#stealing from my dash again

[sophies-earbuds]

sophie: keefe and i are dating!

marella: we've known for ages

sophie: but we only started dating two days ago

marella: then what were you doing before?

[morewyckedthanyou]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: IT (1990) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Miniseries Summary:

Sometimes you need a little push from an unexpected source to make a decision and be brave.

For Eddie Kaspbrak that unexpected source ends up being his mother... and oh how his mother would hate the outcome. But for Eddie and Richie it's everything they ever could've wished for and more.

It’s here! Chapter 1/3 of my Miniseries Reddie fic that’s been chilling in my WIP-folder since June 2021! Happy Pride to all the 3 or so people who are even in this fandom anymore! 🏳️‍🌈

[woniedarlin]

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming. 

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. 

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived. 

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!” 

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?” 

“that much!” 

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.” 

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. 

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.” 

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do. 

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.” 

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror. 

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!” 

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.  

“jungkook!” 

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm. 

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.” 

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much. 

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on. 

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice. 

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots. 

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…” 

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago. 

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink. 

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him? 

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family. 

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature. 

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache. 

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart. 

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up. 

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.” 

he bats his eyelashes. 

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet? 

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.” 

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” 

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth. 

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.” 

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh. 

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively. 

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered. 

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom. 

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.” 

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface. 

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.” 

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer. 

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath. 

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen. 

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting. 

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.” 

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies. 

he’s seriously a large and tall dog. 

“bam, what are you doing here?!” 

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back. 

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.” 

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language. 

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this. 

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment. 

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits. 

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much. 

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking. 

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s. 

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense. 

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing. 

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.” 

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again. 

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle. 

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland. 

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again. 

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

[polaris-daydreams]

(my) baby likes it messy

pairing : andrew “pope” cody x reader 

warnings : HEAVY SMUT ❗❗masochism, tiddy fucking, blowjob, rough facefucking, tip kissing, dacryphilia, choking, spit in mouth, swallowing spit, shared cum eating, pussy spanking, condescending degradation, begging, pussy eating, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, pressing on wounds, fighting, slapping, punching, manhandling, blood, injuries, sadism, breeding kink, cumming inside, switch!dynamics, angst, hurt/comfort, implication of that 1 line from baz to pope :(. pet names used : kiddo, kid, baby, sweet baby, pretty baby, sweet thing, daddy, mommy. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18 ❗❗

summary : part 2 to this. Where you and pope use play fighting (and fucking) to talk about your feelings instead. read part 3 & part 4

w/c : 4.2k (WHEW this was a beast to write !!)

a/n : 2nd time writing smut but i was still rly struggling bcs i had so many diff scenarios typed out separately that it was difficult to piece them all tgr and make them work. i'm super nervous about this :") a lot of ppl were looking forward to pt 2 so im realllly hoping i did pope justice and that its satisfactory for yall <3. gif credits: @ozarkthedog. divider credits: @cafekitsune. writing prompt credits: @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 @urfriendlywriter. pretty please leave comments or rambles in reblogs <33 so i know how well i did :))

“You really wanna do this now kiddo?” Pope breathes out in disbelief.

“Why not? We always agreed the play fighting was okay. Let out stress n’ whatnot.” You play with the ring on your hand, as if what you were asking of Pope was completely normal.

Pope shakes the towel in his hair, the water droplets flying in every which way. His ribs a splotchy canvas with bruised purple.

“You want me, right now,” he makes his way over, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “To fight and fuck you while I’m completely naked and you’re only wearing panties and my shirt?”

“Hey, you said it yourself. Told me you’d fuck me face down in your bed. Wouldn't stop giving it to me even if I begged … what was it again? Oh, right. Even if I begged sweetly.”

Pope stares at you with a tired expression. The kind where you’ve had to put up with your spouse’s antics for the 15th year in a row. Except that wasn’t a luxury you guys had together, with the two of you coming to terms with your feelings only when he got back from prison. So his eyes soften at the edges even when you talk back to him.

“Come onnn Pope, you know the whole family’s gone tonight. No ones gonna care that you're chasing and fighting me while butt ass naked.” You stand up and walk towards him.

“Kid, I really think you don't know what you're getting yourself into.” Pope meets you halfway, hands naturally finding your waist.

He thinks he should steal a kiss from you. What else can he think about when you look up at him like that and pout your lips?

His thoughts drift away when you do, his hands falling as you turn, walking away with your back towards him.

He frowns.

“Well, I guess I better find J then. M’sure he’s not too busy for me.”

The frown turns into a scowl.

“Dont fuckin’ say shit like that, kid.”

You spin around easily, your (his) big shirt flowing with the movement. Clasping your hands behind you and rocking on your heels,

“Why? Since you only talk a big game, I’ll just find someone else who can really fuck me good. Cum in me reallll deep a-”

You turn quickly, anticipating Pope surging towards you, you dash across the room and just barely manage to grip the edge of the glass door when Pope’s body slams into the back of you. The impact of his body and his hand landing on the glass, rocks you towards it. You're unable to stop your temple from thudding against it. Pope’s hand is keeping a tight grip on the edge, his warm body caging you in. You can feel his cock just barely touching your ass, his chest contracting and expanding from jealousy. 

But none of those are what scares you.

What scares you is when he gently tips your chin upwards, angling your face to him. Keeps his thumb caressing your cheekbone, as he plants the softest kiss on your temple. The same place you got hit.

He takes away his touch, just enough to put his forehead to yours.

“That’s the only time I’m being soft with you tonight, baby.” He mutters against your lips.

Then, all traces of that softness is gone as Pope bends down and hauls you over his shoulder, holding you by the waist. You slap and scratch at his back, scraping your sharp manicured nails along his injuries. You feel a shudder shake his body, but you’re certain it was more from pleasure than pain.

He puts you down on the floor in front of the bedpost, making sure to land you ass first to cushion your fall as he crawls his way over your body.

You kick at his frame, landing hits on his bruised ribs. You’d almost feel bad but his hard cock tells you he’s enjoying all of this. 

Pope catches your ankle when you're kicking at him, dragging your whole body down easily with one strong arm. He sits on your legs to keep them down, you pull yourself up just for him to quickly crawl up the length of your body, bunching up your (his) black shirt to expose your tits. Pope lets you slap him around, even lets you land one on his face. Groaning deep in his chest, he finally makes his way up, straddling just below your chest. His knees are on either side of your boobs as he squeezes them together with his hands.

Leaning his face closer, giving you easier access to slap and punch as he draws back his hips, then shoves his hard cock back in between the valley of your tits squished together.

“This is fucking humiliating Pope, I hate you.” You whine out, embarrassed.

“Oh sweet baby, you don't even know what's waiting’ for you if ya think this is even close to humiliation.”

Pope looks down at you with an evil smirk, fresh blood appearing on his face from your fighting.

He distances his face from you, so that your blows hit his stomach and chest instead.

You see his abs ripple as you rake your claws down, red lines following your trail.

“Shit, kid c'mon, play a little nicer yeah? Why don’t you stick out that pretty tongue of yours. Give my tip some attention, yeah?”

Pope tilts his head when you remain defiant. Biting down on your lips to drive the point home.

“It’s like that huh kid? Alright, I only wanted you to nurse the tip. But since you wanna be that way, I’ll just make you take me whole.”

Pope barely finishes the last word before parting your lips forcefully with his hand, the force of it making your teeth catch on your lips, tearing apart the delicate skin. 

His gaze falls to the blood escaping your lips. He holds his cock in one hand, tapping it against your soft lips before swiping his tip over the leaking blood. There's a dark twinkle in his eyes, then he lets go of his cock, opting to place both his hands in your hair before sheathing himself into you.

You choke on it as his cock buries deep in your throat. Pope hisses as the warmth of your throat envelopes him. He draws back his hips until just the head is still inside, then bucks his hips forward again.

He maintains this pattern, speeding up when he sees tears escape and fall down your gorgeous face.

“Awh pretty baby. Is my baby crying, yeah? Crying cause I’m so fuckin’ deep in her?. Can my baby not take it, me using, oh fuck, using her like a cocksleeve?”

“You look so pretty like that kiddo. Look soo fuckin' good swallowing my cock and crying. Fuck, you crying all over my cock makes me so much more harder.”

With your eyes glossed over, you squeeze down aimlessly on his chest.

“Oh, sh-shit, yeah do that again c’mon kid press down on my ribs.”

You oblige, Pope making himself fit in the warmth of your throat one last time as his body bends forward from the high. His abs constrict, forehead banging against the bedpost as he milks himself into your mouth.

“Fuckkking hell kid, you're so good to me.”

He pants over you, pushing against the bedpost with his hand to reel back on his heels.

Fuck, you look so gorgeous like this.

The tip of his cock resting on your lips.

Your mouth filled to the brim with his cum.

Tears staining the path down your face.

Glossy eyes looking up at him.

Pope grabs his still hard cock, swiping it across your bottom lip, smearing cum all over you like it's lipstick.

“Give it one last suck kiddo. Wouldn't want to waste a drop would we?”

You listen this time.

Putting your soft lips over his head, you suck on it like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around it once before it leaves your mouth with “pop!”. You place a gentle kiss on the tip, making Pope’s eyes soften.

He guesses he’ll indulge you this one time (it's a lie, he’ll keep being soft with you no matter how jealous you make him, how hard you hit him.)

Pope smooshes your cheeks by grabbing your jaw, and you already know what he’s doing to you, giving to you.

So you stick out your cum-filled tongue, letting him spit in your mouth.

He shuffles down your body, his hips meeting yours as he brings his face down to yours. Cradling the side of your face, he kisses you slow. Presses his tongue inside, tasting his own cum as he makes out with you. Its sloppy and messy. 

“Swallow.” Pope whispers against your lips, still kissing and licking.

The both of you swallow at the same time, sharing the cum.

His forehead is pressed against yours when he asks softly,

“Still up for playing?”

Dark eyes shining at your cock-drunk nod and smile.

Pope waits for you to start the round, lessens his body weight on you.

You take the chance to shove him with all your might, getting him to topple to the side. You rise quickly, trying to steady your wobbly legs. Your footsteps stomp on the floor until you feel him gripping the back of your hair, but your arm is already reeling backwards. The sound of your fist connecting to Pope’s nose makes a sickening crunch. Blood splatters onto the bedsheets as his body bends that way. 

Not stopping, you drag him by the collar, hooking your leg behind his knee and throwing him to the bed using your whole body. Clambering on top of him once he hits the soft mattress.

You reel your right hand back to land another punch.

But Pope smiles.

Blood dripping out of his nose down to his lips.

Caused by a punch from you.

Yet he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

You falter, your hand still mid air.

That's enough for Pope.

He’s bigger, faster so he reverses your positions easily.

His left hand pushing down on the back of your head, smooshing your cheeks to the mattress. He kneels on the back of your legs, the whole of his body weight pinning you down. Your hands reach out behind you, clawing and slapping his arms. He groans as you draw blood. His knees slipping off of you for just a second, still caging you in between his legs, but his body weight isn't on you anymore. You take the chance to raise your hips, his hand still holding your head down.

But you’ve walked right into his plan.

Pope sneaks his right hand between your legs, stopping it right in front of your panties, as he grinds his cock down into your ass.

“Oh, f-fuck”

You stutter as the force pushes you deeper against his fingers. Legs clamping closed to stop his fingers from circling your pussy through the panties.

Pope lets out a dark chuckle.

“C’mon kiddo, don’t you wanna play with me?”

He brings his face closer, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your spine. Leaves a trail of blood up to your neck. His voice is husky when he speaks in your neck.

“I know you wanna, c’mon spread those legs f’me. Let me make you feel good, let me play with your pretty pussy yeah?”

You try to shake your head, muttering out weak “no”s.

Pope just tuts disapprovingly, using his knees to spread your legs apart himself. Your chest falls forward, so you’re ass up face down. 

“Mm no baby? Baby doesn’t want her pretty pussy played with, s’that right?”

He tears your panties in one swift motion, shoves two fingers deep easily from how wet you are.

A soundless scream escapes you from how sudden the intrusion is.

“Then why's the greedy little thing justtt sucking my fingers in huh? Y’hear that kiddo, fuck you’re absolutely  gushing ‘round me.”

He starts grinding his hard cock against your propped up ass again, the force making his finger go deeper and deeper.

Your soft “uh, uh, uh”s fill the room along with the obscene slick sounds.

“Damn kid, could probably just slip inside that pretty pussy with how wet you are. Maybe I should add another yeah?”

He does just that, and uses his thumb to draw circles around your clit at the same time.

You cry out, trashing against his hold. It's all too much. Him grinding against your ass. Three fingers reaching that spot he knows makes you crazy. The deep, slow circles putting pressure on your clit, just the way he knows you like it.

“S’too m-much, too much ple-pleasee I can’t.”

“Oh? S’too much?” Condescension drips like honey from his lips as he mocks your high pitched pleas.

“Or maybe I heard wrong. Maybe y’said you wanted more please? Well when you beg for more so nicely, 'course you can have more, kiddo.” 

He takes out his fingers, and you think he finally takes pity on you.

Until Pope slams the entirety of his thick cock into you, with one motion he’s buried to the hilt. You wail, tears blurring your vision and making a mess of your face.

“Fuckkkkk, Goddamn kid your pussy’s made for me. Greedy little thing just sucked me in, fuck me.”

You choke on your crying, drool escaping the side of your mouth. 

You feel Pope repeating a brutal rhythm, pulling out till the last inch of his cock, then diving back in.

“Sweet thing, what happened to all that back talking hm?

Garbled moans and high pitched whines are the only thing escaping your lips. 

Pope sighs with mock disappointment, before reaching the hand that's not pinning your head, down between your thighs.

Spank! 

Your body jolts, electricity shocks travelling everywhere.

“Asked you a question, kiddo.”

Pope’s voice doesn’t falter a bit, even when you're a drooly, dazed mess.

“M’sorry,” you sniffle between your words, “M’sorry Andrew, won’t … won’t do it again. Can’t take it, please.”

“Yeah? S’that true? You’re sorry Andrew? N’ what’re you sorry for sweet thing? C’mon use your big girl words, kiddo. Know you can spit it out.”

“Won’t, fuck, won’t talk about others fucking m-me better. Jus’ missed you m’sorry, I can’t, plea .. please Andrew, can’t take anymore.”

“Can’t take it?”

Pope leans over you, his chest to your back.

Places bloody kisses to your jawline.

“You can.”

Bites the shell of your ear.

“You will.”

 

He’s quiet. You notice his energy is different tonight. A different quiet. His jaw tense, shoulders hunched over. His hands gripping the nightstand edge. It's one of those nights, you realise. Ones where you’re breaking him and piecing back the pieces together again.

You stand up from the bed, carefully making your way to him. Gently cupping his jaw with your hands, tilting his head back up to look at you.

“Wanna play with me?” You whisper to the dead of night. Tracing the cuts on his cheekbones with your thumbs.

His gaze bores into you. Hurt swimming around in his irises. Leaning into your touch, letting his walls fall down just for you. Eyes flutter close. It's serene for a moment. He takes in a deep inhale, slowly reveals his pretty eyes to you again as the air leaves his lungs.

“Yeah, I wanna play.”

You let a small smile quirk up at the corner of your lips. Not to tease, no. For letting you do this to him. For him.

Dropping your forehead to his, bumping the tip of your nose with his bloody one.

The two of you inhale at the same time, sharing the air in that intimate moment.

Then, you take your time reeling back from him.

Hands falling from his jaw.

Just so you can land a slap to Pope’s left cheek.

The sound of contact reverberates throughout the room, his head whipping to the right.

His chest is heaving when he brings his face back to you.

Puppy dog eyes staring into your soul.

“Harder, please.”

You smack his left cheek again, more force behind it as Pope’s body moves with the turn of his head.

He doesn't get a word in when he turns back, your hand already reeling back to land the hardest slap up until that point. 

Pope groans, a dribble of blood escaping past his lips.

You grip his jaw, ignoring the whine when your fingers dig into the sore spot of his cheek. Then, you surge your lips forward, shoving your tongue in his mouth, tasting his blood.

The close proximity makes Pope grind his hips into you, hands wandering to your hips.

You pull away when you feel his bulge.

“Are you getting off from the pain? You fucking whore.”

Pope frantically shakes his head, hands gripping your hips harder.

“No, no ‘m not. Just wanted t’feel you please.”

You pull him by the neck, walking backwards till you feel the bed behind you. Then, you put your leg between his, kicking the back his knee to make him kneel, the other knee following suit.

Allowing his hands to wander, trailing up and down the back of your exposed thighs.

You undress yourself, throwing the fabrics to the side until it's just your panties and thigh highs.

You tilt your head, 

“Help me take them off?” You sweetly ask Pope, as if you were asking him to pass the salt.

Pope listens quickly, tugs down your underwear. You’re left in his favourite thigh highs to see on you. They're frilly, white with a pink trim and a pink bow. There's a metal heart charm that dangles in the middle of the bow. Spelt out “Pope” if anyone got close enough to see. (nobody has, and nobody ever will.)

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning back a tiny bit, your hands spread behind you for support.

Spreading your legs just enough to show Pope how wet you are for him. You see his throat bob as he swallows, hands fidgeting on his lap, like he’s barely restraining himself from just taking what he wants from you.

“Want you …” you trail off as you slowly rub your clothed foot uppp and downnn Pope’s thigh.

“Wan’ you to jerk off using my panties. Want you to make me feel good while you're doing it.” You emphasise your point by digging into the sore skin of his cheeks, skin splitting open with blood.

“Go on.”

Pope pulls you towards him, places your thighs atop his broad shoulders, and dives in.

Fuck, he’s eager.

His tongue licks broad stripes, from the bottom to the top. Shoving his tongue deep into you, sucking at your clit like he’s sucking a honeycomb. Shit, Pope thinks he might be from how fucking saccharine you taste. 

He keeps his eyes locked on you the whole time. Grips the meat of your thighs as you writhe in pleasure. He hungrily flicks his tongue, angling his head to get deeper, lick harder. He’s hyper fixated on you. Your reactions. The pattern in which your chest heaves, the way you bite your lip, the furrow in your brow. 

But Pope thinks the best part is how you sound. Like a fuckin’ angel leading him to salvation. All the while pushing and slapping him around. That’s alright, Pope thinks to himself. He’d let you shoot him if it meant bringing you pleasure.

Pope lets go of your left thigh, a red mark starting to blossom from how hard he was gripping. He brings the hand down, taking your cute panties and wrapping them around his cock.

You slowly part your legs, exposing the dripping, obscene sight to Pope.

Sighing as you start fingering yourself, slow and deep with two fingers. 

“You're … you're so mean Pope. Making me treat you like a dog when all I wanted was you to split me open on your big fat cock.” You pout your lips mockingly, fingers picking up the pace.

“S’not enough you know. You know it's never enough. My fingers can’t fill me up the way your big cock does. Can't reach those spots that make me see stars.” You grind your hips, taking your fingers deeper.

“Just want you in me. Want you to cum deep inside. Wan’ you to put a baby in me.”

Pope stills his movement.

He’s so still that it makes you pause too, thinking he wants to stop the round.

Wincing slightly as you take out your fingers.

“Pope you oka-”

“You mean that?”

You blink. 

Pope’s voice is so incredibly small. His eyes, so pained when he looks up at you. Like you're giving him false hope.

“Hey.”

You quickly scoot down to him, planting yourself on his lap. Slowly, you move away the fabric in his hand, careful not to add any friction. Interlocking your messy fingers with his. You bring a clean hand to his cheek, Pope nuzzling into it.

Wrapping his other arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him. He makes himself smaller so he can rest his face in your neck. Using you like a shield.

“Baz said no one would want that.”

You run the hand that he was nuzzling into, through his messy curls while he explains.

“Wouldn’t want that with me.”

Oh, how your heart breaks.

“I want that, with you.”

You lead your interlocked hands to your stomach.

“Want you to give me a baby, right here.”

Pope emerges from his hiding spot in your neck.

Fuck, he looks like he’s about to break apart at the seams.

Puts his forehead to yours, breaths mingling.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I know that I wanna start a family with you. One where we’ll learn not to be like the others before us. A happy family, with pure unconditional love. And I know you're the only person I want to share that with.”

Pope exhales shakily, before meeting your lips.

Not rushed.

Not intense.

Just a firm reminder that you’re here, you’re real.

He slowly takes his cock again, lines it up with your entrance as you delicately lower yourself on it. The two of you still sharing sweet kisses. He wraps your legs around him and carries you up onto the bed. Placing you down carefully, then sitting on his knees in between your thighs.

Just stares at you for a few seconds, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

His eyes travel down to your thigh highs, they’ve shifted down to just slightly above your knees now from all the movement.

Pope’s fingers wrap around the small metal charm with his name on it, traces the tiny letters. 

Smoothing his hands over to the top of your things, to the underside of your knees. He lifts them, pecking the charms before pushing down, down, making the top of your thighs meet the soft bed as Pope bends down to chase your lips again. Your legs are spread wide in the full nelson position.

“Gonna move now okay? Gonna put a baby in you.”

It's romantic.

It's a promise.

Pope grinds slow and deep, curving his hips to hit that angle. He’s so thick and big, that it knocks the air out your lungs every time he pushes back in to just barely graze a kiss on your cervix. You don’t need air, you think. Not when Pope is giving you oxygen as he whispers in between kissing you.

“You feel that? Yeah that's me in there, kid.”

He lets go of your thigh briefly to guide your hand, down to the bulge in your stomach where his cock is.

“Gonna give you our kid. Gonna give my kid a little kiddo, yeah?”

“You'd like that right? Giving my pretty baby a baby of her own. Of our own. Our happy little family.”

“Wanna make you a mommy. You want that? You want that with me? Wanna make me a daddy, yeah?”

Your thighs shake, your back arching and pushing you closer to Pope’s chest. Your insides clamp down on his cock like a vice when you cum. It all makes Pope dizzy with desire. 

“C’mon then, c’mon let me do it. Let me take care of you. Let daddy make you a mommy. Fuck, please. Please make me a daddy. I’ll be so good, I promise. Oh, I need it, need you. Please, please please ‘m so close oh fuck.”

Pope’s entire body tenses up, a wave washes over him as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. His forehead lands on yours.

He cries, chanting “I love you”s against your lips. The devotion slips past your mouth, making its way down to your pounding heart.

Pope gently lets you thighs drop back down, but the two of you stay intertwined for a while longer. 

He tiredly shifts the two of you on your side, your back to his chest. His nose resting in your hair. His arms protectively wrap around your stomach. 

You place your hands over his, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I hope it’s a girl.”

Pope breaks through the veil of silence after what seems like forever.

You quirk your lips into a smile, eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah, then she’ll grow up right before your eyes. Asking why your name’s so weird, then in no time she’ll be telling you her boy problems at school.”

Pope laughs. He laughs.

Not the empty one. Not the crazed, I’m-about-to-snap laugh.

Pope lets the genuine melody fall from his lips, blessing your ears with the warmth emitting from it.

All from the thought of starting his own family. With you.

a/n : this is my longest fic to date but i had to take out a good chunk, lemme know if yall wanna see it expanded upon (its pope having reader in a headlock based on this gifset, same one i used as inspo for the positions). prettyyy please leave comments or rambles in your reblogs, even if its just in tags. i'm so nervous abt this fic so i srsly hope to see ppl enjoying it :").

no pressure tags for beloved mooties/fellow pope enjoyers from pt1 : @erwinsvow @callsign-fangirl @mangonom @nyheartbreak @xngxlstuff @paintlavillered @awkwardpersonsthings

[teaboot]

Wait you had autism and still got along with the other kids and knew what was going on with them?? I was never able to do that! I still chose to do my own thing but would have been unable to answer those questions.

I mean I didn't really WANNA make friends for a super long time so it didn't really matter? And if anyone was outright mean I don't think I noticed till like 6th grade.

After 6th a few other kids liked to throw or kick things at my face or steal my art supplies or give me mean nicknames- I remember almost all the boys in my class one year started a thing where if I got within 4 feet of them they'd yell "[tea] GERMS!" and make a dramatic mad-dash escape, and that was kinda hurtful, but IDK how long that was a thing??

Anyhow I started asking them if they had a crush on me or if they were just stupid, and when they asked what I meant I'd just be like "well there's two reasons boys act stupid around girls. Either you have a crush on me, or you're just always this stupid"

And that invariably led to them yelling "I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" or telling me, "I'd rather say I'm stupid than say I like you!"

Which might have been hurtful if I wasn't growing into a mild superiority complex that assured me I was smarter than them, and nicer than them, and there was really no need to desire the approval of stupid, mean people.

(This was, of course, backed up by the fact that my father was one of those mean, stupid sorts of people, and I fully beleived if I could handle him, I could handle anyone my size, and so what if you dont like me? My own dad doesnt like me, am i supposed to value your opinion?)

Then by highschool I got hot, and if one of them started chatting me up I'd just be like "You wrote in my yearbook in 2002 that I was a huge loser. Why would I want to hang out with you"

And by THEN I'd met enough genuinely fun, interesting people who actually liked me that I was never around anyone who openly disliked me anyways.

Not until I started to realize I wasn't 100% a girl and cut my hair off- Then I started hearing other girls whispering to each other that I looked like a lesbian- gasp- which, again, was actually pretty funny, 'cause then I'd just tell them not to get their hopes up 'cause I wasn't available.

Then I graduated, and moved, and it turns out I'm actually kind of hot funny smart and successful, and whenever I fall into the deep deep pit of dumb ugly stupid imposter-syndrome, I remember that as mean as other kids were sometimes, their parents thought I was the best.

So anyways get fucked Gabe from ninth grade, your mom used to give me candy and bail me out of detention. I had the biggest fucking crush on your mom dude

[princesseilish]

ROUTINES

Paige Bueckers x Mom!Reader

Warnings: Child angst? Maybe? Fluff, domestic, crying, tantrums, mentions of autism?

Synopsis: Your very busy life, as a mother and a wife but, you wouldn't want to have it any other way

Monday mornings in the Bueckers household were an Olympic event. Not dramatic. Not tragic. Just full. Shoes gone missing, cereal bowls clinking, cartoon noise overlapping with toothbrush humming, and one too-loud five-year-old trying to find her Very Specific Hair Clip like it was a national emergency.

The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., but no one moved until 6:42.

Paige groaned into her pillow, arm flopped over Y/N’s waist.

“Tell me it’s Sunday,” she muttered.

Y/N blinked at the ceiling. “Monday.”

“Again?”

“Forever.”

Down the hall, feet hit the floor with a thump. Then came the first voice.

“MOMMY? Where’s my moon shirt?! I had it! It was on the floor for bedtime, and now it’s GONE!”

“Shit,” Y/N whispered.

By 6:47, both moms were vertical. Barely.

Y/N shuffled toward the girls’ rooms with half a hair tie still clinging to her wrist. Paige wandered into the kitchen to start the coffee machine, which groaned in sympathy.

Hazel was awake and already dressed. Kind of. She stood in her closet, holding up two long-sleeved shirts with equal suspicion.

“Tag check,” she said calmly.

Y/N, still bleary-eyed, took them both, flipped them inside out, and started snipping.

Hazel wore the same three shirts in rotation: the green bug-print one, the bluey one that violet keeps stealing and the plain gray one with soft seams. Everything else required negotiation.

“Can I wear the bug one again?” she asked.

Y/N checked it, smelled it. “No offense, babe, but it smells like mud and applesauce.”

Hazel nodded solemnly. “Then the Bluey one.”

Meanwhile, Violet’s door burst open like she was storming the castle. She wore pajama pants and a cape fashioned from a beach towel.

“I CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL WITHOUT MY MOON SHIRT,” she announced to the world. “I WILL PERISH.”

Hazel turned to her. “You say that every Monday.”

“BECAUSE I MIGHT.”

“Girls,” Y/N warned. “We are not doing end-of-days at seven A.M. Find your shoes.”

“I am in my shoes,” Violet said dramatically, lifting her pajamaed foot. “In spirit.”

By 7:15, breakfast was in progress.

Hazel sat quietly at the table, spooning plain yogurt with granola into her mouth, pausing only to tap her fingers against the table in an even rhythm. She liked neutral foods on Monday. Oatmeal if she was in a yellow mood, yogurt if she was in a blue one.

Today was blue.

Violet, however, was chaos in a unicorn hoodie. She demanded banana slices on her waffle, then changed her mind halfway through and asked for them “reconstructed,” which apparently meant separated into a different bowl. Then she cried when her fork had syrup on it. Then she cried harder when Paige used the “syrup fork” to hand her the banana bowl.

Hazel watched her sister sob into her waffle and whispered, “That’s so many tears.”

Y/N crouched to Violet’s level. “Do you want to pick a new fork?”

“I want to go back to bed and wake up in a different week.”

“Same, kid,” Paige muttered from the Keurig.

By 7:37, Y/N was zipping jackets while Violet insisted she could do her own hair, despite never once having done it successfully.

Hazel already had her backpack on, full of items she had packed the night before: a fidget popper, her magnifying glass, her laminated Bug Club field guide, two pencils she sharpened herself, and a snack that included exactly six baby carrots.

Not five. Not seven.

“You ready, Hazey?” Paige asked, crouching to eye-level.

Hazel blinked up at her. “Did you know that female praying mantises sometimes eat their mates?”

“I didn’t.”

“They start at the head.”

“Love that for them.”

Hazel smiled slightly. “I like bugs more than people sometimes.”

“Same,” Paige said.

7:44 a.m. was always the mad dash.

Y/N held out Violet’s shoes like they were fire extinguishers. “Let’s go, Vi. We need to be out the door in two minutes.”

“I need my galaxy hair clip.”

“You said you wanted the butterfly one.”

“That was before my waffle betrayal.”

Paige stepped in with her calm-coach voice. “Okay, we’re gonna take three big breaths and pick one clip.”

“I WANT SEVEN.”

Y/N groaned and picked her up, carried her bodily to the car as Violet declared, “This is a violation of my civil rights!”

Hazel trailed behind, narrating to herself. “It’s always more dramatic on Mondays. Maybe because the moon was full last night.”

By 7:51, they were in the car. Somehow.

Hazel sat with her book open, reading about bark beetles. Violet kicked the back of the passenger seat and sang about cats made of lightning.

Y/N adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at her daughters.

Hazel’s sleeves were tugged down over her wrists. Violet had granola in her hair.

She exhaled.

“Do we have everything?” Paige asked, buckling in beside her.

“Hazel’s lunch is labeled. Violet’s form is signed. I packed extra pull-ups for the nap mat.”

“Supermom,” Paige whispered.

“I haven’t even changed.”

“Still hot.”

The drive to school was always quieter than the house. Not quiet, but less loud.

Violet was half-asleep by the time they turned onto the school street, head lolling to one side. Hazel, still focused, traced her finger down a paragraph and whispered, “Did you know some beetles glow in the dark because of bioluminescent bacteria? I bet they have good parties.”

Paige turned in her seat. “You nervous about anything today?”

Hazel didn’t look up. “I don’t like lunch duty with Ms. Barker. She’s loud. Her shoes squeak when she walks.”

“Want me to email your teacher?”

Hazel shook her head. “I’ll just sit on the end of the table.”

Y/N met Paige’s eyes. Another unspoken: she knows how to take care of herself… and I still want to bubble-wrap her.

By 8:07, they were pulling into the drop-off line.

Hazel zipped her bug jacket all the way up. Violet sat up suddenly, wide-eyed.

“Wait. I forgot my nap bunny.”

Y/N turned around. “You haven’t used the bunny in weeks.”

“But today is the day.”

“I’ll drop it off, okay?”

Violet looked betrayed, then sighed deeply like she was forty and about to sue someone. “Fine. But don’t forget. I need her for moral support.”

Hazel leaned over and whispered something to her. Violet nodded.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Secret sibling code,” Hazel said simply, then opened her door.

Watching Hazel walk into the building, backpack snug, arms straight at her sides, never failed to squeeze Y/N’s heart.

She still felt like following her in. Like holding her hand until lunch. Like explaining to the loud substitute why Hazel sometimes covers her ears or doesn’t like it when other kids touch her markers.

But she didn’t.

She just waved, and Hazel waved back, and then disappeared inside.

Violet followed, skipping two steps behind her like a miniature shadow, shouting, “WAIT FOR ME, BUG QUEEN!”

Back in the car, Paige reached over and took Y/N’s hand.

“You did good.”

“I didn’t cry this time.”

“You almost did.”

“I miss her already.”

“She’s fine. She’s thriving. And you’re gonna be okay.”

Y/N let herself smile. “Until bedtime.”

“Until bedtime.”

Hazel didn’t really like school. She liked learning. She liked books and facts and tiny plastic beetles she could line up on the edge of her desk like a science exhibit. But school — the parts with chairs that squeaked, hallways that echoed, and teachers who said things like “everyone has to participate” — that was harder.

She didn’t complain, though.

Hazel didn’t really do complaining. She just found ways to work around things that made her feel buzzy or weird or out-of-place.

Her teacher, Ms. Lee, was one of the good ones. She understood that Hazel sometimes needed to sit next to circle time instead of in it. She knew that when Hazel stared out the window for five minutes, she was probably just imagining a bug colony starting a government.

But not everyone got it.

Y/N had gotten the email around 10:12 that morning.

“Hi Y/N, I just wanted to loop you in on a quick recess moment — nothing major, but Hazel didn’t want to join the group game again today, and one of the other moms reached out expressing concern. I assured her we’re working on encouraging inclusion. Happy to chat if you’d like.”

Y/N had stared at the screen. Read it again. Then slowly set down her tea and muttered, “Encouraging inclusion, my ass.”

She spent the next twenty minutes pacing in front of the laundry basket, muttering things like “Hazel doesn’t need to learn to play tag, Karen, she’s not applying to the NFL” and angrily folding toddler socks while imagining elaborate ways to crash the next PTA meeting.

Paige, mid-practice break, FaceTimed her at the exact wrong moment.

Y/N answered still holding a sock like a weapon.

“Oh no,” Paige said immediately. “Who emailed you.”

“Hazel didn’t play tag at recess and now it’s a thing.”

Paige exhaled. “Did she push someone? Cry? Bite anyone?”

“No. She just didn’t play.”

“…So she sat by the tree again?”

“Probably organizing ants by family structure. But some mom complained.”

Paige rubbed her forehead. “Is this the same mom who brought gluten-free, sugar-free, joy-free cupcakes to last month's birthday party?”

“Yes. And she’s on the PTA.”

Paige sighed. “Want me to call the school?”

“No,” Y/N muttered. “But I do want to launch her Range Rover into the sun.”

At school, Hazel sat on the bench near the edge of the playground, eating her snack with one hand and sketching a picture of a beetle queen with the other.

A couple of kids ran past her, laughing too loudly. One accidentally kicked mulch into her shoe. Hazel didn’t react — just paused to shake the pieces out and went back to drawing.

Violet, on the other hand, was halfway across the playground when she spotted it.

Her sister. Sitting alone.

Again.

She had tried — really tried — to play with the other kindergartners. But their rules were weird and too many of them yelled, and one girl named Olivia told her that Hazel was “weird” and “doesn’t know how to play freeze tag right.”

Violet had pushed her. Not hard. Just enough to make her point.

She was still on a semi-probation from the monkey bars.

But now, seeing Hazel by herself again, Violet stomped over and plopped down next to her in the mulch.

Hazel blinked. “Aren’t you playing with the chalk kids?”

“They’re boring and mean.”

Hazel looked back at her notebook. “You can go if you want.”

“I want to be here.”

Hazel’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.

“I’m drawing a bug army,” she said after a moment. “For the beetle queen.”

“Can I be the butterfly assassin?”

Hazel nodded slowly. “You have to pass the loyalty test.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t run away when people say I’m weird.”

Violet narrowed her eyes. “I would bite them.”

Hazel smiled. “You’d be a good butterfly assassin.”

Y/N picked the girls up that afternoon like she always did — coffee in hand, anxiety simmering just below the surface, sunglasses on because she’d cried earlier and didn’t want Violet to notice.

She watched as Violet came sprinting out of the building, hair a mess, backpack hanging off one shoulder, yelling, “MOMMMMYYYYY, I DIDN’T CRY DURING REST TIME AND I GOT TWO GOLDFISH.”

Hazel trailed behind at a more even pace, hugging her sketchbook to her chest.

Y/N crouched and opened her arms.

Violet launched into her like a missile.

Hazel leaned into the side of the hug. Not all the way, but enough.

“Hard day?” Y/N asked softly.

Hazel shook her head. “Just noisy.”

“Want to talk about it in the car?”

“Can I talk about bug empires instead?”

“Of course, baby.”

The car ride home was Hazel’s favorite part of the day.

She’d unbuckle, fold her legs on the seat, and rest her notebook in her lap like she was a professor giving a lecture.

“Today I made a list of all the bugs I’d bring to space. Ants, because they’re organized. Beetles, because they’re strong. Moths, because they understand darkness. No wasps.”

“Wasps are jerks,” Violet agreed from the back seat.

Hazel nodded. “Wasps ruin birthday parties.”

Y/N smiled as she drove, listening to her daughters build an imaginary insect space colony while the sun dipped low and the streetlights clicked on one by one.

That night at dinner, Paige was late.

Practice ran long, and Hazel only ate half her pasta before asking to go organize her markers. Violet refused to eat anything that wasn’t shaped like a dinosaur.

Y/N tried not to snap.

She didn’t always succeed.

“Vi, please. Just one bite that’s not a T-Rex.”

“BUT I ONLY LIKE THE TASTY ONES.”

Hazel blinked at her sister’s outburst, confused and quiet.

“I don’t get why crying is part of dinner,” she said softly.

Y/N closed her eyes. “It’s not, honey. I’m just… tired.”

Hazel nodded and slid a green stegosaurus toward Violet. “This one’s shaped like it has manners.”

Later, once the girls were in bed (or at least in their rooms), Paige came home to find Y/N sitting on the couch, eyes red, holding a bug sketch and a half-empty glass of wine.

Paige didn’t say anything at first. She just sat beside her and waited.

“They want to ‘encourage inclusion,’” Y/N finally muttered.

Paige sighed. “Hazel didn’t even notice, did she?”

“No. But I did.”

Y/N swallowed. “I see the way they look at her. And at me. Like I did something wrong. Like I’m not parenting her right. Like it’s our fault she’d rather talk about moon craters than make bracelets in a group circle.”

Paige leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “Hazel is brilliant. Weird and curious and wild and brilliant. They don’t get to decide who she’s supposed to be.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. “I just want her to be okay.”

“She is.”

Y/N leaned into Paige’s shoulder. “And Violet’s about to punch another child in defense of her sister.”

Paige smiled. “At least we know she’s loyal.”

Hazel didn’t like bubble wrap.

Too loud. Too sudden. Too nothing for five seconds and then popPOPPOP all at once.

But in some metaphorical way, Y/N had wrapped her in it anyway.

Not because she thought Hazel was fragile. But because the world didn’t bend for girls like her. And if it wouldn’t bend, Y/N would pad every corner, kick down every unfair door, and snatch the damn scissors from anyone who dared to pop her daughter’s peace.

It just… got exhausting sometimes.

And Hazel was starting to notice.

Tuesday Morning, 6:58 AM

“I can pack my own lunch,” Hazel said calmly, standing on the step stool in the kitchen.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Okay, I just thought—”

“I know what I eat.”

“You do,” Y/N said quickly, handing her the carrots. “I just like helping.”

Hazel nodded, grabbing the bento box and carefully lining up each baby carrot like soldiers. “You can help Violet instead. She put cheese in her pocket again.”

From the other room: “NO I DIDN’T.”

Y/N sighed and looked over at Paige, who was nursing her coffee like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“You’re up early,” Y/N said softly.

“I’m not. I’m just standing with my eyes open.”

7:42 AM – The Dash

Hazel tugged her soft, tagless navy sweatshirt over her head. Violet screamed in the hallway because her socks had “stitches that feel mean.”

“Hazel, can you grab your sister’s shoes while I do her hair?”

Hazel hesitated. “I don’t want to go in there when she’s loud.”

Y/N flinched. “Right. Sorry. I can—”

“I’ll get the shoes,” Paige offered, yawning and already halfway down the hall.

Hazel and Y/N looked at each other, quiet.

“You don’t like when I make you do emotional stuff,” Y/N said gently.

Hazel shook her head. “I like when people tell me what they need. I don’t know what to do when people cry.”

“I don’t always know either.”

Hazel thought for a second, then offered: “That’s okay.”

At School, That Afternoon

Hazel didn’t notice the stares. Or maybe she did, but she had gotten good at filing them away like background noise.

She sat cross-legged near the fence at recess, sorting pebbles by texture — smooth, scratchy, sparkly, chalk-dusty.

Three girls ran by. One of them pointed. “Why is she always doing rock stuff? She’s weird.”

Hazel didn’t flinch. She just adjusted her stack.

But Violet heard it.

From across the yard, mid-tetherball, she heard it.

And stomped.

“HEY!” Violet shouted. “She’s not weird, she’s just INTERESTING!”

Hazel looked up.

The girls laughed. “Your sister’s a rock weirdo.”

Violet opened her mouth to retaliate — and stopped.

She turned, marched toward Hazel, and plopped beside her in the grass.

“What’s that one?” she asked, pointing to a black stone.

Hazel passed it to her. “Volcanic.”

“What’s it do?”

“It exists. That’s kind of enough.”

Violet nodded. “Then I’m a volcanic rock too.”

After School

Y/N was already parked in the pickup line when she saw Hazel coming out, her hood up, her arms crossed over her Bug Club binder.

Violet followed behind, bouncing as usual, waving at anyone who looked her way.

When they got in the car, Hazel climbed into her seat, buckled up, and stared out the window.

Y/N didn’t ask “how was school?” — she knew better.

Instead, she tried, “Did you know turtles can breathe through their butts?”

Hazel blinked. “Cloacal respiration. Old news.”

From the back: “YOU SAID BUTT,” Violet squealed.

Y/N smirked. “Hazel, anything on your mind?”

Hazel shrugged. “I didn’t cry. So it wasn’t a bad day.”

Y/N exhaled softly. Paige’s words from the night before echoed: She’s not broken. You don’t need to fix it before she tells you there’s a problem.

“Okay,” Y/N said, “Let’s go home and make dino nuggets.”

“I want the ones shaped like herbivores,” Hazel whispered.

“Copy that.”

Later That Night

The girls were in bed — or near it — and Y/N stood in the laundry room folding tiny socks and smaller leggings with military precision.

Paige walked in holding a juice pouch.

“She said thanks for not asking,” Paige said gently.

Y/N paused. “Hazel?”

“Yeah. I tucked her in and she said, ‘I like when Mommy doesn’t make me talk about hard things before bed.’”

Y/N laughed under her breath, hands on her hips.

“I’m trying so hard not to mess this up,” she said.

Paige set the juice down and hugged her from behind.

“You’re not messing it up. You’re showing up. That’s the job.”

Y/N leaned back against her. “Sometimes I just want to bubble-wrap her.”

“She wouldn’t let you,” Paige said. “And Vi would just pop every square out of spite.”

That Weekend

They didn’t go to any parties. Violet was invited to one, but she refused to go without Hazel.

“Why would I want to play dress-up with someone who doesn’t like my sister?” she said, arms crossed, rainbow clip in her hair.

So instead, they played in the backyard.

Hazel lined up tiny army men with insect wings glued to their backs. Violet acted out dramatic soap operas with grass clippings and dandelions.

Y/N sat in the doorway, coffee in hand, watching them just… be.

Not fixed. Not polished. Not trying to be anything they weren’t.

Just Hazel. Just Violet.

And that was enough.

Hazel didn’t like the new hallway tile.

It was too shiny. It squeaked under shoes in a way that made her shoulders tense, and it made the lights feel brighter somehow. On Monday morning, she stood in the entryway of her school and refused to take one more step.

“It’s the same hallway,” Y/N had said gently, crouched beside her. “They just cleaned the floors.”

“It’s louder,” Hazel whispered, eyes on the tiles. “And slippery. I can feel it.”

“Want to walk next to me?” Paige offered, giving her a little room. “We’ll go slow.”

Hazel didn’t answer, but she did start moving — carefully, like each step needed approval from her nervous system.

Violet, meanwhile, had already bolted halfway down the hall and was yelling something about art class and glitter glue.

Y/N watched Hazel's slow progress, then looked at Paige, her jaw tight.

“I should’ve emailed the school. Asked about the maintenance schedule.”

“Babe,” Paige said gently. “It’s just waxed tile.”

“It’s not just waxed tile to her.”

That afternoon, Y/N walked around Target with an abandoned grocery list in one hand and a cart full of soft-seam leggings, cotton undershirts, and exactly three backup pairs of Hazel’s favorite socks.

She didn’t realize how much she was overdoing it until she found herself comparing the thread count on pillowcases like Hazel was planning to move into the linen aisle.

She called Paige while sitting in the cart herself, phone balanced on her knee.

“I’m spiraling.”

“I figured.”

“She hated the floor this morning.”

“I know. But she still went.”

Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her temple. “What if next time it’s too much? What if it’s a fire drill or a different sub or someone bumps her the wrong way and I’m not there?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“You’re not supposed to be there, Y/N. That’s the whole point.”

“I don’t like the point.”

“I know.”

Hazel had always needed just enough control over her environment to feel safe.

And Y/N had always been the type to build a moat around her daughters’ comfort. She could see it — the way Hazel stood a little too close to the wall in crowded places, the way she tugged her sleeves down when she got overwhelmed, the way her eyes flicked sideways when someone tried to hug her without asking.

And the way she never, ever asked for help. Not even when it would’ve made things easier.

So Y/N did it for her.

She emailed the teachers. Sent notes in the lunchbox. Researched noise-canceling headphones until her browser thought she was hard of hearing. There was nothing she wouldn’t do.

But Hazel wasn’t five anymore.

She was seven — whip-smart, quietly funny, obsessed with moon phases, and the self-appointed captain of something she called the "Bug Defense League." And she was starting to notice the way her mom hovered just a little too much.

One night, after dinner, Hazel sat on the floor in the living room, sorting plastic insects by species. Violet was in the kitchen doing… something with tape and construction paper and a banana, which Y/N had decided to ignore for the moment.

Y/N crouched beside Hazel.

“Hey, you want me to print out that new list of bugs you told me about?”

Hazel didn’t look up. “I already made it.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s great.”

A beat of silence.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“You don’t have to check on me every time I’m quiet.”

Y/N froze a little. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay. I just like it better when no one talks for a while.”

It wasn’t said with attitude. It wasn’t a dramatic moment. Just a quiet boundary.

And Y/N heard it. Really heard it.

She nodded, sat beside Hazel for a moment longer, then stood up — hands at her sides, not reaching to fix her shirt or wipe marker off her cheek. Just… letting her be.

Later that night, Paige walked in from practice to find the house quiet — suspiciously so.

“Everyone alive?” she called out.

“Emotionally?” Y/N answered from the couch. “Barely.”

Paige chuckled, dropped her bag, and kicked off her sneakers. “Who cracked today?”

“Me. Hazel set a boundary and I actually respected it.”

“Proud of you.”

Y/N flopped her head back against the couch cushions. “I feel like I’ve been parenting with bubble wrap for seven years. And now I have to take it off. And I hate it.”

“It’s not gone,” Paige said, sitting beside her. “It’s just… thinning.”

“Violet’s going to need it, too. She’s been extra lately.”

“She’s five,” Paige said. “She’s always extra.”

Y/N laughed, exhausted. “I think she ate half a glue stick this morning.”

“As long as it was gluten-free.”

The next day, the girls had a half-day at school, which was code for “you’ll get nothing done and still feel like you ran a marathon.”

Y/N picked them up at noon, and before Hazel was even buckled into her booster seat, she was deep into a monologue about ancient trilobites and how they might have been the earliest evidence of molting.

Violet interrupted her mid-sentence to declare, “I PEED A LITTLE DURING NAP TIME BUT I BLAMED EMILY.”

Hazel blinked. “You lied?”

“I saved myself.”

“Do you want to wash your hands again?” Y/N asked, already passing back sanitizer.

“No,” Violet said proudly. “I want chocolate milk.”

Hazel looked at her sister like she was a Rubik’s cube.

“I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay,” Violet shrugged. “I understand me.”

That weekend, Hazel decided she wanted to try leggings again. The last time hadn’t gone well — the seams were too tight, the fabric too loud (her word), and she had cried for forty-five minutes afterward without really explaining why.

But this time, she said she was ready to try again.

So Y/N brought out the softest pair she could find, and Paige made it a whole thing — a Legging Ceremony. They lit a candle, which Violet tried to blow out three times, and put on spa music while Hazel slowly stepped into the cotton like it was lava.

And when she didn’t cry — when she sat down and said, “It’s not my favorite, but it’s okay,” — Y/N had to walk out of the room to breathe for a second.

Paige followed her.

“She didn’t scream,” Y/N whispered, stunned.

“She’s growing.”

“She’s brave.”

“She’s ours.”

That night, both girls climbed into Hazel’s bed like usual. It was only supposed to be a quick cuddle — five minutes, tops — but somehow Violet fell asleep upside down, Hazel started whispering about Martian beetles, and neither mom had the heart to move them.

Y/N stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them.

“They’re gonna be fine,” Paige said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Y/N leaned into her.

“I just hope the world is ready for them.”

Paige smiled.

That Night

The girls were finally asleep.

Probably.

Hazel had curled herself into a tight comma under her weighted blanket, her Bug Club binder tucked beside her pillow like a bedtime story. Violet had passed out upside down again, one foot sticking through the safety rail, her unicorn nightlight casting shadows across the wall that she’d almost certainly insist were haunted by morning.

Y/N stood in the hallway just outside their rooms, staring.

Not doing anything. Just standing there. Listening to the soft sound of Hazel’s sound machine—rainstorm setting, always—and the faint thrum of Violet’s sleepy humming, like her brain was still half-playing tag in her dreams.

She didn’t move until Paige came up behind her, barefoot and quiet, holding two mugs of tea.

“One’s just water with honey,” Paige said. “We’re out of actual tea. Or maybe I just didn’t want to boil a second pot.”

Y/N took it without looking. “Water with honey sounds fake, but I’ll drink it.”

They leaned against the wall together, shoulder to shoulder, facing down the hallway like the world might throw one more thing at them before bed.

For once, it didn’t.

“I almost cried again,” Y/N said softly.

“When?”

“Today. When Hazel let me braid her hair without flinching.”

Paige looked over. “That was a big one.”

“She didn’t say thank you. She just… handed me the brush like it was normal.”

“It is normal. For her.”

Y/N sipped her tea-water-whatever. “She’s figuring herself out faster than I figured her out.”

“You figured her out fine.”

“I thought she was just sensitive for the first year. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t need to know right away. You just had to love her.”

“I still don’t always get it right.”

“Who does?”

Y/N let out a breath. She didn’t realize she’d been holding it since dinner. Since that tiny, silent moment when Hazel had let her tuck the blanket a little tighter, when Violet had whispered “night, bug queen” before immediately asking if worms had teeth.

They didn’t always say thank you.

But they didn’t pull away either.

And that was something.

Y/N stepped into the girls’ room once more before bed. She adjusted the curtain just slightly, just enough to block the streetlight from hitting Hazel’s face. She picked up a crayon from the rug and tucked it back into the box. She kissed Violet’s forehead—still slightly sticky with whatever she’d snuck from the pantry.

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

Back in their bedroom, Paige was already half-asleep, arm flung across the pillow, hair still damp from a rushed shower.

Y/N crawled in beside her and didn’t even flinch when a single LEGO piece stabbed the bottom of her foot on the way in.

It was just part of it. The mess. The noise. The endless string of small, sharp things you stepped on that reminded you you were still inside a life you made on purpose.

And god, what a life.

Paige murmured something without opening her eyes. “Did you double-check Hazel’s note for the bug fair?”

“I did.”

“She’s bringing mealworms, right?”

“Alive.”

“Of course.”

A long silence stretched between them, warm and comfortable.

Y/N closed her eyes.

She didn’t know what tomorrow’s morning would be. If Hazel would be in a gray mood. If Violet would refuse socks again. If she’d get another email from a mom who didn’t get it. If Paige would have to run out mid-breakfast for practice.

She didn’t know.

But she knew that she’d handle it.

Not perfectly. Not all at once. Not without raising her voice or forgetting to sign something or burning a bagel or crying in the laundry room.

But she’d handle it.

Because this wasn’t a story about fixing her kids.

It was a story about showing up.

About loving them so loudly and so quietly, at the same time, that they never once wondered if they were too much.

About being the person who said, every single day, “You don’t have to change. I’ve got you. Just grow.”

And so they did.

Bit by bit. Bug by bug. Tantrum by tantrum.

They grew.

And so did she.

Right there with them.

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late Pt. 2 | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Your boss does not take lightly to people flirting with his favourite employee, and wants you to know you're his and his only.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, boss/employee, possessive!fred, teasing, jealousy, office sex, fingering, dom!fred, sub!reader, p in v, penetration, coming, overstimulation, praising ———

It was another energetic day at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and you were in high spirits. The shop was packed, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter as customers marvelled at the shelves bursting with magical novelties.

You’d felt like dressing up today, slipping on a short but tasteful black dress that cinched at your waist and flowed just above your knees. It was modest but cute, perfectly suited for the carefree atmosphere of the shop.

Fred had already complimented you earlier in his usual teasing manner, a smirk tugging at his lips as he’d said, “Trying to steal all my customers with that dress, are you?” You’d rolled your eyes playfully punching him, but your heart had fluttered all the same.

Today was no different than any other day, however that changed when the afternoon took a turn, a familiar voice catching your attention.

“Is that… Y/N?”

You turned to find none other than Oliver Wood standing before you, looking as dashing as ever in a red fitted jacket and his signature confident grin.

“Oliver!” you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s been ages!”

“It has,” he said, his eyes sweeping over you with unmistakable appreciation. “You’ve… changed. Hogwarts didn’t do you justice.”

A faint blush crept up your neck, and you laughed softly. “Well, I guess we all grow up, don’t we?”

As you chatted, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned closer when he spoke, his compliments growing bolder. “I always knew you were lovely, but Merlin, you’ve really turned heads now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Fred watching. He was helping another customer, but his gaze kept shifting back to your interaction with Oliver.

His playful demeanour had vanished, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, but his gaze lingered, sharp and brooding.

When Oliver finally left with his purchases, you turned to Fred, hoping for a witty remark or a teasing jab, but he was already busying himself with a display. He hadn’t said a word, not even a glance in your direction.

The rest of the day was tense. Fred barely acknowledged you, answering your questions with curt nods or single-word replies. It was as if he’d built an invisible wall between you, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

"Hey Freddie, a customer wanted to inquire about a stock refill. When are the next batch of Puking Pastilles arriving? They're currently all sold out and-" You approached him while the customer you were serving continued browsing, awaiting your answer.

"Next week." Fred said, a little too bluntly before walking away, avoiding your gaze as he did so.

You nodded slowly, approaching the customer with a forced smile though you were a bit hurt by Fred's bluntness, "The next batch will arrive next week, Monday I believe, best come early before they sell out again miss."

"Sounds perfect love, I'll be here first thing next week then!" She chimed before leaving with her two kids.

During a lull in the crowd, you approached George who was stationed behind the cash register. The interaction with Fred still lingered in the back of your mind. “Is Fred… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

George looked up from the register, his usual grin in place. "Fred? Seems fine to me, why'd ya ask?"

"He's just...it's like he's avoiding me. Have I done something wrong?" You tilt your head, looking at the ground trying to recall any mistakes you might have made.

“Nah you're doing alright. He’s probably just being a git, as usual. Don’t let it bother you eh?"

But it did bother you.

Fred’s cold shoulder gnawed at you, and the more he ignored you, the more determined you became to get a reaction.

An opportunity presented itself when you passed by him in one of the narrower aisles.

As you squeezed past, you brushed against him deliberately, letting your skirt graze his thigh and pressing just enough to make it unmistakable. Smirking, you swayed harder against one particular spot in his trousers.

Fred inhaled sharply, his hands reflexively gripping your waist for a brief moment before you stepped away.

You didn’t look back, but you felt the heat of his gaze as you continued to the other side of the shop, humming as you strolled away.

As you returned to the register to finish a sale later, you noticed a folded piece of parchment resting on the counter. Your name was scrawled on it in Fred’s familiar handwriting. You unfolded it, your heartbeat rapidly increasing upon reading the words:

“My office. Now. – F”

The knot in your stomach tightened as you made your way upstairs. Merlin, what did he want now?

You pushed open the door to find Fred sitting behind his desk, a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes were dark, his usual humour replaced by something colder, more commanding, almost scary but not quite.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You stepped closer after shutting the door, your pulse racing. Standing in front of his desk now, you waited, unsure of what to expect.

“Sit on my lap,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you, following your every move.

You hesitated for a split second before obeying, perching lightly on his lap. His hands came to rest on your thighs, firm but not rough, as if he was testing the boundaries.

“Who said you could flirt with customers?” he asked, his tone laced with jealousy.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “I was just being polite. Accommodating him.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low hum of disapproval. “Accommodating? Is that what you call it?”

His fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against your skin. “You’ve got some nerve, you know,” he murmured. “Walking around in this dress, brushing past me like that…”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to—” A white lie.

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, though it lacked humour. “Didn’t mean to, hmm? Then what was that little stunt earlier? Testing me, were you?”

You didn’t know how to respond, his intensity leaving you flustered and unsure.

Slowly but sensually, Fred began caressing your inner thigh, stroking softly and inching his way up to your clit, but not quite touching it. Though only a simple gesture, you felt a rush to your core, finding yourself throbbing and wanting more of his touch.

"You shouldn't have started something you can't finish love." He cooed into your ear.

You bit your lip, "I can finish it.." confident in your head, but a whisper came out, you felt weak under his touch like this.

"Oh really?" Fred raised a brow, "and how do you plan on doing that?" He was amused by your counter, a smug smirk appearing on that devilishly handsome face of his.

You sat there silently, avoiding eye contact him, unsure of how to respond. To be honest, you were inexperienced, you hadn't been this close to a man, in well, forever.

He chuckled lowly, one hand creeping up your skirt again, his fingertips tracing the hem of your panties causing you to involuntarily move forward.

Your body tenses, you held your breath as he continued. His fingers find your clit, circling it through the fabric of your now soaking panties. You let out a whimper in response to his touch.

Fred then finds the sweet sensitive spot on your neck, attaching his lips and sucking. His free hand reaches up and massages your tits sensually while the other hand continues with your clit.

"Let me show you love, let me take care of you..." He nips at your neck a few times before continuing, "By the time I'm done, the whole store will know my name and that you're mine."

You let out a soft moan as Fred uses two fingers to slide your panties down, the cold air hitting the exposed skin under your skirt.

His pants were now wet, both from you, and his precum. You felt a bit embarrassed that you soaked his pants but he was alright with it, in fact, he loved it.

"I don't want to see anymore flirting in my store, especially not with you." Fred's voice was deep, hoarse and almost possessive.

He presses two fingers inside of you, stretching you before flexing his fingers. You whined in response to his long slender fingers, panting heavily as he begins to work them faster inside of you, stretching you more.

Fred works on your cunt and you feel yourself growing hotter, more desperate for him. You arch your back, one arm is wrapped around his nape and the other gripping the table for support.

You fidget slightly, occasionally twitching due to the pleasure, "Fred...I'm getting close..." You whine.

The tight feeling in your core continues to build up, begging for a release soon. You get louder and louder as Fred continues fingering you, slightly faster now. "Fred!" You moan, you're getting extremely close.

Your back arches again, toes curling, and your left fingers practically are digging into his desk.

"Fred...I'm gonna....I'm gonna cu-" Your orgasm burns, erupting in your cunt and your mind explodes with ecstasy, sending a wave of pleasure over you but Fred doesn't stop, he continues.

"Fred please-" You whine, feeling overstimulated, your breathless and feeling another orgasm coming up.

"Merlin, you're so perfect love." He praises, watching you at his mercy, breathless on his lap.

Hearing him praise you like that, made another orgasm come round the corner. He really knew how to push your buttons, in the all the right ways possible.

"I can't take it! I'm getting close again...Fred! Please-" You whimper, as he picks up the pace again.

"Go on, come for me love. I want to hear your pretty moans, love it when my name slips from that pretty mouth of yours." He praised again, and you let loose.

Your walls throbbed, pulsing incredible fast, another pleasurable wave rushed over your body. "Oh God! Fred!" You moaned, before your head fall against his shoulder weakly.

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, before carrying you bridal style, getting up from his seat and placing you on his desk.

You sat up straight, facing him, your knees on both sides of his hips and he stood between them.

"You did amazing love." Fred praises, his hands sliding on your thighs, parting them and keeping your legs open for what's to come. His shirt was half unbuttoned, pants soaking, and fluffy hair slightly tousled.

"Please Fred...I want you inside me." You plead, glancing up at him with doe eyes.

He groaned softly upon seeing you in front of him, half naked on the table, and he was about to fuck you. He wanted you so bad, he needed you.

"Alright darling." He hums, unbuttoning his belt, letting his cock spring free.

Your eyes grew wide, you'd always assume he was big, but Merlin, he was packing. You felt yourself grow excited upon seeing him, biting your lip unconsciously.

He wraps a hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance before pressing into you. The tip of his swollen head easily slides against your wetness, sliding with ease into your eager body.

At the intrusion, you tighten, "Merlin, Fred!" You moan, whimpering as he slides out then presses his hips against yours as he slips his cock all the way inside you, deeper than before.

"Mhm you feel so good around me love, so tight for me." He hums, moving faster, leaning forward to give you a kiss. You kiss him passionately but sweetly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip while he keeps the same pace thrusting into you.

Your arms rest on the table for support, you tilt your head back whimpering at the pleasure of your hips colliding and feeling Fred inside you.

He keeps his hands planted on your hips, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're perfect you know that." Fred moans.

"I'm yours Fred..." You wince, "all yours..."

"And I'm yours, no one is going to change that." Fred responds, leaning in for another kiss. "Shit- I'm getting close..." He thrusts harder and faster, his climax quickly building up.

"Gonna release on your stomach love, that all good?" He breathlessly asks, to which you nod as a reply, unable to speak as you feel yourself reaching your climax too.

You don't last any longer, your body tensing as an orgasm erupts through you. You try to speak but only a whine escapes, throwing your head back, you lay on the desk, bare, exposed and breathing heavily.

Fred's hips rock harshly a few more times before slipping out, releasing on your tummy, every last drop coming onto your tummy. "Merlin..." He groans, throwing his head back, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

He removes his hands from your waist, proceeding to help clean you up and adjusting your dress properly. Picking you up, he carries you bridal style and lays you on the long leather couch in his office.

"You can take the rest of the day off if you want love." He leans down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I don't mind working..." You remark, "get to flirt with more people..." Your tone was teasing, smirking to get a reaction out of him.

"Flirt with them and I'll take you right then and there in front of them." He retorted, playfully.

You stand up, walking towards Fred, who was getting changed into something...cleaner and more decent, "So territorial." you spoke, helping him with his tie.

Fred tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can't have them thinking they have a chance.”

“Please I might as well wear a shirt that says 'Taken by Fred Weasley'...” you joked.

"Not a bad idea..." He hummed, looking down at you while you finished off with his tie.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile, "You know I only have eyes for you Fred Weasley, no one comes close."

“That's my girl,” he said, his tone softer now but still edged with authority. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender, leaving you breathless. "My perfect girl."

When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. “Now, get back to work,” he said, a teasing smirk returning to his lips. “There’s more where that came from.”

As you reached the door, you glanced back to find him watching you, his gaze warm now but still with a flicker of desire.

"I'll join you downstairs shortly." He winked, and you felt your cheeks heat again as you shut the door behind you, your heart raced as you returned to the shop floor, acting as though nothing had happened upstairs.

___

"Bloody hell, where were you two?!" George, finishing a sale, waved a customer goodbye before turning to you and Fred.

"We had some business to take care of." Fred answered for you guys, placing his hand on your lower back.

George scoffed, a knowing look flashed in his eyes, darting back and forth between you, "Yeah alright sure, business."

"Well I'm off on a date with Angelina, can you two handle the shop for the few hours?" George continued.

"What do you take me for? A slacker?" Fred replied, "Pft of course we can handle it, now go have fun." He ushered his twin away, and George, confused, grabbed his belongings and waved us goodbye, turning back occasionally to make sure the store didn't crash down under Fred's control.

"Round 2?" Fred whispered, a teasing undertone once George was out of sight.

You playfully hit him, chuckling, "We have a shop to run Weasley!"

He laughed softly, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before getting back to work.

[milksuu]

ᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ & ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ───── ♛ | 𝗣𝗧.𝗢𝟮

pairing: dark!hiccup x f!mute!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: yandere, kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, blood/violence, grotesque imagery, elements of horror

synopsis: You regretted the day they left him for dead. And you’d regret the day you ever saw him again—he’d make sure of that.

“Wake up, sleepy-head.” A childhood voice echoed like a distant memory in the void behind your eyes. Tearing through the dark threads of your subconscious. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

With a choked gasp, you emerged from the black pool of your mind. Your vision swam in a blurry haze, dimly lit by the sole fire pit in the room. When you blinked away the last smoke and ash from your lashes, you noted the ache of your body propped against a chair. 

Your sight then glazed over a long table displaying a feast only a vulture could salivate for. Unknown smells emanated from a mangled and strangled pheasant served past its due date. And across the table, something much worse. Skeleton bones seated tortuously, broken and dashed in all places. One with its skull completely detached from its person to serve as wicked center piece.

Your lips twisted into a nauseous bow.

“What, not hungry?” 

That same voice split through you again. Snatching your attention towards the head of the table, where Hiccup busied himself nonchalantly with a plate of his own. 

“Can’t say I blame you.” The scathing sounds of cutlery sent your nerves aflame. You wondered how such an ordinary sound could be so cruel to your ears. “Being kidnapped never opened up anyone’s appetite. Which is a shame, since that means I always end up having to do it.” 

You watched, eyes wide and round, as he sliced the belly of the roasted bird in a slow, agonizing horizontal line. 

“I’m just joking. You don’t have to sit there and watch me eat. You can leave if you want. I won't chase you.” He took a slow, meticulous bite, before his dulled eyes lulled to peer at you with a devouring glint. “Unless you want me to.”

Sucking your breath tight against your ribs, you shifted your gaze back to the table. A sight that wasn’t any better to look at. Not with all the scattered remains of guests that never made it past a sickening appetizer, and you weren’t a fool to think you would fare any better. Especially if you decided to entertain the obvious game of chase he’d proposed. 

You wanted no part in it. Whether it was being forced to swallow putrid catch, or fleeing until your limbs were detached from you—he wouldn’t receive the satisfaction.

Not from you, at least.

With a purse of your lips, your fingers pushed away the plate. Then a snap of pheasant bone bent between his fingers. You wondered if that would be your neck. You flinched when he breathed out a bitter chuckle. 

“I get it. My cooking's probably not the best. Hard to learn when you’re busy doing...other things.”

Your skin prickled when the chair scrapped against the stone as he stood. The clanging of his prosthetic growing louder in your ears, sending your heart into a gut churning beat. You held for breath as he reached in front of you, thinking he'd steal your very last. Instead, he grabbed a pitcher and gave your cup a gracious pour.

You made no attempt to accept.

His lip edged with amusement as he served himself the rest before taking a generous swig. A thin dribble streamed down his chin, down the curvature of his neck. It the made the remaining soot in your mouth cotton your tongue dry.

You stood to reason you didn’t have to eat, but surely, you still had to drink. And if he had drank from the same pitcher, then...

When he wiped the wet of his skin and turned a shoulder, you quickly took the cup and drank without a sound. 

“You’re right,” he drawled openly, circling the head of the table. “Why waste time chewing bad food when we have so much talk about. I would ask you to go first, but that might take a little longer. I’ll be quick, though. Promise.”

When he turned, you hastily placed the cup back onto the table, pretending as if you hadn’t succumbed to his offering. 

“When you’re down a leg a short of a few meals, you almost get the sense that death is trying to tell you something. But everyone knows vikings are stubborn; we don’t listen to anything. So, after you and everyone else left for me for dead, I limped till my bandages were soaked red, and ate till my body was paralyzed.” There was a beat in the air as he rimmed the cup with his index finger. “From poison, obviously.”

Your heart and stomach sank when you realized what he had done. What you had done. You covered your shaking mouth with your hand, wishing you could take back the liquid you swallowed. 

“You know, at first I thought I was just another run-of-the mill starving idiot, eating whatever animal or plant I could. Poisonous or not. Until I stopped blacking out and waking up with a mouth full of dirt. Which really saves you from those moments when you’re just minding your own business at a Northern Market tavern, and some random up-to-no-gooder decides to spice up your drink. Boy, you should’ve seen the look of surprise on his face.”

He set his emptied cup and picked up the decapitated skull piece at the table's center, scratching at the nicks and dents in the bone.

“And what I did to it afterwards.”

The corners of his mouth pinned themselves to his dimples. It turned the once endearing sight into twisted holes that looked more like nails had dug cruelly into his cheeks.

“Oh. Don’t worry. The poison won’t kill you. I mean, it almost killed me. Couple of times, actually, but not you. Can’t have that wrench in my plans.” 

Hiccup sauntered towards the fire pit blazing to be fed with whatever he had to offer. He muttered something underneath his breath, seeming to argue with the skull he juggled between his hands. 

“I bet you’re wondering if I killed my dad. No, not yet. Vikings—stubborn, remember? We just talked about this. You can’t stab a mountain and hope it bleeds. You wither it down, break it apart, stone by stone. Until it just…” Hiccup tossed the skull into the fire’s arms, watching it feed its hot stomach with human remains. “Turns to dust.” 

He clapped the bone debris from his calloused fingers. 

“It won’t be much longer until my dad’s failures pile up like a heap of rubble, and just to spite him, that’ll be the foundation of where I’ll begin. Become the leader he could never be. A leader who brings actual peace and prosperity to Berk.” There was a crack of laughter, and he grasped his head to steady himself. “Against my own dragons! How hilarious is that?” 

The howl carried across the innards of the cave was never a gust of wind, but the screeches of dragons bellied deep within the mountain. Echoing through the cavernous walls, enough to shake the rocky fangs protruding from the ceiling.

“You can’t tell me that’s not pure poetry. His so-called biggest failure—me—becomes what he always thought I could never be. What he now fears I can be.” He twisted, pacing to place himself at your side, lurking close to your ear. “Chief.”

You remained silent, as you could only do. Even if you weren't mute, you wouldn't be able to say anything coherent. The poison bit into your lips, slithered down your throat to curl inside your chest and claw its way through every remaining part of your body. It chewed into your muscles till you felt like nothing more than pliable clay. Still, you wanted to defy it.

Defy him more than anything.

Without so much a look or inclination to respond to him in a manner he could understand, you simply dragged a nail against the wood of the chair. In that subtle, mono glyphic language Gothi had taught you.

You drew the scathing remark: To Hel with you.

“That’s not very nice to say. But if that’s where you’d like me to go...” He spun the dinner chair, gripped the arms of it, and pinned you with his presence alone. “Then how about I drag you down with me? I could sure use the company.”

Before you could comprehend the fact he understood you, the rough of his hand swiftly captured the underside of your arm. A rush of blood drained from your head as he yanked you to stand. You stumbled in his grasp as he dragged you closer and closer to the fire pit roaring with heat. The effects of the drug coating your nerves, making it impossible to fight every pull and tug of your body.

 Would he throw you in?

You were answered physically when his fingers unlatched, and your weight crumbled to the floor, inches away from licking flames.

"Go ahead." The command was blunt, a crushing blow to the back of your head. “Show me what Hel’s got in store for me.”

Your temples throbbed as you raised your chin, staring into the gaping mouth of the fire. Every part of you screamed to run away, but the flames beckoned you to stay, calling for the taste of poison in your veins.

Your ceremonial dagger—dropped at your side—whispered for you to take, take, take!

Spell bound by the incantation, you took the dagger in your trembling hands. Heard the sharpest point of iron begging to meet your skin. Obliging, you let it drink from a horizontal line in your palm. Not letting it be too greedy, you fed a serving of blood to the heart of the fire. It sparked and writhed hungrily, consuming every drop, wanting to lap it down to your tendons if it could.

When plums of smoke formed, images danced inside the clouds. The crash of black waves against the jagged cliff rocks. The flash of lightning through an never ending storm of ash. The cries of those you knew, drowned in a sea of jowls and wings. It stung your eyes and tears lined your vision, desperate to deny it all. Wanting the God's to reconsider. Worse part of it all....

....you stood at his side.

Consumed wholly by your mortifying entrancement, you hadn't noticed the scripture you'd written in blood on the stone. Hiccup crouched at your side, his head tilted in amusement.

"I always liked how bad you were at hiding what you were feeling," he said, taking your face in his leathered hands. "It's kinda cute, except now in a pathetic sort of way."

You choked on a silent cry as his thumbs brushed away the tears scolding your flushed cheeks. He brought your mouth a mere breath away, and whispered cruelly against your lips.

"Guess Hel has everything I want."

[mrsfancyferrari]

Our Doggie

Summary: 4 moments of you, the proud mom and Lando Norris, the protective dad of Chase Norris, the dog.

Song: Miguel - Sure Thing

Part 1 Author’s note: Happy birthday to my favourite boy! Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The sun hung high over the bustling Formula 1 paddock, casting a warm glow against the vibrant team banners fluttering in the light breeze.

The aroma of fresh coffee and fuel mixed in the air, tickling your senses as you navigated through the crowd, Chase nestled contentedly in your arms.

Lando walked closely beside you, his signature grin plastered on his face, a look of particular joy you loved to see.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, glancing down at Chase, who was blissfully oblivious to the world around him, his tiny paws resting lightly against your chest.

“Absolutely!” you replied, adjusting the fluffy cream-colored fur of your little dog. “I mean, if the internet exploded over how cute he is, I can't wait to show him off in person again,”

Lando chuckled, his laughter filling your heart with warmth. “I still can’t believe how many fans have taken an interest in Chase. I mean, he’s adorable, but it’s not like he’s driving a car,”

You shared an amused glance. “True, but I think we both know he steals the show everywhere we take him. With those big eyes? He’s irresistible.”

As you made your way towards the McLaren hospitality area, the familiar sight of Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc caught your eye.

To your surprise, both drivers were squatting beside their own dogs—Lewis with Roscoe, a distinguished-looking bulldog, and Charles with Leo, a spirited miniature longhaired dachshund. It was a rare sight to catch them both not in race mode, but at play.

“Hey, you two!” you called out, waving your free hand. “Look who we've brought along!”

“Oh wow, it’s Chase!” Lewis exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he stood up with Roscoe. The bulldog ambled over with a curious snort, eyes fixated on Chase.

“Is that our little Instagram star?” Charles teased, his accent thick with amusement as he crouched down, already reaching out towards Chase. “I’ve seen more of him than myself lately.”

“Guilty as charged!” you laughed, beaming with pride. “And this little guy is ready for his paddock debut for real.”

Lando stretched out his arm and playfully nudged you. “But first,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “let's see if these two dogs can keep up with the fastest little dog in the paddock.”

You raised an eyebrow at Lando. “Fastest? You realize he’s like, what? Two pounds?”

“Let’s not underestimate Chase. He’s a champion at heart!” Lando shot back, petting Chase’s head lovingly. “Right, buddy?”

Before you could respond, Leo dashed forward, tail wagging enthusiastically, and nudged Chase’s paw.

Chase blinked up at the Dachshund, seemingly unsure at first but then quickly warming up to the new canine friend. You felt a smile spread across your face; this would be fun.

“Looks like they’re already sizing each other up,” you said to Lando, who watched proudly.

Lewis rose, laughing. “I think all we need now is a proper doggy playdate. What do you say for a few minutes?”

“Absolutely,” you affirmed. “This could be a whole new Instagram series for me.”

The three of you found a patch of soft grass a short walk from the bustling hospitality area. The sun-kissed spot gave the dogs plenty of space to romp while the energy of the paddock buzzed pleasantly in the background.

As the dogs began to play—Chase scampering after Leo, who darted with boundless energy and charm—you leaned into Lando, who slung an arm around your shoulders. “You know, I didn’t expect today to turn out like this. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?” he murmured, his eyes glinting with affection.

“It really is,” you said softly, wanting to freeze this moment in time.

You looked over at the three furry friends, enjoying their newfound friendship, and you couldn’t help but laugh as Chase surprised everyone by catching up to Leo and tugging playfully at his tail.

“As long as they don’t dig up the paddock or cause chaos,” Lando added, chuckling.

“Who would have thought you’d become a dog dad this quickly?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Lando feigned distress. “Me? It’s all your fault! My life used to involve fast cars and loud engines, and now it includes this little ball of fluff demanding cuddles.”

“Looks like you’ve traded one love for another,” you smiled, leaning in to steal a kiss.

The soft brush of his lips sent a tiny thrill through you that never seemed to fade no matter how many times you shared these moments.

You watched as Roscoe plopped down beside Chase, who was busy barking up a storm.

“Is Chase bringing out the playful side of Roscoe?” you quipped, noticing the bulldog’s effortless charm as he nudged the tiny dog with his nose.

Lewis approached with a proud grin. “I think he is. I’ve never seen Roscoe this active since… well, forever, to be honest. We might be onto something with these doggy meet-ups.”

Charles laughed, joining in their amusement. “Next season, we might need to think about forming a dog team!”

With the race weekend in full swing, you felt a sense of peace that was rarely achieved in the high-speed world that encapsulated your lives.

The dogs chased each other in wide arcs, occasionally stopping to check in with their humans, tails wagging wildly. It was a cookie-cutter version of bliss—a world away from fast cars and flashing cameras, grounded in pure, uncomplicated affection.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue across the paddock, you and Lando settled onto the grass, Chase nestled comfortably between you.

“Can you believe they’re all sleepier than we are?” Lando mused, watching the dog pile settle down in a heap of fur.

“I can’t. It’s like they burned off all their energy in five minutes,” you laughed.

A thought crossed your mind, and you turned to Lando, feeling slightly more serious. “What if we brought Chase to more races with us? He could be a mascot of sorts.”

“I love that idea!” Lando grinned back at you, his eyes sparkling. “I can already see the team merch: Chase-themed caps or something. It’s perfect.”

As laughter filled the air around you, you realized that amidst the chaotic world of Formula 1, filled with roaring engines and high stakes, it was these quiet moments, shared with Lando and Chase, that truly defined your happiness.

You rested your head against his shoulder, knowing deep down that no matter where this journey took you, together, you’d always find the joy in life—the little moments that felt like magic.

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You sink back into the soft layers of your bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

The world outside is alive with the gentle trill of crickets, but here, in your sanctuary, the only sounds are the steady heartbeat of Lando beside you and the slight rustle of sheets as he shifts to get more comfortable.

You take a moment to relish this perfect calm after the day’s chaos, the two of you finally alone together after putting Chase to bed in the living room.

You can’t help but look over at Lando, his messy hair fanning out on the pillow like a halo, his lips slightly parted in that relaxed way that makes your heart flutter.

He glances up at you, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So, what should we do now that we have time?” you tease, half sitting on top of him, enjoying the playful tension in the air.

He raises an eyebrow, a grin breaking across his face as he fights to suppress a chuckle.

“Hmm, choices, choices,” he says, pretending to ponder deeply. “Should we play a game? Or maybe I could serenade you with my terrible singing?”

His voice dips into a mock dramatic tone that sends a wave of laughter bubbling up your throat.

“Terrible singing sounds perfect,” you reply, grinning as you mockingly glare at him. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to hear your off-key renditions of popular songs?”

“Hey, at least I’m better than the last guy who tried,” he shoots back, pulling you closer to him. “But, fine. You might be the perfect audience for my next hit single then.”

As he leans in, you stroke your fingers through his hair, enjoying the moment. It’s easy to forget about everything else with him here.

The chaos of your day fades, leaving only the warmth of his body and the sparkle of his laughter.

You leaned down closer to brush your lips against his. The kiss tasted like sweetness and laughter—soft and familiar. Just as you were about to pull back, Lando deepened the kiss, his free hand finding its way to your waist.

You melted against him, feeling the electricity coursing through your entire body. “If we keep this up, you might end up forgetting your song.” you murmured against his lips, smiling playfully.

But just as you find a comfortable rhythm, the door creaks open slowly, and you turn your head just in time to see Chase, your little dog, making his grand re-entry.

His tiny body clambers up the stairs with determination, climbing onto the bed with gusto. His tail wags furiously as he reaches you, giving you both a salute of excitement and wanting attention.

Lando bursts out laughing, his beautiful joy filling the room.

“Look who decided to join! Chase! You’ve missed all the fun!” Lando exclaims, rolling onto his back and reaching out for the playful pup.

“Seriously? I thought we put him to bed!” you giggle, scratching Chase behind his ears as he wriggles happily between you and Lando.

“He’s a tiny troublemaker,” Lando laughs, showering the little dog with love as he lifts him into the air. “Just like his human.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m not a troublemaker!” you retort dramatically.

Chase, ever the attention-seeker, wiggles in Lando’s hands, finally settling on your lap, looking up at you with big, innocent eyes. You can’t help but melt.

“Okay, but really, what are we going to do?” you ask again, this time scratching behind the little dog’s ears while seeking Lando’s gaze.

“How about this: let’s have a little movie night right here?” Lando suggests, nodding towards the television tucked in the corner of the room. “But we’ll need snacks, and I have a secret stash of popcorn hidden under the bed.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “A secret stash? Why wouldn’t you share this with me sooner?”

“It’s a special treasure reserved for awesome moments,” Lando says with a wink, and you can’t resist the charming way he always manages to make the mundane feel special.

“Alright, you win. Movie night it is!” you chirp. “But you better make that popcorn perfect, or…”

“Or what? I’ll have to serenade you?” he interjects with wink, causing a giggle to erupt from you both.

“You’d better run and get it, then!” you tease as you flail your arms dramatically, punctuating your point.

You watch as Lando slides off the bed, throwing on a T-shirt, not even bothering to get fully dressed before darting to the kitchen.

While he’s gone, you indulge Chase with a few more scratches and gentle rubs, finding solace in the way the small dog relaxes into your touch.

You love this moment, the cozy intimacy, and the way it feels like your little family is all together in this sanctuary of warmth.

Lando returns with a bowl of popcorn, grinning ear to ear like he’s just won the championship. “Tada! The prize for best boyfriend,” he announces, dramatically presenting the bowl to you.

“Now that is a worthy prize!” you laugh, taking a handful while he settles next to you, pulling both you and Chase into his arms.

You press play on the remote, the screen illuminating the dim room with the warm colors of the movie. As the opening credits roll, you lean back against Lando, enjoying his presence.

Chase shifts between you two, finding a cozy spot against your legs.

For a moment, the world outside feels far away, and it’s just the three of you. The movie is just background noise as you sink into each other’s company, laughing together, whispering jokes, and stealing kisses in between popcorn munching.

“This is perfect,” you whisper after a particularly funny scene, and Lando turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“It really is. Just us, our little family,” he replies, his voice low as he brushes a stray hair behind your ear. He shifts slightly, bringing you even closer, his warmth wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“And somehow, with Chase here, it’s even better,” you add playfully, watching as Chase squirms to get more comfortable.

“True,” Lando agrees, laughing softly. “He’s the best addition we could’ve asked for.”

The night passes in a blur of laughter, cuddles, and shared popcorn, making memories that cling to you like the warmth of Lando's embrace.

As the credits roll on the final movie, you find yourself feeling grateful for this moment, for the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat next to yours, and the constant presence of Chase, who has curled up in a contented ball at your feet.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” you ask playfully.

“Absolutely,” Lando says with a smile, kissing your forehead before stretching luxuriously. “Every day if that’s what you want.”

With that, you settle deeper into his embrace, feeling the warmth of love wrap around you, content in the knowledge that these quiet nights are the foundation of a happiness you hope will last a lifetime.

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You quietly opened the front door, careful not to make a sound that might wake your boyfriend, Lando, or your dog, Chase.

The remnants of a night filled with laughter and dancing still tingled in your veins, igniting a rush of warmth as you stepped inside the dimly lit apartment.

Your senses were slightly dulled, having indulged a little too freely in celebratory shots and frosty cocktails, but the sight of your sanctuary—a place infused with memories of lazy afternoons and cozy movie nights—brought a smile to your slightly wobbly lips.

You tiptoed through the narrow hall, the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla wafting through the air, welcoming you home. As you reached the bedroom door, you pushed it open ever so gently and peeked inside.

A warm glow from the bedside lamp illuminated the room just enough for you to catch the tender scene: Lando, with his tousled hair sprawled across the pillow, and Chase, curled up against him, both seemingly serene and lost in a peaceful slumber.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the endearing sight.

Lando had always been a snuggly sleeper, and when paired with Chase—who had an affinity for cuddling—it was a charming combination that made your heart swell with affection.

You took a moment to soak in the warmth of the image before deciding to give yourself a refreshing moment, slipping out of your party attire and into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once the steamy spray enveloped you, you let the impulses of the night wash away. The coolness of the bathroom contrasted with the warmth of the shower, and as the hot water cascaded over you, it washed away the heaviness of the night.

You hummed softly to yourself, chasing away the fleeting thoughts of wild dance moves and flirty conversations, focusing instead on the love waiting for you out there.

After a few minutes, you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a soft towel, the cool air of the bedroom brushing against your damp skin.

You glanced toward the bed and saw Chase stirring. He stretched slightly before lifting his head, his white fur glistening in the low light.

It was moments like these that made you realise just how precious this little family was to you.

And then, without warning, Chase unfurled himself from his cozy position and sprang from Lando's grip like a spring on a watch, bounding toward you with all the enthusiasm and sincerity only a dog could possess.

"Chase! Hey buddy!" you exclaimed, instinctively kneeling down and opening your arms wide.

He galloped into your embrace, nuzzling his nose against you as you laughed softly, your heart swelling with affection.

“I missed you!” you told him, scratching behind his ears, his tail wagging furiously. The rush of love you felt was intoxicating, and for a moment, all thoughts of your night out melted away into nothingness.

As you reveled in the sweet reunion with Chase, Lando stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The moment he caught sight of you kneeling on the floor with Chase beside you, a sleepy grin broke out on his face.

“Looks like someone was waiting for you,” he mumbled, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

You smiled up at him, a little bashful. “I was just trying to sneak in and not wake you two,” you replied, feeling a subtle warmth creep over your cheeks. “But I guess Chase had other plans!”

“Yeah, he always does,” Lando chuckled, stretching and propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re home later than I expected. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was great! Just some dancing and drinks with the gang. But honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about you guys. I was so excited to come home.” You paused, your heart racing a little as you spoke the words.

Deep inside, you knew there was something incredibly comforting about being home—not just in the apartment, but in the company of Lando and Chase.

Lando’s expression softened, and he sat up fully, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m glad. I was worried you might not come back for a while,” he teased, winking playfully. “I wasn’t sure how long I could have kept Chase entertained!”

You giggled, rising to your feet, both Chase and Lando now fully awake and alert.

“I can’t believe how snuggly you both look together. I wish I had a camera—cute overload!” Your heart fluttered at the idea that even in sleep, your little family brought so much joy.

“Speaking of,” Lando began, scooting over on the bed and gesturing for you to join him. “Come sit with us.”

You quickly hopped onto the bed, crawling between the sheets and cuddling up against Lando's warm side, with Chase settling in at your feet.

Lando wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You smell like fun,” he said, a teasing smile gracing his lips.

“Is that a compliment?” you retorted, nudging his shoulder playfully.

“Absolutely. Fun looks good on you.” Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss atop your head, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

“But I have to admit, I’m glad you’re home. It’s always better when we’re together.”

You nestled against him, resting your head on his chest as you felt the beat of his heart. “I feel the same way. It’s like I float through the night, but my anchor is always back here with you and Chase.”

Chase, perhaps sensing the tender moment between you, looked up with his big brown eyes and tilted his head, as though he were in on the secret.

You couldn’t resist giving him a scratch behind the ears, which only elicited a contented sigh from him.

"Aren't you the cutest little anchor?" you whispered playfully.

“That you are, buddy,” Lando said, reaching down to ruffle Chase’s fur. The dog responded with a delighted huff, wriggling his body in appreciation.

The three of you were a perfect triangle of comfort, an unwavering circle of love in a bustling world. Evenings like this were rare and precious—moments you cherished.

“So, what did you get up to today?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Your voice was curious, genuine interest lighting up your eyes that always captivated him.

Lando chuckled, turning to face you. “Oh, you know, the usual—work, a hundred walks and taking Chase to pee outside. I think he might be getting it.”

Chase, as if on cue, laid his head on Lando’s knee, letting out a sigh of contentment.

“Well, at least someone is satisfied with my work today,” Lando said, scritching Chase behind the ears, causing the dog to squint in pleasure.

“You’ve always had that effect on him,” you said, placing your hand over Lando’s for a brief moment, a simple gesture that spoke louder than words.

“I think he might like me more than you,” Lando teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Oh really? Is that so? Right in front of me, too? Chase!” You turned to the dog dramatically. “How could you betray your own best friend like this?”

Chase merely wagged his tail, blissfully unaware of the banter as if to say, “Sorry, not sorry,” before burying his face deeper into Lando’s lap.

Lando laughed. “I guess I just have the magic touch. It must be all those treats I give him.”

“Magic touch or bribes? You’re not fooling anyone, Lando.” You shook your head, unable to keep a straight face.

After a moment, the mood shifted a little. “We should go to sleep now, we’re meeting my parents tomorrow, remember?” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

It was getting late, and the thought of the impending family gathering made your stomach flutter with nerves.

Lando nodded, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I know. I just... I want everything to go well. What if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” you assured him, rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand soothingly. “Just be yourself. You know how to charm a crowd, especially with your goofy jokes.”

“Right, my jokes,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head. “I think I’ll save the ‘dad jokes’ for later. Maybe I should just stick to polite conversation.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “Polite conversation could go far, or it could bore them to tears. They’re going to want to see the real you—silly, charming, and maybe a little awkward.”

“Awkward? Me? Never.” Lando feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “I’m the epitome of cool.”

“Sure you are.” You smiled knowingly. “But I promise you, they will appreciate your quirks more than you think. They just want to get to know the guy their daughter is dating.”

Lando sat up a little straighter, his posture shifting into something more serious. “But what if they have questions? What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

“Lando, stop worrying.” You leaned in closer, taking both of his hands in yours. “They’re not expecting anyone perfect, just someone who makes me happy. And spoiler alert: you do.”

He smiled, the tension crumbling between you like a sandcastle washed away by the tide. “Thank you. I guess I just want to make a good impression on them. You mean a lot to me.”

“And you mean a lot to me,” you replied softly. “The sooner you realize that, the easier this will be.”

With a deep breath, he nodded, clearly trying to shake off his nerves. “Okay then. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Breakfast at the diner down the road, then to their house for coffee. We’ll take it easy,” you said, pulling your legs up onto Lando's to move closer, snuggling deeper against him.

“Sounds good—unless they try to feed us the mystery casserole,” Lando joked. “Then we might have a problem.”

You laughed. “I can’t promise they’ll have their best dish on that day, but I’ll bring backup snacks, just in case.”

“As long as you’re by my side, I can handle anything.” He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, a shared moment that felt like a promise to tackle whatever came your way.

Chase stirred slightly and stretched, yawning wide as if sensing the change in atmosphere before settling back into a comfortable position.

“I think he approves of the plan,” you whispered, glancing down at the sleepy dog, who seemed perfectly content in his little world.

Lando smiled, squeezing your hands gently. “I’m ready, then. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be great.”

“Definitely,” you said, feeling the drowsiness creeping in. Both of you started to settle in as the soft evening light faded into nighttime.

As you both surrendered to sleep, you felt grateful for this little family you had created together, intertwined through laughter, love, and even the occasional awkward moment.

Tomorrow would come with its challenges, but with Lando by your side, you knew it would all be worthwhile. . . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You stood in the kitchen, a whirlwind of activity, as the smell of vanilla cake filled the air.

The clock ticked loudly in the background, each tick a reminder of the approaching moment when you would yell, “Surprise!” at your boyfriend Lando. Today's special occasion wasn't just any day; it was his birthday, a day you had been secretly planning for weeks.

You glanced towards the living room where you had set up decorations—streamers trailing down from the ceiling, colorful balloons bobbing in a corner, and a plethora of gifts waiting to be opened.

Family, friends, and their dogs had all pitched in. You couldn't wait to see Lando's face when he walked through the door; the surprise was your gift to him.

Chase, your fluffy golden retriever, sat obediently at your feet, his big brown eyes reflecting your excitement.

Normally, Chase was skittish around crowds, but you had coaxed him into staying close to you tonight.

“Just a little longer, buddy,” you whispered, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “You’ll love seeing Daddy happy.”

The door swung open, and in walked Lando, his casual charm lighting up the room. You felt your heart flutter as you quickly gestured for everyone to hide.

The guests stilled their chatter, and you barely contained your excitement.

“Lando! You’re home!” you shouted, breaking the silence as he stepped inside, catching him off-guard. His brows furrowed in confusion before slowly transforming into realization.

“What is all this?” Lando’s voice was a mix of surprise and delight as his eyes roamed over the decorations, resting finally on the cake adorned with candles burning bright.

“Happy birthday, Lando!” you and the rest of the guests cheered, stepping out of your hiding spots with wide smiles.

Lando's face lit up brighter than the candles on the cake. “Wow, you did all this for me?” he asked, his voice warm. You could see the corners of his mouth twitch with disbelief.

“Of course! You didn’t think I’d let your birthday slip by without a party, did you?” you teased, walking over to him. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, lifting you slightly off the ground.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured into your hair, warmth radiating from his chest. You could almost forget the anxiety that had plagued you in the days leading up to this; seeing him smile made it all worth it.

After he greeted everyone, the cake was brought out, and the group gathered around him to sing “Happy Birthday.” You led the cacophony with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Lando chuckled, his face a perfect blend of bashfulness and joy as he blew out the candles, the wish dancing on his lips as he stole a fast glance at you.

As the cake was sliced and laughter filled the air, Chase had managed to find a cozy spot on your lap, grateful for the peace among the noise.

In fact, he looked slightly puzzled by the whole gathering of unfamiliar spirits surrounding him, opting to bury his head against you as if it might provide an invisibility cloak.

“Isn’t he the cutest?” a friend commented, pointing at Chase who had planted himself firmly into your lap.

You stroked his soft fur, providing him with reassuring pets. “I think he’s scared of us,” they added.

“He’s just a bit shy,” you replied, glancing down at Chase, who only lifted his head slightly with a soft whimper. “But he’ll warm up soon.”

Just as you were talking, Chase began to wriggle around unexpectedly, clearly seeking something—or someone. You could feel his eagerness in the way he shifted, nudging you.

“What is it, buddy?” you asked, slowly allowing him to move from your lap.

As if freed from a loose leash, Chase bounded towards Lando, catching him off-guard. His tail wagged with enthusiasm, sending a nearby glass teetering toward the edge of the table.

Lando’s face broke into a joyful grin at the sight of his dog coming alive, and it made your heart swell.

“Hey, Chase! You’re finally here!” he said, kneeling down as Chase found his place in Lando's arms.

The transformation from the scared pup to the ecstatic dog was instantaneous, and you couldn’t help but smile as Chase began licking Lando’s face animatedly, as if to say, “Happy birthday, Dad!”

“This is the best birthday gift,” Lando laughed, glancing back at you with his eyes sparkling with love. “Thanks for bringing here! Look at him! He’s so happy!”

You watched as Chase’s little tongue continued to bathe Lando’s face with affectionate licks, trying to express his own birthday wish. “Better than any present I could give you,” you said softly, crossing your arms while leaning back against the counter.

“You’re right about that,” Lando replied, grinning despite the slobber.

“And you know you’re the best present I could ever ask for.” His gaze lingered on you, the warmth of his affection palpable in the room.

As the evening wore on, laughter and chatter filled the house, enveloping everyone in a cocoon of joy.

You walked back to find more snacks for your guests, the melodies of chatter and occasional barks from Chase as he played tug-of-war in the background creating a cheerful, lively atmosphere.

When you returned with a tray of snacks, Lando spotted you and called, “You know, I keep expecting another surprise—like you revealing a hidden talent or something.”

“Oh, please! Not all of us are as talented as you,” you laughed, rolling your eyes dramatically. “What would I even showcase?”

“Juggling? Singing? Interpretive dance?” he teased, showing his cheeky side as he approached, Chase still at his heels.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you said, leaning into him playfully.

As the night continued with games and heartfelt conversations, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of pure bliss. In the moment, with Chase happily rolling around at Lando’s feet while laughter floated through the room, the pressures of life faded into the background.

Here, surrounded by friends and love, everything felt perfect.

As you nestled up next to Lando later that evening, sharing your warm spot on the couch with Chase snuggled between you both, you realized that just like the candles on the cake, these moments were to be cherished—light against the darkness, warmth against the cold.

“Happy birthday, Lando,” you whispered, leaning closer.

“Happy birthday, indeed,” he replied, his smile contagious.

All could be perfect birthdays that lead to unforgettable memories, yet this one would stay forever etched in your heart—a night of laughter, love, and your little family: you, Lando, and Chase. . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

[hirayalore]

“unbelievable,” OLIVER WOOD mutters as he spots you and the whole ravenclaw quidditch team already flying around the pitch.

the sun is only about to rise, the fog surrounding the place is just starting to clear, and he’s becoming more annoyed at the fact that not only are your team stealing their time, but even managed to be here earlier than they are.

what makes it worse is that he knows that he’s the first one who reserved it for training since the match between gryffindor and ravenclaw is fast approaching.

not to mention that he does particularly remember reminding you that you better not take over any of the days he intends to let his team practice when he (stupidly) showed you his timetable for classes and quidditch sessions.

“____!” he shouts your name, and upon hearing it from below, you look at him, a smirk automatically making its way on your lips.

“let’s take a short break, everyone!” you instruct your team, flying down then and dropping down right in front of oliver. “good morning, captain wood. fancy seeing you here.”

the formality triggers oliver’s annoyance even more, but for the rest of the gryffindor team who remain standing behind him, it brings them to hide their snickers and amused expressions.

after all, they—and pretty much the whole student body—are quite aware that you and oliver have been dating for almost two years now, and this thing happening right here is just one of your schemes to playfully get on your competitive boyfriend’s nerves.

“____,” oliver says your name again with a sigh this time, voice not daring to go a volume higher now that you’re near despite the situation, “please tell me why the bloody hell are you and your team on this pitch this morning?”

you put on your best innocent expression. “well, we’re training, of course.”

“yes, but i can specifically recall that i booked this pitch for the whole day. so, it’s a great wonder to me why i’m seeing you ravenclaws here.”

“hm, but are you sure you booked it the whole day though? from the schedule that you showed me, it says there that it starts at 9am, which is…” you glance at your wristwatch, “two hours from now. meaning until then—”

“you have the freedom to use the pitch,” oliver deadpans.

you grin. “exactly, my love. you and your team can certainly wait, right? though i’d appreciate it if you don’t hang around here while we’re playing. i might accuse you of stealing our strategy.”

“strategy? didn’t know you had one when we take into account the way you play.”

“well, considering i’ve already won two games against you, maybe apparently not having a strategy might work on gryffindor too.”

“one game was won by default.”

“and the other one?”

“pure luck, of course.”

you laugh, and oliver’s lips twitch, like he’s suppressing to do the same just to commit to the act he’s doing.

“can we head to the great hall first for breakfast, wood?” a weasley twin pipes in amidst your impromptu staring contest with your boyfriend.

oliver glances behind him and nods reluctantly. “fine. the rest of you can go get breakfast. but we meet here at exactly 9am. got it?”

the team says a chorus of yes and proceeds on walking back to the direction of the castle. oliver, however, stays in his spot and raises his eyebrows at you, the mask of annoyance seen on his face a while ago seemingly gone now.

“what?” you ask, still with that teasing grin of yours.

“you promised.”

“i didn’t promise anything.”

“you told me you weren’t going to steal any of my days for quidditch practices.”

“technically, i’m not stealing as it is not your time yet.”

“always such a smartass.”

“that’s what you get for dating a ravenclaw,” you say, mounting your broom before giving him a quick kiss on the mouth and dashing back upwards where your other members are already zooming around.

oliver shakes his head in disbelief. it’s unfair how you can get away with shenanigans that he typically would curse another team for. “i expect the pitch to be empty by 8:55, alright?” he bellows, just so you can hear him from where you’re situated.

“aye, aye, captain!”

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ reposted from my other account !

[dazzlingjaeyun]

ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɪᴅꜱ – ꜱɪᴍ ᴊᴀᴇʏᴜɴ

boxer!jake x nurse fem!reader

୨୧ genre: exes to ??, mostly angst, a little fluff | words: 5.3k | cw: mentions of bruises, blood, heavy injuries and surgery, probably poor medical references (pls bear with me) ୨୧

read this as a standalone or as a sequel to bruises! it doesn't matter in which order you read them or if you read only one, it will make sense either way ><

"can we get a nurse to the ER immediately, please?" you heard the charge nurse's firm demand through your communication device. you exchanged a quick glance with your colleague, and with a slight nod, she indicated she could handle the task alone. without hesitation, you used your pager to notify the ER that you were on your way, then dashed through the hallway and down the stairs to reach the emergency department.

"sorry, we're completely short-staffed," the charge nurse murmured in apology, ushering you toward a room. "male patient, twenties, just some bad bruises – likely needs stitches. we just got a family from a car crash, and we can’t tend to him right now."

with that, she left you at the door and hurried down the hall toward another room.

you pushed open the door, heading straight to the sanitizer dispenser and rubbed it into your hands. then, you pulled on a pair of gloves from the box beside it and added another layer of sanitizer.

"hello, my name is–"

the words caught in your throat as you turned around. the sharp scent of sanitizer seemed to sting your nose, burning your airways and stealing the breath from your lungs.

you froze, staring straight into a pair of familiar brown eyes – eyes you had learned to both love and hate. once filled with warmth, they now held an icy coldness, mixed with a flicker of surprise at the sight of you. just like you, he was sure you'd never meet again.

"y/n," he finished your sentence.

your throat tightened as your name rolled off his lips. you gulped down the lump in your throat as if you could swallow the whirlwind of feelings right down with it. you shook your head slightly, trying your best to focus on the situation at hand and staying professional.

"yes. i'll be your nurse today," you finished the rehearsed introduction you'd used at least a thousand of times during your two years at the hospital.

with another shaky breath, you slowly stepped closer to where he was sitting, waiting for any type of response from him but there was none.

"can you take off your hood, please?" you asked in the most professional tone you could muster. you nodded slightly when he pulled down his hood and leaned a little closer to examine his face. a pang of hurt rushed through you seeing him in the exact state you'd found him in many times before.

you were sitting on the sofa in the tiny apartment you shared with jake, your knees bent and pulled to your body as if that state could hold together the feelings that dared to overflow. you checked your phone again and again. nothing. as your head started to spin, wondering if tonight would be the night that he wouldn't come home, the sudden creak of the front door finally pulled you out of your daze, and you immediately shot to your feet, rushing toward the door. jake stumbled inside, his gaze on the floor and his hood hiding what you expected to be another field of bruises. "jake..." you whispered, your voice trailing off in a lack of things to say. you carefully took his shaking hand in yours and guided him to the bathroom, where you gently pressed down on his shoulders to make him sit on the edge of the bathtub. "i'm fine," he tried to reassure you the way he always did when he looked anything but fine. you stayed silent as you started cleaning up his bruises. the only sound breaking the silence was jake's occassional hiss when he clenched his fists as the antiseptical burned on his wounded skin. "you don't have to–", the words stuck in his throat with another sharp intake of breath as you cleaned up his bleeding lips with a cotton swap. "i can take care of it," he mumbled, and although he avoided your eyes, you could see a hint of regret flashing through his. "if you took care of yourself, you wouldn't keep coming home like this in the first place," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and frustration. you threw away the tissues and cotton swabs he'd bled through and faced him again to apply ointment to his bruises and patch them up if necessary. "what if one day you come home and i can't fix it, jake?" you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper. for a second, you stopped your movements, just standing in between his legs and looking at his battered face. "what if one day you don't even come ho–" "shh," his whisper interrupted you, "that won't happen, baby." jake raised his hands and brought them to your hips, pulling you a little closer to him. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just held him close until your thoughts quieted down. for tonight, he was safe, you thought. you let go of him and took a step back, gently running your hand through his silky hair and examining his face one last time. then, you reached for the chapstick that you kept on the sink, gently applied it to the ripped skin on his lips, and softly brushed your lips against his. after you pulled away from his lips, you cupped his chin between your thumb and index finger and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on each of his bruises. "you need to stop this, jake," you whispered later when the two of you had gone to bed and he was holding you tightly although every muscle in his body hurt. he couldn't not have you close to him.

"you won't ask what happened?" he suddenly spoke up, breaking your thoughts and pulling you back to reality.

for a second, you tensed again. then, you sighed almost inaudibly, lingering by his face for another second before taking a sudden step backwards and turned around to gather all the things you'd need to treat him. you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze, although you had your back to him.

you turned back around, your face as nonchalant as you could manage as you shook your head.

"i don't care what happened," you replied shortly.

his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk, though it was faint and visibly pained him. “still bossy,” he said under his breath.

you clenched your jaw at his remark, but sat down in front of him and ran your hand through his hair in the gentlest way possible to get his bangs out of his face.

"and you're still reckless. now, hold still," you ordered.

for a while, the room was silent except for the occasional sharp intake of breath as you cleaned his cuts. you tried to focus on the task, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of his heavy gaze on you.

"this one needs stitches," you said, tapping carefully on the skin next to one particularly deep bruise on his cheek, "it might hurt a litte."

as you began stitching the bruise, his hand moved slowly, almost tentatively, to brush against your wrist. the touch was light, but it still sent a shiver through you. you glanced up sharply, but before you could say anything, he caught your hand.

“jaeyun,” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but he didn’t let go. instead, he brushed his thumb across your knuckles. then, in a gesture so achingly familiar it nearly shattered the walls you’d built around yourself, he pressed a gentle kiss there.

your breath hitched. “what do you think you're doing?” you asked, your voice so barely audible that you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

his eyes met yours, and for the first time since you'd stepped into the room, they softened just a little. “trying to remember what it felt like,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, “to have someone who cares.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you pulled your hand back, your heart racing, but despite everything, you mustered the courage to reply. “i don't care. this is my job, not…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

you wordlessly finished stitching up his wound, grabbed his chin in between your thumb and index finger like you'd done countless of times before and turned his head to both sides so you could examine his face.

your eyes trailed to the bruise marring his lips. they were as plump as you remembered, but the familiar softness was gone. they looked slightly rougher now – chapped and marked with faint remnants of past bruises.

you reached for a clean cotton swab, dipping it gently into the antiseptic. his gaze stayed fixed on you, the weight of it almost making your hands falter. carefully, you dabbed at the bruise on his lips, the antiseptic gliding over it. his lips parted slightly at the touch.

the bruises on his lips were always the hardest to see. he was already struggling with sores from time to time, and every other day, a new bruise was added to what had become a painful collection. but jake loved to kiss you. your lips, your cheeks, your knuckles, your forehead, the tip of your nose – he'd kiss you everywhere, again and again, no matter how much it pained him. only once had he not been able to kiss you. and, of course, it had to be your anniversary. he had promised you to not go that day – had promised you to be home for dinner that you'd prepared so lovingly, cooking all his favorite dishes and even bringing out the nice plates his parents had gifted you when you'd first moved in together. the ones you usually only used for guests. but as time passed, and the blue sky outside your kitchen window slowly turned to black, you knew he wouldn't be home before midnight. you tried to be angry, really, but you couldn't stop the waves of worries from washing over you again and again. with shaking hands, you grabbed your phone to call him, certain he wouldn't answer. but after only two rings, you heard his voice. "babe? i'm on my way, i–" "are you okay?" you interrupted, your voice trembling slightly. just hearing him eased the twist in your stomach, but not fully. jake swallowed hard on the other end, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "i'm sorry," he replied after a while. "i know i promised." he sounded guilty. "you did," you replied quietly. "please... just come home." the line went silent except for the sound of jake's breathing, and you knew he was searching for the right things to say, but you still hung up. the dinner you'd put so much effort into had long gone cold, yet you couldn't get yourself to empty the table. you waited silently, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, until the door clicked and jake's footsteps echoed through the hall. "princess?" jake's familiar voice called, a little unsure but loud enough to hear. he kicked off his shoes and rushed to the kitchen where you were sitting in your chair. you looked at him, your heart aching at how tired his eyes looked – at how his face was covered in fresh bruises; one on his jaw, one right below his temple, and a fresh one on his bottom lip. your eyes filled with tears that you quickly blinked away. he didn't say anything as he stepped closer, pulled you to your feet and embraced you in a tight hug, although it made him flinch. you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent as you tightened your arms around him. “i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, “i should’ve been here. i shouldn’t have–” you pulled away and looked up at him. jake hesitated, his eyes scanning your face. then, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. it hurt him – you could see in the way his jaw tightened and feel it in the way he pulled back immediately. "i'm sorry."

jake's sudden hiss broke the silence another time. "ah– y/n–"

you quickly pulled back the cotton swab from his lips, only realizing then that you had kept it on his wound while deep in thoughts yet again.

"sorry," you mumbled, blinking quickly as if that could erase the image your mind had just replayed, "did it sting?" your eyes flicked up to his.

"a little," he admitted, his voice low.

you pressed your lips together, focusing on your task as you cleaned away the faint streaks of dried blood and dirt clinging to the cracks. for a moment, your thumb brushed the edge of his jaw, steadying his face as you worked.

your hands were itching to pull out the chapstick you kept in the pocket of your coat and soothe his lips with it like you always used to do after cleaning up yet another bruise.

"you used to just kiss them better," he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but his words still made you freeze for a second.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you asked, avoiding his eyes as you took one of his hands in yours and silently cleaned his bleeding knuckles.

his eyes traced down from your face to his hand in yours, slightly bigger, probably a lot rougher. it reminded him of how you'd often cleaned the blood off of his knuckles before, but also of how you'd loved to play with his hands when you were cuddled up against each other on the sofa or in bed. or how you'd always let him take the leftover lotion from your hands whenever you'd applied too much again. he was sure your hands were just as soft as he remembered them underneath the thin plastic gloves.

"jake?", you asked again, reminding him of the previous question he'd left unanswered.

he hesitated for a second, before slowly pulling his hand out of your hold, internally forwning at the loss of your touch, and reaching for the hem of the shirt he wore underneath the zip hoodie.

he slowly pulled it up until you could see a dark red bruise blooming on his ribcage. you winced slightly at the sight but still leaned in a little closer to get a better look, bringing two fingers up to the bruise and carefully letting them ghost over his skin.

"there's not much you can do for a hematoma. ice packs and... rest," you said, your eyes flicking up to his at your last word. jake lowered his shirt again and just nodded wordlessly.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just stood in front of him, not close enough for your legs to brush against his knees but not far enough to feel entirely out of his reach. his eyes met yours and for the first time since you'd seen him sitting in the ER, you didn't look away.

secretly, you hoped he'd see the hurt somewhere in your eyes. that he'd somehow understand how badly he fucked you up, even now that you supposedly didn't care about him anymore.

jake's hand was itching to reach for yours, to graze his fingertips over your knuckles again. hell, maybe to take your hand and pull you into a tight hug – knowing damn well every muscle in his body would hurt too much – but still, holding you so close you'd never leave him again.

but just as his hand moved forward the tiniest bit, you broke eye contact and took another step back, bringing more distance between the two of you.

"you're all patched up," you said sternly, "you'll get your papers and instructions in a few." with these words, you walked toward the door, yet you hesitated to leave.

you turned around to look at him one last time. "take care, jake. seriously, i don't want to see you here again."

the flourescent lights softly buzzed above you as you rushed from patient to patient. your feet were hurting at this point, but you knew you'd only have two more hours left until your shift was over.

you had picked up extra shifts, not entirely voluntarily due to the staff shortage, but you honestly didn't mind. keeping yourself busy kept any thoughts about your encounter with jake almost three weeks ago in the very back of your mind.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't worried deep down, but he hadn't made another appearance in the hospital since the last time, so at least, he was dealing with less severe wounds now.

you were finishing a report on the patient you'd just treated when the charge nurses firm voice made you flinch.

"incoming male patient in his twenties with suspected head trauma and possible internal bleeding. ETA three minutes. notify surgery – likely immediate intervention."

you looked up from the paper, focusing your attention on her and waiting for further instructions.

"y/n, you're prepping," she said, giving you a short look. you nodded, put down your clipboard and followed along as the team moved toward the ambulance bay.

"paramedics said he got injured in a fight," the charge nurse informed. you nodded again, mentally going through the steps you'd have to take now, until you really registered what she'd said.

suspected head trauma. possible internal bleeding. injured in a fight.

the combination of the facts she'd thrown at you and your colleagues so professionally started to ring in your ears like a deafening alarm.

jake.

you felt your heart starting to pound violently in your chest and your airways seemed to swell with every step you took toward where you'd await the ambulance. every worst-case scenario ran through your mind, each more terrifying than the last.

only when you tripped over your own foot, stumbling forward just slightly before catching yourself, you snapped out of it and managed to gather your thoughts again. countless of people got into fights every day. it's not him.

when the double doors of the ambulance burst open, you caught sight of the stretcher, slightly shuddering at the sight of the motionless figure laying on it. it wasn't your first time seeing a patient like this, but that didn't make it more pleasant.

"he's stable for now," one of the paramedics announced, "caller said he hit his head on the floor after a punch. unconscious when we found him. nose bleed, slight swelling of the head, pupils unequal," he rattled off the patient's symptoms.

"we managed to stabilize him, but his vitals dipped twice."

your heart was already in your throat, but when you stepped closer and got a clear view of the patient's face the world seemed to stop.

he looked battered, but you'd always recognize him – in every state, in every lifetime. his skin was pale, sickly so, and blood stuck his bangs to his forehead. a deep gash stretched over his temple, still leaking blood. dried red stains under his nostrils, on his cheeks – everywhere. so. much. blood.

you tried to stay calm but the walls were closing around you, squeezing you tighter until you couldn't breathe anymore. your vision started to blur as you reached for the handle of the stretcher with termbling hands.

"y/n," someone called, but the sound was muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

"jake," his name slipped past your lips in a whisper. you felt your head spinning, every late night thought that had plagued you for so long before you'd walked away from him crashing down on you – revealing reality in its ugliest form.

you didn't realize how much you were shaking until one of the other nurses grabbed your arm to gently guide you away. "i don't think you should–"

"no!" you exclaimed, pulling your arm free and stepping closer again, "i n-need to–"

“y/n,” the charge nurse’s voice cut through, snapping you out of the haze. “step back. now.”

the tone in her voice left no room for argument, but your feet still felt rooted in place. it wasn’t until the stretcher began to roll toward the operating room that you finally stepped back.

the outline of jake's body, all blurry from the tears in your eyes, was the last thing you saw before the doors swung shut behind him.

the charge nurse started to say something, but every noise around you shut down except for the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and your breath coming ragged.

jake.

you hated him. you loved him. and now, it felt like he was slipping through your fingers for good.

your legs felt numb as you paced up and down the hall, not able to stay still. your body felt exhausted after pushing through your intense 10 hour shift, but you felt restless. time seemed to extend forever as you kept waiting for an update. you didn't know how long the surgery had been going on when the doors finally swung open and revealed the surgeon.

you quickly approached him, although you didn't know if you were ready to be confronted with whatever news he had. his expression seemed calm, but he might as well have looked horrified – you wouldn't breathe until you'd heard the confirming words.

"he's stable," he said finally, and as you hesitated to reply, he added, "he'll be fine. he'll take some time but–"

"can i see him?" you interrupted.

the surgeon furrowed his brows slightly. "he's not awake yet. he needs rest now, y/n."

you should have felt relieved but your terror wouldn't ease until you've seen him with your own eyes.

"please," you pressed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

he hesitated for a while. your stomach started to drop another time until he gave in and sighed. "i guess you can help out in the recovery room," he mumbled, clearly not fully happy with the idea. you paced off before he could change his mind, only stopping to hesitate for a second once you reached the room. you took a deep breath before opening the door.

your eyes fell on jake immediately, he was lying in bed and although the sight of him wired to all types of machines and with a bandage around his head was worrying, you let yourself breathe for the first time since his arrival. he looked almost peaceful.

your vision blurred as you stepped closer and pulled a chair to his bed to sit down for the first time in hours. you reached out, your hand hovering slightly over his before you pulled it back again.

"i swear to god, jake, i–" a soft sob escaping your throat cut you off.

minutes passed, maybe an hour. you were just sitting next to his bed, blankly staring at him while the tears rolled down your face until you didn't have any left to cry.

when jake's eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright lights above forced him to squeeze them shut again immediately. his head was pounding, the almost unbearable pain forcing a quiet groan out of him.

he took a deep breath and forced his eyes open again, slowly taking in the environment in an attempt to make sense of his whereabouts. as he slowly came to his senses, he started feeling the even rushes of air against his arm.

jake forced himself to move his head to the side, although that only reinforced the pain he now felt in his entire body.

but all the pain melted away when he saw you – your head placed next to him on the matress, your soft breath brushing against his skin. your eyes were closed, your lashes wet and your cheeks slightly flushed. you had been crying for him. and you were here. even after everything he'd put you through.

it was only a few weeks after the ruined anniversary dinner when jake couldn't hold it in anymore. "there's something i haven't told you," he stated when you were cuddled up against him on the sofa. his heart was pounding violently in his chest when you sat up and swallowed so hard that he could hear it. "what is it?" you asked and jake swore the anxiety in your voice nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. because it wasn't the first time you'd sounded like this, not the first time he'd made you sound like this. and the worst part? he couldn't blame you. when had all of this gone so wrong – when had he stopped being a safe place for you? jake took a deep, shaky breath before he continued, his voice careful as if it could break you. "you remember how i... worked hard, right?" your expression stayed blank, except for the crease that formed between your eyebrows. jake took your wordless nod as a sign to go on. "last week, after one of my boxing sessions," jake began, pausing to gather his courage, "there was this scout. he said he’d been watching me for a while... and that he liked what he saw." your lips parting slightly as you processed his words. "he offered me a chance to go pro." there it was. the sparkle in your eyes. the one thing he wanted to see the most, and the one thing he'd extinguish yet another time. "that's amazing, jake," you said, the relief in your tone only pressing down harder on him. "that means... proper guidelines, more safety?" he nodded slowly, avoiding your eyes as his gaze stayed fixated on the cushions of the sofa. "so...?" you continued carefully. "i turned it down," jake said quickly, as if saying it slower would take away the courage to say it at all. he didn't look at you. couldn't get himself to see the announcement crashing down on you in another wave of disappointment and worry. "you what?" you asked. your voice sounded so unsure – as if you'd only misheard – and jake's heart cracked when he repeated his words. "i turned it down," this time slower. "jake, you said–" "i know what i said, y/n. that i'd take the chance immediately if i got it. but this is not who i am, this–... i don't want to play by other people's rules and–" "do you even hear yourself?" you interrupted. your voice was filled with both anger and frustration and even though jake hated it, you were right. "play by other people's rules? you turned down the chance to do what you want to do, but safely. you've been coming home looking like hell for months. i don't care if you win or not, a body can only take that much," you continued, growing a bit louder with each word. jake knew you were right, and he knew it was wrong when he raised his voice back at you. when he shoved your feelings aside for his pride. "i don't get why you care so much. it's not like you're getting hurt," he replied, his tone agitated. "you're my everything, jake, don't you get that?" you almost screamed, tears of frustration daring to fall from your eyes. the sight of you like this deepened the crack, finally breaking his heart. but he just gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly tensing. you blinked a few times before standing up. "but you're right," you said in a stable voice although jake could see your hands slightly shaking, "i can't keep caring about you when you don't give two shits about yourself." and with that, you left the room – and a few minutes later the apartment.

another low groan stirred you awake. you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep, and then straightened your back almost immediately when you realized you'd fallen asleep.

your eyes immediately fell on jake and you felt like the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders when you saw him looking back at you. he was awake.

you immediately shot to your feet. "are you hurting?" you asked in an almost alarmed tone, turning around to provide him with painkillers, but the weak grasp on your wrist stopped you.

you slowly turned back around to face jake as he raised your hand to his lips and weakly brushed an attempt of a kiss against your knuckles, just like he'd always done.

"why are you here? i thought you hated me" he said, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.

you looked at him blankly, "i... do hate you."

jake didn't reply. the silence between you stretched. you wanted to say it, to admit it. to tell him that you didn't hate him. that you were still so fucking in love with him. that you'd always been, even when his reckless behavior made you lose your mind. that you'd never stopped caring about him.

but you just stared at him, your throat tightening with the words you didn’t know how to say. jake’s eyes, even though they were filled with exhaustion, never left yours.

he broke the silence first, although with only a whsiper, “i’m sorry.”

your breath hitched, and you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“for everything,” jake continued. “for all the times i didn’t listen. for making you hate me.” his lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “and for breaking every promise i made to you.”

your heart ached at his words. you searched his face for a hint of insincerity, but there was none.

“you’ve got a lot to be sorry for,” you said softly, sitting back down in the chair.

“i know.” he shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the pain but refusing to break eye contact. “at some point, i didn’t care what happened to me because…” he trailed off, his gaze leaving yours for the first time.

“because...?”

his eyes returned to yours. “because i knew i was losing you, y/n. i know it sounds stupid," he hesitated, "but losing you already felt like i was dead. so i didn’t care what happened.”

the words hit you like a wave, knocking the breath out of your lungs. your fingers twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand. his skin was rough, but the way his fingers curled around yours was heartbreakingly gentle.

"every time you came home like this, i thought i’d lose you, " you said, your voice shaking, "and then i guess i finally did.”

jake shook his head, despite the new jolt of pain that rushed through him. “you never lost me,” he whispered.

the walls you’d spent so long building crumbled, piece by piece. you wanted to hate him, yes. but you also loved him – so much it felt like your heart had never been ready to let go, even when your mind had told you to.

“i don’t hate you,” you murmured. “i never did.”

your eyes met his again, and for the first time in months, it didn't feel like drowning – it felt like coming home.

just as jake was about to bring your hand up to his lips again, the door swung open to reveal the surgeon. you quickly pulled your hand away and straightened your back.

"mr sim?" he asked, to which jake looked at him expectantly.

"i'm sure you've heard this before," the surgeon continued, his eyes flicking to you, before focusing back on jake, "but you need rest. that means no boxing for now. you got severely injured and it will take a long while to heal fully."

your eyes went from the doctor to jake, and as you saw him swallowing, you absentmindedly took his hand in yours again, his fingers gently curling around yours.

jake nodded as best as he could and the surgeon left without another word. as you looked back at jake, you opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

"no boxing at all anymore," he said softly, causing your eyes to widen just slightly, "i'll stop if it means i'll get another chance to be with you."

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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[artofchoisan]

A BODYGUARD'S PUNISHMENT

Cold!Bodyguard!Seonghwa x Heartbroken!Brat!University!Reader

The Plot: Being heartbroken was a norm for your life especially with your own parents not caring about you and just giving you money to keep you quiet. No matter how much chaos you caused or the one time you almost got yourself killed to which they didn't want their status to be ruined they just assigned you a bodyguard with whom you’ve had a past that only you and him knew of.

TW: Rough Sex.

Words: 2.3k

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Causing chaos all around you, drinking until only alcohol flew into your veins, wrecking havoc by organizing parties and sleeping around and not to forget stealing cars and smoking weed, you’ve done everything, yet none seem to care.

Your own parent couldn't give one single fuck about you, never a caring words nor a caring touch, they only threw money at you and wave their hands off and just assigning you a bodyguard so as you don't get yourself killed which they only did mainly for their own name to not get soiled.

Yet, you gave your own bodyguard so many shit to deal with, the countless time you’ve been a brat to him by running off away from him, getting on his nerves and always getting wine onto his suit as you grinned, you didn't hate Park Seonghwa, he was just doing his job but anything associated with your parents you hated, and this man was just another toy in their hands.

So there you were, into another one of your escape, lying into a bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka into your hands as you stared up, what the fuck was your own life? You couldn't even escape this life and just hope that once uni was done you could get out of this fucked up home and lead a life of your own.

“Here you are.” An exasperated sigh reached your ears, as you only look up to find your bodyguard rushing to your side and forcing you up, “Could you stop running out of my sight at least once.”

“No! Fuck off!” Forcingly removing your hand off his hold as you almost tumble down before he catches you again, “Give me a break will you.”

“It’s an order, we’re going.” His voice is tight and cold, not wanting to put up with any of your bullshit, you’ve been getting on his nerves for nearly a year, it’s a miracle he held up for so long, “It’s my job.”

As you struggled against Seonghwa you knew it was of no use, as he was two heads taller than you and much stronger, “I’m not going anywhere.” With that he still managed to drag you outside the bathroom, out of the club and managed to open the door of the car and threw you inside, “Behave now.” Voice lathered in a warning as he glared at you before getting into the driver’s seat and putting on the child’s lock, just to be sure.

“What were you even thinking?” Starting the engine as he drive towards your apartment, your only answer to him was a roll of your eyes, "This disappearing act is getting really damn old," Seonghwa lead on, sharp and deliberate, digging the hurt in your chest deeper, "You need to learn how to grow up before—"

“Shut the fuck up Seonghwa.” Your own voice is colder than ever before.

Then a sob broke through your own voice, your hands over your face as the tears threatened to fall and just like that more anger swirl inside of you, “I know, I’m a fucking mess and fucked up all I do.” Saying more through gritted teeth, “I’m an embarrassment to my own parents and just someone who can't do anything right, just a little pompous bitch who uses her parents money without thinking. I know what everyone thinks and knows what you also think.”

Letting your head lean against the car window, “Just drive me home Park.”

This rendered Seonghw quiet, his eyes glancing at your tired face from time to time, jaw unclenched as for a few seconds he almost felt pity for you, he wasn't blind to the actions or lack of actions of your parents to you.

Once his car reached your apartment’s parking lot, he unlocked your doors and with that you made a dash for the elevators, not wanting to see more of him. Luckily as he locked the car, you managed to catch the elevator and in mere seconds you were gone, leaning against the elevators, you let out a sigh.

Once it reached your floor, you lazily walked towards your door, quickly inserting your keycode and before you could get inside your arms were gripped in an almost deadly one and was thrown inside as you groan, the door slammed shut behind him, “Can you stop acting like a fucking kid? Whining and crying like one.”

Too tired, you only turned your back to him, what have gotten into Seonghwa? Had he finally snapped. And if he did, despite your own tiredness you wanted to test just how riled up you can rile him up.

“I’ll continue to act like a kid as you say.” Saying those words out of your own tongue, as you turned to him, a few meters away as you unzipped your dress right in front of him and despite the few seconds of shock from Seonghwa’s eyes, he said nothing trying to not wanting to let you win.

Your dress dropped down to the floor revealing your black lingerie that hugged your breast well right in front of him, a generous portion of skin all in full view in front of him as you turned before bending down to get your dress.

That’s when you felt it, a deep growl and a strong pair of arms around your waist, “You’re a fucking brat.” A venomous tone into your ear, “You keep getting on my nerves, playing with me.” His hand around your neck, tilting your head up as you felt his breath onto your skin.

“But you didn't leave, you like it just as much but you would never admit that, right Mr Park?” Almost laughing at your own words, “Always handling me and touching me.”

You’ve crossed way too much line in just a few days.

Seonghwa seemed to be releasing all of his pent up anger onto you, feeling his tongue, teeth and lips against your neck, biting and sucking leaving your naked canvas of your neck in a painting of red and purple marks, his tongue licking long stride along your neck, “You need to be taught a lesson brat.”

His fingers traced along your body, his other hand still around your neck as his lips and teeth never leaving the bruising canvas he was creating on your skin, “Going out to get fucked? Huh? Come on princess, you know the dangers of that.” He then pulled hard onto your panties, tearing it up before it slapped against your skin.

The cold air hitting your cunt as you gasped out, “Please Hwa, I want you.” Your hands working behind you as you quickly took off his belt and palm onto his crotch, “Please, please. I’ll be good to you.” This wasn't an unfamiliar situation, fucking with your bodyguard wasn't a new thing.

Seonghwa turned you around, gripping on your shoulders he pushed you on your bed, “Just look at you princess.” His grin turned sinister, “Thinking another man can even fuck you as good as I can. Do you beg for their cock as you do for mine? Do you whine and plead, begging for it as if your life depends on it?”

His anger did all the talking as he looked livid, finally letting his emotions take a hold of him after months of restraining himself, wanting to do his job, only wanting to protect you and burying his own feelings down but jealousy always rear its horns.

“Please Seonghwa, I want you.” Nor you, not being able to deny yourself of him, your feeling blossomed into something more for him, for once, one person truly and sincerely cared, yet his own principles always comes in the way, “Fuck me, I want you to wreck me.”

With that he delved his fingers into you, forcing a gasp, grabbing his arms, digging your nails in as he wrapped one arm around your waist and the other brushed against your clit. "You're soaked, Princess. Only I can make you feel like this, right?" He asked growling slightly as he bit at your ear "Something turning you on?" He asked and you whimpered in response, whining out.

"Hwa, fuck... slow down" You begged as he thrust his fingers in and out, his palm brushing against your clit, his bracelets rubbing against your lower stomach, forcing whines and whimpers from your lips.

"When you mean it, I'll slow down" He grunted out, pressing kisses along the side of your face as you gasped looking down watching his fingers plunge in and out of you, his cock pressing hard against your ass. "Do you want to cum on my fingers, Princess?" He asked softly and you gasped arching your back slightly as he pressed on your lower stomach as his fingers reached deeper inside of you.

"Seonghwa" You cried out, pushing against his arms as your release slammed through you, spasming around his fingers and soft whines leaving your lips as he continued to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He smirked against your neck and pulled his fingers out.

Without warning he turned you around and forced his cock deep inside you as you cried out in pleasure, “Oh fuck! Yes! More.” His animalistic thrust meets you with so much pleasure, his cock thrusting in and out of you as his mouth comes closer to bite onto your shoulder as his deep grunt drives you even more insane.

Seonghwa was fucking you with no mercy, “Look at you being so desperate for my cock and now taking me in so well, so good, such a good little brat for me.” Chanting his name like a mantra as feeling him so good and so big inside of you and being fucked so dumb made you to lose it as you press yourself more against him chasing your own high, “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I could just leave you here,” Seonghwa warned yet his hips continue to fuck you even harder than before, his hold on your hips tighter than before, “I could just cum all over your back and leave you just like that, still all wet and horny, but we wouldn't want that, right princess.”

You were so fucked out, the tears in your eyes began dripping down your cheeks, “No please, Hwa. I need you, please don't leave me.”

Seonghwa’s demonic grin crossed his lips, “That’s my good girl, see you can be obedient when you want to.” Still thrusting into you, with no rest “I'm the only one who can make you feel this way. i’m the only person who can fuck you like this. you’re mine. say it, brat.”

“I’m all yours Seonghwa, only yours.”

With that you felt the knot onto your stomach tightened before the both of you came to your orgasm as you cried out in bliss, “Fuck.” Your body landed bonelessly onto the bed as you both were panting out, Seonghwa had removed himself from you as strings of white cum landed onto your back, “That’s my good girl.��

Once both of you had calmed down, Seonghwa helped you to lay more on the bed, his caring nature was what caused you to fall harder then he adjusted your hair and with a tender smile, Seonghwa leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Love you..” mumbling out those words out of all the emotions into you.

The sweet atmosphere turned cold, Seonghwa froze and you immediately regret it. With a cold expression, he leaned back and stood up, adjusting himself in a robotic manner and his cold expression lying back into him.

“You can't keep doing that Seonghwa, you told it to me yourself before, you can't keep coming back fucking me out of jealousy, touching me and caring for me like that and then acting like that when I say the words you’re too scared to say.”

The secret had been out of the box, a few months ago when alcohol got the best of your system as you drowned into sin, you got quite intimate with your bodyguard who despite your wandering hands all over his body and your pleading eyes and whines, you’ve shared a night you’d never forget.

As the next morning had reached you, your secret was already out of bed and dressed sitting in the living room with eyes darting forward, thinking of a mistake he’d made but as the days went by, the man broke the first rule of being a bodyguard and it almost cost you your life one day, as he got distracted and it almost cost you your life.

After that encounter with death, you’ve found some warmth into the arms of your bodyguard whom this time had the both of you sober and this time he allowed temptation to take hold of his soul, gripping onto the chains of his own restraint, he ripped it out and took your mouth in his as you allowed sin and lust to consumed the both of you in a horrid night of sex.

“You know I can't, my job is to protect you. I can't fail, I can't let you get almost killed.”

Every time, after he allowed temptation to get the best of him, he would grow cold and distant and would only worry about your safety while his icy demeanor brought you some hurt that only caused for you to cry as you’d allow the pain to make you cry as you’ve had confessed to him to which he could only shake his head not wanting to break any more of his own rules.

“Seonghwa.” You sigh, face pinched into a hurt expression, “Listen to me, I love you, I’m not scared to admit that, you’re not careless, you protect me so please, let’s give this a chance, until I finish university, please.”

For a while, he was quiet and then he walked to you and dragged you into his arms, “I’ll trust you. I’ll protect you. For once I’ll be selfish, I won’t let you go so please bear with me for a while.” Then a smile appeared on his lips, “I love you too my little brat, I don't think I can live without you.”

“Neither can I, Mr Bodyguard.”

[bower-quinn]

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One <- Chapter Two <- Chapter Three <- Chapter Four <- Chapter Five <- Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The excitement in Eddie’s stomach doesn’t fade. It only gets worse the closer the 24th comes. Wayne, who has suddenly taken to humming Christmas songs and seems unusually cheerful, certainly doesn’t help. There’s a strange pressure weighing on Eddie. He has to behave, he thinks. Make a good impression. Wayne deserves to be liked. And it’s up to him.

But even though Wayne keeps insisting he’s calm, Eddie can feel his nerves. Wayne got a haircut. Had his suit pressed. He even dug out an old jacket for Eddie. Because no matter how thoroughly they tear apart Eddie’s closet—there’s nothing remotely formal in there.

But there’s something else keeping both of them awake at night: What do you give to people who already have everything?

“A car’s out of the question,” Eddie had mumbled. Then laughed a little too hysterically. If he thought about your car… no. Way out of his price range.

Wayne had laughed too. “How about time?”

And that’s how the idea for the fishing trip was born. A handwritten invitation on thick paper, rolled up like a scroll, tied with a small wooden fish. Wayne carved the fish himself.

“I think your girl likes things with a personal touch,” Wayne said, watching Eddie stare thoughtfully out the window. Sometimes, it’s like he can read his mind.

“My girl,” Eddie murmured, cheeks tinting pink. And then—very secretly—he took off one of his silver rings, polished it with a tissue, and placed it into a small black box. Well, not that secretly, because Wayne watched him with a knowing smile.

“It’s not… you know… not like an engagement or anything,” Eddie said quickly. “Just because… she once said she liked my hands. And my rings. And—shit, help me, Wayne!”

Wayne pulled him into a hug. He had never seen his nephew so desperate. Not even when he got caught stealing a fire extinguisher. Maybe more like the time he picked up a dying pigeon from the street, his eyes huge, full of tears. He’d said shit, help me, Wayne back then too.

“You’ve got this, my boy,” Wayne murmured, brushing Eddie’s hair back. “Your girl’s at least as crazy about you as you are about her.”

“Thanks,” Eddie whispered, wiping his face discreetly.

“And now,” Wayne said, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders, looking at him seriously, “go get me a box so I can wrap the kid’s present!”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Wayne, almost bursting with pride, held up a sweater. It was deep green with small black rings around the cuffs.

“The kid acts all tough,” Wayne said, “but I bet he freezes like a puppy. He’s getting a sweater. A warm one.”

“Wait,” Eddie said slowly, “did you knit that yourself?”

“Of course! Who do you think kept you clothed when you were little?”

But it’s not just at the Munson home where a teenager is spiraling. Your house smells like cinnamon, pine needles, and somehow… yes, Christmas. Faint Christmas music plays in the background—a slightly off-key version of Jingle Bells on your dad’s old record player.

Your parents are decorating the living room: Your dad battles the lights on the fireplace, Your mom rehangs the same ornament for the fifth time because it’s “still not quite right.”

And you? You’re running through the house like a headless chicken.

“Are these napkins too tacky? Should I go with the ones with stars? Or plain? Oh God, what if Wayne’s allergic to cinnamon?!”

You trip over the extension cord you laid down, curse under your breath, get up, and dash to the kitchen—again—to check the cookies.

Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed, cookie in hand. At first, he smirks. Then rolls his eyes. Then lets out a long sigh.

You appear next to him, one hand clutching a hand-tied napkin, the other a sprig of pine.

“Is this too much? I don’t want it to look like we’re trying too hard. But also not like we don’t care. You know? It should look like—oh, hey, we just happen to be perfectly prepared.”

You realize your voice is shaking slightly.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Steve says flatly.

“I have not lost my mind! I’m… focused.” You whirl around, grab a candle, sniff it. “Is this too strong? What if Eddie hates scented candles? What if he has epilepsy from flickering lights?!”

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Before you can argue, Steve grabs you and pulls you into a firm hug. You freeze—for a moment—then melt into his chest with a deep breath. He smells like fresh laundry and cookies. And like home.

“I bet Eddie’s just as nervous,” he murmurs into your hair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think Eddie’s all calm and cool? I bet he’s had at least one breakdown. Probably two.”

You laugh softly, but your hands grip his shirt a little tighter.

Steve rests his chin lightly on your head.

“Listen to me. It’s going to be great. Really. I know you’re freaking out, but this… this is going to be a wonderful Christmas.”

You breathe in. Then out. Then again.

“You really mean that?”

“I mean it so much, I’ll skip dessert if I’m wrong.”

You pull back and look at him skeptically.

“You’d never skip dessert.”

“Exactly. That’s how sure I am.”

You smile—for the first time today, really.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He winks. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go and pretend like everything’s super chill. I’ll catch you if you start hyperventilating.”

You take a deep breath, adjust your shirt, and head back to the living room—this time moving a little more calmly.

Christmas Eve.

You park in front of the trailer and turn off the engine, but your hands stay on the wheel. Your heart is racing. Not quite like yesterday’s napkin-induced meltdown—but close.

You inhale deeply, then get out. Even before you can knock, the door opens—Wayne steps out, moving a little stiffly in his suit but beaming.

“Punctual as clockwork,” he says, tipping the edge of an imaginary hat.

He wears a grey suit, clearly older but freshly pressed. The light blue shirt underneath has a slightly crooked collar. And yet—maybe because of that—he looks incredibly dignified. Straight-backed, proud, with a small, uncertain smile that somehow warms your whole spine.

It’s a strange feeling—something between joy and tenderness that settles in your chest and leaves you breathless. Only now do you realize how much this means. That they’re really coming. That this is really happening.

Wayne notices your look and grins slightly.

“Too much?” he asks, smoothing his lapel.

“On the contrary,” you say honestly. “You look fantastic.”

Then Eddie steps out of the trailer. You blink.

He’s wearing clean black pants—no rips, no chains. A dark red shirt. His hair is… tamed. Sort of. At least enough that it doesn’t stick out in all directions. He holds a box—wrapped, with a slightly crooked bow. But he’s speechless.

You’re wearing a green dress—velvety, knee-length, fitted, with long sleeves and a simple neckline. Not overdone. But it makes your eyes shine. And it fits like a dream.

Eddie’s mouth falls slightly open. His eyes drift from your face downward—then snap back up, as if scolding himself for even looking.

“You look amazing,” he says softly, locking eyes with you.

“So do you,” you reply.

Eddie flushes to his curls.

“Wayne made me do it,” he mumbles, prompting a loud “Liar!” from his uncle.

You laugh, and something in your chest loosens. You reach out your hand, and when Eddie’s fingers close around yours, you give them a quick, firm squeeze.

“Let’s go. There’s hot cocoa and an absurdly tacky Christmas tree waiting for you.”

They get in your car. Wayne up front, Eddie in the back—though the moment you start driving, Eddie leans forward until his knees nearly touch the back of your seat.

“Your parents do know we’re coming, right?” he asks, a nervous edge to his voice.

You nod. “They’re more excited than I am. My dad sorted records, and my mom cooked four different sauces. For one roast.”

A few minutes later, you're driving through familiar streets. Eddie stares out the window, looking a little pale. You glance at him in the rearview mirror.

“Eddie. You okay?”

He looks at you, shrugs.

“I’m just… nervous. What if I say the wrong thing? What if your dad hates me? What if Wayne talks about my first metal concert and your mom cries?”

Wayne laughs loudly. “Oh, calm down.”

You stop at a red light and twist in your seat slightly.

“Eddie? It’s going to be fine. And if you do say something dumb, I’ll just distract them with an embarrassing childhood story about me, okay?” You wink. “And besides,” you add softly, “you’ve got me. And that’s what matters most tonight.”

He says nothing—but his gaze softens. He smiles. Not a big grin. Just that small, real smile you’ve come to love.

As you pull into the driveway, you already see the lights glowing through the windows. The front door stands open. Steve is in the doorway wearing a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on it—and a wide, welcoming grin.

“Ready?” you whisper.

Eddie nods and takes a deep breath. Wayne pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s celebrate Christmas, son.”

You step out, circle the car, and take Eddie’s hand as he gets out. Then you lead them both inside— to laughter, to food, to warmth. To your family.

You glance again at Eddie, gripping your hand with nervous intensity. At Wayne, hugging Steve in greeting.

No, you think, our family.

Chapter Eight ->

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[rose24207]

Hii! Could I request a George or Fred Weasley (you can choose) x fem reader where she goes to the mission to take Harry to the burrow and she gets caught into a big fight during the seven Potters battle and she is the last one to arrive so he is very worried because he thinks she may be badly hurt or even dead and when she finally arrives he doesn't want to leave her side?

I‘m okay

Summary: During the chaotic Battle of the Seven Potters, Fred is consumed with worry when his girlfriend is the last to arrive at the Burrow, battered but alive, prompting him to stay by her side all night, vowing never to let her face such danger alone again.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: mentions of war, fighting, blood, injuries

A/N: love it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The night was heavy with the weight of what lay ahead as you gathered in the dimly lit yard of Privet Drive. The street was unnervingly quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of danger waiting just beyond.

Harry looked uncomfortable as everyone circled him, the seven decoys preparing for their transformation. You tried to steady your breathing, clutching your broom a little tighter than usual.

Fred appeared at your side, his warm presence a small comfort in the chilly night. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up at him and nodded, though the slight tremor in your hand betrayed you. “Just nerves,” you admitted. “Doesn’t help that Mad-Eye keeps glaring at everyone like we’re already dead.”

Fred grinned, his expression easing some of your tension. “That’s just his face. He’d probably glare at his own reflection if he saw it in the mirror.”

You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle the laugh. Mad-Eye’s gruff voice interrupted, drawing everyone’s attention.

“All right, listen up!” Moody barked, his magical eye swiveling to take in the group. “Flask’s going around. Drink it down, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t make a bloody fuss. Potter needs every minute we can buy him.”

The Polyjuice Potion was passed along, and Fred grabbed the flask when it reached him. He turned to you, smirking. “Ladies first?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the potion from him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley,” you teased, before swallowing the foul liquid in one go.

The transformation was quick but disorienting, and you blinked down at yourself, now staring at Harry’s hands. “This is weird,” you muttered.

Fred, now also a copy of Harry, wagged his eyebrows at you. “Weird, but dashing,” he said, striking a ridiculous pose.

George, another Harry, chimed in, “If we survive this, we should all go to Diagon Alley like this. Really mess with people’s heads.”

“Focus!” Moody barked, glaring at the twins. “You’re not Harry until you get him safely to the Burrow.”

Fred shot you a wink as you grabbed your broom, standing in formation. Just before you mounted, he leaned in close, his voice soft and serious. “Hey. Don’t do anything stupid, yeah? Stick with Kingsley, and don’t try to be a hero.”

“Fred,” you said, turning to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. I promise. You should worry about yourself for once.”

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. Then he nodded, forcing a grin. “I always worry about myself. I’m fantastic.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the tension in the air.

“All right, move out!” Moody shouted, and suddenly, there was no more time for jokes. You mounted your broom and took off, stealing one last glance at Fred as he sped into the night.

The chaos hit like a thunderclap the moment you left the safety of the wards. The air around you exploded with curses and shouts, Death Eaters closing in on all sides.

You stuck close to Kingsley as planned, the two of you weaving through the sky in tight formation.

“Go high, stay fast!” Kingsley commanded, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.

You followed his lead, dodging a streak of green light that whizzed past your shoulder. The Death Eaters were relentless, their masked faces flashing in the darkness as they gave chase.

Your wand flicked upward, firing a defensive spell that sent one of them spiraling off course.

“Stay with me!” Kingsley shouted again, but the noise and chaos made it hard to hear. You lost sight of him for a moment, turning sharply to evade another curse.

Back at the Burrow, Fred was pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. Each new arrival brought a wave of relief followed quickly by fresh worry. Harry and Hagrid had made it back first, then Hermione with Fleur not far behind. Ron and Tonks stumbled in a few minutes later, both looking worse for wear but alive.

But you were still missing.

“She should be here by now,” Fred muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

“She’s probably just taking the long way around,” George said, his voice calm but strained. He was nursing a wound on the side of his head, but even that didn’t seem to distract him from Fred’s obvious distress.

Fred shot him a glare. “The long way around? It’s not a sightseeing trip, George!”

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing,” George quipped, though his usual humor lacked its usual sharpness.

Fred ignored him, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. His stomach twisted painfully every time he thought about you—about the countless ways things could go wrong.

You were spiraling out of control. A curse had struck the tail of your broom, and it was all you could do to keep it from completely breaking apart. Blood trickled from a shallow cut on your arm, and your breath came in ragged gasps.

The Death Eaters were relentless, their laughter echoing in the dark as they closed in. But you weren’t giving up. Not now, not when the Burrow was so close.

With one last burst of speed, you dove toward the treeline, using the cover to shake them off. Your broom groaned in protest, but it held together long enough for you to make it to the edge of the Burrow’s wards.

The familiar shape of the house came into view, and you nearly cried in relief.

Fred was at the door when he saw you stumble into the yard, battered and bloodied but alive.

“Y/N!” he shouted, sprinting toward you.

You barely had time to react before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you so tightly it hurt. You felt him shaking, his breath warm against your hair as he whispered, “I thought—I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured, though your voice wavered. “I’m okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face as his eyes searched yours. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, alright? I can’t—” His voice broke, and he shook his head.

“I won’t,” you promised, your own tears spilling over.

“Good,” he said, his tone attempting to be firm but faltering with emotion. “Because if you die on me, I swear I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, a watery sound that eased some of the tension between you.

From the doorway, George called out, “Oi, Fred! Let her breathe, would you?”

Fred ignored him, his focus solely on you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you inside.”

And for the rest of the night, he didn’t let go of you.

Thank you for reading!

[maria021015]

Penpals - Part 4

Fred Weasley x FemHufflepuffReader

What happens when Fred’s new owl accidentally sends a letter meant for George to the wrong person? The mysterious recipient might just write him back. And it might end up being the best mistake Fred has ever made.

Fred is looking forward to finally placing a name and face to the young woman he’s been imagining.

Warnings: suggestive content, sexual innuendo, spicy, set in a world where task 2 was before the Yule Ball, and Voldemort didn’t return, and Cedric Diggory didn’t die.

Part 4

———————————————————————

To my girl with the crimson fingertips,

There it is again - that rush. That sensation of my chest being far too small to hold how I feel about you. You call me your Freddie and I forget everything else. The noise of the common room, the smell of toast George set on fire again, even Peeves singing something crude about trousers from the ceiling. None of it matters. Just your words. Just you.

So you saw me at the second task. I knew you were there. Somehow. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. I just…felt like I was being watched. Not in the bad way. Not like Filch creeping around corners. It felt warm. Safe. Like someone out there cared whether or not I was okay. I looked up more than once thinking maybe I’d find your eyes in the crowd.

I didn’t.

But that’s okay. Because I know I’ll see them one day.

And when I do, I hope you’re looking back at me like I look for you now - Everywhere.

Your self-assuredness is one of the most magnetic things about you, and knowing I fall under the category of “what you want” just about knocked the wind out of me. (Do you see what you do to me with just ink and parchment? It’s downright unfair.)

As for the scandalous confession, I knew it. Part of me hoped you saw me first. That this wasn’t all some stroke of luck, but that you noticed me before. That somehow, your gaze lingered longer than it should’ve and maybe you smiled to yourself, wondering.

And Earl - that dashing little traitor. His nails match yours? Brilliant. It’s only fair I suppose, if he’s chosen his side. He looks like a Gryffindor now. You’ve ruined me. I smile when I think about a bird. You’ve made me soft, mystery girl.

A date. The astronomy tower. After the tournament.

You don’t know how much I’ve needed that moment to look forward to. I’ll be there. Even if it rains. Even if there’s thunder. Even if the stars don’t show. Because you will. And that’s more than enough for me.

Until then, keep watching for me. I’ll be watching for you too.

Yours, hopelessly,

Freddie

P.S. I can’t stop glancing at crimson nails in the hallways. You’ve made it harder, but more thrilling.

P.P.S. What do you think our first words will be when we finally see each other face to face?

———————————————————————

To my dearest Freddie,

Have you considered that perhaps you have the same effect on me? That my heart pounds in my ears and my stomach flutters when I see an envelop signed with your name? That my lips might wonder what it would be like to touch yours?

I am getting too bold now. You truly are rubbing off on me.

The third and final task of the tournament will be approaching, but before then is the Yule Ball. Will you be attending? I will be. I’ve just received my dress in the mail, and I am beyond pleased. I’ll be looking out for you, of course, imaging what it might be like to steal a dance.

As for Earl, I can confirm he will be wearing Hufflepuff yellow next. To show where his true loyalties lie.

Yours - the girl who will be keeping an eye on the calendar, awaiting our date with much anticipation.

P.S. I might need to stop giving you clues or you’ll catch me.

P.P.S. Our first words when we see each other? Probably ‘hi’?

———————————————————————

To the girl who makes me grin like a fool in the dormitory (which, by the way, is becoming a real problem - Lee is suspicious),

You say you’re getting bold, love, you’re killing me. Every line in your letter had my heart doing laps like it’s training for the Quidditch Cup. You wonder what it would be like to touch my lips and now I’ve got a quill hovering over parchment and no thoughts in my head except what if.

If this is me rubbing off on you, then please, never stop. I’ll take every bold, fluttering, heart-skipping word.

The Yule Ball. Oh, how I’ve been waiting for that to come up.

Yes, I’ll be attending, though I haven’t asked anyone yet. I kept telling George I was “waiting for the right moment,” but truthfully, I think part of me was hoping something like this might happen. That something more might brew between us in these letters. Something that would make me look across the dance floor, find your eyes, and know.

You’ve received your dress, have you? And you’re beyond pleased? Well now I’m beyond curious. I’ll be scanning the crowd for the girl with a gaze that knows me far too well for a stranger. Maybe we’ll bump into each other. Maybe fate has a flair for theatrics. Perhaps we could even find a way to have that dance?

As for Earl…The betrayal cuts deep. But if he must be wooed with wardrobe, I suppose I deserve it. Tell him I miss him. And that yellow does bring out his eyes.

The calendar is burning a hole in my wall, by the way. Every day I tick off brings me closer to you. Our date. Our reveal. I think of it more than is probably healthy.

P.S. You’d say “hi”? How dreadfully polite of us. I was rather hoping I’d say something charming and you’d laugh and the world would stand still. But “hi” works too. So long as it’s followed by a smile.

P.P.S. Give me one more clue. Just one. For courage.

Yours in every way that matters,

Freddie

P.P.P.S. Do you believe in fate?

———————————————————————

To the boy who makes me embarrassed of my own thoughts (some of which are too bold to reveal),

To make myself clear, I will not be attending the ball with a date, and if I see you with one I shall hex you until your teeth touch the floor. I am protective of what is mine, and if you want to be inside that small circle you’d do well to remember it.

I might be convinced for a dance, however there must be rules. The first of which is that you cannot see me. It would ruin the fun of the anticipation.

Yellow does indeed bring out Earl’s eyes, and though he certainly would not want to leave me, I may send him to you on weekends to keep you company and make you think of me. You can thank me later.

I realised I have forgone asking you questions, though I suppose that it because I feel as though I know you well now. But here is another: what is something about you that no one else knows? Not even George?

And a bonus for good measure (to make up for the ones I missed), what is one of your most secret, scandalous thoughts?

Yours truly, a girl with a green dress.

P.S. I hope you have enough clues to find me.

P.P.S. I believe in fate guiding us, but I also believe we make our own choices within that. There are an infinite amount of possibilities. I’m glad I’m alive in the one that has led me to you.

———————————————————————

To the girl with the green dress (who may or may not be trying to kill me softly with these letters),

Merlin help the poor sod who tries to ask me to the ball. I might just hex them myself in your honour. And as for arriving with a date? Not a chance in hell. I’ll be walking through those doors with only one thing on my mind - you.

Normally I wouldn’t let a blindfold near my fantastic head of hair, but for you? For a dance with you? I think I could bear it. I’ll be waiting for your move.

You say you’re protective, and I must admit, there’s something dangerously hot about that. Makes me want to belong to you more than I already do (and that’s saying something). I’d ask if you were mine in return, but I’m fairly certain you already are. Stolen, quietly and completely.

Earl may visit me whenever he pleases. He’s a brave lad for enduring this tug-of-war. Crimson, yellow…he’s a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff hybrid now. We’ve created something beautiful.

Now, your questions.

You always ask the ones that stick in my chest.

Something no one knows about me?

Sometimes, when it’s late and I can’t sleep, I sneak out and sit by the Black Lake. I bring something I’ve made - a prototype, a sketch, a half-finished idea - and I think about the future. Not just about success, but about who I’ll be with. For the longest time, it was a faceless, blurry dream. Lately though…it’s not so blurry anymore. She wears green, has wit like a whip, and knows me in ways I didn’t think were possible through ink and parchment.

And you want me to share a scandalous thought? Alright, but I’ll blame this one on you.

The last time I saw a girl in green, I wondered if the colour matched what was beneath. And when I think of you in that dress, well, let’s just say I’d very much like to find out.

(Send Earl away for that weekend, would you? I don’t think he should witness it.)

You’ve given me just enough to search now. I’ll look for you, green dress, clever eyes, bold heart. I’ve always loved a challenge. But if I find you - when I find you - I might just kiss you right there, in front of the whole damn school.

P.S. I’m keeping that last line of yours close. It might be the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever written to me.

P.P.S. I’m counting down the days.

Yours - dangerously,

Freddie

———————————————————————

To the boy in the dashing dress robes,

I watched you tonight. Saw you dance to your heart’s content with George and Lee. Saw you deny Angelina Johnson that dance she requested. I must admit that made my heart smile with pride. I saw you look for me in every girl wearing green. You did find me, though I shall not confirm which one I was.

But the highlight of the night was certainly our dance together. I was so pleased when you showed up in the courtyard, even if your handsome face was mostly covered by that blindfold. I hope it didn’t mess up your precious hair too badly. I must say, you are a wonderful dancer which was something I hadn’t expected from you. You are a man of many talents.

You needn’t worry. I am yours. Wholly. Completely. Irrevocably.

Earl is a brave soul and I think he likes being fought over. It was just this week that I realized how entirely spoiled he is. And overfed. He may need to be put on a diet. Between both of us, all of these sweet treats will have him dropping our letters before they can arrive and we can’t have that, can we?

I’d like to hear more about your future. What do you picture for yourself? For the lucky woman who will get to be by your side? What life will you lead?

Well, well, your thought was scandalous indeed (and it did not disappoint). So I shall not either.

I can confirm I was wearing something matching beneath my dress. Something made of thin lace and not much of it. Perhaps I will let you find out what it looks like, someday. We will have to find Earl a babysitter.

Yours, the girl in the green lace.

P.S. your scandalous thoughts are more welcome than you might think. Perhaps I should share some of mine too?

———————————————————————

To the girl in the green lace (who is rapidly becoming the reason my heart might burst out of my chest),

You’re going to kill me, you know that? Slowly, sweetly, and with just a flick of your wicked quill. I’m not sure how you expect me to survive knowing you were watching me last night…knowing you were out there in green, and I didn’t even know which girl you were. I saw five - five - wearing that exact shade. I stared so long at one of them she dropped her pumpkin juice. I may owe someone an apology.

But at least I got one dance. I was surprised when I saw your note and the blindfold at my table - I have no idea how you managed to sneak past both myself and George to leave it there unnoticed. Well done, mystery girl. As for our dance itself, it was magical. Even though I couldn’t see you, I could smell your perfume. Something sweet and floral. If you see me around the castle with my nose in the air, it’s because I’ll be trying to track you down by smell.

You said it - you’re mine. Wholly, completely, irrevocably. I read those words under the covers so many times I could recite them in my sleep. (I think George is getting concerned.) There is no hex strong enough to protect me from what I feel for you. And I don’t want one.

Earl is beyond spoiled. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts demanding a custom bed and weekly grooming spells. But if he keeps delivering letters like yours…he can have the run of the Gryffindor tower.

Now - my future. I see a shop. Small, chaotic, and loud, full of laughter and explosions. A business with George, our names in fireworks above the door. But when I think of the life I want…I see a house with a garden. A cat curled in the window. A kettle always warm. And a woman. Walking around barefoot, laughing at my latest invention, pinning her hair up in a quick, distracted way that already lives in my imagination. She’s scolding me for tracking in dirt again, and I’m grinning because she’s never looked more beautiful. There’s love there. Not the loud kind, but the steady, quiet one that builds itself into the walls.

You ask about the lucky woman beside me in that life. I think…she’s the one who made it all possible. She saw something in me worth loving before anyone else did. Before the fame, before the gold lettering and store signs. She made me believe I could be something more. She’s you.

As for your matching green lace…Merlin. My quill nearly broke in half. Now I’ll never see that colour again without blushing like a schoolboy (thigh I suppose I still am). You’re a menace. A beautiful, brilliant, heart-stopping menace. And yes, someday, I will find out what it looks like up close. Slowly. Carefully. Reverently. And Earl will absolutely need a sitter.

So yes, send your scandalous thoughts. All of them. Every last one. I’ll treasure them like gold. But be warned, I’ll return them in kind. And I don’t hold back.

Yours - burning for you,

Freddie

P.S. Did you have a favourite part of the night? Other than us dancing, of course. I want to picture it the way you did.

P.P.S. I think I’m going to dream of you tonight. And I sincerely hope I never wake up.

———————————————————————

To the boy who better be dreaming of me,

It brings me a special kind of joy and satisfaction to imagine you, quill gripped tightly in your hand as you think about all the things you’d like to do to me. Perhaps I’d like to hear them as well. Your thoughts. The private ones that occur in the dark of night when you sneak off to the black lake.

Cedric is busy preparing for the last task, and though I adore Luna, she may not be the best person to speak to about these ever growing feelings I have developed for you. I long to tell someone about it, even if I do love keeping you my secret. Have you told George about us? Or is he still in the dark?

I think Earl knows what he carries is gold to us. He has steeper demands each time he brings me one of your letters that I covet so dearly.

You and George would make a spectacular business. One to rival Zonko’s no doubt. You could call it ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezez’ or something equally as odd and exhilarating. I’d be honoured to support you in that journey.

As for your life plan, I adore the sound of it. I little cottage with plants galore. Perhaps a dog instead of a cat - I am partial to shepherd dogs. And certainly Earl. And you. My light. My laughter. The only person who can challenge me - keep up with me - and appreciate me as I am.

I saw you working in Herbology today, sleeves rolled up. Long fingers tending to the plants so delicately yet so expertly. Makes me wonder what else those beautiful hands would be good at?

Yours - the girl whose body is on fire at the thought of you.

P.S. I adored the decor. A winter wonderland indeed. And I loved the dancing and the music. Music always has a way of expressing the emotions words can’t. What was your favourite part? Obviously, our dance excluded.

P.P.S. I did have a dream of you.

———————————————————————

To the girl who owns my dreams (and a dangerous amount of real estate in my head),

You are going to be the death of me. A glorious, blushing, stomach-flipping, leg-weakening death. I can’t stop rereading the way you talk about me, the way you see me - sleeves rolled up, hands in the earth, thoughts in the stars. You’ve turned me into a lovesick mess, and I fear I may never recover.

But oh, what a way to go.

You want to hear my thoughts? The private ones? The ones that creep in after curfew when the castle is quiet and the moon paints everything silver? Then brace yourself, sweetheart. Because I think about your voice in my ear, low and teasing. I think about your fingers trailing down my back, the way your breath would hitch when I press you against the wall just before kissing you like I’ve been starving for it. I think about your hair between my fingers, your lips against my throat, the way you’d say my name like a secret only you get to keep. I imagine you curled up beside me, skin warm, eyes soft, telling me with every look that I’m yours. I think of green lace and the sound of your laugh when I trace my fingers down your ribs just to make you gasp.

And I think of making you feel so good you forget the world exists.

There. Now who’s holding the quill too tight?

You asked if George knows. I haven’t told him everything, but he suspects. He saw me grinning like a fool after I got your last letter and said, “Alright, who is she and where can I send the thank-you card for making you tolerable?” So…yes, in his own way, he knows.

As for Earl, if he asks for a gold-trimmed miniature throne, I might cave. He’s carrying letters that will be written into my bones one day.

You do know how much it means to hear you say you believe in our future, don’t you? That you’d share that life with me - dog, garden, Earl and all. It makes me feel unstoppable. Invincible. Like I could take on the world as long as you’re holding my hand.

And speaking of hands…if mine have lit a fire in your thoughts, I assure you they’re more than capable of making every one of those flames burn brighter. Just say the word. I’ll show you what it’s like to be touched by someone who already worships the ground you walk on.

Yours - aching, dreaming, always yours,

Freddie

P.S. My favourite part of the night was right at the end, when the last song played and I closed my eyes and pretended you were in my arms. I almost felt you there. You fit perfectly.

P.P.S. Tell me your dream in detail. Every bit. Leave nothing out.

———————————————————————

To the boy who has haunted my sleep,

Your last letter had me flustered beyond the point of saving. Reading your provocative promises has become my new nightly routine. I’d love to make them come true.

I think about you as well. Of the way you would kiss me. The way your hands would travel over my body. To all the places my robes hide. I think of how your wild red hair would feel between my fingers. Your broad, muscled back beneath my scraping nails as you ruin me. You would tower over me, Freddie, and I’d revel in how my neck would need to crane to reach your mouth.

You can tell George to send his ‘Thank you’ to the Hufflepuff common room.

Earl gave me a look today, as though he knew the seductive things you wrote to me last time. Or perhaps that’s just my imagination playing tricks.

I’m glad you imagined dancing with me, just as I dreamed. Just you and I and the steadily emptying dance floor as the music played. Your hands on my waist and my head on your chest as we sway, revelling in the warmth of each other’s presence. Together at last.

Have you dreamt of me yet? Tell me, what do we do in your dreams?

Yours, a girl who is almost a mystery no more.

P.S. I will be searching for you at the final task tomorrow. And in the tower later. Twilight seems a fitting hour.

———————————————————————

To the girl who’s consumed me - body, soul, and all the spaces in between,

Merlin help me. If I wasn’t haunted by dreams of you before, I certainly am now. You’ve taken root in my mind like a forbidden spell I don’t want to counter. The kind that lingers, potent and dangerous and far too good to ever let go.

You say you’re flustered beyond saving, but love…I live in that state now. You’ve turned my imagination into a furnace. Every line of yours is heat and want and aching anticipation. I think about everything you wrote - your robes falling to the floor like they never belonged there, your mouth against mine, your fingers in my hair and your nails against my skin. The image of your back arching under my touch, your breath stuttering when I press into you. I want to make you forget your name. Just moan mine.

You say I’d tower over you - I’d use it. I’d pin you against a bookshelf or a cold stone wall and make you tremble in the best way. I’d tilt your chin up so you’d look me in the eye while I ruin every shred of composure you had. You’d beg, and I’d give. And I’d take, too, all of you. Every inch, every sound, every thought until the only word in your head is “Freddie.”

And Merlin, you calling me that? That alone could break me.

Tell me when. Tell me where, and I will show you what all this build-up has done to me. I’ll make your fantasies look tame.

As for dreams - you’re always in them. But the most vivid one? You’re straddling me on a windowsill in the Astronomy Tower, moonlight pooling on your skin, that green lace slipping off your shoulder as you whisper filthy, wonderful things in my ear. You’re in control and yet somehow mine. Completely.

The music fades, the castle disappears, and it’s just us - two burning, tangled silhouettes in the dark.

Earl did give me a knowing look today, so I’ve bribed him with dragonfruit to stay quiet.

Yours, breathless and burning,

Freddie

P.S. I’ll be there at twilight. Waiting. If you show, I won’t let you leave without feeling what it’s like to be devoured.

P.P.S. Bring the green lace.

———————————————————————

Thank you so much every on for all the love on this fic! The format will be changing slightly just for the next part, which shall be the much anticipated meet up!

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