

One of the younger maids told you that they were another royal family and that they had traveled far to see if Mr. Park was a good match for their princess daughter.

Having heard this, you studied the young girl again. Her attention seemed to be fixed on Sunghoon while the parents exchanged some stiff, small talk.

This day in particular had been set up for them to go over all of the necessary things while the princess and the prince got to know each other, of course while being chaperoned.

Luck was only partly on your side today. You could already feel intuitively who he'd pick before he even turned to you, that sneer on his perfect lips again.

The other maids patted your back, saying it was an honor but you had to bite down the sour expression that wanted to show and politely followed after them.

A guard walked a few paces behind you, just to make sure no harm could be done to the prince. As the pair stopped by the fish pond you found yourself bored and looked curiously at the guard.

He caught your eyes and you hurriedly looked away. However, that was all he needed. He came up to your side and joined you in leaning against the big tree.

'' Sorry, I needed a rescue. ''

You looked surprised. '' You did? ''

You somehow hadn't really thought of the grueling work the guards must do every day, only feeling quite sorry for the maids as you all were in such close contact with the royal family.

'' Long days and not much happens, '' he shrugged and looked towards Sunghoon and the princess.

'' What do you think of this union? ''

'' It's...an ideal match. Maybe not what the prince desires but if he wants to be king, he'll have to learn that he can't always have his way.''

You felt like you already knew the answer deep down, yet you still asked. '' What do you mean? What does the prince desire? ''

He turned to you. '' Surely you must know. He wants you. ''

Your breath hitched and you had to place a hand on your stomach to make yourself take a few deep breaths.

'' I-uh, '' you cringed.

What was there to say to that? You could deny it even if it was obvious, but what was the point in doing that?

'' Why? '' was what you settled on at last, it was something you had wondered for a really long time.

The guard chuckled and looked down at the frost-covered ground, then he gestured towards them.

'' See that girl? ''

'' The princess? Yeah, '' you laughed in disbelief.

'' How do you think she feels about our prince? Just by looking at her.''

You focused on the princess for a moment. She was smiling and laughing loudly. Her heart-eyes rarely left him, even when silence passed between them.

'' She...likes him. Finds him attractive and charming, I guess. ''

He hummed, '' That's exactly why. ''

You knitted your eyebrows and chewed on your lip slightly as a frown formed while looking at him. He could tell that you didn't get it.

'' But you're not like that, are you? ''

Your lips parted in surprise. He liked you because you didn't like him? A laugh slipped out.

'' That doesn't really make any sense. ''

The guard crossed his arms across his chest and shook his head firmly. He was still watching the pair who had made their way onto the dock now.

'' He's attracted to her too, '' you added, observing him as well.

'' No. It's different. Men like our prince, they are used to getting what they want. All their life has been pretty much nothing but sweet, and girls have been throwing themselves at his feet, ready to do anything.''

'' Is that so bad? '' you said silently.

'' Well, I suppose one downside with being a prince is that you get bored pretty quickly. It's human nature to like working for things before we achieve them too, is it not? ''

You looked from the guard to the prince again and gasped when you realized he was staring right at you now.

'' It's not fun having everything you want, it gets boring very fast. I think our prince is like that especially, he likes the thrill of chasing. ''

You listened to what he was saying but it became more muffled while the prince was staring you down. His lips curled in disgust and you felt uneasy. This feeling doubled when he started moving towards the tree you were standing against.

'' As my guard, it is your job to keep me safe, '' he sounded very angry, his jaw was tense and his narrowed eyes were shaking.

'' Your highness- ''

'' What if I had gotten assassinated right then as I was standing on the dock! '' he screamed, making both of you flinch.

'' But, your highness- ''

'' Someone could have snuck up behind and I would've died immediately. It would have been your fault. All because instead of doing what you were told to, you were flirting with the maid. One of my maids! ''

The emphasis on '' my '' maid, made your eyes widen. This passionate outburst was very much due to jealousy, and suddenly, you found yourself terrified for what would happen to the guard now.

An awkward and tense silence fell over the group. The princess craned her neck on the dock to try and see what was going on while Sunghoon was locked in a staring match with the poor guard, it almost looked like they were fighting for dominance.

Eventually, the guard had to give in. Otherwise, he'd lose his job. He unfolded his arms and let them fall to his side, straightening his posture simultaneously.

'' I apologize, your highness. It won't happen again. ''

Sunghoon snickered, then went deadly serious again. '' I know it won't. ''

You sensed the threat in his voice and cleared your throat which immediately made his eyes throw daggers at you. He didn't want you to butt in but you felt like you had to, this was your fault as much as his.

'' Forgive me, your highness. ''

He ticked his tongue in annoyance.

'' It's not his fault, I was- '' however, you stopped here, not sure how you were going to finish the sentence.

'' You will get repercussions too, just you wait. ''

This was the last thing he said before returning to the dock next to the princess. He didn't look nearly as happy as she did. Before, he'd likely faked it out of politeness but it seemed the whole altercation had spoiled his mood and drained his energy.

The princess' smile faded when he didn't return her warm energy and chirpy mood again, and you felt bad for her. There were maybe more pressing matters at hand, like how the prince would punish you but all you could do now though was push that to the back of your mind.

'' It will do us no good to be scared, '' the guard echoed your thoughts.

You stiffly nodded, almost unnoticeable in case Sunghoon's hawk eyes happened to land on you again.

Despite the conversation dying down, the pair stood at the dock for a few more minutes before the prince turned and took the lead into the gardens.

You thought that he was going to show her the beautiful zen part of it at the back where he often spent time. Anxiously you watched as he bent down and whispered something in her ear. He then came over to you again.

'' Let's go. ''

You didn't dare ask where. He glanced at the guard too, so he followed closely behind. Despite your lack of questions however, you quickly got a sense of where you were going when he turned down the hallway that was rarely used.

He pried the rusty door open and walked first down the stone stairs, which echoed every step off the walls. You and the guard shared a look of horror. Before Sunghoon would get impatient, you hurried down after him.

But when he turned he ignored you, instead fixing his attention on the guard. A single jail cell in the royal family's dungeons stood open.

You felt your stomach turn upon seeing the mossy skull at the corner of it and the unwelcoming wet, cold cobble floor. It didn't even have a bed.

'' Get in, '' he jerked his head to the jail cell.

'' And me? '' your voice broke.

'' Oh, you won't be hanged like him, darling. Don't worry. ''

You weren't so sure that was a good thing. He had a glint in his eyes that made you consider squeezing into the jail cell with the guard; maybe even dropping to your knees and begging him to leave you down there.

Whatever it was, it wasn't good, you thought as he locked the jail cell. The guard gave you a sad smile that he looked like he had to force, but he didn't look scared, even when he knew he was dying.

'' I'm sorry, '' you pitifully whispered to him when Sunghoon's hand wrapped around your upper arm as he started dragging you up to the surface again.

'' I know, '' he softly said, his tone melancholy.

You weren't sure if you had imagined it, but you winced and inhaled sharply. The feeling of his nails digging into your skin had overcome you suddenly. Yet Sunghoon looked at you perplexed when you threw him a glare.

At the surface, you could barely register where you were going. The sharp turns made you feel extremely disoriented and almost nauseous. You wondered why he was in such a rush.

In the end, when the world stopped spinning at last, you blinked and noticed that you were in Sunghoon's bedchamber again.

'' Why have you taken me here? ''

He snickered. '' You know I don't want to marry the princess, don't you? ''

You shifted uncomfortably and swallowed down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat.

'' Yes, sir. ''

'' Well, '' he took a step toward you, and reacting automatically, so did you.

You felt the edge of the bed press into the back of your thighs. He had purposefully pushed you in that direction. The prince gave you a cruel smirk and then dragged the curtains shut. The feeling of unease only doubled, you were starting to feel sick for real now.

'' Who do you think I want to marry, miss? ''

You grimaced. '' I don't know, your highness. ''

His arrogance faded, replaced with anger at you addressing him like the other workers again. Any time you did that, it was like a slap in the face, reminding him of your difference in ranks; of how you could never be, of how, he could never get what he really wanted.

But not today, and not from today forward.

Sunghoon pushed you down so easily with just two mocking fingers to your chest, so you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

'' You. '' his voice shook, sending shivers down your spine.

He double-checked that the door was closed and then began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

'' Sir? ''

You started anxiously fiddling with your hands. Was there a chance you could escape somehow while he was distracted? You eyed the door and went from looking at it to watching him with his back turned.

No, the odds didn't look good. In the time that it would take for you to run to the door, he would've already turned around. Then you would have to undo the lock and run with a good distance between him and you so he wouldn't catch you.

You sighed deeply. In an instant, he whipped around and came toward you again. '' Sorry to keep you waiting, princess. ''

Princess? What game was he playing now?

You frowned and pushed yourself further back on the bed by your forearms. Only a few seconds later, he loomed over you again, like a magnet attached to you.

Recognizing the look in his eyes, you already knew what was coming. There was a small voice in your head that told you not to fight it, it would hurt even more if you did. But there was also another voice, an irreparable sadness, because you had always feared this, and now it was happening.

You couldn't help but blame yourself. You knew how sensitive and brutal he could be, you should've done anything in your power to not upset him so it wouldn't have come to this. Sometimes you wondered if he had done this to the young female workers that came before you. No one had answered when you asked, yet, how could you not fear the worst when they left his company in tears?

You laid down and didn't move, just letting him slip your clothes off while you tried to think of something else. His hands were cold, like a corpse, it felt fitting somehow.

When his fingers grazed your underwear you sucked in air through your teeth.

'' Do you have to do this? I don't want to. ''

He already had an answer prepared, a perfect and tempting answer, most likely prepared beforehand, or perhaps reused from another time.

'' Don't you want to live a better life? A life in luxury? In happiness?'' he sat up and straddled you for a moment, out of breath due to excitement. '' Think of your family, what my riches could do to them. ''

' Do to them. ' That was the problem, he always did things to people, never for them. You smiled bitterly.

Tears prickled your eyes and this time the lump in your throat felt too big to swallow. You tried not to, but as soon as he mentioned your family you pictured them in your mind. Your sick mother, gasping for breath, your younger siblings in whose eyes you could sometimes detect hatred.

Hatred because mother wasn't getting better. They knew that you were responsible for her, and no matter what you did, your pay wasn't enough to make her better, so they blamed you for it.

You sniffled and turned your head away from him. He turned you back to him immediately.

'' Don't you want that, my love? ''

'' How would you do that? ''

He snickered. Had you fallen for his trap so easily?

'' There are a lot of options. I can kill my parents and become king, and then no one can tell me who I can or cannot marry. ''

Your mouth fell open. He had said it so casually, so callously.

'' Or I can threaten them, beg them to change their mind or, make you my concubine. ''

His lips lifted into a small smile. The little lighting that managed to slip in through the drawn curtains, lit up his crazed eyes that stuck out in the dark, it terrified you. Were you really sure what you were getting yourself into?

The prince moved your panties down all the way, making you let out a gasp and try to hide yourself. He wouldn't let you do that; pinching you painfully as a warning. Next, he hurried to take his own underwear off and then pinned one of your wrists down with his hand, while using his other to stroke your hair out of your face lovingly.

He dipped down and kissed you passionately and hard, knocking the air and protests out of your lungs. With your eyes being closed, he took the opportunity and parted your legs, entering you so harshly and unpreparedly that you wailed loudly.

He started moving his hips rhythmically and the pain shot up throughout your whole body. Stubbornly he pressed his lips against yours, constantly wanting to be attached to you, only stopping occasionally so you could breathe.

Your shaky whimpers were like music to his ears, and the salty tears that ran down your cheeks and were licked by him were like his own personal drug.

'' Whatever I choose, '' he panted, speaking for the first time.

His voice sent shivers down your spine again, but this time, it was fear that started to mix with pleasure. Your moan was muffled by his hungry lips.

He growled back in your ear, '' You are mine, mine only, ''

[cece693]

Hear me out percy jackson x demeter reader what if reader got kidnapped too by Luke just like Hades but reader doesn't like Luke an let me tell you percy and demeter ARE GOING WILD the crops are all dead and the water is going crazy

That's all thank you!

YOU TOOK THE WRONG PERSON

pairing: percy jackson x son of demeter

You were never meant to be part of the prophecy. You weren’t a warrior, not in the traditional sense. You could make vines grow through concrete, calm wild animals with your voice, and coax life from dry earth—but a fighter? No. You weren’t supposed to be on the battlefield.

But you were Percy’s.

And that made you a target.

They took you in the night—Luke and his followers. You fought, of course you did. You thrashed and shouted and lashed out with roots and thorn-covered whips, but Luke had planned this. He used celestial bronze nets soaked in hydra venom to dull your magic, and even as you screamed Percy’s name, the earth couldn’t reach you. Your mother couldn’t reach you.

At least, not yet.

Camp Half-Blood woke up to wilting gardens. Strawberries shriveled on the vine. Roses blacken mid-bloom. The Demeter cabin is on its knees, their prayers unanswered, the soil refusing to listen. But that’s only the beginning. Because when Percy finds out, when Chiron breaks the news that Luke took you,—“We think he intends to use them as leverage. You’re close, and their connection to the seasons—”

Percy’s already gone.

He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t shout. He just leaves, a storm trailing behind him. Quite literally.

The skies turn black. The ocean begins to surge unnaturally, even in places far from Poseidon's domain. Water floods subway systems and overflows dams. Rain won’t stop. Thunder pounds the clouds like a war drum. And Demeter? She’s not idle, either.

“My son,” she says, her voice brittle as frost. “Taken like Persephone. But this time, I will not weep. I will rage.” She refuses to bring spring. Crops fail. Vineyards rot. Fields across the globe dry into brittle husks.

Humanity begins to notice. But none of that matters to Percy.

He would tear the world apart ocean by ocean if it meant getting you back.

Meanwhile…

Luke tries to manipulate you, playing the old card of, “They don’t care about the truth, only the prophecy,” and, “You and I could be so much more.”

You stare at him like he's soil that refuses to grow. “You’re not Hades,” you spit. “You don’t get to play villain and still act like you’re in love with the world you’re trying to destroy.”

“You think Percy will come for you?” Luke mocks, cruel. “He’s a pawn of Olympus.”

You stare at him, the pain in your wrists forgotten, your breath catching not from fear but fury. Your voice is soft when you speak, but every word lands like the crack of roots splitting stone.

“No,” you say, gaze locked and unflinching. “That’s where you keep getting it wrong. He’s not a pawn.” You lean forward, eyes sharp with something ancient, something your mother passed into your bones like wildseed. “He’s the storm. He doesn’t take orders—he makes the sea rise.”

Luke falters—just for a second.

“He’ll come for me,” you continue, your voice calm, almost pitying, “not because the gods told him to. Not for Olympus. But because he loves me. And you? You wouldn’t know what that kind of loyalty looks like if it strangled you in your sleep.”

The silence stretches. You feel it in the walls—the faint tremble of far-off water

“You’re not a god,” you finish. “You’re just a boy playing tyrant in someone else’s war.” And that’s when the walls groan. Dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere above, something—no, everything—shifts.

Luke’s smug smile finally cracks. “What did you do?”

You blink slowly. “I didn’t do anything.” You tilt your head, listening. “But the tide’s coming in.”

And then it hits.

The far wall of the chamber explodes inward, not with fire—but with water. Pressurized and howling like a leviathan. It floods the corridor, swallowing Luke’s guards in seconds. Vines as thick as tree trunks burst through cracks in the floor and lash out like serpents, tearing down pillars, choking weapons from hands, dragging the unworthy underground.

And then—him.

Percy stands in the breach. Soaked to the bone, blood trailing from his temple, celestial bronze blade clenched so tightly in his fist it creaks. His sea-green eyes land on you, and something ancient and wild ripples behind them.

“Get away from him,” Percy says, and there’s no room for argument. His voice booms like waves against cliffs. “Now.”

Luke draws his sword. “You won’t make it out of here with him,” Luke hisses. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“You already lost,” Percy growls. “The ocean doesn’t ask permission.”

And suddenly he’s moving—the kind of speed you don’t see, only feel. Water blasts forward in a crashing spiral, knocking Luke off his feet. The two clash in a blur of silver and blue. You watch helplessly, shackled, vines too exhausted to respond—but the earth is listening again. You whisper low, coaxing the stone, and slowly, steadily, the roots obey.

Chains snap. Your arms fall limp at your sides, burning—but free. Just in time to see Luke flat on his back, sword flung from his grasp. Percy doesn’t strike the killing blow. No. He plants a foot on Luke’s chest and points Riptide at his throat. “You hurt him. You took him."

Percy’s voice trembles—not from weakness, but from holding back the kind of wrath that could shatter continents. “You tried to break the world by using the person I love most as bait.”

Luke sneers, though he’s pinned. “Still think you’re a hero? You’ll never stop it—Kronos is coming. You’re just another demigod in the meat grinder, Jackson.”

“Maybe,” Percy says, eyes burning. “But I’m the demigod who’s still standing.”

He doesn’t kill him—not out of mercy, but defiance.

Instead, he lets the earth have him.

Vines snap from the ground, curling around Luke’s limbs, dragging him down like an ancient punishment—the wrath of Demeter herself. The floor cracks, soil groaning, and the last thing Luke sees before darkness claims him is Percy wrapping you in his arms.

Percy collapses to his knees beside you, arms instantly pulling you in. He smells of salt and blood and ozone, the sharp scent of a storm that finally passed. “I’m here,” he breathes. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

You sag against him, the adrenaline finally fading. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” Percy says, almost incredulous. His voice cracks at the edges. “I’d flood the world if that’s what it took. You think gods scare me? You think fate scares me?” He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over the grime and dried blood. “Losing you—that’s the only thing that terrifies me.”

You lean into the touch. “You scared the plants.”

He laughs wetly, eyes still shining. “You scared the sea.”

[bodhiscurls]

clean cut. ( bodhi durran )

bodhi gets tired of you feeling ticklish anytime he comes near to kiss you. barber yn activated, ready with a dagger to save the day and restore balance in the world (i.e he finally gets a kiss)

main pairing: bodhi durran x reader (gn)

themes: fluff

your laughter is like sweet honey, so warm and deep if he could bathe in it, bodhi durran decides he would.

"just one," he groans into your cheek but your hands come up to stop him immediately, forming a barrier between you and him. the distance is palpable and if it weren't for the sound of your loud giggles then he would have torn them down within seconds.

"well i'm sorry," you manage to get out between the fits of you heaving for air. "and how is this my fault?"

it's most definitely his fault.

as sharp and as quick witted he is, brave and determined to no fault. in the last few days, bodhi durran has become lazy with himself. you'll give him grace and draw this down to his extra training hours and drop off schedule stealing his time that the only few minutes he gets involve sleeping by your side to get whatever rest he can. he never imagined that the low hang of his curls draping over his chocolate eyes or his overgrown stubble that would tickle you anytime he drew close to you to steal a kiss would be such an inconvenience to him.

he tries again and pointedly fails. this time, instead of meeting your palm when he fights to place his lips on yours hes met with your shoulder as you turn away.

"stop it!" he complains, annoyance etched into his usual features. if you didn't find this so funny then maybe the sight of him would have scared you slightly but its bodhi. your bodhi who desperately needs a shave.

"nuh uh mister," you scoff, "you know i'm ticklish" you glare, body aching in a warning- that if he tries again you'll have to find a dagger.

"fine," he mumbles lowly and rolls off of you in an instant. the heavy weight of his body and warmth is immediately missed and you sit upright on his bed.

"where are you going?" you call after him as you catch the edges of his curls disappearing into the direction of his bathroom. when he doesn't respond, only huffs with annoyance you slide out of his covers to where your lover is hiding.

"bodhi," you call and you miss the step below leading into the bathroom and crash directly into him.

"hi," you whisper, face inches apart as he catches your body with such ease, holding you flush against him.

"hey," he whispers back, the fuzz of the hair tickling your skin once more and you bite back the urge to wiggle free. he lifts you up and places you on top of the cabinet where you sit comfortably and he stands between your legs. in the quiet of his bathroom he hands you his sharpest dagger and you quirk a brow quizzically.

"what are you waiting for?" he leans his forehead against yours. "do your worst," his breath warms the small air between you. slowly you work your way around his hair, just trimming each of the curls gently so that you're able to see the sliver of his forehead peak through and the brown eyes you've grown to love oh so fondly.

"much better," you smile, "maybe now you can actually see the world before you try and save it, executive officer durran."

he sticks his tongue in his cheek, grinning at you before rolling his eyes gently. "and here i thought long hair was a look."

"with hair that long i don't think you could even look at your reflection nevermind anything else," you tease and a burst of laughter explodes from his chest. he's buzzing and in this moment, he's easily the most radiant being you've ever seen in your life.

"come on hairy, let's fix that beard now," you swap the dagger for a razor and gently glide the blade along his cheek. you're so focused intently on trying not to cut him that you don't realise your holding your own breath. he stares at you, heart swelling and melting under your intensity and he can feel the love that settles between you. this domesticity couldn't feel any more natural. having all your attention on him makes him feel as if truly, he's the luckiest man to ever exist.

you hold his jaw with one hand and narrow your gaze, working your way around his face. slowly and surely, the fuzz is erased and the shadows of its existence begin to lie. you trace it gently, a clean slate, you muse. and tap the blade into the sink, running clean water over it.

"perfect," you mumble, admiring your hard and careful work. he's perfect, you think. and before you can slide off the cabinet to fetch a clean rag to wipe off the residue he grips the side of your hips, holding you in place.

firmly he presses his lips to yours and for the first time in days (read: forever) he isn't met with your stream of giggles and barricade of hands pushing him away. the kiss is soft, slow but still holds the longing he's carried this last week of missing your embrace.

"one more," he promises when you break free from his hold and plants a soft peck to the corner of your lips again. he grins at the flush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks, a rosy glisten- evidence of his adoration and effect on you and you sigh into his hold, resting your chin in the gap where his shoulder and neck meet, wrapping your arms firmly around him.

but of course one more turns into a thousand more and you wouldn't have it any other way.

note: i dont really like this one but i'm determined to at least get something out. incoming next: hot bodhi nerd who takes his glasses off in the middle of a heated kiss. read: i am sleep deprived after working nonstop and need actual rest or i will slip into this delusional state permanently :)

[voidpvllman]

hazard pay | bob reynolds

summary: working with the new avengers had it’s own long list of hazards. but most dangerous of all was your own boyfriend…

warnings: mention of panic attacks, nightmares, trauma, violence, ptsd, injury, mention of sexual themes but nothing graphic

The job came with quite a bit of hazards.

Sharing a space with three super soldiers, a deadly assassin, an only partially physical being and a slightly unstable, utterly invincible accidental super-weapon that also had the power to destroy the world.

Said unbeatable and unstoppable super weapon also happened to be your boyfriend.

Sentry, The Void, Bob Reynolds. The power of a thousand exploding suns, or whatever stupid idiom they had used… Your golden boy. You had called him that once and his smile lit up the entire room. Maybe it was his smile that held the power of a million suns- or whatever they said. It was those moments that made all the others worth it.

Patching the injuries, cleaning up after the sleep deprived and jet lagged heroes. Even the nights you spent talking Bob out of his darkest memories, slowly losing himself in the deep pits of his mind. You were thankful for the people that shared the space with you. They all knew something about pain, a haunted past and trauma that refused to let go. Bob was ultimately the most dangerous part of your job. Just looking at him, one would never guess that he had the ability to be one of the most dangerous beings in the world. He stuttered over sentences, he was clumsy and awkward, and always anxious in public places.

It killed Bob knowing he could hurt you without even touching you. Worst of all, there had been many nights where he nearly had. A nightmare that felt too real woke him to his hands around your throat. A panic attack had sent glass crashing into you. A joke from Walker had triggered a spiral that shook the entire tower. The others understood Bob, to a point. Yelena was great at talking him out of his own head and reminding him he was no longer alone. But it didn’t always work. And Bob swore that it was different with you. He once said that all the drugs in the world didn’t have the same effect on him that you did. You highly doubted that, but it was extremely sweet. He was obsessed with you. Even with the fear and the anxiety, he needed you close at all times. He was clingy. Bob was needy. Both of these were things you hated if they came from anyone else. He was desperate, needing to always have the one thing that brought him peace and didn’t feel like a total screw up as close as possible. Some days, he was so worried he would somehow lose you that he just clung to you with tears in his eyes. Other days, he tried (and failed) pushing you away to avoid hurting you. He struggled with hating himself for things he had done years ago. He regretted a lot of things and often convinced himself that he would never deserve you and couldn’t understand how the universe had given you to him.

Bob reminded you of the sea. He had waves. There would be very low lows, and then immense highs. The lows would threaten to pull him under, while the highs propelled him back to shore. Even though he was overly cautious, and terrified to lose you or do anything to hurt you, he still needed you close. At all times. He would follow you around the tower like a lost puppy. While you worked, he would sit in whatever room you were in and read, usually out loud to you. The others hated it, but good thing they were usually away on missions… Bob would follow you to the shower. On good days, he would sit on the lid of the toilet and read to you, or tell you about whatever book he was reading, or something he had seen that reminded him of you. On bad days, he would follow you right in under the water, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him from drowning. On really good days, he would also follow you into the shower, desperate for a new type of distraction that kept the bathroom fogged up long after the hot water ran out.

You had never planned on sharing a room with him so early on. It had started with four days straight of Bob not sleeping. You had gone on a one a.m. escapade for water and found Bob on the couch, reading by the dim light of his almost dead phone. He was going for day five of his not sleeping streak. You closed the fridge and grabbed Bob’s hand. He dropped the book and followed you, saying nothing, but reminding you of a scolded child. You led him into your room and turned on the lamp beside your bed. He hated the dark. Bob hesitated, fidgeting anxiously with his hands. You raised your eyebrows slightly at him and he cautiously climbed into your bed. You closed your eyes against the rustling sheets and ever-shifting person beside you. Minutes passed and he finally settled down, arms bent under his head, elbow slightly pushed into your back. Your boyfriend was still tense. You had been together for over a month, yet he still felt as if he was intruding when it came to you. “Bob.” You finally spoke when the shifting started again, the entire bed creaked as he tried to get comfortable. “Sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I can just go, I- I’m sorry, I run hot- And-“ You shifted to face him, taking in his anxious expression. His entire body practically buzzed with nervous energy.

“Give me your hand.”

Bob looked at you nervously, eyes widening slightly in surprise. He had expected you to kick him out, or tell him to calm down at the very least. Cautiously, he put his hand in your’s. He exhaled, focusing on your pulse against his wrist. His own heartbeat slowed. He exhaled again, the faintest smile on his lips. He was asleep in minutes. He was like a radiator against you. A fact you wouldn’t complain about, as the four super humans all ran hot and evidently needed the thermostat to be set at a temperature polar bears would find comfortable. You woke to arms around you. Bob was curled against you, face buried against your back. He hadn’t moved once last night, except to get closer to you. He slept deeply and dreamlessly, for the first time probably ever. Bob shifted slightly, letting out a content smile, “Good morning.” You could hear the smile on his lips before you even looked. He placed a sleepy kiss on your forehead and you realized that had been the first time he did that. “Thank you… For-“ he trailed off, pulling you even closer, into his chest.

Bob never initiated anything. Not even conversations, in the beginning. He was so scared to even talk to you when he first realized he had feelings for you, as if feeling something too strongly would put you at risk. The first two weeks after you had finally gotten together, he refused to step into your room. He would crack the door open and wave shyly, waiting for you to come out to him. “You can come in, Bob.” He would shake his head and laugh nervously, ducking out of your doorway like he had done something illegal. Finally, after two weeks entire weeks of this, he would start reading in your room, curled up on the floor, or on your beanbag chair, but never on the bed. Bob didn’t care if you were in his room, but that was about the only time he would be in his room. The light was always on, but he was barely ever in it. He would sit on his bed with you, under the blankets, arms around you, watching whatever movie he had been excited to show you. But your bed was sacred. Your room was sacred. He still knocked before entering, he still greeted you with that shy smile before waiting for you to invite him in.

The night he didn’t shocked you.

Bob cracked the door open as you were in bed for the night, halfway through a book. You looked up in surprise, smirking just slightly. “Hi.” It was that same shy smile, and same awkward wave that wasn’t ever needed. “Can I- Um- Can I…stay with you again? Tonight?” You hadn’t seen him much today since he had woken up in your bed. You shifted to the side of your bed and pulled back the covers for him. Bob climbed in beside you, settling into the covers with a content expression. “Thank you. Thanks, I- I couldn’t fall asleep again, but… With you it’s..it’s quiet.” You closed your book and dropped it on the floor beside you. Bob was facing you, smiling as you draped your arm over his chest and closed your eyes.

The next night, Bob was cracking your door open again at ten thirty, after everyone else had gone to their rooms. You shifted again, pulled back the sheets and watched him climb in beside you. Every night he fell asleep instantly. Every night you woke to him holding you so tightly that his sweat had gone through your own shirt. Every night, the light didn’t need to stay on. This routine went on for a week. Bob had just turned the light off when you shifted, “Bob.” He hummed in acknowledgment, against your chest. “Do you want to just stay permanently?” Bob sat up so quickly that he hit the headboard. The lamp turned back on and he stared at you with wide eyes, rubbing his head slightly. “Are you- Are you sure? You know I run hot and- and get kind of sweaty, and kind of take up your space and-” “Yes, Bob. I know. Just stay.” “Really? You- I mean yes. Yes… I want to. Really.” The slightest smirk twitched on your lips as you watched him settle back against his pillows with an elated expression. You turned the light back off and wrapped your arms around his, using his shoulder as a pillow.

The team wasn’t surprised about the new living arrangements. They didn’t make any comments or jokes, knowing this meant less waking up to Bob’s screams, or sleepwalking into walls, or muttering in his sleep, or having the damn light on all night shining in, underneath other’s doors. It had been quiet for almost a month. There were no nightmares, no sleepwalking, no two a.m. trips to the fridge and no electrical or structural disturbances. It had been an accident really. It was untested waters and you had forgotten how strongly Bob felt everything. And how strongly he reacted to anything… The bad. And the good…

Bob was thrashing in his sleep. An accidental kick to your calf woke you with a start. The lights were flickering, the nightstand beside your head vibrated slightly. You turned the lamp on, despite the flickering lights. “Hey-“ Bob was muttering, legs flailing as he rapidly changed positions. “Bob.” You put both hands on his shoulders, trying to rouse him. His lip quivered as a closed fist surged out towards your head. You ducked, cursing slightly. Bob shot up from his sleeping position. His eyes were bloodshot, breath shaky and lip quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-“ He rubbed his face roughly, pulling himself back to reality. “Do you need to talk about it?” Bob shook his head rapidly, fists pressed against his eyes as he tried to stop the tears, “I lost you. I… It was so real.” You exhaled slowly, expecting it to be one of his reoccurring nightmares. With the chicken, or the drugs, or his dad, or The Void… “I’m here.” You squeezed his thigh gently, hoping he would look at you. His eyes snapped back to yours as he took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re here...” he repeated it, nodding slightly as if he was convincing himself it were true.

“You’re here… You’re here…”

He closed his eyes tightly, taking deep breaths, squeezing your hand. “You’re here.”

Something had snapped into place. His eyes darkened slightly. He was on you before your body could process it. Your back hit the mattress as he hovered over you. “Hi…” he whispered it, but the shy smile was long gone. Then he was kissing you and you felt fireworks going off in your chest. The kiss wasn’t gentle, but his hands on your lower back and behind your neck were. You inhaled sharply; from surprise, and the feeling of his lips against you. Bob tucked himself between your legs, kissing you as if you were the air he was short on. You slid your hands up his hips, just under his shirt. Your fingers traced small circles on his sides and Bob nearly stopped breathing. He pulled himself closer to you, fists now tight on the sheets. He wasn’t breathing fully. Only taking desperate gasps every time his lips left you. You hooked a leg over his just slightly, keeping him pinned close to you. You weren’t sure if he was completely right in the head right now. You also weren’t sure you cared. You had expected your first kiss with him to be shy and gentle. Maybe quiet like him. Not this desperate, messy ordeal that left his breathing ragged. His breath hitched again as your hands slid gently up his back.

CRACK.

Part of you wished he was too far gone to hear it. Bob jumped to his feet and stumbled away from you. “Oh god- Did I- Are you okay-?” His eyes darted madly around the room, “Shit.” The headboard had cracked down the middle. Perfectly split in half. He couldn’t breathe. Realizing how that could have so easily hurt you, or been you. Bob dropped in front of you and grabbed your shaking shoulders.

“Oh god- Oh no- Oh shit- Hey, i’m sorry- I’m sorry- I’ll go- I didn’t want to scare you, I-“

A snort cut him off.

He stumbled back again, tipping your head up to look at him. Your hair fell away from your face, and revealed your hand over your mouth. You were laughing. Hysterically. You thought this was funny. Bob exhaled, sighed slightly in exasperation; only mildly irritated that she found this funny. He was more relieved than irritated, however, knowing he hadn’t scared you away from him, or scared you at all. He bit his lip, crossing his arms. Bob looked more embarrassed than anything now. You were trying to stop laughing, but damn, it was hard. “I’m sorry.”

You finally pulled yourself together and straightened up, “Are you okay? I’m okay.” Bob finally smiled slightly, “I’m- Yeah… Yes.” He had finally caught his breath, though heat was still radiating from him like a furnace. He sat beside you again and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. He kissed your knuckles and let his head fall on your shoulder.

“Is this a bad time to tell you I’ve never….” he took a deep breath, fighting the growing embarrassment, “Done that. Or anything..like it.” You felt your face heat up. Oh. “It’s fine, Bob.” You didn’t expect anything any time soon. That sudden display from him shocked you completely, but you wouldn’t complain.

“We don’t have to do anything… There’s no hurry.” Bob nodded, wringing his hands together again. “I want to… I mean-“ He flushed further, “I… Slowly- I- Want to work on it.” You smirked slightly at his embarrassment that had been no where present moments ago, “Okay.” Bob exhaled, relieved he hadn’t blown it. Finally, he smiled, looking back to your headboard, “I’ll fix it… I-“ he looked at it again and shrugged, “I’ll replace it.” Bob squeezed your hand again, a playful expression on his face, “Maybe being with me should come with hazard pay…” You started laughing again, and Bob decided it was his favorite sound in the world.

[sidemari]

• Bun in the oven •

Some texts about you telling them that you’re pregnant and some headcanons about how they’re during the pregnancy. 

Characters included: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König, Nikto and Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader 

TW: Mild angst, mentions of abortion and insecurities, implied smut. But everything works out in the end. 

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You call him from the corner of the room, that nervous smile on your face. Soap knows right away that something big is coming — he feels it, like he senses danger on the field… But this time, it’s something different. Something good.

“Johnny… Do you remember the night you came back home after being away for so long due to that mission?” You tested the waters by avoiding telling the truth right away.

“Yeah… How could I forget that night?” He smiled warmly, his mind flashing with the images of that day. “What about it, hon?” 

“Well… You know we got carried away and…”

“And…?”

“We’re having a baby.” You finally share your secret. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful smile disappears for a second, replaced by a stunned look, as if he’s trying to decode what he’s just heard.

“Are… are you serious?” You nod, and he… explodes with joy. He literally lifts you into the air with a surprised cry, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh my God! We’re going to be parents?! Aye, fuck, baby, is this really real?”

He kisses your forehead, then your belly, even though it hasn’t even changed yet. He murmurs a bunch of sweet things in that warm accent — promises, plans, dreams. And then he whispers very softly, just for you to hear:

“I swear I will be the best father in the world… to our baby. And the best man to you. Always.”

When the morning sickness starts, he becomes your personal bodyguard against any suspicious smells: “What the hell is that in the air?! It smells like poison, honey. Close that window!”

He researches everything about pregnancy and becomes the most emotional “expert” on the planet. He sends you messages like: “Did you know that the baby already has little fingers today? LITTLE FINGERS, BABY!”

He talks to your belly every day, telling them about his missions, his friends on the team, and asking if the baby prefers soccer or rugby: “If you kick now, it’ll be rugby, okay?”

He starts to become obsessed with photos. He takes a thousand selfies with you and your belly, even while you’re sleeping. 

He refuses to let you carry anything, literally: “Not even the bag. Not even the remote. Let me carry it, honey.”

He massages your feet every night, and even develops a ‘military relaxation technique’ just so you can sleep better.

He has a hospital bag ready with 30 unnecessary things, like three types of chocolate, a teddy bear, and a mini speaker to play Scottish music for the baby.

He’s always reminding you how beautiful you are, even when you feel uncomfortable and insecure. “No matter how big your belly is, you’ve always been the love of my life, and now you’re carrying our little miracle. And no, I don’t give a single fuck about those stretchmarks. You’re nurturing a life inside your womb and your body is adapting itself because of it. I still think you look damn hot and I’m forever thankful that those pregnancy hormones shifted you into a little insatiable thing.”

He gets touchy-feely, sometimes hugging you in the middle of the night just to say thank you. 

He makes up nicknames for the baby while he’s still in the womb, like “Little Soap”. 

He gets really emotional during the first ultrasound. He holds your hand tightly and tries not to cry… but fails miserably.

He makes special playlists with soft Scottish music, movie soundtracks and even records himself talking so the baby can hear at night.

He buys miniature army clothes, but also absurdly cute ones, like animal costumes, because “he needs to have style in the nursery”.

One day he shows up with a crib set up in the middle of the living room just because “he wanted to see if it would look nice in natural light”.

He learns to cook your favorite foods (even if it turns out to be a disaster) just so you can eat what you want safely.

He keeps notes with the dates of the first times: first kick, first time their heartbeat was heard, first photo of your belly. He’s creating a secret “dossier” of love.

He swears he’s going to be the most present father in the world. No matter how much life changes, he will always be there for you two. 

It was a quiet night at home. The sky was clear, with a million stars shining through the open window. You were sitting on the couch, with a cup of hot tea in your hands, and Soap was lying next to you, with his head on your lap, apparently tired from the intense mission of the day. The conversation was calm, but you knew it was time to tell him the news. He was so focused on caressing your stomach as you played with his hair, that he didn't notice how nervous you were.

"Did you know you're going to be the best dad in the world?" You said softly, feeling your heart race. Soap looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes shining with evident affection.

"I have no doubt about that, love. But what do you mean, best dad? If I'm not, who will be, huh?" You laughed, but you were feeling overflowing with happiness. Suddenly, the moment was there, and it was as if time had slowed down just so he could hear your words.

"Well… I can't say who's going to be the best father, but you're the best for me, and… Our daughter is going to be very lucky." There was a pause. Soap stood up quickly, looking at you, confused, as if he hadn't quite understood. His eyes were curious, but his smile stubbornly wouldn't leave his face. 

"Wait… What?" He asked, his eyes shining even brighter. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

"I… we're expecting a little girl." Soap's eyes widened for a moment and he was silent, processing the information. When it finally sunk in, he leaned forward, with a dazzling smile.

"A little girl?" he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. 

"Yes, a little girl," You said, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. "You're going to be the father of a little girl." And then, he simply laughed. A genuine, happy laugh, one of those laughs that seemed so honest that you felt your soul warm. He stood up from the couch, holding your hands tightly before he jumped close to you, not caring about the teacup that almost fell to the floor.

"Are you sure about this? A real little girl?" He asked again, his eyes shining with happiness.

You laughed then, finally, the feeling of nervousness disappearing. He was more excited than ever, and his happiness was contagious.

"I'm sure!" You answered, laughing along with him, the two of you hugging each other tightly. "We're going to have a daughter, Soap." He ran his hand over your belly, still not fully believing it, but with a sparkle in his eyes that didn't fade. 

"I promise that I'm going to be the best dad in the world. It's going to be a pleasure to watch our little girl grow up." You leaned back against the couch, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"I know you will." And as he continued to rub your belly, smiling like a fool and in that moment, you were more certain than ever that he was the kind of father who would do anything for her. 

Keegan P. Russ 

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. You wanted something elaborate, symbolic… maybe a candlelit dinner, a note written in your nervous handwriting. But there, sitting on the couch, with his hand resting on your thigh and his eyes intently watching a movie, you felt the right moment — a comfortable, intimate silence, just the two of you.

“Keegan…” You began, your voice low, almost as if you were keeping a precious secret between your lips. He turned his face to you right away. He always did that — when you spoke, he listened. With his eyes, with his whole body. It was a habit of his to offer you his total presence.

“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately, already with that protective look that always came when you hesitated.

“No… it’s just...” You took his hand and brought it to your belly, as if that would be enough. Maybe it was. For a moment, he didn’t understand. He looked back at your face, at your eyes filled with unshed tears, at his hand under your still flat stomach, but which held a secret growing in silence.

“Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but his eyes said it all. You nodded, with a shy, uncertain, but hopeful smile. The air between you changed. He didn’t say anything for a second too long — but you saw it. His shoulders relaxed as if he had been waiting for this news without knowing. His eyes watered, and his mouth opened slowly, a whisper coming out between his lips:

“Are we becoming a family...?” The way he hugged you that night was different. It was a protective, reverent grip. As if you were made of porcelain. As if the most important miracle of his life was inside you — and it was.

The focused, meticulous soldier appeared in a new form: in nutrition spreadsheets, reminders on his phone with alarms for his snacks, vitamins, and appointments. He went with you to all of them—even when he was exhausted, even when he had just returned from a mission the day before. He sat next to you, held your hand, and listened intently to every word the obstetrician said.

Keegan was the type of person who didn’t say much, but showed it all through his actions. He learned to cook healthy meals even though he didn’t know how to cut a tomato properly at first. He would run his hands over his belly before bed every night, with a caress that felt like a silent prayer.

And when the symptoms got tough — the nausea, the aches, the bloating — Keegan didn’t run away. He showed up with tea (and if you refused to drink them, he’d force you to, saying it was for the good of the baby you were nurturing), warm blankets, and concerned eyes. He sat on the floor beside your bed when you didn’t want to talk. He was just there and it was enough. 

Sometimes, during the night, he would wake up just to check if you were still sleeping well. He would run his hand over your forehead, carefully adjusting your position, as if he could protect you even from nightmares.

Keegan, during your pregnancy, was as firm as steel and as gentle as a cozy blanket. He became your safe haven, your silent and constant guardian. He slept with his hand on your belly, talked to the baby when he thought you couldn’t hear, promised he would be there, always, that he would take care of you, that no one would ever hurt you both. 

You found him in the kitchen, cooking your latest craving: berry pie.

“Baby,” You called, leaning against the door frame. He looked up immediately, a small smile forming when he saw you there.

You walked over to him slowly, your heart racing, and pulled out the small pair of blue booties you had bought that morning.

“For when he gets here.” You said, placing the booties in his hands. A cheesy way to reveal the gender of your baby, yes, but those booties were just too cute for you to ignore. 

Keegan frowned, confused at first — until understanding dawned on him. He blinked a few times, in disbelief.

“A little boy?” He asked, almost in a choked whisper.

You nodded with an excited smile. He laughed softly, shaking his head as if he was still processing it. Then he pulled you slowly closer, resting his forehead against yours before spinning you around slowly and carefully to not make you nauseous.

“My little boy… Our little boy!” He murmured, his voice cracking with joy.

When the time arrives, Keegan is incredibly calm on the outside, but inside he is a whirlwind of emotions. He has never been so scared and so happy at the same time. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering “You can do it,” “I’m here,” “It’s going to be okay” like a mantra — as if his voice could protect you from the pain. When he heard the baby cry for the first time, his eyes filled with tears instantly. He tried to hide it, but the emotion overflowed in his eyes and in the way he smiled at you and when he held his son for the first time. He was completely mesmerized: his big fingers touched the little body with the greatest delicacy in the world, as if he was afraid of hurting his own son. 

Keegan refuses to sleep while you rest. He sits in an armchair with the baby on his lap, just observing every little detail of the newborn. When the medical team came back and found him with the baby sleeping on his chest, and you sleeping in bed, they said it looked like a scene from a movie. 

He talks to the baby even though he knows he doesn't understand: "You have your mother's eyes... And you'll be strong like her too." 

Takes pictures of the tiny feet, of the baby grabbing your finger, of you breastfeeding him, bathing him and sleeping with him and keeps them all in a folder that only he has access to.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You realized something was wrong when you woke up with an upset stomach for two days in a row — and without having eaten anything heavy. The smell of the breakfast you loved started to make you nauseous… and that was the first warning sign. Kyle even jokingly commented: “Are you abandoning me in our sacred coffee ritual?” — and you forced a smile, pretending you weren’t worried. A few days later, you realized your period was late. A week. Then ten days. And then fifteen. And then, sweet fear hit deep in your chest.

You bought the test by yourself, on a quick trip to the pharmacy, and hid it in your purse as if it were a state secret. On a cold, slow morning, you took the test while Kyle was still sleeping. The silence in the bathroom was almost deafening as you waited the five minutes that the package indicated. Two lines. Two lines that changed everything. You stood still for long minutes, in the same position, holding the test with shaking hands and teary eyes. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. You did both. The first thing you thought was: "How am I going to tell him?" — and right after: "Will he want this with me?" 

You tried to plan a cute way to tell him. A special dinner, a little box with the test and a note. But anxiety got the best of you. You told him in a simple way, on a normal afternoon, when it was just the two of you, sitting together. He noticed something different about you, and when you shared the secret you were carrying alone, time seemed to stop.

He was sitting on the couch, his eyes softly focused on you as you walked slowly toward him, your hands clasped in front of you, as if trying to contain your racing heart. He could tell right away — you were nervous.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, his voice low, full of affection.

You nodded, but your throat was dry. You took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down next to him. His hand came naturally to yours, his warm, firm fingers wrapping around yours as if to say ‘I’m here, talk to me.’

“Kyle…” Your gaze met his, and there was so much tenderness there it almost hurt. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the world seemed suspended. His smile froze mid-smile, his eyes wide with surprise. You saw the emotion building there — first confusion, then a wet gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just heard something sacred.

“Are you… pregnant?” He repeated in a whisper, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

You nodded, with a small smile. His answer came in the form of a soft, almost breathless laugh, before he pulled you into a hug full of warmth and reverence. He held you as if you were made of glass, but at the same time with such intensity that your heart seemed to fit into his.

“We’re going to have a baby… Fuck’s sake!, that’s so amazing...” He whispered against your neck, as if he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Kyle… No swearing around the baby.”

“Copy that.” He smiled. “I'll be here. Every step, every beat of this little heart… I want to live it all with you.” After that, he placed his hand lovingly on your lower belly, as if he could already feel the new life you had started together. And in that moment, between soft smiles and slow kisses, the whole world seemed to fit between his arms.

He became obsessed with learning everything: he read medical articles, downloaded three different pregnancy apps, and asked the internet if certain strange food cravings were normal. 

He created a ritual: every night, he would lie with his head on her belly and whisper stories, just to “familiarize the baby with his father’s voice.” He would always say proudly: “Our baby will be born hearing the most beautiful accent in the world, honey.” 

He was so protective, but in a sweet way —  accompanying you to every appointment, carrying healthy snacks in his bag, and talking to doctors like you were a secret agent on a mission. 

When your belly started to grow, he bought funny “Loading… Baby 50%” T-shirts and forced you to wear them just to see your grumpy little face. No need to tell him they look awful, he’s already taking pictures of you. 

One day, he found you crying watching a random video of a stray dog being adopted and he just sat down with you, hugging you tightly, and getting emotional too, without even knowing why. 

He insisted on putting the crib together with his own hands. He made several mistakes, got his fingers stuck, and cursed the manual — but in the end, the crib was perfect.

When the contractions started, he went into military mode in 0.1 seconds. He grabbed the hospital bag, checked the checklist, warned everyone and took you to the hospital as if he was on a mission.

During the birth, he held your hand the whole time, letting you crush his fingers without complaining as he kept murmuring something along the lines of “Breathe with me. I’m with you.”

When the baby was born and cried for the first time, he cried too — the kind of silent, emotional cry that comes from deep in the chest.

He was paralyzed for a few seconds when he saw the baby in his arms, with teary eyes, whispering: “We did it. Look… we did it.”

You waited to find out the baby’s sex until the birth. It was a huge shock when the obstetrician said that a little boy had been born: “Hell yeah!”, he celebrated. “My little boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Our son...”

König

He finally returned from that mission that seemed to have no end. 

You call him by name with that soft voice that makes him feel weak to his knees. He notices something in your tone. The blue eyes fixed on yours with attention… and a hint of anxiety. “Was ist passiert, mein Schatz?” (“What happened, my love?”)

You take a deep breath, smiling with a nervousness that he immediately picks up on — and you finally say three words that change everything: 

“I am pregnant.” For a moment, he freezes. Not with rejection. Not with anger. But as if the world had gone silent. His eyes widen slightly, he takes a step back as if he’s been shocked, only to then approach you again with visible hesitation in his hands. The mask covers half of his reaction, but his eyes say it all. Pure vulnerability. The doubt of whether he deserves this. The desire to believe he still deserves to be happy. 

“Is it… mine?” He asks, his voice lower than ever.

“Of course it is, König!” 

When you say that — of course he knew it was his — König lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hands on his head, walking a few steps as if he doesn’t know what to do with his own body. Then he stops and he comes back to you. He kneels and he hugs your still-flat belly, pressing it against his face with an almost religious reverence.

“Mein Gott (My god)… you gave me a new life.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and muffled.

Then he looks down at you, with teary eyes — the intimidating giant now looking like a lost, happy boy — and says something you would never forget:

“I never thought I would have something so precious. I will take care of you. The both of you. Even if the world falls apart… you will be safe.” 

In the first few months, König is on constant alert. Every moment of nausea, every different expression on your face, makes him stop everything to check if you are okay. 

He obsessively researches pregnancy in silence, on his cell phone, reading scientific articles, forums, and even mothers' groups — all in secret, with his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were studying military tactics. 

He tries to cook for you (with… variable results), just because he read that certain foods help with morning sickness. 

When your belly starts to grow, König starts talking to you when he thinks you are sleeping. He lies down next to you, his head resting gently on your belly, murmuring in German with a sweetness that seems unthinkable for such a huge man. "Dein Vater liebt dich sehr, mein kleines Wunder..." ("Your father loves you very much, my little miracle...") 

He starts to accompany you to every medical appointment as if they were a mission, paying attention to every comment from the doctors and nurses as if his life depended on it. 

When your belly is already heavy and your steps are slower, König starts carrying you to any place that involves stairs. Literally. He doesn't even ask. He just picks you up with the greatest care in the world, as if you were made of glass. 

When you start having false contractions, he goes into a state of absolute focus—the hospital bag has been packed for weeks, the routes have been planned, the emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. But despite this, he is always kind, always calm with you, even though he is seething with nerves inside.

He has internal crises of insecurity, but he never burdens you with them. He writes everything down in a hidden notebook, as a way of letting off steam. 

You find him on the balcony, the sky tinged with gold by the sunset. König’s back is turned, still, silent, as he usually does when he’s thinking too much. His large hands are resting on the railing, his broad body almost blocking the light. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and his soft gaze immediately lands on your belly with an almost reverent affection.

You smile, and he responds with that shy little smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still seeming to search for more signs that you’re okay.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks in a low voice, waiting for each word as if they were sacred.

You walk towards him, slowly, feeling your heart beat faster — not from nervousness, but from excitement. Then you take one of his hands and guide it to your belly.

“She’s fine,” You begin, looking into his eyes. “And yes... I said she.”

König’s eyes blink, as if it took him a second to process.

“She...?” He whispers, almost in disbelief. You nod, smiling even wider.

“We’re having a little girl.” His breath catches for a moment. His blue eyes — usually so restrained, so trained not to show too much — shine with immediate moisture. He kneels, letting his forehead touch yours while his hands wrap around your belly with a delicacy that doesn’t match its size.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle closer, his arms around your waist as if he wanted to protect the two of you from the entire world.

“She’s already so loved, König. By me… and by you.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready. But I’ll give everything. Everything. For both of you.”

“You’re already everything she needs. And everything I need too.” 

Nikto

The truth is that you found out you were carrying his child only in the third month of pregnancy. The missions, your dangerous job, the obligations, plans and goals, your own complex relationship with Nikto… all of this was too much for you to handle. The days became weeks and the weeks became months as you just ignored the symptoms, thinking that the nausea and exhaustion would pass. But they remained very present, and your suspicion only increased.

You took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. And to be sure, you also took a blood test some days after and then, an ultrasound, which finally revealed the baby's gender: a little boy was coming into the world. You did all this without saying a word to Nikto, fearing that he would hate the news. You weren't stupid, you knew he would soon realize something was out of place. Your body was changing, your symptoms were still present, and you even avoided exposing yourself to any kind of risk, as much as possible, unlike before.

He suspected the possible reason why this was happening, but he never forced you to admit anything. Not until you were ready.

When you told him the news, at first he reacted with silence and a hard look, trying to process the information. He’s not the type to show emotion easily, so you thought he was angry or indifferent… But inside, he would be conflicted. Part of him would feel vulnerable — the idea of ​​having created a new life would hit him harder than he expected. Another part would be on edge, worried for your safety and that of the baby, since his world is too violent for something so innocent.

But he wouldn’t shy away from responsibility. He just wouldn’t know how to show he cares in the traditional way. You’d see him more protective, more present, but also more silent. His love would be shown in actions, not words.

The base was silent that night—just the hum of the generators and the occasional sound of boots echoing in the hallway. He was sitting at the table, cleaning his weapon with the meticulous precision of always, his mask pushed up to his forehead, revealing those hard eyes… but that always softened when they landed on you. You walked in slowly, your fingers intertwined in front of you, your heart beating fast.

He noticed it instantly. He dropped the metal piece on the table and watched you silently. Not like a soldier, but like a man. Your man.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, standing up immediately, his tone low but attentive.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s not that. But… I need to tell you something. And it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, his body firm as steel, but his gaze… almost nervous.

“I’m pregnant, Nikto.”

The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness outside. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, motionless, as if time had frozen. What did you expect? A scream? A sigh? A “how did that happen?”?

None of that came.

He walked towards you, slowly, as if he were stepping on unknown land. He stopped so close that you could feel the heat of his body. His gloved hand rose to your face — it hesitated in the air for a second — and then landed with a delicacy that no one would ever imagine that man was capable of.

“My son?” He murmured, his voice so low that it seemed like a secret between you and the universe.

Son… And he even had guessed the baby gender right.

You nodded, tears in your eyes, but smiling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was something there. It wasn’t fear. Or anger. It was… instinct. A raw kind of love — unconditional, protective.

"How do you…" You hugged him, and that took him by surprise. It took Nikto a few seconds to hug you back, but when he did, he stroked your hair with affection. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Is it?"

"I mean… yeah."

"Perhaps it was just my intuition." He kissed the top of your head, wanting to protect you from the world.

“You will not leave my sight.” His voice had returned to its firm tone. “I will take care of you both. From now on.” And then, for the first time since you met him, Nikto knelt down, making himself vulnerable before you. Lifting your shirt, he pressed his lips to your slightly swollen belly, so gently that it barely seemed real. But it was. It was his promise. No pretty words. Just presence. Just surrender.

Nikto was already a controlling person by nature, but from the moment he found out about your pregnancy, he became a constant shadow by your side. He checks safe routes before you go out, monitors the environment where you sleep, and leaves discreet trackers on everything you wear “just in case.” He doesn’t say, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he just acts—as if he could take on the whole world for you and the baby.

He’s not the type to say, “You look so beautiful carrying my son” but out of nowhere you find a soft blanket on the couch, hot tea on the table, or maternity clothes in your size neatly folded on the bed. When you ask him if that was his doing, he just answers curtly, “Maybe.” But if you insist, he might say, “I like to see you comfortable.” (And he looks down, because that was the most vulnerability he could show that day.)

If you’re lying down and you let out a whimper of pain or discomfort, within seconds he’ll be there, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands firmly against your back. He never comments anything, he just keeps going until he feels you’ve relaxed. When you say a weak “thank you” he’ll give you a quick nod and maybe — just maybe — press a kiss against your forehead before leaving the room.

At night, when you are dozing on the couch or in bed, he will slowly come over and, if he is comfortable doing so, he will rub your belly while speaking to the baby in Russian. They are short, almost military phrases, but sweet in his own way: "Your mother is stronger than anyone. You will get this from her." Or even: "You will not know war. I swear."

Even with all his confidence, he sometimes stays silent for long periods, staring at you from afar. When you ask him, he ends up saying something like: “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I only know how to fight.” It’s at this moment that you see his most human side. He’s not afraid of war, but he is afraid of failing you. And when you hold his hand and tell him he’s already doing more than enough, he doesn’t respond. He just squeezes your hand tightly — and doesn’t let go.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Hot and intense nights became common when the pressure of the world became great enough to suffocate you both.

You sought refuge in sex, night after night indulging your most primitive and sinful desires as a relatively effective, but twisted, way of enduring the horrendous reality of serving the country.

Even though you knew that being careful was relatively far from being part of your routine, you felt the world fall apart when the first symptoms began.

Nausea, fatigue and insecurity had become part of your essence and the fear of the future permeated your soul.

You tried to hide your pregnancy for as long as possible, not wanting to tell Simon, much less your team members.

Bringing an innocent life into the hell you lived was a senseless act. Then why did you feel so much love for someone who hadn't even been born yet?

You were almost four months pregnant when, during a mission, you fainted for no apparent reason. You weren't taking care of yourself enough — eating little, sleeping little and keeping so many secrets to yourself... It came as no surprise to anyone when your body couldn't handle all of that.

"Stay with me... Hey! She needs medical help!" Ghost shouted, looking around desperately, protecting your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world at that moment.

Your consciousness slowly returned, and you realized that you were being carried by him to a safer place.

"I'm sorry." You stammered, feeling guilty for having interrupted the gathering of such important information.

"Don't apologize. I've never seen you so pale and weak like this, not even on worse missions." You were finally in a calmer place, still alone with him, and before other people entered the room to check on you, you decided it was time to tell him the truth.

"Simon, I..." You hesitated, wondering for a moment if being honest with him was really what you wanted.

"You...?" He encouraged you, squeezing your thigh affectionately, as usual.

"I... I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and his grip on your thigh tightened, almost hurting you.

"What...?" He mumbled to himself, slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together and everything made sense — your extreme sensitivity to the tastes and smells that you usually liked, your endless naps, your hurried and unannounced trips to the bathroom, your lack of complaints about cramps, almost as if you hadn't had your period that month... It all made sense, and his head almost exploded.

"How did I not notice?" He whispered, pulling you close, hugging you tightly as if he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." You mumbled against his chest as he stroked your hair lovingly. "I think it was on your birthday..." 

That night... That fateful night.

"How are you feeling about this?"

"I... I don't know what to think..." Your hands involuntarily went down your body, caressing the slightly swollen belly due to the life that was developing there. "But I love them so much already..."

He smiled against your hair, hugging you tighter, a genuine happiness slowly forming inside his heart.

"I'm scared, Si." You admitted. "I'm scared of bringing them into this world only to suffer and see horrible things like the two of us."

"Hey, don't say that. Even in hell I found you. I found someone worth fighting for and waking up to everyday. Life isn't all bad, you taught me that yourself." You didn't answer, but he understood what you meant.

"Regardless of your decision — whether you’re keeping them or not — I will support you and stay by your side. Until my last breath." And he kissed the top of your head.

You couldn't muster the courage to abort that life. They were the fruit of the love between you and Simon and they were the best thing you had.

So you decided to keep it, to face the consequences of your acts, to carry the responsibility of bringing a life into this world. 

Months passed without you wanting to know the baby's sex, until Simon convinced you to investigate it.

"Guess." You murmured against his lips, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hmm, I have a feeling it's a girl." He secretly longed for one. You guided his hand so he could feel the baby moving, kicking you weakly every now and then.

"It's a girl! We're having a little girl, Si!" His heart fluttered with joy.

"Bloody hell, love... Fuck, I love her so much already. I can't wait to finally meet her."

He has a habit of murmuring sweet nothings your swollen stomach as his fingertips caresses the skin of your belly.

He doesn't let you lift a finger to do almost anything and he even asked captain Price not to allow you to leave the base for any more missions. He couldn't bait to lose both of you.

He helps you with your craving and pregnancy pains —  his massages are divine and melt away any tension you may be feeling.

Close to delivery, when you can no longer bear the weight of your very own stomach, he holds your belly gently with both hands, slowly freeing you from the weight of your little girl for a few seconds — seconds that relieve you absurdly.

Actually cries when he sees his baby for the first time — she's just so tiny, all wrapped around a blanket and her baby clothes, her foot is barely the size of his thumb and she's a little carbon copy of him in appearance. He's utterly glad you decided to keep her over five months ago. He couldn't imagine a world where you three didn't exist anymore.

He is completely disarmed by his daughter. He can face any enemy without hesitation, but if she cries in the morning or asks for something with that look in her eyes, he simply melts.

Protection is his second name. He checks locks, cameras, and sleeps lightly, as if he was still in the field. But the truth is that he just wants to make sure that nothing will hurt the two people he loves most in the world.

As your husband (fucking finally, right?), Simon is silent… but constant. He doesn't need big words; he shows it with actions. Coffee ready, blanket pulled up in the middle of the night, arm around waist without saying anything. He is simply perfect.

[thevampireladyambrosia]

The Professor's Pet

Request via anon.

Pairing: Male!Kitsune x Female!Reader.

Content Warning: Power dynamics (professor x student), manipulation, age gap, knots.

You have always been a good student. At least at this university. A school involving magic was the dream. As a human, however, you struggled a bit. Especially with charms. In fact, you frequently explode them by pouring too much energy in. You can't help it. You are just so excited. Thus, you fell behind in class.

The professor, an older kitsune with all nine tails, noticed this. He had been trying to help you as much as he could, but he could only do so much. So you quickly began to fail the class.

This caused you to panic. You could only go to this place because you got a full ride scholarship. A scholarship that requires a certain GPA to keep.

So you doubled down. You tried harder. You stayed up later. Only for things to become more of a disaster. Your anxious energy explodes charms more easily. Your sleep deprivation led to you making mistakes you normally wouldn't.

It was very late one night that you decided you'd approach the professor the next day. You knew his office hours from the beginning of the year; from when he had gone over the syllabus. Maybe you could ask for an extra credit essay? Something. Anything. You had to pass this class.

The next day goes slowly. It's like the universe knew you had something that needed done, so it slowed down time. You found yourself glancing at the clock every couple minutes. You were an anxious mess. The professor seemed nice enough. But would he help you?

When the time came for you to approach his office you somehow grew more anxious. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your feet to move. You entered his office.

He looked up and smiled. He greeted you and gestured for you to take a seat.

“I'm assuming you're here about your grade?” He stated. He said it casually and in a nonchalant way. But it was anything but that to you. It determined the rest of your life. Failing would mean not being able to continue at this school. It would mean everything had been for nothing.

“Um… yeah.” You replied. You mentally kicked yourself. You wanted to say more, but it would come out. Like your mouth was too dry, and your lips were sewn shut.

“I went ahead and took a look at your assignments. It appears you weren't absent for much. Rather, it became apparent that you had a knack for exploding things throughout the year. As you likely know, I could have done something if you had excused absences. I could have let you make up the work for partial credit. Simply failing is different, though. If I let you redo it, you'd gain an unfair advantage over your classmates.”

You sucked in a breath. There it was. What you had feared all along. Your face fell. You were really going to fail the class.

“But…” You immediately snapped back into attention. There was a glimmer of hope in that simple word. “I do reward effort. And you, my dear student, have put in effort. Tell me, how far are you willing to go to secure your grade?”

You blinked. Did he want you to clean the classroom? Write a huge report? Do a presentation?

“I'd do anything. Anything at all.” You said confidently.

“That's a bold statement.” The kitsune said. But you didn't miss the glimmer in his eye. The same one people have when they get something they want. When they succeed at something. Satisfaction.

“It's the truth,” you replied. And it was. At this point in time, you'd do just about anything to secure your grade. Aside from doing something that harmed others.

“How about I give you a bonus assignment? One worth a good chunk of points. It would be distributed and added onto your other grades. But you'd have to keep it a secret. And I'd want something in return.”

You couldn't believe your ears. A chance to pass. You'd have to be positively insane to say no. But what did he want in return?

“I'll do it. Whatever it is, I'll do it. And I won't tell a soul.” You couldn't believe your own mouth. This was basically cheating. This would make you a fraud. The kitsune seemed to recognize where your mind was heading. And he acknowledged it in his next statement.

“It's not cheating. I'm a professor. I would know. The greatest minds weren't just people who were good at things. They were people who were passionate about things. You, my dear, have passion. You have drive. You have perseverance. Is it really cheating? Or are you just getting acknowledged for your work?”

You felt strange. He had praised you. Maybe he was right? I mean, you did work hard.

“But, even more amazing, is the fact you know how to work the system.” You looked at him. What was he talking about? “Wearing that short skirt you know would drive men crazy.”

Your eyes widen. You open your mouth to protest, to explain, but his hand slips under your skirt. It catches you so off guard that you don't even get a word out. Luckily, he only rubs your thigh before withdrawing his hand.

“I-” He cuts you off.

“You said anything, remember?” He's smiling at you. “What I want is simple. I want you to let me stuff your pretty little cunt with my cock. Just this once. After all, that's what you offered when you said anything, yes?”

He had a point. You did say anything. And maybe one time was worth it for a good grade?

“Okay. I consent. Just this once.” The professor didn't hesitate. You could barely process anything before you were bent over his desk. Your underwear were pushed aside as he roughly shoved a finger in. It stung slightly but quickly faded as your cunt lubricated itself.

It would help if you didn't enjoy it. If your cunt wasn't sending waves of pleasure into your brain, making it short circuit. When his thumb found your clit and a second finger joined, you moaned. It was loud and filthy. It made you feel disgusted with yourself.

He fingered you until you came around onto his hand hard. It was the most intense orgasm of your life. And it was given to you by your professor. Your way older professor. But you didn't care anymore.

He made you beg for his cock. Made you plead. And you did. He didn't even bother to undress you nor himself. He just pulled his growing erection out and kept your underwear pushed aside. He shoved into you in one swift motion that made you cry out and see stars.

He fucked you rough and hard, his pace unforgiving. And when you came, you gushed around his cock. If you thought the orgasm earlier was intense, this one was unreal. You became practically boneless. Your vision went white. You could have sworn you passed out for a brief moment.

And then he came. Buried deep in your cunt. You felt the warmth of his seed fill you. And something strange happened too. It was like he got bigger. Like his penis expanded, locking him in. You had expected him to pull out. You had assumed incorrectly.

It wasn't even a minute after his penis went back to normal that he fixed your clothes and ushered you out. Something about office hours being over.

You walked back to your dorm on wobbly legs, your professor's cum dripping down your thighs. You pressed them together to hide it as much as possible.

When you arrived back, you showered and went to bed. A few days later you had a B in his class.

[kaiyunsim]

safety zone —

pairing : bf!wonbin x m!reader

summary : after a year of dating, you and wonbin agree to move in together. only thing is, he didn’t know you had a habit for being shirtless.

warnings : fluff, shirtless reader, kinda cringy

a/n : sorry for such a short fic :( it also seems so half-assed but i can’t keep working on it just i lowkey have writerd block for this.

queueing : safety zone - leehi, supernatural - ariana grande

[requested]

— wc : 0.5k — not proof read —

it’s moving day.

there are boxes everywhere, bubble wrap all over the floor, and somehow wonbin is still trying to alphabetize the spice rack while you’re shoving ramen packets into a random drawer.

“that’s not where those go,” he says, eyes narrowing.

“they go in a drawer, don’t they?”

“not with the can openers.”

you just shrug. “it’s efficient.”

wonbin sighs like he’s already regretting this decision. he probably isn’t. probably.

still, it’s cute the way he furrows his brow and mutters about ‘systems’ and ‘organization’ while placing your cereal boxes in height order.

he keeps getting distracted every time he unpacks something sentimental.

like the framed photo from your second date, the one where you’re both making stupid faces. he stares at it a little too long, then quietly places it on the shelf beside the bed.

“you kept this?”

“duh,” you grin. “you fell asleep halfway through the movie. it was adorable.”

he blushes and mutters something about having ‘dry eyes,’ but you catch the small smile he’s hiding.

then, disaster.

you start changing your shirt, completely unaware.

wonbin turns around mid-sentence, sees skin, and immediately short-circuits.

“y-you’re just walking around like that?!”

you blink. “uh… yeah?”

he tries to act normal. he fails. he spends the rest of the evening avoiding eye contact and knocking over a glass because he’s so flustered.

you don’t comment. but you do store that reaction in your brain for later.

wonbin learns that you sleep like a starfish and somehow manage to slap him in your sleep.

you learn that wonbin has an elaborate coffee ritual involving freshly ground beans, water temperature control, and judgmental looks when you mention instant coffee.

“that’s not coffee,” he says.

“then what is it?”

“a war crime.”

—

it’s a lazy saturday morning.

wonbin is peacefully sipping his coffee, his weird ritual when you walk into the living room, shirtless, yawning, and stretching like you didn’t just casually murder his soul.

wonbin chokes.

like full-on coughs into his mug, eyes wide, red ears.

“you—y-you’re just walking around like that?!”

you blink. “uh… yeah?”

wonbin refuses to make eye contact for the next ten minutes. he starts talking to the fridge.

you smirk. this is going to be fun.

from then on, it becomes a game.

lounging shirtless on the couch. walking past him like it’s no big deal.

he tries to stay strong. he fails.

wonbin starts covering his face with pillows. he dramatically sighs every time you enter a room. he mutters “this is fine” like a man barely holding it together.

you’ve never had so much fun. but wonbin has had enough.

the next morning, as soon as you step out shirtless, a shirt hits you in the face.

“what the—”

“put that on.”

“did you seriously just throw a shirt at me?”

“yes. i refuse to be weak anymore.”

you glance at the couch. there’s a pile of spare shirts folded next to him.

“you’re carrying extras now?”

“yes.”

“even inside?”

“especially inside.”

he is prepared. he is smug.

but you are the master of counter-chaos.

so you wait. patiently.

that evening, you sit next to him on the couch. close. he notices. you stretch out, then, without warning, lay your head in his lap and close your eyes.

wonbin malfunctions.

his hands hover awkwardly above your shoulders. he freezes. he tries to focus on his book. he can’t even see the words.

you breathe evenly. you’re napping. actually napping.

wonbin does not know what to do.

does he touch your hair? does he gently move you? does he explode?

you shift a little, mumble, “comfy,” and snuggle in.

wonbin dies again.

he sits there, completely frozen, for the entire nap. twenty minutes of pure, unfiltered suffering.

when you wake up and stretch, he’s staring into the void.

“you good?”

“fine,” he mumbles.

“you sure?”

“…yes.”

“you look like you saw god.”

that night, cuddled up in bed, you kiss his temple and whisper,

“you’re cute when you’re shy.”

wonbin groans and shoves his face into your chest.

“stop.”

“never.”

he grumbles, but pulls you closer.

and yeah this is home.

tysm for reading :>

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver

[joaosnovia]

heyyy, hope ur doing great! Soo I had this crazy and random idea about a cubarsi x reader, the reader is hector’s twin sister and lamine’s best friend. For the plot I was thinking that Hector and Pau have been playing a lot of matches but are also stressed cause their school exams are coming up and everything is a bit tense. And at some point the team and some of the wags organise a bqq and after they eat and have fun they sit around the outside fire pit and Cuba and hector who are sleep deprived fall asleep using the reader as a pillow, Pau’s head on her lap and hector’s on her shoulder, and lamine is staring at the two for a while and the rest of the teams asks him about it and he admits that he is worried about his best friends being so stressed but he is also proud because they both have been playing extremely well as defenders despite their age. Really pure fluff and Lamine being worried. Really appreciate ur work and talent keep up the great work ❤️❤️❤️

❦ - mis chicos.

warnings:: cussing I THINK..? angst if you squint and also comfort

pairings:: twin!hector x reader , situationship!pau x reader , friend!lamine x reader

writers notes:: sigh i’m posting this after my first gcse… english lit. i wanna SOB bro it was the worst but shoutout to macbeth ❤️. anywho! enjoy, this is rushed asf 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’d been watching it happen for days.

hector walking through the house like a ghost, textbooks in one hand, his boots in the other. pau answering texts at 2am, the read receipts timestamped way too late for someone with morning training. both of them running on energy drinks and adrenaline, trying to balance being fc barcelona starters and passing their exams like their lives depended on it.

you’d tried to check in, multiple times.

‘bro,’ you said to hector one night, watching him eat cereal for dinner while reviewing anatomy flashcards. ‘maybe sleep? like just a lil nap?’

he’d barely looked up. ‘no time.’

pau was the same. texting you and lamine in the group chat like:

‘chemistry exam tmrw. if i fail i’m changing identities. wish me luck.’
‘also who has the notes from ethics. i think i was unconscious during that class.’

and lamine, bless him, was so worried. not in a loud way. but in a quiet, watching everything kind of way. you’d catch him frowning when pau forgot to tie his laces, or when hector stared blankly at his locker for two minutes straight.

so when one of the older players suggested a bbq to ‘clear the air’ after a rough week of training, everyone jumped on it. wags included. someone offered a garden, someone else offered food, and suddenly the group chat was on fire with emoji spam and location pins.

you were mostly excited for a moment to breathe. for all of them to relax.

especially your boys.

the bbq had been chaos, in the best way.

someone (you were 99% sure it was ferran) set off the smoke alarm twice, the playlist was full of early 2010s throwbacks, and someone brought water guns, which turned into a full war between the midfielders and the defenders.

and through it all, you’d been watching your boys.

hector had finally relaxed a little, laughing when someone made fun of his haircut and letting go of his notes for the first time in days. pau was smiling again, actually smiling, not the tight tired one he’d been faking all week.

and lamine? he was hovering. not in a weird way, just always near. watching, checking, protecting. it was kinda cute, honestly.

now the sun had dipped low, and everyone had migrated to the fire pit in the garden. blankets were thrown over laps, half-eaten marshmallows forgotten, the music soft now. just vibes. glowy and golden.

you were sitting in the middle of the bench seat, hoodie zipped up, legs pulled close.

pau had dropped beside you with a dramatic sigh, mumbling something about being so full he might explode, then somehow… just stayed there. head eventually resting in your lap, eyes fluttering shut mid convo.

hector followed not long after, yawning like a baby lion and flopping down with his head on your shoulder, mumbling ‘you smell like smoke and perfume’ before fully passing out.

you blinked down at them.

two fully grown, exhausted footballers using you as a human pillow. you were literally a cubarsí sandwich.

lamine plopped down on the ground across from you, a marshmallow stick still in his hand. he was staring at them, brows a little furrowed, lips pressed in that way he did when he was thinking hard.

you caught his eye. raised a brow.

‘what?’ you mouthed.

he hesitated… then the others noticed too.

iñigo leaned forward, voice low. ‘lamine. you good? you look like you’re watching a movie or something.’

lamine looked at the two boys, your brother and your maybe something (he wasn’t your boyfriend, but also… he was). then back at you.

‘they’ve just… been through a lot,’ he said finally, his voice softer than usual. ‘and no one really talks about it. how hard it is. being that young, playing at that level. then having to study for a physics exam like it’s nothing.’

you smiled gently, brushing your fingers through pau’s hair without thinking. ‘they’re trying so hard.’

‘yeah,’ lamine nodded. ‘and i’m so proud of them. i just don’t say it enough.’

the others went quiet for a moment. even the fire popped at the right time, like it knew this was something that needed to be said.

pure softness. pure love.

and as hector snored lightly against your shoulder and pau mumbled something in his sleep about ‘don’t forget the flashcards’, you leaned your head back, warm inside and out.

your boys were safe. lamine was watching over them. and for once, just for tonight, the world could slow down a little.

the fire had burned low, the air crisp with the last breaths of warmth from the embers. your legs were falling asleep under the weight of pau sprawled in your lap, and you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful everything felt now.

hector, on the other hand, had been using your shoulder as his personal pillow for the last little while. his head was still resting there, and his breathing was steady until, of course, he shifted slightly and mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

‘mm… what time is it?’

you chuckled softly, adjusting yourself to make sure you weren’t crushing pau. ‘it’s late, i think. everyone else is inside by now.’

hector blinked up at you, looking a little groggy. his hand rubbed at his eyes, and his head flopped back onto your shoulder with a quiet sigh. ‘guess i really fell asleep on you, huh?’ he mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie.

‘you’ve been running on empty for days,’ you teased, nudging his shoulder. ‘you needed it.’

hector grinned sleepily, his lips pulling into a lazy smile. ‘yeah, maybe... i’m just glad i have a sister like you to nap on.’

you laughed quietly, your hand brushing through his hair, trying not to wake pau. ‘well, someone has to be the pillow, right?’

hector’s smile softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in a while. the tiredness in his eyes was still there, but there was something else too. something softer. ‘you’ve been here for me through everything, huh?’ he said quietly. ‘even when i don’t deserve it.’

your heart swelled at the sound of his voice the vulnerability in it. ‘always, hector. you’re my brother. no matter how stressed you get or how many exams you have, i’m here. always.’

he smiled again, leaning his head into your shoulder once more. ‘i don’t say it enough, but i’m really glad you’re my twin.’

you rested your cheek on his head, laughing softly. ‘i’m glad you’re my twin too, idiot.’

just then, pau stirred in your lap. he groaned and rubbed his eyes, half awake. ‘are you two seriously having a moment while i’m stuck here?’ he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

you shot him a playful look. ‘you literally fell asleep in my lap, pau. don’t act like i’m the one being dramatic.’

pau just blinked at you, his head still a little groggy as he sat up. ‘fine, fine. i’m not complaining. you’re comfy,’ he grinned, looking at hector, then back at you.

hector chuckled, but before he could say anything, lamine approached the bench, standing a little behind you and observing the scene quietly.

you caught his gaze, and for a second, his eyes softened. he leaned against the back of the bench, his arms crossed, as he took in the sight of you, your twin, and pau.

‘you alright?’ you asked him gently, feeling his concern without him having to say a word.

lamine hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to hector, then back to you. ‘yeah. i’m just… thinking.’

‘about what?’ you asked, offering him a gentle smile.

he ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged. ‘about them. about hector and pau. they’re really putting so much into their games right now, but no one really talks about how stressed they are off the field. no one sees that part.’

you nodded slowly, understanding where he was coming from. ‘yeah, they’re both carrying a lot. i think they just don’t know how to stop pushing themselves.’

‘i see it,’ lamine said softly, his gaze now focused on hector, who was leaning into you with his eyes half closed. ‘and it makes me proud. they’re both playing so well despite everything. but it’s like... they’re too hard on themselves sometimes.’

you smiled, your heart warming at the thought of how much lamine cared about your brother and pau. ‘they don’t show it, but they appreciate you looking out for them.’

lamine’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, you felt a deeper understanding pass between you two. it wasn’t just about being there for hector or pau; it was about the three of you watching out for each other.

just as the moment settled in, hector let out a small yawn, his head lifting slightly as he looked at lamine. ‘you good?’ he asked, still groggy but clearly aware of his best friend’s quiet mood.

lamine blinked and gave a small nod. ‘yeah, just making sure you’re both alright.’

you smiled at that. lamine’s loyalty to your brother was something you’d always admired, even if he was a little shy about showing it.

pau, now fully awake, stretched and groaned. ‘i need to get up before my back dies,’ he muttered, standing up and shaking his legs out.

hector gave him a lazy wave. ‘go ahead, old man. stretch it out.’

pau threw a playful glare his way, then nudged you as he started to walk inside. ‘you gonna leave them to be all cutetogether, or are you coming?’

you laughed softly, feeling the warmth of the fire on your skin. ‘in a minute.’

pau rolled his eyes but gave you a small smile before heading inside.

and as the fire died down even further, you sat there with lamine and hector, a quiet calm falling over the three of you. you didn’t need to say anything more, not right now.

you were all just together. and for the first time in a while, it felt like everything would be okay.

[woso-story]

Mila's First Crush - Part Two

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x DaughterMila

It was Mila’s fifth birthday, and the backyard was decked out like a rainbow exploded—balloons everywhere, a lion-shaped cake, and tiny footballs scattered across the lawn. Mapi had personally curated every detail, triple-checking that everything was safe, colorful, and Mila-approved.

But none of her planning could prepare her for him.

“Maria,” Ingrid said with a grin as she walked up beside her wife, holding a tray of juice boxes. “Try to look less like you’re guarding the royal jewels.”

“I am,” Mapi muttered, eyes locked on a curly-haired little boy running across the grass—Mila right on his heels, giggling. “There he is. Ricardo.”

Ingrid tried (and failed) not to laugh. “He’s five.”

“He has dimples. That’s dangerous.”

“Maria.”

But Mapi wasn’t listening. Her eyes narrowed like a hawk tracking its prey.

Ricardo was now helping Mila climb onto the little plastic slide. He even held her hand as she went up. Mila squealed with joy as she slid down, then immediately ran back to do it again—with Ricardo cheering at the bottom.

Ingrid leaned into her wife’s side. “He’s sweet. And respectful. You’re being dramatic.”

“I don’t like the way he smiles at her,” Mapi whispered. “Too charming. He’s like a mini heartbreaker in sneakers.”

Just then, Mila came running over, cheeks red and eyes sparkling.

“Mami! Ricardo gave me his blue lollipop! He said it’s the best one and he wanted me to have it because I’m special!”

Mapi’s eye twitched.

Ingrid snorted into her juice box.

“That’s... nice of him,” Mapi managed, her tone strained.

Mila didn’t notice. She was already racing back toward the chaos of the party.

---

Later, as they all gathered to sing “Happy Birthday,” Ricardo stood next to Mila, proudly off-key and clapping harder than anyone. When Mila blew out her candles, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He beamed. BEAMED.

Mapi was about to combust.

Once cake had been devoured and gift bags handed out, Ingrid found her wife sitting on a lounge chair, arms crossed, staring off into the middle distance like she’d just witnessed the end of an era.

“She said she’s going to sit next to him at lunch every day now,” Mapi said quietly.

Ingrid sat down beside her. “You okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“She’s five, Ingrid. Five. And I already have to deal with this heartbreak she’s going to bring home one day. And what if it’s Ricardo who breaks her heart? I can’t punch a five-year-old.”

Ingrid wheezed with laughter. “No. You absolutely cannot.”

“I just… I want to protect her from everything. From every boy who will ever say he likes her, or doesn’t text back, or tells her football isn’t for girls. She’s our baby.”

Ingrid took her hand, squeezing it. “And she’ll always be our baby. But we’ve gotta let her make her own stories too. Even the messy ones.”

Mapi sighed, resting her head on Ingrid’s shoulder. “Fine. But if she ever cries because of that boy, I’m switching her to a different preschool.”

“Deal,” Ingrid said, laughing as Mila ran over with Ricardo close behind, both holding juice boxes and showing off their temporary lion tattoos.

“Look!” Mila beamed. “We’re twins!”

Mapi gave them a smile that was… technically a smile. It mostly just showed teeth.

Ingrid whispered, “That’s terrifying.”

Later that night, when Mila was tucked into bed, still talking about her perfect birthday party and Ricardo even as she drifted off, Mapi stood in the doorway, arms folded again.

Ingrid came up behind her, wrapping her in a hug.

“She’s got a big heart,” Ingrid said softly.

“She gets it from me,” Mapi said.

“And the endless yapping.”

“That’s definitely from me.”

They laughed quietly, watching their daughter sleep.

“I still don’t like Ricardo,” Mapi mumbled.

“I know.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving him with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"