#i think im at a place where im content with what im writing at least so i can just do that without validation

[lemongogo]

why do i love the conflict more than anything else . the misery . the incompatibility that spreads like oil slick . wanting so desperately for resolution that never comes . hmmm

[inevitablestars]

hm

[gigiwritess]

LIKE THE STAR? BRIGHTER.

dr. jack abbott x f!resident!reader "vega" aka "wildcard"

wc: 2,205 synopsis: just another normal day at the pitt—except it's not. for the first time in a long time, jack might have found an equal in every sense. tl;dr: dr. abbott meets a new resident for the first time.

contents: 20-year age gap (vega is 26, jack is 46), usual pitt dynamics. probably lots of medical inaccuracies that im not gonna apologize for. very quick mentions of mental health issues. this is totally self-inserted and vega is totally based in lots of aspects of myself. gonna probably update this list when i have more creativity.

gigi's note: this man and the pitt have been consuming my every waking thought so of course it culminated in the fastest fic i've ever written. i have a whole little series planned for these two, but im gonna try to write at least some of them in a manner where you dont necessarily need to read the others. read the end notes for more info!!! enjoy!!!!

PLAYLIST | NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST

NEXT

It had already become a habit—more often than not, Jack’s days off ended up being spent at the Pitt. Not that he minded; the Pitt’s chaos was better than the chaos inside his head that ran free when he was alone at home. At home, the silence was suffocating—he had too much time to think. Here, every beep and shout gave him a reason not to listen to the thoughts clawing at the inside of his skull. Here, he knew exactly what he was doing. And he was damn good at it.

To Vega, being in the Pitt made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt. She didn’t mind the chaos—she thrived in it. Being surrounded by it sharpened her focus, made everything else—the endless voice in her head, the black monster inside her chest threatening day by day to swallow her whole—fade into nothing but background static.

Today was no different. The Pitt was, like usual, a chaotic hellscape; machines humming, monitors beeping, medical staff shouting orders, the scent of antiseptic filling everyone’s nostrils. The kind of place that felt both alive and dead at the same time. Jack had just arrived after a few hours of sleep after his night shift, clutching a cup of coffee in his hand, when he first spotted her across the ER in trauma two—a woman who didn’t seem to belong here, but did. Jack had barely any time to take a proper look at her before she was on the move again.

She moved fast, braid whipping against her back as she called for suction, adjusting doses, her hands slick with blood. The Pitt demanded everything and she gladly gave it. Without hesitation, without pause. It was what she lived for.

“Push another 20 of epi. I need suction—no, hold it, go with 50 cc,” she called out, her voice cutting through the chaos as she worked. Controlled. Sharp. The team moved, almost grateful for the authority in her voice. She didn’t miss the way Santos’ hands trembled, or how Whitaker clung to her words like a lifeline.

Jack hadn’t seen her before—not that he was keeping track; new faces came and went. But something about this one made him look twice. He caught sight of her again—tall, dark hair, sharp, moving fast between patients. She was a calm center, a fixed point in the storm. She worked with precision, her hands a blur as she gave orders, her focus unwavering as she moved around and directed the team with an ease that made it look effortless, a mixture of experienced residents and interns following her every instruction without hesitation. She moved around the room like she owned it. She was focused.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked, voice neutral.

“That is my star resident,” Robby said with a hint of amusement in his voice, noticing his curious gaze. “Wildcard.”

Then, still working on the patient, she felt it. His stare. She was used to people’s eyes on her all the time in this place—curious glances, usually directed at her tattoos whenever they poked out; interns sizing her up, sometimes with grudging respect, sometimes openly doubting her abilities to handle the weight of the Pitt. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t the usual ER gawkers or old surgeons with smug superiority. This was different. Something else.

Jack raised an eyebrow. He had seen his fair share of capable residents, but something about the way she moved—almost like she was born for this—caught his attention. She was completely in her element, cutting through the chaos with a level of focus that suggested she’d been there before. Not that Jack expected anything less, but there was something about her that piqued his interest.

She felt the weight of his gaze, analyzing, unapologetic. She recognized that old, instinctive prickle at the back of her neck—the kind of awareness she only felt around people who could do damage. Not the loud, blustering types, no. The quiet ones. The wolves pretending to be men.

But she was no sheep.

Vega didn’t look up, focused solely on the person in front of her. She let him look. Let him think he was unnoticed, but she felt the scrape of it against her nerves.

“Wildcard?” Jack asked, nodding toward the scene, his tone cool but intrigued.

Robby grinned, stepping back slightly to give Jack a better view. “Yeah. Earned it on her first shift. Handled a mass casualty like it was nothing. Nerves of steel.”

Jack didn’t reply. Instead, he just watched her as she worked. There was a quiet intensity to the way she moved. She wasn’t loud or flashy, didn’t seek attention; instead, she commanded the room with a quiet authority, in a way that spoke volumes about her ability to take charge when things went south. It was a quality Jack respected, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. She wasn’t just surviving in the chaos—she was thriving in it. Something he did, too.

When the patient was finally stable, able to wait for the OR, Robby called her name. She peeled the paper gown off and turned towards them, tugging off the gloves with a sharp pull, and met Jack’s gaze head-on.

“Wildcard,” Robby said, “this is Dr. Jack Abbott. Jack, this is Dr. Vega, also known as Wildcard.”

She barely heard his voice—she already knew who he was.

Dr. Jack Abbott. The ER’s storm cloud, a man with a reputation for being as sharp as he was reckless. She’d heard plenty—everyone had. Stories traded in break rooms, warnings half-uttered with a mixture of respect and almost fear. A doctor built out of sharp things and bad habits, all jagged edges and rough temper. A man people either followed or avoided. And now here he was, giving her that look like he was trying to decide if she was worth his time.

Their gazes locked—not an awkward glance. She didn’t look away as most people did when meeting him for the first time, usually too nervous to look him in the eye. No. There was a beat of silence, a brief exchange of recognition, as if both of them could feel something shift in the air between them. Subtle, but undeniable. She sized him up in a fraction of a second, eyes sharp and unreadable, but he knew what that look was. For the first time in months, Jack felt something in his chest unclench, some flicker of recognition that made the blood in his veins hum with something dangerously close to life.

None of the stories she’d heard did him justice. He wasn’t the washed-up, better-than-everyone asshole she expected. For a second, the ER didn’t exist; the screaming monitors, the sharp tang of blood and bleach—gone. It was just him. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, slight tilt of his head, the heavy kind of presence you could feel in your teeth. The way he looked at her—not polite, not exactly curious. He looked at her like a man who was curious to see what would happen if he pushed. Good. She was tired of polite. She was tired of fake pleasantries.

She looked younger than he expected. But there was something else in her eyes that made her feel older than she probably was. Experienced.

Her lips twitched—barely a smile, but the kind that dared him to make the first move.

“Dr. Vega.” His voice was low, neutral, but her stomach did a dangerous twist.

There was a familiarity in the way he looked at her—not exactly recognition, but that kind of animal instinct of like recognizes like. The people who knew what it was to thrive in the places others avoided. The people who thrived in the chaos.

She couldn’t help the slight curve of her mouth, barely there, but enough to be noticed by him.

“Heard things about you, Dr. Abbott,” she said, her voice even, threading a fine line between professional and personal. “Thought you’d be scarier.”

Her words were like a soft challenge, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and it was Jack’s time to quirk an eyebrow, his eyes darkening, a flicker of something dangerous and amused sliding into place. Was she mocking him? Or was she just testing the waters? He couldn’t quite decide.

Jack tilted his head slightly, a slow, crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She met his eyes head-on, unblinking. No one held her gaze for long—too sharp, too cold—but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze dropped, assessing. Not leering. Calculating. Like a predator working out if she was worth the risk.

“Stick around, Doc,” he replied. “You’ll get there.”

Oh, she fucking liked that.

Robby snorted, glancing between them with an amused look in his eyes. Jack wasn’t the type to be rattled easily, but there was a palpable tension now between the two of them, something that felt familiar yet almost… uncomfortable. Different. Jack didn’t show it, of course, but Robby knew him better than everyone.

Vega had had a lot of first meetings since walking into this ER not more than four weeks ago. Most were forgettable, most faded by the next shift. But there was weight to this one. The air around them felt tight, stretched thin in a way she recognized from old fights and late-night emergencies. The kind of moment where you either stepped up or stepped aside, where you either fought the wave headfirst or let it wash over you, carry you with it.

“How’s day shift treating you?” Abbott asked, and Robby’s eyebrow went up, already seeing where Jack’s head was going.

Vega realized—these two men knew each other better than everyone else.

“The coffee could be better,” she replied, finishing what she was typing on the computer.

Jack’s lips quirked, a flicker of dry amusement in his otherwise unreadable expression. “Night shift coffee’s better,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup, the steam rising from it like he was making a point of something, just for her.

Robby’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched the interaction with newfound interest, like a new TV show that was starting to catch his attention. He shook his head. “Don’t you even think about stealing her from me, Abbott.”

Jack’s eyes found hers again, and neither looked away. “Yeah, yeah. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But the way he said it—quiet, edged—suggested otherwise.

Robby drifted off to take care of another matter, and she half-expected him to do the same, say something smug or look away. He didn’t. Neither did she. She raised her eyebrows and smirked at him, almost as if she was daring him to do something about it.

“You’re welcome to try, Dr. Abbott,” Vega said, her voice smooth, low, carrying a spark of challenge that showed itself in the way his jaw tightened slightly.

It was brief, but it was there. The smallest tell that he was just a little thrown by her, caught off guard. She liked that. She liked that a lot. Probably more than she should’ve.

He wasn’t used to being challenged quite like that. There was something about her—something too familiar in the way she carried herself that made him pause, that made him stop in his tracks.

“Noted,” he replied, five simple letters carrying more weight than normal. It felt like a promise. Or a threat—she couldn’t tell.

Both excited her, both made her heart skip a beat and made her skin prickle with something she couldn’t decipher yet. The air between them tightened, thickened. That kind of electric stillness you only get before a bad decision—the kind you’d make twice just to feel something. The kind she was built for.

He held her gaze, and she held his, never once faltering, up until she turned her back to see another patient. Jack was rattled—it’d been a while since someone managed to do that. She pulled a chart off the rack and moved on to the next patient with effortless grace. As he stared at her back, he felt an inexplicable pull, one he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel. For the first time in a long time, something in Jack’s chest pulled tight. Not enough to show, but enough for him to feel it.

Even as she walked away, she still felt it—a tug in her chest, his gaze burning between her shoulder blades, the awareness of his eyes on her as she crossed the room.

Jack didn’t move. Not yet. As she was about to disappear behind a curtain, his voice called after her.

“Vega,” he said.

Not Wildcard. Not yet. He said her name like a question. Or a challenge—she couldn’t decide. She paused. A beat. Half a heartbeat. Let the silence hang there, heavy and thick and hungry. Then she turned her head, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“Like the star?” he asked, voice low, rough, unreadable, his eyes full of things she couldn’t decipher.

For the first time since clocking in that morning, a real smile spread across her face.

“Brighter,” she said softly and went back on her way.

She didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching her.

Good.

gigi's note: PLEASE tell me your opinions on this and what you think of the series!!!! the future pieces are gonna dive deep into vega's mental issues (which are my own). not gonna be exactly a slow burn because i hate slow burns, i just prefer the burning head-on lol comments and reblogs are most welcome!!!

my inbox is always open and i would loooooooove to yap about this man. xoxo <3

NEXT

[shuafiles]

CONTENT | fluff, jealous bf!vernon A/N | dont mind me im just a girl who has a big crush on her bias (especially after seeing him in person)

vernon wasn’t the kind of boyfriend to get jealous easily. in fact, you couldn’t recall a moment where he showed any hint of jealousy. not that he didn’t care—vernon cared deeply about you. he just didn’t see the point of being jealous when he knew he could trust you wholeheartedly.

at least, that’s what you thought.

all it took was for the barista to hit on you for him to finally crack.

“hi! may i take your order?”

“one white mocha, please,” you said with a small smile. the barista returned the gesture while he scribbled down your order on your cup.

“name?”

“y/n.” you handed him your card.

“pretty name for a pretty lady.” the barista hummed, writing down your name on the cup before taking your card, returning it to you, and turning to complete your order.

you brushed off his compliment, not thinking much of it, stepping aside to wait for your order. but your boyfriend, on the other hand, raised his brow before looking down at his hand, which was clearly holding yours. he wondered if his public display of affection was not enough to ward off any flirtation comments from strangers.

a frown on his lips, he decided to wrap his arms around your waist while placing his chin on top of your head. you giggled, loving his attention as he wasn’t usually one to show this much affection in public.

“jealous much?” you teased, leaning your back against his chest.

“nope,” vernon replied curtly, his lips forming a thin line.

“if you say so.” you pressed a soft kiss on his jaw.

“y/n!” the barista announced your name, making you turn to claim your order at the counter. he smiled widely once he saw you, handing you your cup while purposely grazing his fingers against yours. “have a lovely day.”

you shot him a polite smile before returning to your boyfriend, who watched the entire scene with furrowed brows.

“he should knock it off.” vernon scoffed, circling his arm around your waist.

“what was that?” you lifted the cup to take a sip, but vernon snatched the plastic from your hands. “hey!”

vernon turned the cup to see that the barista had written down his number beside your name with a winky smiley face.

“oh, he’s tough.” vernon scoffed, rolling his eyes before returning your cup to you.

“baby, you know i’m not interested.”

“yeah, i know,” vernon responded, but the evident pout on his lips betrayed him.

vernon couldn’t help but sulk on the way home.

“alright, what’s up?” you asked, plopping down on his lap. you expected him to follow you into your shared bedroom, but instead, he sat on the couch in the living room, absentmindedly watching the television, but you know him all too well.

“i don’t know what you mean,” vernon muttered, remote in hand as he switched channels while his other hand instinctively found your thigh, placing it on the exposed skin.

“baby.” you glared at him, fingers tracing his jawline as he refused to face you. “tell me what’s wrong,” you mumbled, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

you heard him sigh, his fingers caressing your thigh. you knew he wasn’t great with words, but you still understood him completely.

“was it the barista?” vernon’s fingers froze, eyes avoiding your intense gaze on him. you couldn’t help but giggle at his state. “baby, i couldn’t care less about him. you know that, right?” you cupped his face, gently forcing him to face you. “i’m yours, and only yours.” you assured, voice firm but affectionate.

vernon’is lips twitched into a small smile, merely nodding his head to your words. “i know.” “good.” you smiled before placing a lingering kiss on his lips, feeling the tension on his shoulder dissipate at your touch.

“we should switch cafés,” vernon muttered against your lips.

you laughed, the sound filling the room, and vernon couldn’t help but smile wider. you had a way of making him feel like the luckiest guy in the world, no matter how many baristas tried to steal your attention.

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[witherby]

we NEED more mermaid and damian content 😔🙏

(i dont know if ur accepting requests but maybe we could get a glimpse of Jon? its fine if not!! just a silly thought!!🫶🫶)

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WRITING (and im new to ur blogs 😿)

I haven't read any of the comics... Jon is the kind one and Kon/Con is the bad boy with the attitude, right? I sure hope so, but if he isn't, then it's an AU, take it with a grain of salt! Haha.

Here's your "glimpse" of Jon 😈

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader, part 6!

The Masterlist is here!

You're awoken from your sleep by a familiar disturbance in the water.

Swish, swish, swish. Swish, swish, swish.

You bump harshly into the sides of your castle spire as you practically claw your way out, long tail unfurling as you get free, and you propel yourself eagerly towards the top floor where the opening to your tank is located. You're a blur in the water, stirring up the aquatic fauna and creating ripples from how fast you're going. You barely pay it any mind, too overjoyed by the presence of a person you didn't think you'd get to see again.

Your sense of time is shaky, especially after breaking your own routines in the wake of your separation from Damian, but you'd know that summons from anywhere. You could feel its disturbance from a mile away.

Did he miss you as much as you missed him? You hope so. Oh, you can't wait to be reunited!

You break the surface with a happy trill, arms extended to embrace your favorite caretaker, and flop over the lip of the tank with him in a tangle of limbs. Your arms encircle his shoulders, webbed fingers skittering against the familiar texture of the wetsuit, and you nuzzle into a head of black hair with a coo.

He's here! He's here, he's back, he's finally with you again! You're so happy —

"Ah — whoa! It worked! I can't believe it!"

You stiffen, eyes snapping open as you process that voice.

That's not what Damian sounds like.

When you take in more details, you come to understand the mistake you made faster and faster. The shoulders you're hugging are too broad. The hair you're nuzzling is too long. The wetsuit you're touching is a different color. The caretaker you're holding is too tall.

You draw back, chittering, and stare at soft, blue eyes, instead of your favorite glittering green.

"Hi!" The boy greets cheerfully. "I'm Jon Kent, your new primary — wait, no, waitwaitwaitwait!!"

You push yourself away from him and turn to get back into the water, but a pair of arms around your waist halts your progress. You snap your teeth threateningly, and the land creature at least has the decency to look chagrined. He's lucky you're too hungry and tired to put up much of a fight at the moment.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he insists. "Look, look — I brought you a bucket of food, and I grabbed you some new puzzles and toys, and I'm in a wetsuit! Bruce told me you know what that word means, because you used to swim with Damian."

You elbow Jon roughly in the stomach. He groans, but continues to hold you. There's not enough of your tail currently in the water to slip away, either. You hiss, annoyed.

"Please," the boy insists, "give me one chance! We don't have to be best friends, but you need care. You're underweight, you're overtired, and my dad says you need those patches on your tail looked at. My job is to help. I just want to help you."

Jon tugs you close, mindful to stay out of swiping range of your claws, and rests his chin on top of your head.

"One swim. I won't touch you anymore, either. Let me at least pop into your tank to clean up the discarded food and straighten up the place, okay? Just one swim together. Deal?"

You squirm and wriggle, snapping your teeth a few more times to try and slip out of his grasp. Unfortunately, Jon is stronger than he looks, and you really are overtired. The fight doesn't last much longer before you're slumped against him and panting slightly.

"Please," he murmurs again, using your name to get your attention. The fins on the sides of your head twitch, and you finally weigh your options.

A long amount of time has passed. When you see Damian walking people through the tunnels under your tank, he no longer looks at you. You are exhausted, and bored, and lonely. You miss him terribly.

You have caretakers. They are not Damian, but there are still people that come to see you and maintain your home. Jon wants to be one of those people.

You do not have to like Jon, but he has offered to play with you and look after you like Damian once did. You don't want a new playmate, but...

Maybe...maybe it will be okay. Your heart yearns for Damian, but you can nurse that particular wound yourself while letting others tend to the physical injuries. You can allow someone else to occupy your time, as long as you don't get too attached lest they, too, get dragged away from you.

Was that the problem? Was Damian taken away because you wanted him to be your life partner? Would you be able to maintain a bond with someone else as long as you remained unmated?

Jon gently calls your name again. His grip has gone slack around your waist.

"Can we be friends? Or at least cordial?" He asks you, very patiently. "Pretty please? With sprinkles on — you're a mer, you can't have sprinkles — uhhh, with fish flakes on top?"

Hmm. This new caretaker is a little bit stupid, but he's got the spirit.

Fine.

Your shoulders slump, and you hum and turn towards the bucket he set a few feet away. Jon perks up immediately.

"Really!? Thank you! Thank you so much, oh, you have no idea what a relief this is!"

He lets you go and you shimmy back into the water, leaving your head above the surface as he grabs the bucket and holds it out to you.

"Here you go. If you want more, I brought two. You can have as much as you want, I promise!"

Your eyes dart towards the doors, where you watched Bruce take your favorite person away, where there is no sign of his return, then they flicker back to Jon, and you take the bucket.

Everything will be fine. It won't be the same, but it will be fine.

--

Damian makes his way stealthily through the halls. The other staff members know he's not supposed to get near your tank, and if they caught him now, the jig would be up.

Luckily for him, the other staff are all idiots, so when he finally makes it to the door and swipes his father's pilfered key, the lock clicks apart and he waltzes inside your enclosure with a grin.

"Princ —" he starts to call, only for the rest of his sentence to get caught in his throat.

He watches Jon Kent, the new caretaker, adjust his wetsuit and put a rebreather on, then jump into the water where you're spinning around in cheerful circles to play with him. He watches Jon carefully spin with you, then get dragged further into the tank with your hand on his wrist. He watches a gentle smile paint your face before you swim too far down for him to see you anymore.

It took months of work for Damian to build that level of trust with you. Months. And this moronic, gap-toothed, clumsy little plebian had come in and done it in two measly weeks? Was he that skilled of a Mer caretaker?

Damian leans against the wall when his knees threaten to buckle, feeling sick.

No. Maybe he wasn't an expert handler. Maybe you just liked Jon more.

Damian was aware of his decidedly "prickly" personality, and for the most part it suited him just fine. You certainly didn't seem to mind, especially after warming up to him. Was there any warm up at all, with Jon? Or did his winning smile and people-pleasing attitude charm you instantly?

Would you eventually give him some of your scales, too?

It doesn't matter, he thinks, quickly stumbling back out of the room with a thundering pulse and burning eyes. He's seen the joy on your face. His misguided sense of importance, of thinking you needed Damian in order to be happy, of thinking he meant just as much to you as you did to him, was clearly wrong.

You'll be just fine.

[megapteraurelia]

Hii ik you said kenma was a bit hard to write for you but im getting on my hands and knees and begging u for more kenma content rn! ur last kenma fic was sooo goood and i need moree

4 + 4 + 4 + 4.

🫧 SUMMARY; — one rule in life: do not force kenma out of his comfort zone. (because it's mean)

🫧 WARNINGS; — anxiety attack; hurt/comfort

🫧 WORD COUNT; — 1484.

🫧 AUTHOR'S NOTE; — thank you so much, babes!! i hope you like this! i feel like kenma has a lot of suppressed feelings that he always deals with on his own, a lot of them being not wanting to be perceived by people. i'm also working on the final part of the other kenma fic so hopefully that should come soon :0 !!

please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

“where is he?”

kuroo tetsurou’s fingers rubbed the space between his eyes, and he nodded up the stairs to kenma’s room, “thanks for coming. he won’t let anyone in. this hasn’t happened in so long.”

“of course,” you said, taking off your shoes, slightly out of breath, having run all the way from your own home at kuroo’s call. even though he hadn’t sounded panicked over the phone, there was a sense of urgency lying in the timbre of his voice; one that told you that he was worried and would really rather not be. when he offered you water, his shoulders were a little tense, and he kept trying to push back his hair, even though everybody knew how futile of an effort that was.

 kuroo’s hair, for all intents and purposes, was a constant in this life; much like a fact to focus and bank on when things turned sour or when you needed a reality check. at least, throughout all the bullshit and the lemons the universe threw at you, kuroo’s bed hair stayed as messy as it was. 

“thanks, kuroo,” you said, walking past him, and he called out after you: “i owe you ice cream.”

“make that chocolate milk, and you have a deal.”

you lost your smile when you stood in front of the wooden door, knowing that the door was unlocked but not daring to open it. kenma’s privacy was holy, his boundaries unshakeable, and when he felt like he needed to retreat most, there was no way in hell you were going to cross any of them.

so you spoke through the door, “kenma. it’s me.”

there was no answer, but you knew he heard you. as quiet and soft-spoken as he was, he was all the more observant to make up for the lack of talking. a sharp listener, even more cutting eyes, but there was a deep vigilance behind the gold, a duty of care that he tried to stuff deep down as much as possible lest he would have to deal with having his emotions spill out into the open, explain their existence, admit that he cared more than he felt comfortable to feel.

allowing your back to slide against the door down, you made yourself comfortable, slinging your arms around your legs, cheek digging into your knee.

“kuroo called me, but i think you already know that,” you said softly and you felt a weight settle on the other side of the door, a dull thump sounding out; the back of a head being leaned against the wood right next to your ear. you chose not to acknowledge it, “he said that the principal made you talk in front of the school, even though he tried not to involve you.”

so close to the door, you could pick up on the little quick breaths he was forcing through his mouth and you purposefully took an audible deep breath in before continuing, “that was pretty shitty of him, but despite being put on the spot, you did really well, kenma,” and exhaled just as loudly.

his breath hitched and you faintly heard the drumming of his fingers on the ground, the nervousness seeping out of his pores, the energy that he usually was able to contain so easily all over the place now. 

another inhale, “you’re not in front of anybody anymore, kenma, it’s over. you’re here, alone and safe, nobody is watching you anymore,” another exhale. slowly he started matching up with you, though his breaths were still tinged with a little despair, heavy and panicked.

you breathed with him for a while, focusing on a specific rhythm, and asked him to hold his breath at times to stop his body from hyperventilating, forcefully pushing out the air as you talked, reminding him that he had suffered through those anxiety attacks before and came out of them fine each time, that he was safe and unharmed.

“my heart—” he breathed out, one, two, three, four, “—hurts.”

“i know, kenma. it will pass, i promise.”

his voice was so quiet, so tired, even more faint through the thickness of the door, “don’t go.”

“i won’t.”

“then why—” long inhale, holding, long exhale, “—do you sound so far away?”

you turned around at that; your fingernails resting on the wood, and you knocked with them, not wanting to startle him with your knuckles nor force him out of the dissociation that wanted to hug him like a cloak, “can i come in, kenma?”

instead of answering, you heard muffled shuffling and then the door knob turning. he didn’t open the door fully, but you knew that the little squeaking of the hinges was invitation enough. 

you wasted no time in pushing it open, not even bothering to get up on your feet, just immediately crawling in, knowing that he hadn’t moved far. and you were right; there he was: kozume kenma with trembling shoulders that he tried to suppress, damp strands clinging to his neck and his temple, fingers incessantly drumming on his legs now, the other clutching his black shirt, fisting the material. 

his eyes, usually so attentive, were far away.

“oh, kenma,” you sighed, forcing yourself to use his name instead of any endearments even though your tongue was used to using all kind of nicknames, but you wanted to ground him, wanted him to come back and not fall down any whirlpools of catastrophic thinking, “is it okay if i touch you, mhm?”

he nodded, quick and almost imperceptible, dragging a deep breath into his body, fingers tensing up then releasing the tension again. his shoulders followed, his abdomen, his legs, trying to let out all the pent up tension that worked itself into his muscles during his anxiety flaring up. your hands found neck and you pressed your fingers into his flesh in a rhythm he could follow, still breathing with him.

“i’m here, you’re okay,” you said quietly, voice calm and controlled, his pulse irregular underneath your fingertips.

his trembling gradually lessened with every second passing that you whispered any words coming to your mind that would be able to wash away his overwhelming thoughts; his breathing smoothing out, pulse calming, allowing his body to step out of the fight-or-flight mode it found itself in after having been forced outside of its comfort zone so harshly.

kenma’s head found the crook of your neck, his forehead tacky with sweat passing its warmth over to you. his voice was considerably calmer, though still a weak imitation of his usual tenor, “i felt like dying.”

“i don’t want you to die.”

“don’t worry, i have enough scrolls of revivify,” he groaned, trying to bury his face deeper into you, nose inhaling your scent, etching it into the folds of his brain.

you leaned back against the door and his body followed you seamlessly, draping his weight on you, one hand of his gripping the hem of your shirt instead, rubbing the new material between his finger tips, and you smiled against his hair, “i thought you can’t revive in honour mode.”

“don’t even remind me.”

you laughed, your fingers still on the back of his neck, nails drawing shapes onto his skin, and you felt goosebumps erupt on his skin. 

he sighed, his eyes closing, hiding the intense golden irises from you, “i’m tired. sleep with me.”

it took you a lot of coaxing to convince him to get up from the floor and the position he was in, knowing he would hurt his neck that way. so even though it was only 6pm in the evening, at the end, you found your body entangled with his on the bed, his face buried in your neck again, a hesitant kiss pressed against your skin, one hand having sneaked up your shirt to hook his finger into your bra. 

“thank you,” a breeze of air, low sound, almost like it wants to hide, but sincere, “everything feels right with you.”

before you could even answer, he had already fallen asleep, breathing softly against you, stray tears having dried on his lashes. your fingers didn’t stop threading through his hair, thumb following the curve of his ear, feeling his steady and now calm heartbeat against your chest, the twitch of his leg in his sleep.

“psst,” a whisper broke you out of daydreaming and your eyes scurried over to the door. the universe’s constant factor stared back at you with furrowed brows, sending a thumbs up poised as a question and you nodded. 

kuroo’s shoulders visibly relaxed, the relief palpable, and he stood there for a moment, hands propped on his hips, shaking his head, exhausted from the worry he had tried to bury deep inside.

he disappeared for a second, before coming back up the stairs to station two milk packs onto kenma’s desk. chocolate milk for you, banana milk for kenma.

[peace-love-and-french-toast]

Yeah, I totally agree with this. I actually do prefer Moonbli just in general, but I thought that it was a cool thing that Tui and Moon were just like ‘ok. So Winter is the friend but he was like. Super racist when they first met and also mean for like nearly 1/2 the series and he CAN change but also it’s a process and plus just like. Let Moon be happy’.

Yk?

my official take on the moon/qibli/winter love triangle is that winterwatcher is a much grander, epic romance, and moonbli is a much more level, sweet-and-simple romance, but ultimately i think it was a better decision to have the latter be the canon romance in a series primarily marketed towards children and teens than fall into the "bad boy" romance trope, and instead romanticize the earnest, genuine, sweet relationship

obviously there's way more nuance to this involving internalized/unconscious bias, and winter doesn't even REALLY fit into the "bad boy" archetype, but purely based on genre conventions, the gruff, rude, brooding, tortured hero VERY often falls into that category, and at the ages of 7-14 most of us were very LIKELY to be romanticizing that archetype, which again is very often treated as interchangeable with the "abusive bad boy" trope, and while i might have a few gripes with the writing of moonbli and i ENJOY winterwatcher a whole lot, i DO appreciate the more gentle, "safe" romance being treated as the ideal, rather than the tense and angst-filled nature of the alternative

[marauder-misprint]

hello hello tis me again, the regulus fanatic. im not aware if you saw my message yet but i ADORED your regulus fic and so i’ve prepared another if you’d like

get this, regulus x (once again, im obsessed) whimsy slytherin reader where she’s touchy and affectionate towards everyone especially close friends and one day regulus finally works up the nerve to ask her iut and shes just like ‘sure😃’ thinkings its just a normal day and reggies just acting weird

cut to like a week later when regulus leans in for a kiss and readers all like ‘WHOA😲’ cue awkward conversation about how they’ve been dating fir a week then readers rushes to tell everyone because she’s been pining for him for YEARS

sorry if thats a lot and have a wonderful wonderful morning evening and night!

Hello again! I had so much fun writing this! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎Still getting used to whimsy!reader so I hope it's okay that reader is highkey a yapper. They are both pining in this and just, augh! Fluff.

My turn to yap: I had a similar situation to this when I was younger. Fully convinced I was dating this guy for a few weeks before finding out that he had a girlfriend and he thought we were just "hanging out" despite going to very date-like places.

This story is nothing like my experience - Thank you for this very cute request ❤︎

Mr. 'Allergic to touching'

Regulus Black x Whimsical!reader

4k words

cw: fluff, pining,

Personal space isn’t a concept you’re familiar with. Well, it is but you like being in everyone’s, especially those you are close friends with. You’ll lean over the backs of chairs and couches as your friends sit in them, often reading or occasionally doing homework. You are always holding hands with your friends as you walk to class together. When you are relaxing somewhere, you are either draped over someone’s lap or pulling them into yours. That is just the edge of it too. You greet everyone with a hug, even if you are meeting them for the first time. It is just how you are. And you are blissfully unaware of how it bugs some people. 

Regulus, however, isn’t one of those people. Everyone expects him to be with his cold demeanor, how he snaps at first years for being too loud, and the fact that he doesn’t tolerate that amount of touching from anyone else. There is something about your touch that makes Regulus feel warm and content. That’s why he doesn’t mind it, but he won’t tell anyone that. Barty and Evan would call him ‘soft’ if they heard that. It would be even worse if they knew how Regulus fully feels about you; they know that he’s friends with you and tolerates your touches, but that’s all they know. 

Still, the idea of having your gentle touches and words of affection to himself makes Regulus smile. It’s a vice, he tells himself. He’s supposed to keep a plain expression, to be indifferent toward frivolities of his peers and their petty drama. You have a knack for breaking his resolve, especially when it’s lap you’ve laid down in or his chair you’re leaning over to see what page he’s on in his book. 

“Oi, Regulus, you coming?” Barty calls from across the common room. 

“Yes,” he replies dryly from where he is sitting near the fireplace.

Your friends are going to the library in an attempt to study and actually get something done. A group of third years playing exploding snap in the common room wasn’t allowing any of them to focus. Dorcas had been the one to angrily slam her hands into her book and swear at the younger students, and then you suggested the library. At least Dorcas would be able to study there. Regulus assumes that he’ll end up sitting across from you, or next to you, and he won’t be able to focus. 

Regulus follows behind the group. You’re in the middle holding hands with Pandora. You have a floral print tote bag slung over your shoulder that likely has Pandora’s things in it as well. Maybe he’d be the one holding your hand and carrying the bag one day… And now he’s smiling. 

“Excited to write that essay for Slughorn or something?” Barty asks, falling into step with Regulus. 

The smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. “Because essence of dittany uses is such an interesting topic,” he says sarcastically. 

“You’re the one who was smiling, mate. Something made you crack.” 

“Remembered something funny. Merlin forbid…” Regulus gives Barty a sideways glance, hoping that his answer would satiate him. 

Barty just flexes his eyebrows and adjusts his stride to match Evan’s. Regulus doesn’t mind that the rest of the walk is silent for him. The rest of his friends, including you, take part in livelier conversations, but Regulus is content just listening in. 

Just as he predicted, you sit down next to Regulus in the library. You place a hand on his arm.

“Could you help me with this Charms assignment? Unless you’re doing Potions with Junior?” you ask. 

He had already finished that assignment, but it is you asking. How could he say no to you?

“It’d be my pleasure. Have you started it?” 

You shake your head.

“Alright. That’s no problem. Let’s get the books you need.”

He stands up and you follow him into the shelves. You hum to yourself as he selects a few books. You like how easily he finds everything in the library and that he just knows which books you’ll need for the assignment. He doesn’t hold them out for you to carry. You see it as a polite gesture. Regulus is just nice like that. 

Back at the table, Dorcas is working earnestly on her homework. Evan, Barty and Pandora are having a hushed discussion that gets even quieter as you and Regulus retake your seats. Regulus starts flipping through the books to find the pages you’d need to reference. You watch him for a minute before realizing that you should be taking the assignment out. 

Once you look ready, Regulus moves one of the books right in front of you and explains which part of the assignment the passage relates to. Instinctively, you scoot your chair impossibly closer to his. Regulus tenses slightly; being so close to you will certainly make focusing on your assignment. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. You don’t notice. You’re too focused on trying to understand the point of a knitting charm. 

“But I can knit. I enjoy knitting. Why would I bother learning a charm to do it for me?” you ask in a defeated voice. 

“Well, what if I needed something knitted? I don’t know how to knit,” Regulus says in a fairly quiet voice, being that you are in the library. 

You tilt your head slightly and rest your chin on your hand. “I could knit it for you. I’m quite good. Remember that shirt I knitted for Cas’ girlfriend?” 

You casually leave out that you charged Dorcas for the shirt. You wouldn’t charge Regulus. If he needed something, you’d be more than willing to make it for him. 

“Then it’s for all the poor sods who don’t know the same wonderful people I do,” he says before realizing that he’s just called you wonderful. Outloud. To your face. 

His face burns in embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re so sweet!” you coo, hugging Regulus and being completely oblivious to the red shade of his face. Then you school your own emotions and turn back to your assignment. “Right, poor sods who are lonely and friendless.” 

Regulus puts all of his attention on the assignment. He needs to ignore the way his body still feels your warmth minutes after you let him go. 

“Right, ‘m bored. Kitchens?” Barty announces after some time. 

Pandora and Evan agree immediately and stand up. Dorcas waves them off, still working on her homework. The three don’t even wait for you or Regulus to respond. You both had your heads down, exchanging whispers about your assignment. Regulus is trying not to think about how close you are, and you’re grateful that Regulus is being so patient with you. 

After a while, Dorcas excuses herself and says she’ll see you back in the common room. It’s just you and Regulus now. You’ve almost finished your assignment. You’re tired of it, if you’re being honest. You would have given up a while ago if it was anyone else helping you, but it’s Regulus so you’re trying your best to stay focused. 

“And you’re done!” Regulus says with a small smile. “You did it.”

“Thanks to you,” you tell him. “I would’ve turned in a half-finished assignment.”

“Do you do that often?” 

You shrug. “When the assignment is stupid and pointless.”

Regulus chuckles softly as he stands up to put the books back. He wasn’t expecting you to follow him into the shelves but you did. You don’t say anything, rather humming to yourself again and watching Regulus. You like the way he carries himself and he’s just pretty in general so who wouldn’t want to watch him? Once your things are packed up from the table, you walk back to the common. In your usual fashion, you’re holding onto Regulus’ arm, which means you’ve unintentionally disabled his ability to think clearly.

“Sorry you didn’t get to work on your Potions essay,” you say.

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have made much progress on it anyway.”

“You know, I find dittany to be quite pretty. Wish it grew naturally around here. My mum grows them at home, a large section of our garden actually. It’d actually be helpful if our dorms weren’t in the dungeons. Then I could grow it in our dorms. I’m sure Pandora agrees with me,” you ramble and you keep going. 

Regulus can’t help his smile as he listens to you. He fully meant what he told Barty earlier; he didn’t find dittany, nor its essence, all that interesting. Your appreciation for the plant? He’d be willing to write down every word that was coming out of your mouth. Before you start to descend down the final staircase before the common room, Regulus puts a hand on yours where it's holding onto his arm. His gut is telling him it’s now or never. 

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” he asks, his voice steady but stomach flipping with nerves. 

“Of course! If the weather’s anything like last weekend, it’s going to be beautiful out. Although, I wouldn’t mind if it was a tad less windy.”

“It was windy last weekend, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” 

You give his arm a little squeeze before you head down the stairs and into the common room. Once in the common room though, you spot Pandora and Dorcas and rush over to them. Regulus doesn’t mind your sudden departure. The warmth of you on his arm not only lingers, but the fact that you agreed to go on a date with him? He could catch a snitch without his broom. His smile doesn’t falter as he strolls through the common room and disappears into his dorm. 

“Oi, you’re smiling again,” Barty says when Regulus sits down at his desk with the intent to work on that stupid Potions essay. 

“Smiling illegal now?” he deadpans. 

“No… but it’s weird when you do it. You’re not a smiler.” 

Regulus doesn’t answer, but he knows what Barty means. He can’t help it though. You agreed to go on a date with him.

---

You meet Regulus at breakfast on Saturday, dressed nicely and casually at the same time. Regulus outdressed you easily, but that was to be expected. Even his most casual outfits tended to be more formal and expensive. He is a Black, afterall. 

Regulus did eventually tell Barty about the date. After some teasing in their dorm, Regulus managed to convince him to not make a big deal about it. If it didn’t go well, Regulus didn’t want everyone knowing about it. He fully hopes it’ll go well, but given the chance it doesn’t, he wants to be able to move past it without any issues. 

You grab Regulus’ hand when you leave for Hogsmeade. Holding his hand rather than his arm makes Regulus’ heart pound in his chest – oh, the effects you have on him. 

“Do you need to go into Spintwitches? Didn’t you say you were running low on broom polish?” you ask.

Regulus stares at you for a moment before nodding. He barely remembers having said that sometime this week, before he even asked you out. He appreciates that you actually pay attention to what he says more than he can express.

“Okay, so we’ll go there and then, if you don’t mind, can we walk around Tomes and Scrolls? I’ve been talking to the owner about expanding his stock on Divination products and I want to see if he’s got anything in yet.”

“Erm, yeah. Anywhere you want to go, darling.” 

Even though you’re on a date and holding hands, Regulus’ face still heats up when he realizes he let a pet name slip. He silently thanks the fates that Barty and Evan didn’t “just happen” to tag along today; if they had heard him call you that, Regulus would never hear the end of it. While you notice him looking away from you, to hide the blush, you don’t think much of it. It’s just an odd quirk that he’s been doing around you more and more. 

Regulus tries to not take too much time in Spintwitches. He only ever uses one brand of polish, but since he’s buying it, he has to mentally debate if he needs more rags or a sharpener for his tail-twig clippers. He decides against both. The whole time in the store, you held onto his hand until he needed it to get out his money to pay. 

You swing his arm a little bit as you head to Tomes and Scrolls. As soon as you step into the shop, you pull Regulus toward a “New!” stand. Regulus feels apprehensive as he eyes the stand. It has more mainstream Divination books, but also ones that are more focused on crystal energies and aura readings. Regulus has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from scoffing at a “Nargle Repellant Kit.” He is fairly certain that nargles don’t exist. You scan the whole stand, even dropping Regulus’ hand for the second time so you could crouch to see the lower items.

“This is brilliant!” you exclaim, pulling out a book with depictions of constellations and crystals on its cover. “Dora will be thrilled when I show her this!”

You almost make a comment about how you’re surprised that she didn’t come today. It’s rarely ever just you and Regulus. You like that it is, but the point still stands. It’s not common. 

You grab two more books and head to the register. When the owner tells you the cost, you go to grab your money, but before you can even open your coin purse, Regulus has placed the correct amount on the counter. 

“Oh, I could’ve gotten that,” you say, a bit shocked.

“It’s my treat.”

“Then thank you, kind sir.”

Regulus gives you a soft smile and takes the bagged books from the owner. It wasn’t your tote of school supplies, but it was close enough – Regulus would carry it until you returned to the common room. 

“Anywhere else you want to go or should we go for butterbeers?” Regulus asks. 

“Hmmm…” you hum, taking Regulus’ hand again and giving it a squeeze. “Butterbeers. And then Honeydukes before we go back to the castle. I will eat all my Bertie Beans in the Three Broomsticks if we stop at Honeydukes first.”

Regulus chuckles. “That I know. Nothing like butterbeer to wash down the delightful flavor of earwax.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand again. The Three Broomsticks is busy, which isn’t surprising in any way. You find a booth for the two of you and a small wave of guilt falls over you. It feels wrong to take up an entire booth with just two of you. You make a mental note to invite any of your friends over if you see them. 

“Tell me, how did you get Mr. Brown to order these books?” Regulus asks, patting the Tomes and Scrolls bag next to him.

“It was so difficult. But really, I think Dora and I just wore him down. You know, asking and asking for these type of books and telling him it’s vital to our education. Little bit of forgery…”

“Forgery?” Regulus repeats.

“Well, he wanted a note from Professor Dawntry saying that they were necessary, or beneficial at least. And do you think she’d write that? No. So… we took it upon ourselves to write it. It’s all thanks to Junior for forging her signature. I think that really sold it to Mr. Brown.”

Regulus smirks. “And what if he ever talks to Dawntry in person? Asks her about the books that she’s endorsed?” 

“I already purchased the books, silly,” you say with an affectionate eye roll. “You purchased the books technically. But what’s he going to do? Force me to return them?”

“I suppose business is business.”

“Exactly! And it’s not like I’m requesting books on the Dark Arts.”

Then you start to explain the more intricate details about this particular branch of Divination that you’re looking into and how the Hogwarts library only has so many books on it. You’ve even read the books on it that are in the Restricted Section with real notes from Professor Dawntry. 

“That’s where we got the signature for Junior to copy,” you say.

Regulus nods and you continue. He’s more than fascinated while listening to you ramble. He hopes his staring is more ‘attentive listener’ than ‘creepy stalker’ or ‘you have something on your face.’ 

You’re pleased that Regulus doesn’t look bored with you right now. You’ve talked about this subject in the past to a variety of people and most of them give you skeptical looks and try to change the subject. And then there are the few who look more bored than the average student in Professor Binns’ class. Regulus is just attentive and it fuels the butterflies in your stomach. 

After a few butterbeers, Regulus hands Madam Rosmerta a few galleons before you head over to Honeydukes.

“I can pay you back for that,” you say, once again reaching for your coin purse before Regulus puts his hand on your arm.

“Don’t. Told you, it’s my treat.”

“What? The whole day? Reg, you already got my books!”

“I invited you, darling. Today’s on me.” 

A faint blush dusts your cheeks. “Damn, you should invite me to Hogsmeade more often.”

That’s the plan, Regulus thinks. He feels it would’ve been too forward, too flirty to say out loud, but it is the plan. If today continues to go well, he plans on being your Hogsmeade date quite often and being your date to the Yule Ball and asking you to wear his extra jersey to quidditch games and being your study buddy and… He is getting ahead of himself. He needs to finish the first date strong before he can plan out the rest of your relationship. 

You don’t take long in Honeydukes. Both of you know exactly which sweets you want and where they are. Having stopped there every visit since you started going to Hogsmeade in third year, it’s a well rehearsed visit. Once more, Regulus pays for your things. You don’t protest at all this time, knowing that he’ll insist that it’s his treat. It’s a tad bizarre the longer you think about it; you don’t recall him paying for anyone else that often. Usually when the whole group goes to the Three Broomsticks, everyone throws a galleon or a few sickles on the table before you leave, based on how much each drinks or if someone ordered food. Your solution? Just don’t think about it. He’s being nice and you don’t complain when someone is being extra nice to you. Definitely not when it’s Regulus. 

On the way back to the castle, you tell Regulus about the games you used to play with cousins using Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. Some of the games you’ve played at Hogwarts through the years, but your cousins have their own rules and methods of telling the flavors apart. Regulus tells you about the Chocolate Eternals that Sirius would sneak him when they were younger.

“He’d have to remind me not to chew them every time. Mum’s only given me enough to get two so we each get one. They don’t melt. Make it last.” 

You give him a slightly pitiful look. “I guess sweets weren’t too common growing up?” 

“No. Mother believes they are for special occasions and even then, they are limited… Come to think of it, I’m not sure Mother actually gave Sirius the money for the chocolates. He probably nicked it from her purse.” 

Regulus chuckles at the idea and you’re glad the conversation returns to its previous light-hearted nature. Regulus is able to keep his unspoken promise to carry your things all the way back to the common room. 

“Thanks for everything, Reg,” you say, giving Regulus a hug before taking your things back to your dorm. 

Regulus smiles to himself as he heads back to his. He feels proud of himself. He had a great first date with you and you seemed to enjoy yourself. 

---

Regulus starts placing himself next to you as much as he can. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like. You’re not complaining by any means. It’s nice and you like it. It’s just different. But you do notice that he’s becoming more relaxed around you, more himself. There have even been a few times where it’s just the two of you and you fall into easy conversation. 

After dinner on Friday evening, you sit next to Regulus on the plush couch in the common room. He’s got out the Transfiguration textbook, clearly doing the assigned reading. You have no intention of doing so. Regulus becomes less stiff as you sit down. It’s a miniscule change but you notice it. You scooch closer to Regulus and he moves his arm around you, holding you closer into his side. 

Pandora and Barty, having witnessed this, exchange curious glances. Regulus had told Barty that the date went well and he just assumed you were on the same page, that you are now dating. You had told Pandora about Regulus buying and how sweet he was the entire time, followed with a desperate ‘Do you think he might like me?’ Both Pandora and Barty had never seen Regulus put his arm around someone like that and he definitely never pulled someone in closer to him. His apparent tolerance of touches applying to only you was one thing; this was a whole new level. 

“You smell good,” you mutter into his chest. 

“Hm, thank you,” Regulus says quietly. 

Then he musters all his courage and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes go wide and you sit up, staring at him. Pandora and Barty have similar looks of surprise on their faces. Their quiet and previously boring evening in the common room just got interesting. 

“You… just… You kissed…” you stutter out.

You’re unable to actually finish your thought. You aren’t completely oblivious. You know that Regulus doesn’t give affection. 

“Erm, is that okay?” he asks, suddenly looking bashful and unsure of himself. 

“You don’t… You don’t… do that?” you say, sounding very, very unsure of what just happened. 

He wets his lips nervously. “I thought it’d be okay, with you, you know, since we’re dating?” 

You sit up even straighter. 

“We are?” you gasp. 

Regulus’ face burns bright red and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Barty trying not to fall out of his chair with suppressed laughter. 

“Since when?” you add. 

“Last week? I asked you on a date and it went well? At least, I thought it went well… I had a good time. Did you not?” 

You gasp louder and throw yourself at Regulus, burying him in a hug. 

“Merlin, I didn’t realize! No, it did go well!” You pull back from him with the widest grin he has ever seen. “You like me?” 

Regulus adjusts himself next to you, turning slightly to be more facing you. So apparently you weren’t on the same page about everything, but you seemed open to it.

“He doesn’t go around kissing everyone, sweetheart,” Barty chimes in, earning himself a glare from Regulus.

“Is that why you paid for everything? Because it was a date?” you ask Regulus.

He nods and you pull him into another hug. 

“So we’re dating,” you say.

“If that’s okay with you?” Regulus says, still sounding unsure of himself.

You pull back again and this time it’s you nodding. Then you get off the couch and practically jump onto Pandora’s lap.

“Did you hear, Dora? I’m dating Regulus!” you say happily. “Oh, I need to find Dorcas! She needs to know!”

And you are bounding away in search of your friend. You don’t hesitate to tell everyone that you pass that you’re dating Regulus Black, yes, the Regulus Black. You can’t help it – you’re just so excited that this yearslong crush has manifested into something real.

“About time too,” Pandora says once you’ve disappeared up the stairs toward the girls’ dormitories. “She’s been smitten with you for years.”

“I’d say you’re perfect for each other. Mr. ‘Allergic to touching’ and Ms. ‘Always touching,’” Barty adds. 

Regulus throws a pillow at Barty, which sends him into a cackling fit. Barty knows that Regulus must really like you to let him get away with that comment. After all, Regulus could’ve thrown his Transfiguration book at him. 

Tags: @navs-bhat

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

touya 🥰🥰

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, some titty worship, crassness from touya, vague but established relationships, fucking against a wall, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k

✮ a/n ; i have no clue how to write this guy im sorry. i tried my best though

Touya has a tell when he lies.

You'd never tell him about it. The minute he becomes aware is the minute he stops—and the minute he stops is the minute it makes reading him harder than it needs to be.

(You're good at reading Touya though even without the help. You've grown accustom to reading between the lines after all these years spent together. If you hadn't, you doubt the two of you to be together.

Understanding when whatever means please stay and when you're alright means i love you are necessities. The life line to the fragile relationship you call lovers)

It's not every time he lies. It's only when he has something he's embarrassed telling you and when all attempts at shamelessness result in obvious failure.

You try not to let it show your excitement on your face. He'll get pissed at you. He has a habit of being sulky when he's being teased.

You pull back from a kiss, breathless. You smile at him lopsidedly, fingers around the collar of his jacket as his hand sneaks up underneath your shirt. Calloused skin draws along your belly, up your sides and make you shiver.

Touya is always intense but there's something different today. His hand as your leg hitched up and he's grinding into you with such obvious fervor that it's making it hard to breathe. He chases your mouth the minute you pull away, frowning hard as you bite back a smile.

"What."

You're trying to contain yourself. Really. "Did you... miss me, Touya?"

It's there. His tell. A hand on the back of his neck and a look to his left. It happens quickly, gone as just soon as you see it. "Fuck no," And then as if to prove a point. "My dick might've, I guess."

He goes into kiss you again and you appease him and allow it. You let him touch you to his hearts content and keep your amusement to yourself at the obvious desperation. Sex is the one place Touya can't hide from what he wants, though he very often tries anyway.

He's practically frantic as he pushes you further against the wall. His mouth moves along your neck with searing intensity. He's handsy. Grabbing, biting, sucking - he leaves marks where he wouldn't care to normally, all over your neck. Your core is syrupy and hot, like spun sugar melting over the flame of Touya's longing.

He moves quickly, letting your leg down in process. Unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down to your thighs before doing the same for himself. You haven't moved from the door away but it's obvious Touya has no intent of doing so either, until he makes you cum at least once.

"Touch me," He voices it as a demand despite himself. Despite the obvious lust in his voice and the way he's looking at you. You wonder if he's self-aware about the face he makes when he's needy. "C'mon. 's rude to keep me waiting."

So you do. Pushed up against a wall with nothing but body heat like two teenagers all over again - you cup his hard cock, delighting in the way he shivers at the touch and moans into your mouth. You stroke him from in front and let him touch you in return. He strokes your clit at first but moves on quickly to fingering you, slipping further into your panties without taking them off. He likes how the sticky fabric clings to his scarred hands.

(You've learned over the years that Touya likes the mess. He likes when there's evidence of your intimacy in all the places you've ever fucked. Some of it is tried and true perversion.

But like the marks he leaves on your sternum and the bruises on your hips from his hold - you think that Touya likes lingering in your life in whatever way he can.)

"You're going so fast," You mumble. He pauses. Pouting, he goes on anyway. It's not like you told him to stop.

"Isn't it fine? You're already so fucking wet,"

You can feel yourself throb as Touya fucks his fingers into you. He starts with one, but there's not any resistance. Aching, practically pulsing with need, a moan slips past your lips at the sudden thrusting. He slows a little.

"Show me your tits,"

You roll your eyes but you listen anyway, pushing your shirt and bra up haphazardly. You figure he just wants to see them - but your mind changes when trails kisses down your neck and wraps his mouth around your nipples wordlessly. Your spine arches into the touch, a wave of arousal slicking Touya's finger. He adds a second after that, free hand holding the small of your spine as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, making sure to pay attention to each one for a little.

He opens you slowly, stretching you until it's easy to pump his two fingers in and out.

He stares at you with unbreaking eye contact while he fucks your pussy open. It's unnecessarily intense in a way that you find on brand. You stare back unsure of what else to do, a fucked out expression definitely being reflected black in blue irises.

It's a beat after that he pulls away from you. You whine at the loss of contact but Touya swallows the sound with a kiss. His nose nudges your jaw, hot and sensitive.

"Turn around," He hums it against your throat. "I think you can take me,"

He's going too fast, you think again. He likes to draw everything out so much more. Bully you into begging for him, if the mood strikes him. At the very least he likes to drag you into his own depths and feel so needy.

You oblige him by turning around and placing your hands on the wall, cheek pressed against the cool surface. He groans, a sharp noise slipping past your lips as the familiar weight and length of his cock push against the curves of your ass.

And then he gets too close to you. Tucks his chin against your shoulder and drops his weight over your back. He's always close to you but it's rare his clinging is so open as it is now. You decide not to say anything, pushing yourself back like an invitation. He chuckles, the sound is low - the reverb adding to your wetness and making your arousal worse.

"Three week long stake-out is fuckin' ridiculous," He presses a bite to your neck. "What the hell could you need to stake out for three weeks."

You read between the lines. I missed you. You laugh.

"Dunno. Glad to be back," You reply to him in his own language. Missed you too.

There's a brief moment of pause, the ghost of a smile on your back as you feel the familiar stretch of Touya's cock against your cunt. Your hole stretches, flutters at the euphoric sensation. Your stomach flips with a restless wanting as you try not to shove yourself all the way back on his dick too quickly. He groans against your shoulder. "Perfect fucking pussy,"

"You feel so good," You whimper in reply.

"Yeah?" He whispers it against your neck as one hand holds your waist, the other snaking around to toy with your clit as he pushes into your warm, wet heat. "Tell me about it."

"Fuck, Touya,"

His dick twitches at the sound of you moaning his name. You can feel him inside of you, so deep. Your eyes flutter as fullness knocks all the air out of your lungs. He's all in your stomach. Your breatch catches and hitches with each inch he manages to slide into you.

The sensation of orgasm dulls before it crescendos back up again. Somewhere in between that, Touya moves. It's slow at first, a shallow rock of hips before he paces himself and really starts to fuck you.

The way Touya fucks you is a little like him - noisy and invasive, a hard thrust of his hips that makes your ass recoil in reply from the sheer force. You gasp, feeling lightheaded from the intensity. He's deep, too deep - all the way up into your throat. His balls slap up against your clit every now and again and there's not any real delicacy to it, though there is so much precision.

He would never voice it aloud but he prides himself on knowing your body. Knows it inside it and out. Knows all the spots and angles that getting your sweet little cunt soaking with cum, knows how to make you want him.

He always fucks you good, and maybe it's the distance - but god, today he fucks you dizzy. Your voice keeps slipping with the clap of each thrust and you can barely keep yourself upright, knees threatening to go weak on each one. The only thing keeping you upright is Touya's cock spearing into you. Over and over until you feel it build in your gut again.

"Gonna cum," You barely make the words out. "Fuck, Touya,"

"That's it," He huffs, punctuating his words with a thrust. "Say my name. Say my fucking name when you cum for me,"

You pretend not to notice the emphasis on it being for him. You pretend not to hear the shake in his voice, how shattered he sounds with each word like he wants it as much as you.

Maybe more. You'll never tell Touya that part of the reason you cum so fucking hard is because he sounds so fucking wanting when he asks you to cum. Like falling from heaven, your orgasm drags you down to Earth and makes your whole body shake on impact. Your pussy spasms hard around his cock, thighs trembling and toes curling in your shoes at you let it all out.

Touya encourages you with a few sloppy thrusts and the intimacy of your name on his lips, making you ride the high over first before he follows suit. You feel him cum in you and sigh internally knowing you'll need contraception.

"Don't go on such long fucking stake-outs," He tells you. You laugh.

"Okay. I won't."

"We're not done fucking, either."

You laugh a little louder at that and turn around to kiss him over your shoulder. You smile when he leans into so easily "Uh-huh. Sure."

[youleftmenochoicebut]

SANTA BABY — remus lupin.

SUMMARY. — it’s your second christmas with your baby girl and Remus dresses up as santa.

PAIRING. — dad!remus lupin x mom!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, some suggestiveness at the end (because im kinda scared to write smut yet)

A/N. — merry christmas to those who celebrate!

“mommy, where’s dada?” your two and a half year old asks, her small body wrapped around your middle like a koala bear, as you sit in front of the fireplace. it’s 9pm, already past Brielle’s bedtime, but you’re letting her stay up late tonight. it’s christmas eve after all. your friends have left already, the kitchen’s been cleaned and Brielle’s been more than excited to finally get her presents.

“he’s getting more wood for the fire, bug.” the lie slips past your lips flawlessly, your fingers combing through your toddler’s hair, and the fact that it’s the exact same color and texture as Remus’ still stuns you to this day. the truth is you decided it would be a fun idea for Remus to dress up as Santa Claus and give your baby girl her gifts that way. although the more you think about it now, the more hesitant you are.

Brielle just nods, nuzzling her head into the crook of neck, and you sigh contently. not much time passes before you hear the backdoor bang, the loud stomping getting closer, and Remus’ figure appears in the doorway. for how tall he is, being almost 6’5, he’s too skinny (at least that’s what you always tell him), so he has to fill out the Santa costume with some pillows for the belly to look big and round. you chuckle when you notice him, nudging Brielle softly.

“ho, ho, ho!” Remus exclaims, making his voice intentionally lower and he pats his fake stomach, coming closer. “i’ve come to see if there are any good kids here, in this fine house?”

Brielle giggles, her eyes shining brighter when she slides off your lap and skips over to him, tugging at his pant leg. “daddy silly!” she shrieks sweetly, jumping in place as she waits for Remus to lean down to her level. “up, dada!”

“well, i don’t know where your dad is, kiddo, i’m here to bring you your presents!” he keeps up his act like a professional, the smile on your face widens, and you can see a hint of confusion on your girl’s face.

“hmm… i like presents!” Brielle smiles, showing off her teeth, and tries to pull Remus over to the christmas tree. “mama, look! it’s Santa!”

“oh, wow, Brie. no way.” you gasp, chuckling along with your toddler’s enthusiasm, and you watch the scene unfold.

Brielle and Remus kneel down by the christmas tree and your husband reaches for the velvety santa’s sack, and pulls out a couple of neatly packed boxes. he puts them on display, in a row, in front of your baby girl who excitedly waves her hands. she wastes no time reaching for the first package, eagerly ripping the wrapping paper off and squealing happily at what she sees. it’s a toddler sized broomstick, the exact same as Harry’s just smaller, because she’s been wanting that ever since she saw him fly around in the summer. with James’ close assistance, if Lily ever asks, because of course a six year old can’t fly around on a broomstick on his own.

it doesn’t take much time before Brielle starts rubbing her eyes, the events of today catching up to her, and you know you have to step in. you scoop her up in your arms, winking at Remus with a small smile, and as she clings to you, you slowly go upstairs. she’s started sleeping in her own room just a few months back, when you decided she was big enough to have her bed in the separate room on the other side of the corridor, and she still sometimes sleeps with you. you can’t help it, you just love having your baby girl close to you.

this night though, you go straight to her bedroom, swiftly changing her into her red christmasy pajamas. you settle her down in her princess bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin, and you step away, pretty sure she’s already asleep. you’re almost at the door when you hear a soft voice call out to you.

“mama, goodnight kiss.” Brielle whispers, her eyes remaining closed as she snuggles up to her favorite dog plushie (it’s the one Sirius gave you guys when she was born). you smile, and quickly rush over, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead, nose, then both cheeks.

“goodnight, bug.” you murmur, and leave the room, a yawn escaping your lips as you walk downstairs to find Remus lounging on the couch, still in the Santa costume.

“well, hello there, Mr. Claus.” you say playfully, slumping down next to him, and your eyes are set on his face, covered mostly by the long fake beard. “i haven’t gotten my presents tonight.” your lips pouting as you reach out, putting your hand against his chest.

“that’s because you’ve been a very bad girl this year, dovey.” Remus whispers, his large hands grasping at your hip and with completely zero trouble he swooshes you into his lap, making you straddle him. you rest your arms on his torso, in a way to hold up as well, and you scoff.

“hey! i thought Santa Claus was supposed to be nice ‘n all.” you mumble, hitting his shoulder as you feel him squeeze his hands on your bum. you raise your eyebrows at him, and as much tired as he seems, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

“then i guess i have to take this off, cause i don’t plan on being nice to you tonight.” his voice is raspy and it makes a shiver run down your spine, and you throw your head back when he puts his lips on your neck.

“no, no, no. the costume stays on.” you grunt, and the laugh that escapes him is so heartful is wrecks his body, so you glance down at him with a serious expression. “oh, i’m not kidding.”

without responding, his hands wander back up, then down, this time deeping into your pants, and with one swift movement he tears your panties apart and off of you. you glare at him, shaking your head, and you shift at the feeling of the slightly itching material of your pants against your bare womanhood.

“i liked those ones-“ your complain is cut off by his lips pushing against yours forcefully, his tongue delving into your mouth. after you pull away, a sting of saliva connects your lips to his, and you blink hazily.

“Santa’s gonna buy you new ones.” he breathes out, a smirk appearing on his face before he easily flips you over onto your back, hovering over you. “actually, a lot of new ones.”

[whitecompri]

I've been feeling down in the dumps lately, and whose fault is that? Shadow the (fictional) hedgehog of course. Like, maybe I'm a delicate little flower who needs to be treated as such and maybe who doesn't appreciate not being treated as such. So I would like to please request a scenario where reader feels unloved and Shadow apologizes for being too mean, awful, terrible and stupid as a (fictional) boyfriend. I'd also like to request that for Scourge but I'm not mad at Scourge ♡ I love Scourge ♡ I'm glad he never does anything wrong and is notoriously such a good boyfriend and gentleman. ^^

Jokes aside whether you write this or not have a wonderful day! And if I've never commented it before I'm SO glad you write for Scourge

After the Silence

Pairing: Shadow x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Swaring, Neglect / Emotional Hurt

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I really tried to capture the emotional depth here, especially because I’ve been through a complicated relationship myself, and I know what it feels like in those moments. I’m also so happy to see that Scourge still has a loyal fanbase. Honestly, I started writing stories with him because I felt like there wasn’t enough content out there featuring him, and I’ve been having a blast doing it. I’ll definitely keep writing about him! Hope you enjoy the story!

Shadow

You stretched your arms, yawning early in the morning with a satisfied groan, a wide smile already plastered on your face — after all, it was the first day waking up in the new apartment with your boyfriend. Tossing the blanket aside, you nearly leapt out of bed, breathing in the scent of new furniture and a brand new day.

Humming softly, you made your way to the kitchen, already catching the strong smell of coffee beans from the black hedgehog. It didn’t take long to spot him standing at the kitchen counter with a jar in his hand, pouring the beans in to eat them.

Smiling when you saw him, you approached and opened your arms, wrapping him in a back hug, resting your face against his soft quills. But it was noticeable how his body tensed up at your touch, Shadow immediately stopping what he was doing.

“Good morning, love... I was thinking maybe we could go out today, just the two of us…”

Shadow placed a hand over yours on his stomach, but instead of holding it tightly like you expected, he gently removed your hand from his fur, subtly stepping forward, making you let go of him.

Your brow furrowed instantly, and your smile faltered for a moment, but you understood that sometimes Shadow was pretty reserved. Maybe he just didn’t like physical contact in the mornings. Your smile returned quickly — after all, thinking positively, these first few weeks would be about adapting, learning each other’s habits, routines, and how to live together.

So you brushed aside the feeling of uncertainty, focusing instead on his answer. He’d probably say yes — he never passed up a chance to spend time with you when you lived in separate homes.

"Hm, no. I have work." He said briefly, not even looking at you, and your eyes widened slightly. The joy on your face began to fade. But you understood — he had responsibilities too.

"Oh, okay, no problem, maybe another time." Scratching the back of your neck, you forced a little smile that he didn’t even see, still focused on his coffee.

“Maybe.” Shadow muttered softly. He opened his mouth to say something more but held back, shaking his head slightly before simply taking his jar and heading to the table, sitting down casually to eat.

Sighing quietly, you grabbed your own coffee grounds to prepare your daily dose of caffeine, hoping things would get better from there. It had just been a rough start — Shadow was probably tired from the sudden change in environment. At least, that’s what you hoped.

--*--

Later that day, you were sitting beside him on the couch. Shadow was watching some movies on TV, arms crossed, with his usual impassive expression. You, on the other hand, scrolled through your phone, checking social media to amuse yourself while enjoying his company.

Sometimes your shoulders touched when he shifted slightly, and even that small contact made you feel incredibly comforted. That was already a big step — you had thought he’d be more affectionate after moving in together, but he remained as reserved as ever.

That’s when your eyes landed on a funny video on your feed. You watched the prank and giggled softly, smiling brightly. Then you turned to your boyfriend, showing him the screen.

"Look at this prank, Shadow — the guy at the end is the best part." But your joyful expression quickly faltered as you focused on his disinterested face.

“...Funny.” He said, glancing briefly at the phone without much reaction, arms still crossed. He didn’t even wait for the video to end, turning back to the TV.

Your heart sank a bit — never in your whole relationship had he reacted like that. Then again, maybe you had never tried showing him anything while he was watching movies. So you assumed he just wanted to focus on what he was watching.

Sighing softly, you slowly pulled your hand back, trying to refocus on your socials, even though a faint sadness lingered. But it was only the first day — you were sure things would get better as you settled into your new life together.

--*--

A few days had passed in this strange new dynamic between you. You walked down the street, bundled up in your coat, carrying groceries in your left arm. Your footsteps crunched against the thin snow on the sidewalk, your mind wandering as you reflected on everything that had happened in just a few days.

Sure, Shadow still showed small signs of affection like always — light kisses, gently holding your hand, sleeping close to you — all in his own way. But all of that while you neglected your own needs for affection. When you agreed to live together, you’d imagined the relationship taking a big step forward. You thought he’d start hugging you more, or expressing his feelings more openly.

But none of that happened. He was still the same — maybe too much the same. And you didn’t know if you appreciated or resented living with him this way.

Sighing, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. Swiping your thumb across the screen, you found the contact you wanted, smiling softly at his name. Your fingers quickly typed:

“Hi love, is everything okay?” You sent the message, noticing he was online at that moment. Watching where you were going, you kept walking until, a few minutes later, your phone buzzed. You looked at the screen, and your brows furrowed at his reply.

"Yeah."

Another sigh in such a short span of time escaped your lips, and you typed again:

“Are you home already?” You hit send, glancing both ways before crossing the street.

But this time, your phone didn’t buzz again. You’d been walking for quite a while since sending the message, but there was no reply. Thinking it might be a phone glitch, you checked the screen to see what was happening.

And once again, your heart sank. The message had been seen — the little “read” checkmark was there — but he hadn’t responded. Biting your lower lip in frustration, you just kept walking. Once again, you decided to ignore it. There was no point in arguing about something like that.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you continued your path, just wanting to get home as soon as possible.

--*--

That night, you sprawled out on the couch, still wrapped in your coat, watching the evening news. The lights were off, leaving the living room lit only by the television glow. The kitchen light was on, but didn’t quite reach your cozy little corner, keeping you nestled in a comfortable darkness.

That’s when you heard the front door unlock and open with its usual creak. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, letting you know where he was heading. Shadow stopped by the kitchen table, narrowing his eyes when he didn’t see you anywhere obvious. He placed the keys down and walked toward the living room, finally spotting you curled up in the corner of the couch, watching the news.

He stood for a few moments in the doorway, waiting. Normally, in the last few days, when he came home, you would greet him with a quick hug at the door, followed by a kiss on the lips.

Confused by the change, he raised an eyebrow when you didn’t move at all.

"I'm home..." he finally said, waiting for your response.

"Hm..." was the only sound you made, causing Shadow to frown, confused. He walked over to the couch and sat in his usual spot, arms crossed. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to scoot over and sit next to him — but you stayed in the far corner, curled up, elbow resting on the armrest with your hand supporting your face.

And what bothered Shadow the most — what made him swallow hard — was the realization that you hadn’t said a word to him. You didn’t ask about his day. You didn’t flash that bright smile he loved so much. And now, the space between you on the couch felt huge.

Subtly, he adjusted his posture and scooted a little closer — but almost immediately, you pulled back even more. His red eyes scanned you, now tinged with concern. He knew he should say something, but... what?

Letting out a quiet sigh, Shadow decided to give you space. Maybe you were just tired.

--*--

At the end of that day, you finally allowed yourself to truly relax, lying down on your side of the bed, curling up under the covers, turning to face the wall, with your back to the door and to Shadow’s side of the bed.

A few minutes later, the soft sound of the hedgehog’s bare footsteps could be heard. He stopped in the doorway, his shoulders slumped slightly, and his ears briefly drooped backwards when he saw you.

He stood there for a few moments, just watching you, finding it strange. After all, you usually stayed up waiting for him, usually wanting to talk about something. But not today. Today, you had gone straight to bed, and that deeply unsettled him—especially the part where he wouldn’t get his usual goodnight kiss.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he finally moved, lying down on his side of the bed. He slowly turned his face in your direction, hoping for some comment, some reaction, anything.

“Good night…” the hedgehog whispered softly, but was met with only silence. And that silence was cold—colder than the night outside. He looked at you for a few more seconds, his eyes softening slightly as he watched you sleep.

Then, with one last slow, quiet breath, he settled down on his side, keeping some distance between you, unsure if he should touch you.

But he couldn’t sleep all night. He tossed and turned in the early hours, eyes closed, trying to relax, but the uncertainty gnawing at him stole any chance of rest.

Until he noticed the mattress shift beside him, the rustling of the covers making a soft noise, followed by footsteps crossing the room. He peeked one eye open, watching you walk. His sensitive ears twitched as he heard the kitchen cabinet, then the sound of water—just a trip to quench your thirst.

Closing his eyes, pretending to be completely asleep, he tried to relax, not wanting to alarm you. Then, he heard your footsteps returning, and once again you slipped under the covers.

That’s when he heard it. It was quiet, but noticeable to his hedgehog hearing. A sniffle. His heart tightened. It was the sound of someone crying. He immediately wanted to turn and ask why, but stayed frozen in place, not wanting to startle or upset you further.

“...I just wanted you to care…” you whispered. Shadow’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, his whole body froze, and a wave of dread swept over him. He felt the urgent need to fix this. But for now, he let you fall back asleep, while he lay awake all night, planning how he was going to make things right.

--*--

The hedgehog stood on the balcony, arms crossed, feeling the cold breeze ruffle his quills. He sighed and closed his eyes. Just as he expected, he hadn’t slept. So he’d come straight to his favorite place to think, to plan what he was going to say.

“I do care…” he murmured to himself, then twisted his muzzle and clicked his tongue. “No, that sounds too simple.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

Opening his eyes again, he glanced back into the dark apartment, tapping a finger against his forearm, impatient to rehearse what he’d say to you.

“She can’t think I’m just saying it… What if I just…” He pondered, but then clenched his teeth and shook his head. “No. Enough hiding. She needs to know. She deserves it.”

That tight feeling returned in his chest—guilt. He never meant to hurt you or anything like that.

Uncrossing his arms, he looked up at the night sky with a determined gaze. He already knew what he had to do.

--*--

The next day, by late afternoon, you once again found yourself curled up in your usual spot on the couch, turning on the TV, tugging your jacket close. But then, the front door unlocked and opened—you raised an eyebrow. He was home early today.

Shadow walked slowly through the door, stopping there with both hands behind his back, his eyes softer than usual. He cleared his throat to catch your attention, and your eyes locked on him. Did he look… nervous?

You confirmed it—he really was showing signs of slight nervousness for the first time, as he hesitantly stepped into the living room, still with his hands behind his back.

Finally standing in front of you, he brought his hands forward to show you what he’d been hiding. In his hand, he held the stems of a beautiful bouquet, small purple flowers giving off a sweet, familiar scent.

“I… I brought this for you. They’re… lavender. I thought you’d like them.” He offered the bouquet.

Your hand reached out hesitantly to take it, gripping it tightly. You couldn’t hide the expression of surprise that came over you. Immediately, you felt a lump in your throat, and your eyes welled up with tears, no matter how hard you’d been trying to hold them back.

“...Shadow?” you whispered, clutching the bouquet to your chest.

He quickly sat down beside you on the couch—very close—his red eyes locking onto yours.

“I know I’ve been acting like an idiot. I realized it a little too late. But… I never meant to hurt you. Never.” He clenched his eyes shut, grinding his teeth, then looked back at you. “I’m not good at this kind of thing… with feelings. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. Because I do. Way more than I can say.”

One of his hands gently rested on your cheek, stroking it lovingly, while the other extended toward you, somewhat hesitant.

You looked down at the hand he offered, waiting to hear what he’d say next.

“Don’t give up on me. Just give me a chance to show it. Even if it’s little by little.”

His voice was low and hoarse. You reached out your trembling hand and grasped his firmly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his hopeful ones.

Then, he brought your hand to his muzzle, pressing a long kiss to the back of it, whispering, his voice muffled.

“...Forgive me.” He kissed your hand again, the soft touch melting your heart completely.

Then he looked at you again, reaching for the bouquet and gently placing it on the coffee table. To your surprise, he pulled you into a tight hug.

The hedgehog sighed deeply, holding you tightly—almost possessively—his muzzle nestled in the crook of your neck as he breathed you in, letting your scent fill his lungs.

“I’m not going to lose you. Ever. I… love you, in my own way… but it’s real love.”

With those words whispered so quietly into your ear, you couldn’t disagree—not after today. Shadow had his own way of handling things—it was simply who he was. And that included loving you deeply.

And you were absolutely sure that from that day forward, he’d be a little clingier than usual with you.

And how did you know that? From the way he held you, not wanting to let go, clutching you against him, anchoring himself to you.

To you, it was clear—he craved gentle, affectionate physical contact like this. He just never knew how to ask or receive it.

And so, the two of you stayed like that—entwined—your hand gently smoothing his quills, soothing your closed-off and stubborn boyfriend, whom you would never stop loving.

Scourge

You were walking calmly down the sidewalk, feeling the pleasant warmth of the morning sun on your back. A soft smile was on your face—after all, you were excited to see your boyfriend that weekend. Seeing Scourge was always a great reason for your day to become brighter and more fun, so you could hardly wait to get to his apartment.

After a few more minutes of walking, you arrived at your destination. Climbing the familiar stairs of the apartment building, you finally reached the door. With a cheerful and content expression, you knocked on the door and waited.

Not even a minute later, you heard the sound of the door unlocking, followed by a creak as it opened, revealing the one you were eager to see. His messy green quills appeared first, followed by your boyfriend’s blue eyes and his serious expression as he looked at you.

"Hey, babe," he said quietly, his voice raspy. You sensed a hint of disinterest but chose to brush the thought aside.

"Hey! The day is so nice today, right? The sun feels really good..." You tried to start a conversation, your smile still on your face, but he just crossed his arms and turned his head, focusing on the TV in the living room. You could hear the sounds of the movie he was watching, and he barely paid attention to what you were saying.

"Wow, thrillin’. Now c’mon, just get in already." He gestured with his hand, pointing his thumb toward the inside, then turned completely around and went back into the apartment without another word, leaving you at the door, alone.

He flopped back onto the couch, adjusting his sunglasses on his head and rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.

You watched him, your smile slowly fading as you processed what had just happened. Your shoulders subtly slumped as a tight knot formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow. Finally, you decided to step inside, locking the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you chose to just forget what had happened.

You knew your boyfriend—knew that he was often like this. But it was the first time he had acted like that right when he saw you.

Entering the apartment, you followed him into the living room where he was watching some random comedy on TV. Hesitant, you observed how relaxed he looked—one arm thrown over the back of the couch while the other rested on his leg. You pondered whether you should sit beside him or leave him there for now and do something in the kitchen.

Sighing again, you finally decided to join him. Sitting next to Scourge, almost instantly the arm that had been on his leg moved up to wrap possessively around your waist. Your face lit up with a brief smile, enjoying how he always took the initiative when it came to this kind of contact.

Then, you looked at his focused expression. Enjoying the lighter mood, an idea came to mind. You wanted to be closer to him, to feel the warmth of his arms around you, the little kisses he’d place on the top of your head, the way he’d sniff your hair. Those pleasant thoughts filled your mind, making you want to get even closer, until you finally gathered the courage to ask.

"Hey, love, can I hug you?" you asked softly. Scourge turned to you, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem thrilled by the idea; apparently, to him, the small touch on your waist was enough.

"Why? Ya get too clingy sometimes, y’know?" He replied briefly, his tone somewhat harsh.

At his response, you shrank back into your seat, a deep ache forming in your chest. Your expression fell as your eyes shifted to the floor in front of you. A smile tried to return to your face but didn’t last long, quickly crumbling into another sad expression.

Your gaze lifted to focus on his apathetic and absorbed face, trying to understand why he didn’t want to hug you anymore. The ache in your chest intensified. You felt the urge to get up and put some distance between you, but you didn’t want to take any drastic action and come off as dramatic. So, you just sat there, his hand resting on your waist, but without the familiar warmth of his love.

It must have just been a stressful day for him—better to give him some space and not push things. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d feel better. That’s what you believed, what you wanted to believe.

--*--

You practically threw yourself onto your bed at the end of the day, groaning in frustration, completely disappointed with the day you had with your boyfriend. A day you had hoped would be peaceful and pleasant had turned into nothing more than hours of stress.

Hugging your pillow, you curled up, the day’s memories playing through your mind—the cold look he gave you, the disinterest in what you said. That’s when your mind began to wander, trying to recall earlier moments with Scourge, trying to see if there was any reason for him to act like that—something you might have done.

But after minutes of reflection, the only conclusion you reached was that he had always been this way—today just made it more obvious than ever. Today, it had truly affected you, hurt you deeply like a blade’s cut.

Sighing, your hand reached for your phone, opening your messaging app and looking at the message you had sent him.

"Good night, love. Are we still going to the mall tomorrow?" You reread the message, noticing that it had been over three hours since you sent it. He hadn’t even seen it. Your eyes drifted upward slightly, seeing the status that said he had been online about fifteen minutes ago.

A deep sense of abandonment and uncertainty overtook you. A few small tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you held them back—not wanting to feel too weak.

Then, your eyes filled with determination, your fingers beginning to type again. You knew that if something he did or the way he acted made you feel bad, the best way to fix it was to name the problem and talk about it with Scourge. Much better than bottling everything up and never saying a word.

So, you finally sent the message.

"Scourge, I wanted to say something. I just wanted a bit of affection, you know? That’s all. A hug, a kiss… and I want to do that for you too."

Your eyes stared at the message nervously, a cold sensation rising in your stomach—a feeling of anxiety and unease.

Then finally, the online icon appeared. He read the message shortly after. The typing indicator popped up right away. Your eyes filled with hope. Maybe now was the moment—maybe he’d finally see that he needed to give you more attention, that he wanted you close, that he wanted your affection. Your eyes scanned the screen eagerly, waiting for the message.

"Yer too damn soft sometimes. Can’t spoil ya every minute, y’know?"

The moment your eyes read the message, the world around you stopped. Your breath hitched briefly as that same ache from earlier returned—now stronger.

Your finger pressed the power button on the phone, slipping it under your pillow. Curling into yourself, you looked toward the wall of your apartment, focusing on the shelf there, holding a photo of a smiling Scourge hugging you, his muzzle nestled into your neck.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he didn’t realize how dry and harsh he sounded. Or maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe the problem was you.

That’s when you felt a stubborn salty tear slide from your eye, silently falling down your cheek and onto your bedsheet. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to cry anymore, but it was hard to hold it back. Your teeth clenched as you began to sob involuntarily, quietly under your blankets.

And maybe that was the end of everything. You had always known Scourge was a complicated figure, and still, you gave him a chance. You thought everything was going well. But now, all you could feel was that you were wrong—that you were foolish for believing he would ever change.

With the emotional exhaustion of the day, you fell asleep within minutes—destined to wake up with a pounding headache and puffy eyes from how long you had cried.

--*--

Days had passed since the tragic message. Scourge's blue eyes scanned the clock, noting the time — it would be dark soon, and that pleasant Saturday night would be perfect for a stroll. The hedgehog tossed his video game controller to the side, stretched, scratched his waist, and then smoothed down his quills. He reached for the cellphone on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow when he saw no messages from you. In fact, he hadn’t seen a message from you in days.

Shaking the thought from his head, he opened the messaging app, seeing the last message he had sent last Saturday. Since then, you hadn’t sent him anything. But Scourge just clicked his tongue at that, assuming you were just a little upset.

His fingers quickly typed a message and sent it to you.

"Babe. Same spot as always. 7 sharp. Don’t be late." He got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, still holding his phone, looking at the message, waiting for your usual quick reply.

But minutes passed, and Scourge started getting impatient, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the phone screen, waiting for your reply — but you hadn’t even seen the message. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow — you hadn’t been online in hours, many hours.

Something twisted inside him, something akin to worry. But he quickly shoved that feeling aside, getting irritated.

"Tch. Must be cravin’ attention… typical o’ ya." He turned off the phone and set it down on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently while his eyes darted around the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do in that moment, or how to react, so he just stood there.

That’s when his phone buzzed on the counter. In less than a second he had turned and snatched the device up — but let out a disgruntled growl when he saw it was just a random social media notification.

He slammed the phone back down on the counter with force, huffing. Turning around, he stormed off to get ready. Even though you hadn’t replied, he was sure you’d seen the message — and you always showed up to your meetups, so he had nothing to worry about. You’d be there. He was sure of it.

--*--

The hurried steps of his shoes echoed on the sidewalks lit by the last rays of the day’s sun. He wanted to walk faster, wanted to see you already. He’d checked his phone several times, but still nothing — no message from you, no reply. Just thinking about it made him clench his fists in irritation and growl lowly, grinding his teeth.

He had never been through this before. You had never done this to him. Why now — why now of all times — had you decided to just stop talking to him?

He turned the last corner, looking at the meeting spot. He frowned when he saw no sign of you on the benches in the square. Getting closer, he stopped, looking around, grumbling.

With a heavy sigh, he plopped down on the bench, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, staring at the screen with an annoyed look. He opened your contact, getting ready to type something, ask where you were, try calling you, anything. But then his eyes locked onto an older message from you.

A question he didn’t even remember you asking, one he hadn’t answered. His thumb scrolled up, reading the other messages. Some he had ignored at the time and forgotten, others he just wasn’t in the mood to answer.

But what mattered was what his eyes were now seeing — that massive amount of messages you had sent, left unanswered, or ones he replied to in a cold, harsh way because he wasn’t feeling patient.

After a few more seconds scrolling through the conversation, his expression of irritation was replaced by one of deep dread. He ran a hand through his quills, gripping some of them nervously. After all, he understood now — he finally understood. His throat let out a sharp, guttural sound of despair as his mind processed what he had probably done.

And now, all he felt was the emptiness of that night — the morbid silence, the chilly breeze making him shiver slightly. And that made him realize that maybe, just maybe, he had really lost you this time.

--*--

He paced in circles in the small bathroom, his hand scratching incessantly at the scars on his chest, feeling them itch nonstop. He stopped in front of the mirror, finally focusing his blue eyes on the anguished expression he wore. Growling, he gripped the edges of the sink, claws digging in.

He was without his glasses, without his jacket, without his gloves — just staring at the desperate hedgehog within. He had to find a way to fix this. After all, it had already been two weeks — two weeks without hearing your voice, seeing your joyful expression, feeling the warmth of your presence.

Each day without you, each day without a reply from you was torture for him. Every morning he woke up remembering he wouldn’t get to see you felt like a punch to the gut. He clenched his teeth, baring his sharp fangs at his own reflection.

"Idiot. Asshole… Dammit, ya did it. Ya pushed away the only one who actually gave a damn!" he yelled at himself, placing a hand on his forehead, gripping his fur. In a fit of rage, without a second thought, his hand clenched into a fist, flying toward the mirror, smashing it with a loud thud.

The mirror shattered, shards flying across the bathroom floor. Scourge closed his eyes, looking down, lowering his hand, not caring about the throbbing pain or the blood dripping from his knuckles.

“Shit…”

Turning around, he walked back to his room, shoulders slumped, breathing heavily. He sat on the edge of his bed, resting his hands on his knees. He slowly opened his eyes, looking around the room, turning to glance at your side of the bed — still carrying your scent.

"…This place’s nothin’ without ya… I’m nothin’ without ya." he finally admitted, closing his eyes again and shaking his head.

He sat there for several long minutes, doing something rare for him — reflecting on his actions and their consequences. And above all, on how he could become a better boyfriend for you at all costs.

"I know how t’fix this…" He opened his eyes quickly, shining with a determined air. He was going to try everything he could to get you to forgive him.

--*--

With a nervous look completely out of character for him, Scourge stopped in front of your door, carrying a few bags under his arm. Swallowing hard, he adjusted the collar of his shirt and finally knocked on the door.

In a few seconds, he heard light footsteps. Then, the doorknob turned, opening just a crack — your face appeared on the other side, and he swore he saw a surprised expression on you. He kind of understood why — after all, Scourge always said it was better for you to come to his place, so throughout the whole relationship, he’d never come to yours for any reason other than picking you up to go out sometimes.

So, slowly, you closed the door again, unhooking the chain lock and opening it once more, now facing him directly with an expressionless face.

Scourge gave a small smug smile, looking you up and down. Lifting the bags, he showed you the McDonald’s packaging, taking a tentative step forward.

"Hey, babe… I brought somethin’ to eat. Your favorite. I thought… I dunno, maybe we could forget ‘bout all this and..." His eyes widened and the smirk vanished from his face when you let out an annoyed huff, beginning to close the door again.

Overcome by desperation, he placed his foot between the doorframe and the door, stopping you from slamming it in his face.

"Wait—!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you stepped back, realizing there was no way to compete with his persistence, you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you close. Your hand ended up resting on his chest, feeling the deep scars that marked him.

Your eyes managed to glance behind him, spotting the fallen fast food bags on the ground, forgotten, while his muzzle nestled into the curve of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. His fingers dug into your back, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with little room to move.

"Just listen to me, would ya…? Please…" he said in a trembling voice you had never heard before. "I was a freakin’ idiot, a damn moron. But it ain’t ‘cause I don’t care—s’cause I care too much, alright? That crap scares the hell outta me." he said seriously, his tone sounding annoyed, but his voice was laden with emotion, showing that in truth, he was in complete despair.

The hedgehog pulled his face away from your neck just enough to focus his blue irises into your eyes, staring into you deeply.

"You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me… and I was stupid ‘nough to almost lose ya. Just—give me a shot to fix this, yeah? I swear I’ll change. I swear… I’ll get it right this time." His hands clutched your shoulders, trying to anchor himself to you.

"...Scourge, I... I don’t know what to say..." you tried to avert your gaze, but his hand held your chin, lifting your face to look at him.

"Babe, I messed up. I know… I get it now. But I don’t wanna hurt ya no more. Don’t wanna be without ya. I swear, I’ll give ya all the hugs, all the kisses you want—hell, even the ones ya didn’t ask for." His eyes gleamed with hope as yours began to. "I’ll give ya whatever ya need… anything, alright?"

And once again, that stubborn tear rolled down, leaving a wet trail on your cheek. A huge wave of happiness filled your heart, warming you entirely. Suddenly, without thinking, you threw yourself into him again in a tight hug. Scourge gasped in surprise but quickly wrapped his arms around you.

"I love ya, [Y/N]… so damn much. I’ll show it better now, I promise…" He nestled his muzzle on top of your head, pressing a gentle kiss there. "Just… don’t leave me hangin’ like that again, alright? Bein’ without ya… drives me nuts…" he said hoarsely.

"I love you too... you dummy." Your voice cracked as you finally confessed too. Your arms tightened around him, making him let out a low, rough chuckle.

And so the two of you stayed there, sharing each other’s affection and warmth, savoring the company and love you had for one another—already aware that whatever came next would only make your bond stronger.

[altsaii]

CHANGE OF PACE

PureCacao ﹢ Fluff ﹢ Suggestive warning (to begin with)

Not used to sharing my writing, apologies for any mistakes </3 typically id write more but im tired today.

"Dark Cacao... Are you certain of this?"

Hm?

Said King was pulled out his reverie, he must have been staring too long down at the other's form. It was too often he got entranced by Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla...

How divine he was. His hair was soft; golden locks that was such a gorgeous colour (in Dark Cacao's eyes) that contrasted his own, now spread sporadically across the bed due to it's new, much longer length. One could say the change was annoying, a frustrating thing to deal with. Yet, Dark Cacao saw nothing but love towards it. And, oh, Pure Vanilla's eyes─

"─Dark Cacao!"

A pair of hands reached up, grabbing Dark Cacao's face, cupping it before yanking down the taller King to Pure Vanilla's level.

Dark Cacao blushed immediately at the proximity, letting out a mumbled apology that would've been barely audible if not due to their vicinity. Up close though, at least he could properly observe the other's facial features. Dark Cacao's eyes darted from one place to the other. Truly, it was difficult to know where to start worshipping. It was only when Pure Vanilla let out a rather exasperated sigh that soon enough smooth lips clashed with chapped ones.

Oh dear... Dark Cacao had not intended for his love to get so irritated. He had always been the one to get too caught up in minor, irrelevant details. Call it paranoia, if you must, but sometimes being the observant kind does come in handy when placed in such situations. Nothing about Pure Vanilla is irrelevant afterall.

Currently, Dark Cacao was hovering above the previously mentioned blonde. Realistically, what was there not to adore, maybe even cherish of Pure Vanilla? Dark Cacao personally thought that very little could ever catch Pure Vanilla's eye for long all those centuries ago. Yet now here they are, and how wrong Dark Cacao was.

What should Dark Cacao do with his hands? His body? Did Pure Vanilla even want this as much as he did a few moments ago? Would it be unkind to the other King to pitch up his own indulgences─

The other's lips finally parted with Dark Cacao's own, pulling him out of his own mind and constant thoughts. At first, he did not know why Pure Vanilla had done so. But, only a few moments of looking at the shorter cookie, the face he made was much too familiar.

He was simply staring upwards at the man above him, Dark Cacao. Pure Vanilla's lips were pursed, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Adorable? Could be.

Eventually, after Dark Cacao matched the eye contact with his own blank gaze, a huff was given before hands were pulling the much larger King downwards once again. Dark Cacao had to catch and stabilise himself with his forearms, careful to not crush Pure Vanilla under his own body. It didn't go unnoticed by Dark Cacao when Pure Vanilla let out another sigh; his eyes going to squint in a meager attempt to comprehend the sight of Cacao.

"Even if I cannot distinguish your features to it's fullest," Pure Vanilla muttered; a hand going to mess with Cacao's hair, twirling strands around a finger. "Your thoughts are as predictable as reading an open book for me, my dear."

Dark Cacao responds with his own soft mutterings. "I cannot truly hide them from you, can I?"

Nothing but a slightly amused hum leaves Pure Vanilla, the other now distracted with the simple joy of messing up the locks of Dark Cacao's hair. Both of the participants previously planned activities had been long forgotten at this point. Both were now content in basking within the warmth of eachother's company. Nothing short of a surprise, truthfully.

It isn't uncommon for a planned night of pleasure and indulgences to be cut short. It's uncontrollable - what we think, that is. Dark Cacao knows this all too well. Centuries of wielding a sword much too heavy for any regular cookie and ruling over a kingdom under constant threat can lead to obvious worry that evolves into paranoia. The mind is always a fickle thing. Implanting anything even briefly negative during the most jubilant of moments.

Yet... Pure Vanilla was nothing but patient. Remarkable.

The blonde had resulted to cup Dark Cacao's face once more, white lashes fluttering shut as he pressed foreheads with Dark Cacao.

It was mutual knowledge both found it easier to express their love through actions. Words sometimes were not enough to describe the emotions and thoughts one anothers mind conjured up. A lot could be said through one act, after all. Exchanges like this were a frequent thing; simple but appreciated nontheless.

Dark Cacao returned the gesture by pressing his own downwards onto Pure Vanilla's own. That mark of Pure Vanilla that rested atop his forehead, a star shape. Some could say it was a representation of how Pure Vanilla's healing capabilities. Dark Cacao, however, would say it's a symbol of light. Guiding those who dare brave the night and look towards the sky to be escorted by something that offers universal guidance for anyone that seeks it.

Dark Cacao eventually rose to give a peck to the birthmark, a small huff from the man below was given in response before he continued.

Slowly, Pure Vanilla's fingers traced Dark Cacao's face, mapping out and taking in the rugged features. Occasionally, Pure Vanilla would outline a wrinkle with his nail. Then a second; then a quick kiss was pressed against each one soon enough. Over and over, again and again.

Maybe, you could say their positions switched. Dark Cacao was the one who had planned to take care of Pure Vanilla under the light of the moon tonight. Then again, he could do little more than accept the fact Pure Vanilla would now decide that he is the one that will attend to Dark Cacao. Pure Vanilla was always stubborn like that, maybe even more than Dark Cacao.

A few more kisses later and Pure Vanilla had pulled Cacao's whole body to follow his down further into the sheets. An embrace, of soughts. Arms stretched to wrap around Dark Cacao's torso while his scarred hands went to rest within the blonde's hair. If it wasn't for Pure Vanilla's locks being sprawled outwards, you could say Dark Cacao was in bed alone. His body was much larger than Vanilla's own, yet that was to be expected. Those of the Cacao Kingdom were much brawnier, and certainly taller (besides a few anomalies), than most cookies.

Still, it did not deter Pure Vanilla Cookie.

"Goodnight, my love," A quiet murmur; muffled against Dark Cacao's chest. Dark Cacao let out a hum in return, shuffling to instead move into a much more comfortable position for their slumber. Afterall, waking up to a flattened Pure Vanilla would not be the most enjoyable morning sight.

In the end, he adjusted the two of them to be on their sides. Dark Cacao ended up spooning the other, acting as a shield. Dark Cacao would never admit he had become fond of the position due to Hollyberry doing it with him many centuries ago. That is something that will not come to light, Dark Cacao had decided back then.

A grumble of annoyance from the shorter man was given before it quickly morphed into a very sudden snore. Pure Vanilla was always out like a light the second his head touched the pillows.

Dark Cacao let himself give another kiss to Pure Vanilla's forehead before digging his face within that familiar, golden hair. The scent of vanilla immediately provided a comfort for Dark Cacao. Safe. It wasn't that longer till eventually Dark Cacao fell into that same, deep sleep and all previous worries were lost to the content of being within eachother's arms.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ sfw & n$fw headcanons - yuu nishinoya & morisuke yaku

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, they're sweetiepies, noya is actually a freak, roleplay, switch! noya, hickeys, spanking, mentions of unprotected sex, dom! yaku, slight breeding kink with yaku, cowgirl, doggystyle, they love you so much

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 2k

a/n: im sorry if yaku is ooc i wrote this at 2am and i do not feel like editing anything. n$fw is censored because i would like to keep my blog lmao

Yuu Nishinoya - SFW

❥ Absolutely whipped for you the second he lays his eyes upon you. You could be doing anything, literally anything, and he knew right then and there that he would die for you, no questions asked.

❥ He doesn’t really care what qualifies as a “date” as long as he gets to spend time with you. You could be folding laundry together, and he thinks it’s the most romantic date you’ve been on because you’re with him and you’re his entire world.

❥ Spontaneous. Gifts. He’ll send flowers to where you work, give you cool rocks he found while hiking or doing some other such thing, making you a care basket full of your favorite chocolates and snacks, contracting Sugawara to help him write love letters (writing is not his strong suit but he still wants to do it.)

❥ So much food, like…just so much food. You’ve been to every restaurant in town at least twice because that boy loves to eat. Even if you aren’t a big eater, he’ll still make sure you get three meals a day plus snacks. And if you struggle to eat, he’ll be so happy even if you only eat a little bit off your plate.

❥ Quality time and physical touch are his love languages, so expect to be getting kisses often. Pecks on the cheek in public, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you wash dishes in the sink. And if he’s jealous? He has no problem making out with you in front of people because you’re his, and the world should know.

❥ Speaking of physical touch, this man will not stop holding your hand. At least one part of him is touching a part of you at any given moment when you’re together as if he’s afraid you’d float away if he let go.

❥ Hella clingy, this man is incredibly clingy. If you get up to use the restroom when you’re cuddling, he’s waiting outside the door for you to come back so he can kiss those beautiful lips of yours. He just can’t get enough!

❥ Obsessed with you and everything that you do. Did you sneeze? He’s on the verge of tears because you look so fucking cute when you sneeze. Did you buy a new outfit? He’s throwing a tantrum until you model it for him so he can shower you with praise. Noya worships the ground you walk on and them some. 

❥ Lowkey possessive but in a good way. Deep down, he’s worried that you’ll leave him for someone taller or better than he is, so he gets a tiny bit jealous when he sees someone talking to you that he considers a threat. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you like. He would never tell you what you can and cannot do. He respects you too much for that. But he will talk to you about his feelings because he’s mature like that.

N$FW

❥ So. Many. Hickeys. This ties into the part of him being possessive. He wants to let everyone know that you’re his, and what better way to show you off than by parading you around town with your neck and chest covered in little red and purple bruises? You’ve nearly gone bankrupt on buying just concealer because once a hickey fades away, a new one will take its place in no time at all.

❥ Literally anything the two of you do will end in him fucking you or vice versa. If you bend down to pick something up, his hands are groping your ass, and he’s pulling down your panties and shoving his fingers into your pussy, all the while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. 

❥ This motherfucker whines and whimpers, and he’s so incredibly loud about it. The second he shoves his dick inside, he becomes a babbling, pussydrunk mess that’s only focused on you cumming all over his cock.

❥ Noya is 100% a switch who doesn’t lean towards being submissive or dominant. He just does whatever you want him to. Do you want him to fuck you stupid for hours on end? He’s down for that? Do you want to tie him up, blindfold him, and ride him until he can’t think. Also completely down for that. 

❥ Endless stamina. As long as you’re up for it, he can fuck you for the entire day. He simply doesn’t believe in a recovery period on his end. He’ll fuck you from sunrise to sunset. All you have to do is ask.

❥ Tits man 100%. Noya loves tits, no matter the size or shape. If you have huge tits, he’s fondling them as he takes you from behind. Medium-sized tits? He sucks on them as you ride his cock, relishing in the taste. Small tits? He plays with your pert nipples as he fucks you missionary. All tits are good tits in his eyes

.❥ Highly experimental in the bedroom. He’ll try anything and everything if it means you both get to feel good. From you pegging him to him filming your third orgasm of the night, he’s down for whatever. The only things he isn’t okay with are hitting you (impact play) and sharing you with others. He will casually slap your ass but that’s as far as he’ll go. He just can’t bring himself to hit you, even if it turns you on.

❥ Could eat you out for literal days and not get tired, not even for one second. He wants you cumming on his tongue and pulling on his hair as you beg him for more, and he’ll give it to you.

❥ Focuses on your pleasure, not his own. You’re his goddess and he’d do anything to serve you, anything to make you cum again and again.

❥ Has a whole index of kinks, but his top ones are roleplay and passionate sex. Dress up as a teacher, and he’ll cum in his pants, begging on you to punish him for failing your class.

❥ Loves to make love to you.

❥ “Yeah? You like it when I fuck you with my fingers, angel? M’gonna make you cum so fucking much for me, my perfect angel.”

❥ “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t get enough of this dick, can you baby? Gotta fuck you stupid.”

❥ “More, I want more! I’ve been so bad, I deserve to be punished, ma’am!”

❥ “Talk to the camera for me, angel. Tell the camera how many times my cock made this pussy squirt all over the sheets.”

❥ “Gonna fucking cum inside, can’t pull out. Oh, fuck, baby, you’re fucking milking me dry, shit.”

❥ “Faster, fuck me faster! Wanna fucking cum so bad, please! I’ve been good, right?”

Morisuke Yaku - SFW

❥ Loves when you get an attitude with him because he also has an attitude. He loves when you talk back to him and when you tell him how you really feel, it’s just so refreshing. Honesty is very important to Yaku.

❥ You and Yaku basically continue to mother Lev well after you’re both graduated. Lev will call and text you for advice and you’ll gladly help him, even if Yaku gets a little jealous that you’re paying more attention to the oversized Russian than you are to your own boyfriend.

❥ Takes you on the most romantic restaurant dates ever. He has professional athlete money, so order whatever the hell you like! If you want five lobsters, get five lobsters. As long as his baby is happy.

❥ Spoils you rotten, but he won’t ever admit it. If you point out a cute necklace that you saw in a magazine, it’s there when you wake up the next morning. Yaku will pretend to not know how it got there, but he knows, obviously. Expect lots of expensive gifts when you’re dating, especially from designer brands. Half of your closet is Chanel and you sure as hell aren’t complaining.

❥ Not that big on PDA, but will wrap an arm around your waist in public. Since he’s a well-known libero in the Russian Volleyball League, he gets approached on the street sometimes. He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself (especially if you hate getting attention from strangers, so he holds off on kissing you until you’re in the privacy of his penthouse apartment.

❥ Pleads and begs until you adopt a cat together. He just wants a cat with you, any cat will do. It can be a cat you found in a dumpster or a cat that cost someone’s entire yearly salary, he just wants a cat to raise with you by his side.

❥ Wraps his arms around your waist as you cook and leave kisses on your neck. Whether you’re taller or shorter from him, get ready for hugs and kisses from behind.

❥ If you struggle with your body image, he’ll kiss away all your insecurities. His lips will be on yours for hours as he tells you how perfect you are, and how much he loves you. He’ll kiss away your tears as you start crying as well, because to him you are perfect.

N$FW

❥ Not very vocal in bed, but he does make plenty of grunts and groans. The only time you’ll ever really hear him moan is when you bite down on his incredibly sensitive neck, which will make him cum on the spot.

❥ Advocate for safe and healthy sex but prefers to hit it raw. He’ll use a condom if you want him to, he isn’t a monster. But the way you react when his cum fills out of your womb makes him want to wife you up and fuck you every single day.

❥ Designer lingerie is his weakness, especially the ones with garters that squeeze your thigh beautifully. If you wear red lingerie around him, be prepared to not be able to walk tomorrow because he will ruin your pussy.

❥ 100% a pleasure dom. Nothing makes him happier than knowing that he fucks you so good each and every night that you can’t even get off without his help anymore because that’s how much he loves to fuck you.

❥ Ass man. His hands will be on your ass all the time and you just have to accept it. He loves to fuck you from behind because he’s mesmerized by the way your ass moves as he fucks you. His favorite position is doggystyle.

❥ A weird turn-on for him is when you walk around wearing his jersey. He fucking loves it when you wear his jersey, and he can see your lacy panties poking out under the shirt, it drives him wild. If you wear his jersey, he gets an instant boner.

❥ Sit. In. His. Lap. Sit in his lap and dry hump him. He needs it so badly. He loves watching as you struggle to get off on his thigh. You look so cute when you’re desperate.

❥ Definitely a brat tamer. He loves it when you have an attitude because he gets to fuck it out of you later, spanking you as he tells you how much of a brat you are and how you need to learn your lesson. You never do.

❥ Mirror sex. He’s mesmerized by how adorable you look in the mirror as your pussy struggles to take his girthy cock.

❥ “Yeah? Look at yourself in the mirror, princess. Look at how your slutty little pussy is taking me. You’re such a little slut, you’re my little slut.”

❥ “Did you think you could just walk around in my jersey and nothing else? Bend over, princess, right fucking now.”

❥ “I’m so fucking close, shit. You want me to cum inside you, princess? Want me to fill you up and give you my babies? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

❥ “Fuck, you know what red does to me. So fucking slutty for me, babygirl. Now get on the bed and spread those legs nice and wide like a good girl.”

❥ “Take it, fucking take it. That’s my good girl. I love it when you behave for me, princess. Can I get another one of you, my love? I think you can handle another orgasm.”

❥ “You look so pretty when you cum, princess. Do you like how your Morisuke makes you feel? Use your words, princess.”

[stxrvel]

coincidence! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

[enwoso]

borrowed not stolen | alessia russo

*i have quite a few alessia fics that im working on atm but if anyone has any requests for players then lmk because im open to write for other players<3*

navigation

"LESS! hurry up man!" you shouted across the room as you stood watching your girlfriend dawdle down the stairs. you and the blonde had been asked to film a diary room episode together — a way to document any world cup memories.

where the pair of you would sit down and basically talk about camp and other things until the media team had enough content.

watching as alessia walked down the stairs scrolling through her phone as a small smile was on her face which to you felt like years but finally after ten minutes it wasn't even two she had made it to where you were stood.

"i think i've aged about fifty years in the time it's took you to walk down fifteen steps!" you huffed as alessia looked up from her phone slotting it into her blue england shorts, smiling as you shaking her head a little at your dramatics.

"yeah? you look it too!"

you knew that was coming, rolling your eyes and smacking the blondes shoulder pushing her slightly as she held back her laugh.

"baby, i'm joking" she said while swinging her arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her as she placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as you began to walk towards where you were filming.

"your lucky i love you russo!"

you sat down first on the couch as alessia slotted down comfortably beside you, as she sat a little lower making sure her head rested on your shoulder making you look like the taller one when in reality it was the polar opposite.

"okay, you ready?" you asked the blonde after being given the run down from the camera men as the cameras began to film.

"hi guys, i'm y/n.." you smiled waiting for alessia to say her name but instead there was an awkward pause until a yelp escaped the blonde from you elbowing her in the ribs in order to get her attention.

"ow! what was that for-"

"introduce yourself!"

you cut the blonde off as she held her side dramatically even though you had barely touched her. "you said you were doing the introductions!" alessia defended herself.

you sighed, "no i said i would- oh nevermind,, im y/n and that's alessia" you smiled at the camera, pointing at yourself and then at alessia who looked confused.

filming got to a great start, and it got to the point where you actually forgot you were being filmed, "OH my fear of spiders is totally normal, at least i'm not scared of turkeys" you teased. it being your turn to poke fun of the blondes fears as she had just spent to last five minutes poking fun at your totally normal fear of spiders.

you began to recount the story of the other day, when the two of you were out on a walk in your down time in australia.

"no did you not see them, they did start and charge at us!" she defended as you gave her a side eye look, "i wouldn't say charging"

"oh i would!"

"it's was walking and minding its own business!"

"yeah.. but it did look us in the eye."

"then you began to use me as a shield as you hid behind me" you smirked, knowing the blonde was a lot taller then you and your small frame was never going to protect her from anything. "well i wasn't getting eaten by a turkey! england wouldn't have there stargirl then" she defended herself as you scoffed rolling your eyes at her cocky comment.

"oh so instead i'm just turkey bait to you,, cheers less!" you rolled your eyes as she began to plead her case of 'that's not what i meant!' as the filming carried on.

"in the eighty-" you began talking as alessia looked at you not that she was listening and you could tell.

"did you come in here with that cap on?" she asked you, making you stop your story as you looked at her with a strange look.

"yeah?" you responded as she looked at the black cap that was on your head, snatching it from your head and messing up your hair in the process and then placing it on her head instead.

she turned around, and back giving you a dramatic pose as she looked at you with a serious look trying to hold in her laughter. "do i look good?" she asked as you nodded, alessia beginning to pose more.

"here comes the vogue model!" you whispered, still loud enough for people to hear you. "think this suits me" she says to herself as your still smiling and laughing at your girlfriends antics.

"do you just want my entire wardrobe?" you jokingly asked knowing the blonde had quite a few of your clothes in her wardrobe however realistically it was nothing compared to amount of clothes you had 'borrowed' from the blonde.

"i've only got your cap!" she smiled turning to look at you, "and anyways your one to talk, there my joggers!" she said pointing to the grey joggers you were wearing. you gasped, "they are not, these are actually mine ms russo"

the blonde's eyebrows rose as she smirked pointing to the initials that were embroidered next to pocket, "AR, yeah?" she hummed a smirk on her lips as she knew she had caught you in the act of stealing her clothes once again, as you paused for a minute coming up with your next line.

"th-that means nothing, it just the brand name!" you scoffed coming up with a half-assed excuse as alessia rose her eyebrows trying her best not to burst out laughing.

"mhm, what brand?"

"oh not sure, mum bought them for me for christmas!"

you sighed throwing your hands in the air, as alessia began to laugh not being able to hold it in any longer as you rolled your eyes playfully as her.

"you've stolen my hoodies though, and it wouldn't surprise me if you were wearing my socks!" alessia pointed to the black adidas hoodie you were wearing and then to the white adidas socks you were wearing.

shaking your head as you began to plead your innocence once again, "the hoodies borrowed, not stolen." you began really emphasising the word borrowed. "and the socks are actually mine!" you smirked as alessia hummed side eyeing you.

"really?"

"yes!" you say looking at the camera but mouthing 'no' but alessia can't see as she's sat slightly behind you. "doubt that!" the blonde mumbled as you turned to her and began to laugh.

"no.. th-there actually georgia's but i don't think she knows" you say in between giggles, exposing yourself meaning georgia will definitely know because even if she doesn't watch the video on youtube, alessia will make it her mission to tell her.

"so the two huge suitcases you brung to australia" alessia began as you turned to her and slotted back into the gap at the side of her, nodding slowly unsure as to where she was going with this sentence. "what did you actually bring, because i think i'm yet to see you in your own clothes." alessia continued.

"as if you didn't bring three whole suitcases with you!" you defended yourself, as her and katie had packed enough for the two of them two move to australia as everyone else in the team had two bags.

"yeah, but i haven't been living out of someone else's wardrobe for the past two weeks like some"

"i did bring clothes! these slides are mine!" you smiled bringing your cream slides into the camera angle, as you tried to bargain your case when in reality you just liked to wear your girlfriends clothes — they were comfy and as a big bonus they smelled like her.

"your such a big dope!"

"your big dope though." you smiled looking at alessia as she too had a huge smile on her face as the blonde  brought you closer to what you thought was a hug instead she was putting you in a headlock.

"thanks for watching, i've been-"

"ALESSIA MIA TERESA RUSSO! let go of me now!”

"i've been alessia and she's been y/n!"