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puffleyia · 1 year ago

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Dear Diary || Cedric Diggory

Cedric Diggory x fem!reader || 5.2k words, fluff-ish, banter and awkward confessions !

Reader and Ced are both seventh years and Ced is head boy!

Warnings: slow and sappy smut, unprotected p-in-v, clothed sex , first times !!!

Summary: Cedric finds your diary, what's the worst that could happen?

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Cedric was idly perusing the shelves of the library on one fine afternoon, if the wads of homework given and expected to be completed by the end of the Easter holidays were not taken into account. He sought for some books that he could use as reference for his essay in History of Magic, a particularly tricky one, on famous and historical duels.

Though, his initial intentions were long forgotten as he noticed something. His attention was drawn to a small, forgotten notebook left on one of the study tables. He looked around to see if any sign of the owner was around. Once the coast was clear, he took it as a go-signal. Carefully, he picked it up with curiosity as he examined the notebook.

The cover was brown, its material being that of leather. It had a few tears, but it looked okay enough to be passed as a choice of style. It is decorated with intricate golden patterns on it, engraved with small jewels for design. The bottom was labelled with your name handwritten on, and the pages seemed to be slightly tarnished. He assumed you had kept it for a couple years or so.

But what was most intriguing was that it had been padlocked shut. He figured out that it was no ordinary notebook, probably a diary of sorts, piquing his interest.

As much as he knows not to stick his nose in things he is not supposed to, he couldn’t help but feel interested in what was not supposed to be of his concern. He was not going to tell anyone what’s inside, nor was he going to judge— it is not like you would know either if he did look through it.

But, he supposed a little peak would not hurt, right? He is going to give it back the next time he sees you, anyway.

Though, it was locked… It is nothing a simple alohomora charm could not fix. He pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the lock. He gave it a flick, chanting the spell out quietly. The padlock fell on the floor with a dull thud. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket, to seal it up afterwards to conceal any trace of him ever snooping around.

He flipped through the pages, becoming increasingly fascinated with what he read, some even dating back to seven years. Family issues, random stuff about life at Hogwarts, such as rants about homework, housemates and whatnot. The first thirty pages was about you mainly figuring out things back then as a first year, and a bunch of things you were astonished to discover.

It was really what your typical teenage girl would write; little things such as that cat you tried to pet in the first year that turned out to be Professor McGonagall, hallway crushes, that time you snuck in the restricted area of the library, so on— and the mundaneness of everyday life. It was pretty much a bunch of stuff about what goes on during your days.

When he got to the fourth year, he started seeing his name being brought up occasionally— he of course, stopped on those pages to read them— interested in what your perspective on him was. He started with the first page mentioning him:

DEAR DIARY,

I met this guy named Cedric Diggory. He’s popular, tall and good-looking too..

He helped me out with my herbology homework. I was really struggling, good thing he stepped in. Though, maybe I was too busy staring at him to really pay attention to what he was teaching me. (Well, who can blame me???)

I know so many girls who would kill to have that happen to them. Wonder what got me so lucky today, maybe those Lumos Lucksweets I ate last night that I got from Honeydukes during Halloween.

I always thought he was cute, though I always felt too intimidated to approach him. Hopefully we can become friends.

He felt a bit surprised, a faint blush tainting his cheeks as he smiled softly. He would be oblivious if he didn’t know he was sought after by both women and men, albeit it still doesn’t make him any less flustered. You were one of his friends, yes, but he had never stopped to think that you thought of him in that way. You didn’t make it obvious either.

He mostly skimmed through its pages, but stopped to read whenever he saw his name brought up– about how you talked about each of your interactions; “Cedric helped me with…” “Cedric and I went out to…” “I think I like him..” Cedric this, Cedric that.

You like him. Or liked him. It only clicked with him now, though he would have to keep reading if he wanted to know if you still felt the same. (Because he definitely did.) Be that as it may, he still definitely had no idea on how to confess. Plus, it was too late to turn back any time now. He continued to leaf through its contents.

But it was not until he got to last year’s pages that some things really stuck out. At first it was about wanting to kiss him on the cheek as you sat beside him in the library whilst you two studied for your transfiguration exam. Then the next time you talked about it being on the lips.

You even went into detail how you thought his lips would feel, then it was about how you so badly wanted to make out with him after you watched him after his quidditch practice because in your words, not his–

He looked so hot.

The more he read through, the material written within progressively escalated. Soon, it was about how you felt guilty by using the thought of him as a means to get off.

Now I feel guilty. Yes, I know– it is wrong of me to finger myself at the thought of my really really really hot friend who I also happen to have a crush on, no I’m not being sarcastic, yes, it was just once. Just this ONCE, I got carried away… Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, Cedric.

He actually found it quite adorable how you were apologising in a diary. He was also extremely flustered at this point, a little bit horny and at the same time, confused. He nonetheless continued, reading several entries about how you admitted to having several fantasies of you being fucked by Cedric, what you think he would be like in bed, yada yada yada.

You admit throughout several logs that what was supposed to be a one-time thing, turned into nightly endeavours filled with a big ounce of shame afterwards.

Once he felt content, he got the padlock and clicked it back in place as if nothing ever happened, and took it with him as he went on his way. He figured it was best that he give it back the next time he ran into you.

Aside from that, his day passed by quite like any ordinary one, though he hadn’t seen you at all. On his way down to the Great Hall, he caught a glimpse of you walking whilst talking to some of your friends– though you quickly disappeared into the crowd of students flocking towards the hall for dinner.

Afterwards, most students are headed towards the library or their respective common rooms, Cedric ought to do the same.

Meanwhile you were searching every nook and cranny of everywhere you had been within the entire day, searching for that damned diary since the afternoon. You had traced back your steps to the beginning of the day, starting off with the common rooms, the great hall, then you had snuck into the several classrooms you were in earlier. In the potions dungeon, you were almost caught by Snape, you hid in time (you pride yourself on being an absolute pro at hide and seek) and just by the skin of your teeth.

You would stop at nothing until you actually find it, the thought of someone else getting your diary sends shivers down your spine. You just hope if someone did, they’d have enough of a sense of privacy and decency not to look through it. If this keeps up, You would have to be looking throughout the entire night and without being caught at that.

You doubt any of the staff would actually care about finding it if you had simply asked. You had tried that once when you lost one of your textbooks, you managed to find it, no thanks to anyone but yourself. And you would think if you would ask any of your professors, they’d probably say (the textbook) was miles more important than some journal with sentimental value.

Before you knew it, you were definitely up past curfew hours. Currently in the library, you were looking everywhere– on and under each of the chairs and tables, the shelves, you were seriously considering going to check the restricted section if you were not able to find it here. Perhaps the librarian thought it was a book, too. You froze in your place as you heard footsteps other than yours echoing as someone entered the library.

–

Cedric was doing his rounds and surprisingly, tonight was not that half-bad. No pesky students loitering around, so far that is. Currently surveying the corridors, classrooms– he is now heading towards the library, hearing faint shuffling noises coming from the sound of it. So it was not a quiet night after all, he thought. He placed his bets on who he thought it was this time, and the lot of students who regularly snuck out was not much to choose from anyway.

Though, he was completely wrong this time. It was you. He flashes you a grin, nearly forgetting his duties as Head Boy to supposedly escort you back to your dorm since it was late hour. He could also give your diary back while he was at it, he was getting tired of having to cling on to it just at the chance he would run into you. But he had thought to strike up a conversation first, because why not?

“Hey,” Cedric greeted you, approaching you slowly. “Hi,” you gulped and said awkwardly. You interrupt him before he could even say a word, “I-I know what this looks like,” you stammer, figuring out the right words to say as you try reasoning with him. “It sounds like a ridiculous thing to ask of you, I know– but don’t tell anyone,” as you speak, you’re also in plenty of disbelief that the literal head boy of all people would give you leeway for sneaking out like thi. Even if he is your friend, and even if it were just once.

“And why shouldn’t I?” He said so casually, as if you two were having a normal conversation; as if he were not on patrol at all and he hadn’t caught you outside your dormitory past the given curfew. He also knew damn well why, it was just fun eliciting a reaction from you. He was of course going to eventually give it back. “It’s so late, you should at least be in your common room around this time, you know?” He points out as well.

“Well, for one, I’ve been a good student this year, this is the only time I snuck out.. And, I have a reason for sneaking out–! It’s not for anything bad, I promise, it’s just I’ve been looking for my damn diary the entire day.. I must’ve lost it somewhere– look, I swear I’ll go back to the dorms right now if you please, please, don’t tell me out to anybody.”

You begged him, clasping your hands together for dramatic effect as you gave him those puppy eyes you use whenever you wanted something from him. (Such as when you begged him to buy whatever you wanted when you two went to Zonko’s that one time. P.S. It worked.)

“You mean this thing?” he said slyly. As he pulled out your diary, he gave a look of mischievousness. He watched as your eyebrows raise up, a look of relief plastered on your face as you sigh. You walk towards him, extending out your arms as you make grabby hands. “Oh, yes! Yes, that’s the one, now if you could just give it back–” then, that’s when you get cut off.

“Ah, ah, now wait just a moment,” he said, raising the arm with your diary in his hand so you couldn’t reach it. “I’ll let you off, and I’ll give it back if,” taking a deep breath before he spoke again, wondering if he should really be doing this. It was now or never. “You give me a kiss.”

He found it really amusing as a blush formed on your face, completely flustered as your eyes widened in a look with a mix of shock and disbelief. You had stopped grabbing for your diary, as you opened your mouth to say something, but you were rendered completely speechless. Was this just a dream? Surely it was, it was too good to be true…

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Cedric,” you fake-laugh, your tone being fully sarcastic. Seeing if he is just playing around with you. “No way in hell I would,” you add, just in case he really was joking. (Maybe you have slight trust issues.) “Just give it back.” Despite that, he looked dead serious. He stared you down, not breaking eye contact, making you gulp nervously. “Please?”

“Oh, come on,” he says as his voice drops, sounding more sultry. “I’m not gonna do anything unless you let me, but I know you want to.” His eyes observe your lips. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t touch you at all since you hadn’t given your consent yet. He kept his hands to himself, letting his body language do the talking.

“Now what makes you say that?” You squint your eyes as you give a questioning look at him, acting, or trying to at least, unaffected. You still had your guard up, because seriously, what was up with this guy today?

“Now, why’re you acting like you don’t want it? Hmm?” He smirked, “Could make all those fantasies of yours in that little book come true, you know.”

You looked mortified, as if you had seen a ghost. The last bits of your dignity withered away, long gone at this point. You wanted to shrivel up and sob in a corner out of pure humiliation. He read your diary. “No way, you read it!?” You slap his arm as you cover your face in sheer embarrassment. “Privacy exists, you know–!” Cedric let out a guttural laugh, unable consistently to keep up his flirty demeanour. “Hey, better me than anyone else, right? Besides,” he leaned on one of the bookshelves.

“I like you.”

If you thought you couldn’t get any redder, you were awfully wrong. You didn’t know what to say, as you practically threw yourself at him in an embrace. “I like you too…” you said, your voice muffled as your face was buried in his chest. “This is so embarrassing.”

He wasted no time in hugging you back, his arms wrapped around you. It was like you put on a warm blanket. You two stayed like that for a while, enjoying eachothers company. The moment of silence was interrupted as he said, “I should probably ask properly.” You look up at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He finally says.

“What do you think?” A rhetorical question.

“I need a yes or no, not a ‘what do you think’.”

“If you actually read my diary, you already have your answer.”

“Well then, it’s official,” he smiles. “Can I get that kiss now?” He says impatiently. You waste no time, tipping on your toes as you press your lips against his, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He wraps his hands around your waist, pushing you softly against a bookcase. It was chaste and passionate, as your lips intertwined as you two kissed in a slow rhythm.

You pull away, catching your breath. “By the way, this doesn’t mean I forgive you for reading my diary,” you blurt out, Cedric chuckling at that.

Before you knew it, he was grabbing your wrist and leading you to his dorm room. It was clear to the both of you where this situation was going. As you walked together, your heart raced in anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooded your senses. You both stopped in your tracks as you reached a portrait, that of Helena Ravenclaw’s. He mumbled the password and the portrait swung open, walking in whilst ducking his head over the small entrance and motioning you to come in as well.

You assumed this was the heads’ common room, it was circular and decorated quite lavishly. If it were not for Cedric, you would have taken more time to admire the interior. It was definitely plenty grand compared to the regular ones. Though, you quickly were grounded back into the situation as he led you to his dorm– Head Boy��s–completely away from prying eyes. Oh, bless Cedric for being head boy and whoever decided that heads should have their own room.

He slams the door shut behind you two, pinning you to it. Tension flooded the room, it was practically suffocating. He wastes no time, cupping your chin as he tilts your head slightly upward to make you look at him. He leaned in for a second kiss, your lips puzzle together once more. His hand interlocked with yours tightly as he held it up against the door panel, keeping you in place.

It was not as innocent as it was the first time, in fact quite the opposite– amorous. It was far from perfect, given both of you were not experienced. All your knowledge came from things such as muggle films, you think.

You remembered how they opened their mouths slightly, imitating what you saw in fiction. You slowly gaped open your mouth, Cedric immediately getting the hint as he slid his tongue inside. You both attempted to swirl each other's tongues together, yet it was more clashing your tongues together with no rhythm whatsoever, in hoping something just works. Though it didn't make it any less hot, if anything, it was more.

It was awfully sappier than one would might like, but you two were both (not-so hopeless anymore) romantics. Perhaps it was the entire three years of obliviousness and pining for each other being poured into this moment. Though, given what you two are about to do, it is a bit fast for an official relationship. Well, yeah, as much as you just got together.. You both couldn’t help it nor wait anymore, not wanting to waste any more time, not after so many years with your feelings going unsaid.

He took heavier breaths, grabbing ahold of your waist as he pressed himself closer against you. You both flushed, a bit embarrassed and nervousness surging through your veins as you gasped when his half-chubbed dick pressed against just above your groin. You couldn’t deny– you felt scared, a bit hesitant but you knew you wanted this more than anything.

While you still kissed, you both toed off your shoes and made a beeline for the bed (a sad attempt). Because your senses of navigation clearly dwindled, not a care in the world but each other. You two accidentally bumped into one of the small tables, knocking down some of the books that lay on them. “Oops,” Cedric said lightheartedly. Pulling the both of you out of the moment momentarily, you two laughed and just chalked it up to fixing it later.

Finally reaching the four-poster (which was a lot bigger than the regular ones), even if it were a few feet away from where you two initially were, it was quite the journey. Cedric, who was the one leading out of the two of you, practically tripped you both into bed as he rested atop you. “Ced!” You squealed, “you’re crushing me!” light-heartedly, you say, as you jab at his chest playfully, in an attempt to push him off.

“Well..not my problem, princess,” he laughed as he buried his face into your neck. Sucking and nipping at the flesh, leaving red marks on you as he placed a kiss on each one to seal them afterwards. “May I…?” He says, his hand trailing up to grab onto the hem of your tie, ready to pull it off. You give him a small, silent nod. He takes his time with you, as if he were unwrapping a huge present.

He begins by pulling off your tie, discarding the article of clothing to a random corner of the room. The same goes for your robes, sweater, dress shirt…all long gone and forgotten. You were merely left with your undergarments and skirt on, as well as your socks. He stops dead in his tracks, taking a step back as he takes the sight of you in.

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are.” He says each word clear as day– you’ve never heard anyone more confident in your life. You blush profusely, hands covering your face to conceal it. “I’ll die from those compliments before you actually start doing anything, you know?” You babble, too florid to think of words to form.

He trails his hand, leading it down to your underwear, tugging down at the hem of it as to pull them off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, though not a hint of apology in his voice. You mutter something about him not being forgiven, ouch, so now he has two things he is yet to be forgiven for. He just smiles innocently back at you, lips all pouty as you pretend to sulk about it. (Obviously jokingly) When in fact, you wallow in the praise.

He leans into your ear as his hands now teasing at your folds, you let out a soft moan at his touch. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, huh?” He says in a low, gravelly voice. Which had absolutely no right to sound that hot. “Please, Ced,” you say, trying not to sound like you were begging for it. “Wait,” he stops, getting up and begins to rummage through his drawer, looking for something. You look at him quizzically, wondering what he is doing and looking slightly disappointed at the loss of sensation.

After a few more seconds, he pulls out a small vial of a clear flaxen liquid and examines it before walking back to you. “Um, I’m really sorry, d’you think this’ll do?” He shows you the vial, which you had assumed to be a natural oil of sorts. “I, er, don’t have any lube.” He says awkwardly. “I mean, if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to–” You cut him off immediately, quickly divulging that, “No, no, we– we can. I’m fine with it.” Okay, you definitely sounded a bit desperate. He nods, uncorking the vial as he coats his fingers with a fair amount.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, prodding two fingers at your pussy. “Just– just tell me if it hurts, okay? Tap my shoulder two times if you can’t speak.” You nod, and with that, he eases in slowly his fingers, your breath hitching as you feel his fingers slip inside you. It feels uncomfortable, causing you to shift in your position slightly. Cedric quickly stops inching his fingers inside as he asks if you’re okay. You tell him that you’re fine and to keep going, assuring yourself and him that it is normal. Hopefully you’ll get used to the feeling.

He continues, eventually now fully inside you. “Let me know when, um, I can move them, okay?” He says caringly, not an inch of attention wavering away from you. After a bit, you give him the go-signal to move and he starts dragging his fingers out of you, albeit slowly, and pushing them back inside. He watches you attentively, carefully studying your expressions, your body language– His erection was straining against his pants at this point, begging to be freed, but of course he wanted to make sure you were thoroughly prepared.

“Ah, Ced, mhh, maybe if you curl your fingers a–ah bit–” you moan, still feeling a slight discomfort and pain, though pleasure slowly seeps through. “Like this?” He says, as he curls his fingers inside you, moving in and out with languid strokes. You let out a particular wince, though you nodded in approval. “Yes, just like that– ah,”

It was not anything you were not used to, though you always felt guilty whenever you did such things to yourself. Especially if your only barrier to privacy is the curtains on your four-poster. Though it took a bit of adjusting, because Cedric’s fingers were no doubt bigger than yours. You feel your stomach curling, the feeling of release catching on to you. Cedric must have had a sixth sense, or really good observational skills (perhaps all that astronomy paid off.) because he pulled his fingers out of you the moment you were about to. You whine instinctively in response.

Before you knew it, he was getting rid of his sweater, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, tossing the apparel in the same corner where your clothes went, though leaving his unbuttoned shirt on. You watched his every movement intently, feeling yourself getting wet at the sight of him undressing. He is tall, lean, and burly– has a good build from all that quidditch. Amen for that.

Your eyes begin to linger down to his trousers, and a very obvious bulge that you can’t help but stare at. He continues by unzipping his fly, though not pulling down his pants. He tugged at his grey boxers just enough to release his cock from its confines, coating it with a light layer of the oil he had used earlier. You could not help but stare, your pupils dilated, clouding your eyes darkly with arousal. He crawls in between your legs as he now hovers atop you. He aligned his cock, tip pressing into the folds of your pussy.

“M’nervous,” you mumble, almost nonsensically, though Cedric understood what you had tried to say. He leans in, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gently caresses your cheek, “If you’re feeling pressured, we don’t have to, y’know. We can just… Stop here, we can continue another time if you’d like, when you’re ready.” He says softly, warmth naturally oozing through his voice like honey, sweet and assuring.

“No,” you say, quiet but firmly. “I want to.”

“Then we will, just tell me when you’re ready. I’ll be gentle.” He says, and his words make all your worries slowly ebb away. You feel safe with Cedric. You press your hips down onto his dick ever so slightly, letting the tip slide in. You gasp at the foreign feeling, nervous to fully take it all in. He notices, and as well lets out a soft moan, asking if he has permission to continue. You breathily say a yes, and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to push inside you.

It feels completely new, slightly painful with a twinge of pleasure. You shut your eyes, wincing at the sensation. Cedric examines your expressions as he inches in, checking for any signs of discomfort. He stops for a moment to ask if you’re okay, noticing your brows knitting together with your eyes shut. You assure him you’re fine, and tell him to keep going.

Eventually, he bottoms out inside you, though he doesn’t move immediately. You two just sit there for a good minute or two, kissing softly as your lips move in unison. Pulling away, panting as you say, “m-move, please,”

And who is Cedric to deny you of that? He began moving his hips slowly and shallowly, not wanting you to take too much at once. You also started getting a bit used to the feeling, though it was still mostly new to you. It didn’t feel as painful as it did, moaning in pleasure as he moved his hips.

He then pulled out his cock, teasing you, and easing back in steadily, causing you to moan wantonly out loud. His thrusts still slow, but begin to get deeper as he holds your legs open. He was vocal too, nothing short of chanting your name and praising you in a gravelly voice, groaning and grunting ruggedly as he fucked his cock far into you.

“You’re such a good girl f’me,” he pants, both of you moaning as he rocked his dick back into you with a particularly deep thrust. While the discomfort still remained, you grew more accustomed to the feeling of gratification that grew increasingly.“Ha– ah, harder, Ced,” you say, gasping in between your words. He did nothing shy of it, but not anything that he felt like would be too much for you.

“Merlin, y’feel so good,” he says huskily, moving his hips rhythmically slow, hard and deep as you’re reduced into a moaning mess. Your arms flail to the side of your head, grasping on the sheets as you arch your back. You were mumbling nonsensically, and Cedric laughed breathily as he told you how cute you were. He could only barely make out what seemed to be an I love you. “I love you too, princess,” he groans as he leans in and leaves a few more marks on your collarbone and neck.

You splay your hands onto his back. Digging your nails into his skin, leaving marks of your own though unintentionally. You drag your nails down his broad back, grabbing onto him as he knocks the wind out of you with each thrust.

You feel a fire pooling low in your abdomen, as well as the heightening sense of arousal as Cedric kept thrusting inside you. You feel your pussy tighten around him, “Mmh, Ced, I think I’m gonna–!” You squeal, Cedric grabs your hips and quickened his pace by a bit. “Go on, sweetheart.” He says low, letting his breath into your ear, moving down to kiss your neck. Reaching your limit, you feel your orgasm ripple through you.

Cedric kept going, though you could tell he was close, too– his thrusts growing sloppy as the echo of skin to skin and moans from the both of you filled the room. His hips jerked a few more times as he finally sheathed fully and deep into you, as you two let out a long, drawn out moan as he was spilling his load inside your pussy.

Clenching around his cock greedily, it’s as if you were going to wring him dry. You feel the way his cock pulses as he cums in you, a white ring pooling around the base of his cock with your mixed juices as it trickles down your folds.

He collapses atop you, letting his head rest between your breasts as he’s still inside you. You two lay like that for a while, basking in the silence of the afterglow. You suddenly interrupt as you say, “Okay, maybe I forgive you..”

He smiles and scoffs at that. Eventually, he pulls out and lays beside you, cuddling you from behind as you two exchange ‘I love you’s’ as you two drift off into sleep.

#cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cedric x reader #hp smut #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory oneshot #harry potter universe #smut #female reader #harry potter fanfiction

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cherrygarcia-07 · 20 days ago

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Easter with the Reids🐰💗

(Please pretend its still Easter I was too sick to get it out on time😭)

Spencer will do anything to make his little girl happy and is determined to give her the most perfect Easter he can! Between Easter egg hunts and bunny shaped pancakes, he will stop at nothing to put a smile on her face.

pairing: dad! spencer x wife! reader (featuring aunt penelope & the team)

genre: FLUFF!! spencer worrying about being a good dad and doubting himself, then more FLUFF!!

word count: 7.5k (yeah ik woah)

notes: i named the daughter SORRY it was too hard to avoid it </3 feel free to rename her in your head // idk Spencer just loves his family so much i love him😭💗 // very dramatic pancake making to follow

masterlist

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You sighed and glanced up at the clock on the wall. 2am. You and Spencer had been painting little plastic Easter eggs for hours for the egg hunt Rossi had (begrudgingly) agreed to host in his garden. You would have begun painting hours earlier except a certain little someone had watched Rise of the Guardians before bed and was insistent on staying awake to catch the Easter Bunny and his entourage of holiday mascots’ visit. It had taken Spencer a while and a lot of patience to convince her to go to sleep and it hadn’t been long since he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. And so here you were in the middle of the night, hunched over a mess of paint and pens and glitter, matching expressions of deep concentration on both of your faces as you got to work.

You gave yourself a moment to stretch, raising both arms above your head with a dramatic sigh before redirecting your attention to the half finished egg in front of you. As you picked up your paintbrush, Spencer let out a frustrated grunt beside you and set his own brush down on the table with a thud.

‘These eggs are so tiny, I keep smudging the paint with my hands.’ He grumbled, voice low and raspy with exhaustion.

‘She’s four, honey. I don’t think she’s going to care that much.’ You replied, taking the egg from him and turning it in your hand to inspect the damage.

‘I just want them to be perfect for her.’ He said softly, tired eyes focused on where he’d smudged a yellow polka dot. ‘She’s so excited for today, I don’t want to let her down.’

The worry lacing his voice made your heart ache. Spencer was undoubtedly the most devoted father in the world but you knew that his own upbringing meant there was always a sense of anxiety and self doubt itching away in the back of his brain that he never seemed able to dismiss. He dedicated himself to seeing through every moment of his daughter’s life, no matter how small or mundane, with the utmost care and with every ounce of unbridled love in that big heart of his, however this meant that anything short of perfection weighed heavy on his mind and brought a wave of guilt crashing over him. He was never able to convince himself that he was enough, and despite the immeasurable love he had for the tiny life he held so dear he struggled to believe that he was the father she deserved.

But luckily, he had you.

With a gentle smile, you picked up the paintbrush he had discarded and steadied the egg in your hand. A tranquil, comfortable silence passed between the two of you as you carefully painted over the yellow smudge until the polka dot began to resemble a little cartoon-style chick. You glanced up at Spencer next to you as you reached for the black pen on the table, laughing quietly at the trademark furrow in his brows before turning back to the chick and finishing the details.

‘Voila!’ You held the egg up proudly, a grin on your face as you showed off your work before handing it back to Spencer.

He let out a breathy laugh as he took it, turning it over in his hands admirably. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ He mumbled, exhaling with relief as you watched the dark clouds of guilt disappear around him.

‘Paint subpar Easter eggs, apparently.’ You teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

‘My fine motor skills apply to playing chess not to arts and crafts.’ He replied, nudging you back and making you giggle.

‘Why do we have to paint eggs for Easter anyway? It’s so much effort.’ You grumbled.

‘I seem to recall someone saying this was their favourite Easter tradition.’ Spencer replied, raising an -amused eyebrow at your thinning mood.

‘Not at two o’clock in the morning it’s not.’ You yawned, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

‘If you’re actually curious, there’s a few different beliefs and stories surrounding the origin of the Easter egg tradition.’ He paused to press a feather light kiss to your hairline and you let out a content hum before he continued.

It was 3:15am by the time you both finished and decided to drag your worn out selves to bed- though the temptation to give in and fall asleep right there on the table was hard to resist.

At long last you were cosy in bed, sleep pulling you more and more in every second that your face melted further into the pillow and your husband’s arm fell heavier over your waist, but you could sense that something was still on his mind. You rolled over onto your other side so that you were face to face, noses almost brushing against each other and your eyes darted over his face trying to make out his expression in the dim street light creeping in through the gap in the curtains beside your bed. His fingers twitched against your waist, a tell tale sign of his restlessness, and almost instinctively your own fingers found their way to his hair, gently combing through his soft curls as you pressed a reassuring kiss to the tip of his nose.

‘What’s going on up there, doctor?’ You whispered in a sleepy voice, tapping the side of his head with your finger.

‘I was just thinking…’ He trailed off with a sigh before shaking his head. ‘It’s nothing. Get some sleep please, honey.’

‘Spence, talk to me.’ You spoke softly, but with a hint of firmness in your voice.

‘You’ve been up all night, I don’t want to keep you up any longer.’ Spencer replied in a similar whisper, his voice was soft and calm but you could sense the fragility in the wavering of his words.

‘I’ll survive.’ You pulled your hand from his hair and let it trail down to his chest, rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of his pyjama shirt.

‘You know, sleep deprivation is much more dangerous than people realise. Its short term effects reduce cognitive performance and can induce headaches, nausea, anxiety and more, but its long term effects-‘

‘Spencer. Stop deflecting. What’s wrong?’ You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your eyes. Hesitantly, he licked his lips before speaking.

‘I was just thinking that she’s growing up so fast.’ Ah, you thought, there it is. ‘I was thinking about her first Easter, when she couldn’t talk or even walk yet. She was so small, it still hadn’t really sunk in that she was ours.’

A loving smile spread across your face, your mind replaying the same memories over in your head. ‘I remember it. Penelope was more excited than us, and brought all that chocolate that Charlotte couldn’t even eat yet. I think you ate it all, actually.’

Spencer scoffed, laughing under his breath as he shook his head against the pillow. ‘Wow. Inaccurate. I did not eat it all.’

‘Hmm…’ You pulled away from him slightly, biting your lip and rubbing your chin in exaggerated thought, ‘you definitely ate most of it. I don’t remember seeing a single drop of chocolate left for me.’

‘Well I seem to recall Penelope bringing a pack of Hershey’s Kisses that I never saw again.’

‘Wasn’t me. They must’ve gained sentience and ran away.’

The both of you were giggling like a couple of school children at this point, giddy as you tried to keep your voices quiet. Spencer tightened his hold around your waist, pulling you closer towards him until your noses were barely millimetres apart again.

‘Do you remember her outfit that day? The second I saw her I’d never been more grateful for an eidetic memory in my life.’ Spencer whispered, his voice warm and thick with affection, his eyes glassy and dazed as he envisioned the scene before him, love spreading through his chest as he reminisced.

You’d surprised him with her costume. A week earlier you’d been out shopping with JJ and Penelope in preparation for the holiday. While Charlotte was still too little to really participate, JJ had a whole day of events planned with Henry and so the three of you were scouring stores for everything ranging from buttons and ribbons for arts and crafts to sprinkles and candy for baking delicious Easter goods. It was in one of these stores that your eye caught on a fluffy little onesie hiding away at the back of a shelf, abandoned by somebody else and tossed aside instead of being put back where it came from. Curiosity itching at you, you picked it up and discovered fluffy, floppy little bunny ears and a fluffy, fuzzy little tail on the back of it. You felt your heart swell in your chest as you pictured your baby girl bundled up in the silly little outfit, tiny white paws kicking wildly as even tinier fingers curl around the soft, plush sleeves. You hadn’t realised how long you’d been stood there, daydreaming with a dopey smile on your face until you heard the clacking of Penelope’s heels approaching behind you.

‘There you are! We were looking all over for- oh!’ Her voice grew quiet and affectionate as she spotted what you were holding in front of you. ‘Oh, honey I can see the lovey-dovey wheels turning in your pretty little head.’ She reached out a jewellery clad hand to roll the soft fabric between her fingers.

‘Penny, I have to, right?’ You cooed, adoration dripping from every word.

‘If you don’t buy it for her, I will. I can already see her chubby little cheeks and her little hands and her little smile and- oh my gosh, I’m tearing up.’ Penelope fanned her eyes with her hands, batting her eyes up at the ceiling dramatically as you chuckled.

Fast forward to Easter morning, you could barely contain your excitement as you dressed Charlotte. You couldn’t help the smile stretching from ear to ear, cheeks aching though you could barely register it amongst the joy radiating through you. Absentmindedly, you began cooing sweetly, not even sure what you were saying- not even sure you were making sense- as you picked up your adorable baby girl, peppering her rosy cheeks with kisses as she squealed and giggled, her voice airy and light like a fairy.

Holding her tightly to your chest, you made your way downstairs to your husband. You found him in the kitchen, his back to you where you stood in the doorway as he hunched over a crossword book on the counter. He was still in his pyjamas, hair tousled and messy from a good nights sleep and the aroma of coffee danced around the morning air from the steaming cup next to him. It hit you like a hurricane- the sheer love you felt. It overwhelmed you in the best way, ready to knock you off your feet where you stood as it took over your senses until all you could see, hear- feel- was affection so strong it brought tears to your eyes and a lump to your throat. Your breath hitched as you glanced between the man you loved more than anything you could comprehend and the precious life you created together bundled up in your arms, her fingers clutching the cotton of your sleep shirt tight, like she needed to hold you just as much as you needed to hold her.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you began to walk towards him, your socks padding along the floor beneath you. With a free hand, you reached out, gently shaking Spencer’s shoulder and he turned to face you, already wearing a lovesick smile before his eyes even fell on you.

‘Happy Easter!’ You grinned, lightly bouncing Charlotte on your hip, making her bunny ears flop either side of her face.

Spencer’s eyes widened as you watched him forget how to breathe for a second, his jaw dropping in a mix of surprise and awe before his lips stretched out in a wide grin, matching yours. He let out a light laugh, rising from his seat and bending his knees slightly so he was level with her.

‘Where is my daughter and who is this funny little bunny rabbit?’ He tickled her belly as he spoke, delighting in the way she wriggled as she squealed and laughed in response.

‘Do you like it?’ You asked, shifting her position on your hip slightly.

Spencer held his arms out in front of him, gesturing for you to hand her over to him, your hands brushing as you did so sending a jolt of happiness through you.

‘I think this may be the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.’ He replied, his eyes stubbornly fixated on Charlotte as if she were the only thing in the room and they twinkled with an indescribable rush of emotions as he admired every detail of her cherubic face.

Feeling drowsy, you hummed lazily as the two of you shared your memories of your baby girl as she grew older with each story until you were back in the present day, burrowed together in the comfort of the night while she slept in her own room just down the hall from you.

‘I just can’t believe shes four already.’ Spencer mumbled, slightly melancholy as he traced sleepy circles on your hip with his fingers.

‘I know.’ You took his hand in yours, lifting it from your hip to your lips and pressing a reassuring kiss to his knuckles. ‘But just think, this is the first Easter she’s really going to be able to join in, which means we’ve got years worth of new memories ahead of us, right?’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He sighed, pulling your hand to his own lips to return the favour. ‘You’re always right.’

‘Of course I am. Now get some sleep, sweetheart.’ You kissed the tip of his nose before rolling back onto your other side, your back against Spencer’s chest as he wrapped his arm around your waist again. His curls brushed against your skin as he leaned into you and you felt a kiss on your shoulder as the two of you finally drifted off to sleep.

Spencer woke first in the morning, eager despite the very few hours of rest. As always, the first thing on his mind was Charlotte. He carefully withdrew his arm from around your waist, slowly pulling away from you to avoid waking you up. Despite being deep in sleep you let out a disappointed whine at the loss of his touch, a loving smile growing on Spencer’s face as he watched you hug your pillow in an attempt to replace his absence.

He quietly padded down the hallway until he stopped at a door decorated with a sticker-covered purple sign that read ‘Charlotte’s Room’ in glittering letters. He pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked at the hinges before it opened enough to reveal a cosy array of fairy lights and stuffed animals, pink walls and layers of patterned blankets swaddling a sleeping little girl. Spencer’s heart swelled as his gaze fell on the mess of curls spilling out in every direction over a heart shaped cushion, the only sound in the room the delicate breathing of a child far away in dreamland. Her fingers twitched where her hand rested next to her face, eyelids fluttering as her eyelashes cast light shadows on rosy cheeks. Spencer tilted his head slightly, watching in awe as her nose scrunched up in the same way his did so often and he wondered what it was she was so vividly dreaming of. It took everything in him not to wake her up with an ambush of cuddles and kisses, aching to smooth down her tousled hair and hear her bubbly laugh against the crook of his neck as he held her close. Instead, he opted for picking up the stuffed rabbit that had fallen on the floor through the night, fixing its pastel bow tie before tucking it in beside her, smiling at the way her hands instinctively found its soft fur and pulled it closer before he leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead.

Downstairs, Spencer found himself in the living room fidgeting with the Easter basket the two of you had put together the night before. Sat inside a wicker basket was a rather generous selection of sweet treats and candy (that of course would be given to her in moderation- as terrible as Spencer was at saying no to his baby he was adamant about her health coming first) and taking up the rest of the space sat an adorable lamb plushie wearing a mint green ribbon around its neck. If you were being completely honest you’d bought it because you’d found it abandoned in an unrelated aisle of the store and felt bad for it, not because you thought Charlotte particularly needed it, much to Spencer’s skepticism at your instant emotional attachment to an inanimate object. Despite his sarcastic remarks, he couldn’t deny the way the silly sight of you carrying a stuffed animal in your arms and telling it all about it’s four year old owner-to-be made his heart flutter and soon enough he was at your side, rambling about the symbolism of lambs’ association with Easter (which you knew was his quirky way of accepting it into the Reid household).

Suddenly, the melodic jingle of the doorbell rang out through the room, pulling him from his mind and to his feet as he made his way to the front door, quickly adjusting the bunting on the wall that read ‘Hoppy Easter’ as he went. Through the glass stood the unmistakeable silhouette of blonde curls and colourful clothes, the clattering of jewellery on its wrists sounding out as the door swung open.

‘Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty!’ Penelope’s sugary voice sang, taking in Spencer still in his pyjamas, bed-ridden hair sticking up at the back of his head.

‘Not that I’m disappointed to see you but where’s your lovely family?’ She asked as her heels click-clacked through the house towards the kitchen where the decorated eggs waited to be picked up and taken to Rossi’s.

‘They’re still in bed. I’m letting them both sleep in.’ Spencer ran a hand through his curls in a poor attempt to calm them. ‘We were up half the night painting all of these.’ He gestured to the eggs on the counter.

‘Ugh, I just love seeing you all domestic and husband-y. It’s like seeing a double rainbow or watching a flower bloom, it just brings me so much joy.’ Penelope chirped, ignoring the sarcastic eyebrow raise pointed her way. ‘I can’t wait to see my baby genius. I swear if it wasn’t illegal I would totally just pick her up and take her home with me.’ She sighed, glancing at the photo of her stuck to the fridge with a ladybird magnet.

‘You know, I’m not sure how I feel about discussing kidnapping my only child.’ Spencer deadpanned, pouring himself a cup of coffee (his second of the morning) and perching on a counter stool.

Penelope scoffed and waved a hand in the air. ‘Oh, relax. It’s just me.’ Another eyebrow raise. ‘Uh, hello? Her favourite Aunt Penny who she loves and adores? She would be just fine- we’d make bracelets and paint eachothers nails and bake cookies and watch Disney movies and-‘

‘Garcia.’ He cut her off before taking a long swig of his coffee.

She sighed again and slumped down onto the stool next to him. ‘Fine, fine I guess you can keep her.’ She rested her chin in her palm sulkily before muttering under her breath like a grumpy teenager, ‘it’s not like you get to see her everyday of your life or anything.’

Spencer chuckled into his mug and pulled the basket of eggs on the counter towards him, subtly redirecting the conversation. This perked up Penelope and she straightened up in her seat immediately, clapping her hands together.

‘Oh, yes! I wanna see what you made!’ She bubbled as she began rooting through the basket, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as she inspected stripes and polka dots in every colour, eggs with silly faces scribbled with pens, even ones covered top to bottom in glitter that stuck to her fingers when she put them down- not that she minded, of course, practically everything she owned was covered in glitter anyway. However, amongst the pile of pastels and patterns one specific egg caught her attention.

‘Doctor Reid,’ she began, holding up an egg covered in mathematical equations with a puzzled look on her face, ‘what is this?’

Spencer’s nose scrunched up sheepishly and he placed his coffee cup down tentatively before responding. ‘I was beginning to run out of ideas, I had to switch to what I know.’

‘And you think the Easter Bunny is running around leaving equations on its eggs for the children of the world?’ Penelope teased.

‘I mean,’ Spencer started, shifting in his seat and shrugging as he rested an elbow on the counter, ‘if you think about it there’s probably a lot of mathematics involved in what the Easter Bunny does. You’d have to calculate the ratio of eggs to children as well as how many eggs would be needed per area taking into account which areas have a higher or lower amount of participating families, not to mention-‘

‘My dear boy wonder you know I love you but it is way too early in the morning for this.’ Penelope groaned, patting his shoulder in a friendly yet slightly exasperated manner before returning to the basket. She continued digging around until her hand found the almost-disaster egg that you had saved earlier, gasping as she lovingly rubbed the little chick with her thumb.

‘Oh look at this little guy!’ She swooned, lifting it closer to her face to get a better look. ‘I’m tempted to steal this one for myself! I have the perfect spot for it on my shelf between my mini ducky statuettes- Mrs Quackers III would just adore it.’

‘I can’t take the credit for that one, I’m afraid.’ Spencer responded, an amused smirk playing on his lips at her colourful babbling.

‘No duh, I know your adorable wife’s work when I see it.’ Penelope mused as she carefully popped it back in the basket, resigning to not stealing anything (or anyone) from the Reid house today.

The two of them chattered for a small while longer before Penelope rose to her feet, picking up the basket and making her way back to the front door with Spencer following behind. As she walked to her car she turned to face him as he stood in the doorway, blowing kisses to him and making him promise to give Charlotte a big hug from her once she woke up. With a final shout of ‘oh, and for the love of the Easter Bunny brush your hair’ she was gone.

Unbeknownst to Spencer, despite his best efforts to let you sleep in you had woken too not long after him, thanks to the mini-him down the hall.

Eyes still closed, you began to stir as you felt the mattress dip next to you, not heavy enough to be Spencer but enough to grab your attention. With an embarrassing amount of effort, you managed to open your eyes only to find a pair that looked just like your husband’s, only on a much smaller face, staring back at you.

‘Good morning, sweetpea.’ You said, voice hoarse. Still half asleep, you pulled an arm out of your warm bedsheets to pull the little girl in for a cuddle.

‘Morning.’ She replied, equally as sleepy as she wrapped her arms around you, nuzzling into your chest like a kitten.

With a content sigh, you gave her a squeeze before littering the top of her head with kisses, wishing you could stay like this with her forever.

‘How did you sleep?’ You asked as you rested your chin lightly on her head.

‘Good. The Sandman gave me dreams about the Easter Bunny.’ Clearly she still had last nights movie on her mind.

‘Ah, that’s good.’ You chuckled, deciding to humour her. ‘We wouldn’t want Pitch Black ruining our plans for the day, right?’ She shook her head lazily against your chest in agreement.

‘Where’s Daddy?’ Charlotte croaked, pulling herself up to look at you again.

‘Gosh I don’t know.’ Humming, you raised a hand to her hair, smoothing down her messy morning curls. ‘Maybe he ran off to start the egg hunt without us.’

‘Daddy wouldn’t do that.’ She pouted, offended on his behalf that you would even joke about such a thing.

‘I don’t know…’ You pondered playfully, biting back a smile at the look of horror on her face that you would ever question his character like that. You loved how much she loved him. ‘He can be pretty competitive.’

Before she could protest, the familiar sound of Penelope’s voice, muffled but undeniably hers, rang through the air and snapped Charlotte out of her mood. In a flash, she was sat up on her knees, hands clasped together in excitement at the sound of her auntie.

‘Aunt Penny!’ She exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

She began to jump to her feet, but you were quicker- you had to distract her until the eggs you painted were safely off the premises, it would break Spencer’s heart if she were to lose her faith in the Easter Bunny this early on in her life. Standing in front of her, you bent down to pick her up, resting her on your hip as best as you could now that she was so much bigger than that first Easter.

‘Now wait just a second! We can’t start our day without our fancy new outfit now, can we?’

Success.

Her warm, brown eyes lit up, sparkling like a sky full of stars as she giggled with excitement. A smile that looked just like her father’s lit up her face, sending an immediate rush of love through you. She’d picked the outfit out herself a week before and had been asking you every day since how long there was left until she could finally wear it. Pleased with your distraction, you carried her to the bathroom as she swung her legs either side of you, clapping her hands and squealing with girlish glee the whole way there.

As he closed the front door and headed back into the house, Spencer heard stirring upstairs, followed by the sound of running water and as if on autopilot his feet carried him to back to the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for his favourite little girl.

Humming to himself, he strolled over to the fridge, pausing for a second to admire the photo of Charlotte pinned to it- a permanent step in his every day routine. She was 3 years old in the photo, smiling a big toothy grin at the camera with pink icing from a cupcake smeared on her nose as a result of her diving face first into it to take a bite. Spencer laughed fondly to himself, remembering how she’d giggled and batted him away when he tried to wipe it off.

He pulled open the fridge door grabbing strawberries, blueberries and a carton of milk, closing the door with his hip before dropping everything onto the countertop. He’d had the ambitious idea to try and make a bunny rabbit out of pancakes, whether or not he could pull it off was something he decided not to worry about just yet. Charlotte was used to him drawing silly faces in whipped cream, or arranging fruit on top of the pancakes instead but actually trying to shape the pancakes was uncharted territory for him.

Spencer shook his shoulders out and rolled his pyjama top sleeves up as he grabbed a pan and got to work. Making the batter was the easy part, something he had down to an art having experimented and figured out the exact measurements of each ingredient needed to create the perfect texture with just the right amount of mouth watering sweetness, he didn’t even need to think about it as he moved. In the blink of an eye the mix was finished and ready to go, but all the momentum drained from his body like water down the drain as his eyes fell on the pan.

He exhaled dramatically, wringing his hands and muttering under his breath in an attempt to psych himself up. He reached out a shaky hand, grabbing the handle of the pan with a great deal of uncertainty. Baby steps, he thought, baby steps. His fingers twitched around the handle a few times before he tightened his grip, faking confidence. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. Spencer heard his heart beat in his ears, felt the lump in his throat as he took a deep breath and glanced over the batter sitting in the bowl next to him.

Spencer faced danger on a regular basis. He’d stared down the barrel of a gun as it pointed straight at him. He’d lay in hospital beds and on surgery tables countless times. But this? Making the perfect pancakes for his daughter?

This scared him more than anything.

It was very serious business. Swallowing the fear, Spencer’s other hand scooped the pancake mix, trembling slightly as he held it in the air above the pan. Finally he moved, pouring one big circle- the bunny’s face- onto the pan in a swift motion before releasing the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He gulped, biting his lip anxiously as he began to move again.

Steady.

STEADY.

Well. It was something.

He had tried to add two smaller, slightly more oval shapes to make the bunny’s ears but they came out rather shaky, rather… lumpy. Spencer sighed, trying to echo your voice in his head telling him Charlotte won’t care and reluctantly, he continued the steps, flipping the pancake over occasionally before sliding it onto a plate.

He’d shifted his focus to chopping up the fruit for decoration when he heard muffled voices coming from the stairs, followed by two sets of footsteps growing louder as they neared.

‘Are you ready to show Daddy your outfit?’ He heard your voice say, and suddenly the disastrous pancakes were forgotten.

‘Yeah!’ A sweet voice cheered, making his heart soar.

After what felt like an eternity of joyous anticipation, the two of you finally appeared in the kitchen doorway, hand in hand with matching expressions of happiness on your faces.

‘Ta-da!’ You sang in a twinkly voice, waving your hands and waggling your fingers in Charlotte’s direction as she ran ahead of you, stopping in front of Spencer and proudly holding out the skirt of her dress for him to admire her outfit.

She was wearing a beautiful white dress trimmed with heart-patterned lace that matched the heart shaped buttons fastening it from the waist up. From the waist, the skirt flared out in a way that twirled side to side as she swayed on her feet, which were clad in white ruffled socks and mary jane shoes. She wore an impossibly soft blue cardigan (which she had picked out because ‘Daddy wears cardigans’), sleeves ever slightly too long as they hung on her hands in an endearing manner. On the left side, right over her heart, was a picture of Peter Rabbit wearing his own little blue jacket. Charlotte’s curly brown hair was tied up in two charmingly messy braids, secured with ribbons matching the colour of her cardigan. But Spencer’s favourite part was the bunny ear headband that sat atop her head, white like her dress and flopping with every tilt of her head. He blinked back tears, envisioning that first Easter, the way the bunny ears of her tiny onesie bounced in the same way as she sat bundled in the arms of the woman he loved.

‘You look beautiful.’ He spoke finally, his voice small but completely enamoured.

‘Wait! You haven’t seen the best part!’ Charlotte squealed, sticking her arms out and spinning round in circles as her skirt fanned out around her, twirling with her as she moved.

‘Woah!’ Spencer exclaimed, reaching out to stop her before she got dizzy. He took her hand, spinning her at a gentler pace as she laughed. ‘Man, you’re really putting my outfit to shame.’ He said, gesturing down at the pyjamas he was still wearing.

‘She’s been waiting all week to show you that.’ You beamed, stepping towards the two of them before affectionately running a hand through his hair.

‘Oh well it was certainly worth it, my pretty princess.’ Spencer gushed as he scooped Charlotte up in his arms and carried her over to where her breakfast waited. ‘And I have a very special surprise for you too.’

‘Pancakes!!!’ She yelled, clapping her hands together as he lowered her down onto a stool.

‘Oh wow, they’re… interesting.’ You winced, narrowing your eyes at the lumpy shapes on the plate, drowning in strawberries and blueberries in a half attempt to disguise it.

‘It’s a bunny!’ Spencer objected, the pitch of his voice rising slightly in a way that had you stifling a laugh.

‘Is it?’ You placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head in an exaggerated manner as you egged him on.

‘Yes, see-‘ He was at your side suddenly, defensively pointing at the plate as he explained his art. ‘There’s the face, the ears are up here and that blueberry right there is its nose.’

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip as you hummed your disagreement, holding back a smile at the mix of embarrassment and offence on his face.

‘I think it’s cute, Daddy.’ Charlotte piped up, picking up the blueberry nose and popping it in her mouth.

‘At least someone appreciates art when they see it.’ Spencer muttered, quickly flashing a smug smirk in your direction before turning back to your daughter. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek.

‘Yeah, yeah just go and get dressed, Picasso.’ You jested, poking him in the ribs through his pyjama shirt, gazing after him adoringly as he obliged and began to head out of the kitchen.

Later that day things were in full swing at Rossi’s place. Everyone was still waiting for Morgan’s arrival before starting any activities and with the kids not being allowed outside yet lest they find any Easter eggs ahead of the hunt, things were very lively indoors. Rossi lingered in doorways making sure child-sized hands stayed away from the plethora of expensive items adorning his house, having been kicked out of his own kitchen by Penelope who was decorating an array of baked goods with the focused precision of a surgeon. Emily was leaning against the counter, watching her work with a glass of wine in hand (‘What? I’m helping.’ She’d said with a shrug when you’d shot her a raised brow). In the living room JJ and Hotch had their hands full trying to settle an animated debate between Henry and Jack regarding the very serious issue of whether Batman or Spiderman was cooler.

You were sat on the couch, thoroughly entertained as you watched on while re-braiding Charlotte’s hair after it had come undone as a result of the busy behaviour that simply being a four year old entailed. She sat between your legs perched on the edge of the couch, legs swinging back and forth contently. Spencer was sat next to you, sipping his (now) fourth cup of coffee and happily answering the 1001 questions your inquisitive daughter had about the holiday. It was one of the things you loved most about her; of course every young child is curious, but Charlotte had clearly inherited her father’s insatiable passion for knowledge and you felt so lucky to have a partner who was so selflessly enthusiastic and so patient in answering as many questions as she could fathom.

Spencer was mid speech about the Swedish legend of Easter witches when the sound of the front door opening caught Charlotte’s attention, her head swivelling to the living room door as Morgan strolled in like he was the main event.

‘Hey, baby Reid!’ He called, crouching down as she leapt up from the couch, hair half braided, and ran to meet him.

‘Uncle Morgan!’ She cheered as the two of them exchanged the handshake routine they’d made up together that one time he babysat her not long ago.

‘Wow, look at you!’ Morgan stepped back, chuckling as she showed off her outfit again, twirling her skirt with pride like she had earlier that morning.

Penelope’s muffled voice rang out from the kitchen having overheard his entrance, ‘she looks like a little porcelain doll, my heart can’t take it!’

‘You’re not looking too bad yourself, dollface.’ He grinned as you got up to give him a hug in greeting.

‘What about me?’ You heard Spencer ask sarcastically from behind you on the couch.

Morgan crossed his arms, sucking the air in through his teeth and feigning distain before dryly answering, ‘I think you could do better, kid.’ Spencer solemnly shook his head in response, patting his heart with one hand but holding back the playful smile pulling at his lips that way he always did when he was trying to deny that he was actually enjoying Morgan’s antics.

Rossi, on the other hand, seemed quite frankly relieved that he finally had a reason to kick everyone out into the safe open space of the garden, clapping his hands together once- loud and dramatic- to get everyone’s attention before calling out,

‘Now that we’re all here could we kindly get out of my house and into the garden, thank you!’

Penelope made her way down the line, handing out three pastel coloured baskets to Henry, Jack and Charlotte, ruffling each of their heads as she went. Charlotte was overcome with excitement, rocking on the balls of her feet, eyes twinkling as she squealed to herself. You watched on happily from where you were sat on the bench, your head resting on Spencer’s shoulder.

‘Is it immature of me to want to join in?’ Emily sighed as she sat down next to you.

Across the table, Morgan scoffed and she narrowed her eyes at him irritably. ‘Please, you’re way too competitive, you’d leave nothing behind for the kids.’

‘Oh, and you would?’ She bit back, voice drawn out and teasing.

Your eyes bounced between the two of them like you were watching a ping pong match.

‘I’m sorry, since when were we talking about me?’ Morgan retorted. Even Hotch had the ghost of a smirk showing on his face as the two of them bickered like siblings.

‘Kids, behave yourself or you’ll both be in time out.’ JJ chimed in, jokingly glaring between them.

Next to you, you noticed Spencer had gone quiet, a distant look on his face and you could tell he hadn’t been paying attention. You frowned, pulling yourself up to look at him properly.

‘Spence, what’s up?’ You pried quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. ‘And don’t tell me it’s nothing again.’

He glanced between you and the table for a moment, debating what to say before giving in. ‘She’s younger than Henry and Jack.’ He trailed off and you nodded for him to continue. ‘I don’t want her to be discouraged if she doesn’t do as well as them.’

A sympathetic exhale escaped you as you rubbed his shoulder and met his gaze. It was a blessing to have a husband who doted on your child as deeply as he did, who poured his heart out every single day without hesitation so that there wasn’t a doubt in her mind for even a second that she was his whole world, his whole universe and everything beyond it. But you knew it meant he carried unnecessary weight on his shoulders. Spencer knew logically that the occasional sadness, disappointment, hurt and all those negative emotions were normal and even healthy to a person’s development and that they were all just a part of life, but since becoming a father all he saw when she pouted her lips or when tears spilled from those big brown eyes was the little boy he once was who had to feel those negative emotions all too often. He wanted nothing more than to make sure his little girl never felt the way he did, and it clouded his judgement sometimes.

You leaned in, lightly kissing his cheek before beginning softly, ‘you have to stop worrying about her.’

‘I know, but-‘

‘But you’re getting in your own way, honey. It’s her first real Easter and you’re going to miss it if you don’t let yourself enjoy it.’ You moved your hand from his shoulder, snaking it up the back of his neck and loosely tangling it in his curls, pulling him ever so slightly closer towards you.

‘Just look how excited she is,’ he nodded towards where Charlotte, Jack and Henry were all running around together waving their baskets in the air as they waited for the hunt to start. ‘I want today to be perfect for her.’

‘And it will be.’ You let your hand fall from his hair, cupping his face instead and forcing him to meet your eyes. ‘Because she’s spending it with you.’

Another loud clap from Rossi drew everyone’s attention, heads turning in unison to where he was standing in front of the three children.

‘Who’s ready to hunt some eggs?’ He called, rubbing his hands together.

Three loud cheers filled the air.

‘Just remember; be careful, have fun and for the love of my peace and wellbeing no fighting in my garden, alright?’

Three heads nodded vigorously, desperate to get started.

‘Ready…’

The kids all jumped slightly, the buzz of the moment rushing over them.

‘Set…’

A dramatic look of determination took over their faces.

‘GO!’

In an instant they were off, running out in every direction as fast as their legs could carry them. The adults table became a spectators corner- everyone was throwing out commentary, pointing and whooping every time one of the children found an egg in a patch of grass or behind the trunk of a tree. Charlotte’s short legs moved slower and covered less ground than her older rivals, but she didn’t let it stop her as she darted around inspecting every nook and cranny and you couldn’t help feel proud (and the tiniest bit competitive on her behalf) every time she added a new egg to her basket. Spencer seemed to be allowing his worries to disappear, instead whooping and cheering alongside everybody else and shouting words of encouragement across the yard. He laughed, bright and loud- the sound warming your heart, when he noticed her picking up the egg he’d covered in maths equations and he delighted in the way her brows furrowed in confusion for a second before she shrugged and tossed it into the basket.

While the hunt started with a rush of energy, the momentum soon began to slow as there were less and less eggs to be discovered. Eventually it slowed to an almost uneventful pace, the three kids wondering around more perplexed than anything and Rossi decided to put them out of their misery and call time before their kid-size patience wore too thin.

Once they had all returned and lined up again, it was clear Charlotte wouldn’t be taking home any trophies but the beam of joy on her face was all you needed. When all was done, she immediately ran over to the two of you, jumping up into Spencer’s lap and leaning her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

‘I found so many eggs, Daddy!’ She boasted, picking up the one covered in equations and holding it in the air for you both to see.

He took the egg from her, turning it over in his hands and inspecting it like it was his first time seeing it. ‘Yes, you did, you were amazing out there!’

‘Did you have fun, baby?’ You asked her, smoothing her hair down where it had started to become untied again from all the running around.

‘Yes, I did!’ She squeaked and you nudged Spencer’s arm lightly with yours in a reassuring motion. ‘I want to play again.’

‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what the Easter Bunny hides for you next year, huh?’ Spencer grinned, already thinking about what he was going to paint for her in a year’s time.

‘I can’t wait!’ Charlotte bubbled, leaning further back into Spencer to tighten the hug even more.

‘Me neither, sweetheart.’ His voice was quieter now, thick with pure love and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before turning to you with a lovesick smile. ‘For next year, and every year after that.

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lo1k-diamonds · 7 months ago

Text

Be as it must 💜 Part 1

“They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. You might be risking it a little bit by working for the Jeon Family, an alpha ruling family, but they have no idea about you. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?

WORD COUNT: 3.7 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: anxiety, kidnapping, tension, mentions of abuse

A.N. Alright, let's get this party on the road 💜 There are so many Easter eggs and details in this part to kickoff things with the right foot 👀 A huge thank you to @moonleeai for helping me with every little detail, which I appreciate so much!! 🥰

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

“Good morning. I'd like ube bubble tea, please.”

“Name?”

You smiled, giving the barista your nickname instead before paying and moving away to wait.

It was not yet past 9 AM, but you couldn’t help grabbing your work phone and activating the mobile data. Even though you'd be in the office in ten minutes, it couldn't hurt to already have an idea of what awaited you.

There was no surprise with the amount of notifications popping up; so many so fast, the expensive device froze for a second. You smirked as you reviewed the messages sent through the office’s private chats, then scrunched up your nose at a few more serious emails. But as you dismissed one notification after the other, taking mental notes of what you should do first, one message made you topple all over yourself when you thumbed it away.

What was that?

CEO Jeon Jungkook is expecting you for a one-on-one call at 9:30 AM.

Your eyes widened impossibly, your perfectly manicured nails carding through your long hair for a moment. What did you just read?!

You opened a private chat with your team director, and your mentor, Yoon Minsik, and sent him a screenshot of the text message.

You scoffed in disbelief; you couldn’t believe this was on the table again. Still, what was baffling was that the CEO himself wanted to talk to you about it. It was so ludicrous; it was nonsensical.

You started typing furiously to tell your mentor that he should have handled your rejections to move away with more grace when someone called your nickname for what sounded like the hundredth time.

You turned around on your high heels, your perfectly styled hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder over a white silk blazer. The barista staggered, looking at you above her eyeglasses with parted lips, before she blinked and hurried to bow and extend your ube bubble tea.

You were about to smile and thank her for her service when she tripped and lounged forward, scaring you into instinctively grabbing her forearm to keep her steady. Fortunately, she was smaller than you, and since the drink was closed, your white suit was purple-stain free.

Still, the barista fell apart in apologies and bows that left you baffled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. No harm done, see?” You wished the people around you would stop staring and making her feel bad; it made the air too pungent for your sensitive nose. She reminded you of a younger you, going through part-time jobs to push you through law school. “Thank you for your kindness.”

You made sure to bow and smile at her properly to put her at ease before heading to your office with a rushed pace. You couldn’t risk being late, even if you already knew your answer to the CEO’s proposal.

The expansion of the Jeon conglomerate into Seoul was but a small reflection of the success the company was finding overseas. It made it impossible not to expand to the capital and, naturally, most of the executive and legal teams followed.

Only you had said no at the time, and again just yesterday, when your mentor brought it up again. He should have known better than to go directly to the CEO about something like this. You had no special rapport with the CEO; you were just part of the team that handled multiple international agreements, and you represented the company whenever necessary. You had been told the CEO resented not having his top legal representative more “at hand”, but you doubted he was even aware of your existence. Your work gave prestige to the Busan branch, and you were proud of it. You had even suggested training someone to take functions similar to yours in Seoul. That was still your answer — you’d help out in any way, but there was nothing that could convince you to go to Seoul.

You admitted you never thought you’d sway on that decision, not in a million years. But you had also never imagined someone like CEO Jeon Jungkook, and just looking at him, you thought you could be convinced. When you entered the video call with him, you were expecting a short five-minute call in which anything could happen, from a dismissive “I thought I’d give it a shot”, to “You either do it or you’re fired.” You were ready for both, as adamant as you were about your position. Yet, neither happened.

He entered the call despite clearly needing time to finish a conversation with someone in the room, so you observed him while they talked on mute. His shoulders were wide, framed by a dark blazer that made him look the size of the world. His eyes were dark, introducing a harshness with his eyebrows as he debated something he clearly disagreed on with his interlocutor. His dark hair reached his eyes, falling on what you realized were soft features. CEO Jeon Jungkook was incredibly good-looking, making the blood rush to your cheeks in an instant.

You swallowed and tried looking away, grabbing a notebook and a pen just in case you needed to take notes. Unfortunately, it didn’t give you much reprieve; your eyes found their way to his neck, thick with a prominent Adam’s apple. As he craned his head to look at something behind the camera, your eyes trailed happily down his throat to his collar bone, where a couple of open buttons revealed perfectly bronzed skin—

You cleared your voice and started scribbling the date on the notebook; anything to keep you from staring. It didn’t last long; a deep voice invaded your ears through your AirPods, “I apologize for the delay. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Your mind blanked as you stared at the screen with currents of warm, ticklish electricity running down your spine.

That was his voice. You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, which was so exceptional, it was unthinkable. His looks weren’t the issue; your whole body was trying to pinpoint something, and not necessarily his figure. It was as though you were a radio, turning the knob to fine-tune the right frequency. One you knew was yours to attune to, you just needed a bit more—

“So I wanted your opinion on the matter quickly before we meet in twenty minutes.”

You straightened your shoulders, and nodded, shaking those thoughts away. Your boss had a work-related request, and you obliged immediately.

While you resumed the current status of the agreement with an American company looking to use Jeon facilities to carry out research and development of a few products the Jeon conglomerate wanted priority access to, CEO Jeon Jungkook listened intently. You were used to talking and being met with skepticism or even indifference, especially by older stakeholders, who didn’t always respect a young woman in such a pivotal role in your department. Yet, the CEO was listening to you with utmost seriousness, as if every word out of your mouth was worth his time and attention.

Because it was; he hadn't achieved his current level of success at such a young age without being highly skilled and intelligent, just like you. You gave him the run-down of the situation and brainstormed with him possibilities that could be included in the agreement with ease. It was frankly refreshing; not too often, you had to waste time reminding board members of concrete information, boundaries, and laws that they should be aware of. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t there to waste your time or to scoff at your input; he was there to obtain advice on the best course of action, and it tranquilized you.

It impressed you, also. For someone only two years younger than you, he was phenomenal. Though, you didn’t forget what he was. You wondered if the reason why you couldn’t take your eyes off him and nearly stopped breathing to hear him attentively was because he was an alpha. You could only guess; to your knowledge, no one at the company knew of him or the Jeon family, and you had no way of knowing if you should feel any type of way about him.

According to your mother, you should. When you first started working for the Jeon conglomerate, she had almost lost her mind, wailing about the sacrifices your ancestors made to keep your family safe, only for you to work right under one of the Families. At the time, you knew better than to scoff at her; after all, you had already presented. It was a hard period for you, having grown up with stories the world told you were make-belief, only to turn eighteen and suddenly feel unexplainable things. The worst was that your sense of smell had evolved, picking up on the faintest scent. If humans could make the air change so quickly based on their emotions, you could only imagine how an alpha could influence a whole room, especially for you.

In the end, your mother had to admit that the Jeon family was too prestigious and far away to ever come into contact with you. That meant that Jeon Jungkook had never met you until now, despite your extensive work at his company. You were the middle person, the worker behind the scenes, writing the proposals, discussing, and bringing things to life. Yoon Minsik or other Seoul-based lawyers would be the ones to appear at formal events when things were done, which you didn’t mind as long as you stayed in Busan. Safe.

So Jeon Jungkook had no idea about you.

Still, he sighed when you finished talking and leaned on his right side as he seemed to debate something with himself. “I must confess Yoon Minsik didn’t do you justice.”

“I’m sorry?”

You blinked, caught off guard. He had a meeting in five minutes; you were expecting him to say his farewells.

“I knew the Busan team was holding someone exceptional, but Yoon Minsik should have warned me sooner. No one in this office can synthesize, analyze, and keep a high level of scrutiny like you just did on such short notice and in so little time. Not with me, at least.”

You didn’t answer, opting for a silent moment to process what he just said. It was surely praise, but you were not about to belittle your Seoul colleagues by agreeing. You also didn’t want to sell yourself; you were happy where you were. Finally, you had to stop your chest from swelling with pride. CEO Jeon Jungkook was telling you in so many words that you matched him skillswise, which was incredibly validating. He was also incredible, if you could say so yourself.

He glanced at the edge of the screen, then leaned forward, “Your talents are wasted in the Busan office. Come work with me in Seoul.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously as your body overreacted to his request. Fortunately, your makeup was perfect that morning, and so you could trust he had no clue how much he affected you.

“I’m undoubtedly flattered by your incredible remarks and for such an amazing opportunity, but I must politely decline.”

Your answer was automatic, even though your eyes watered, and your voice didn’t hide a tinge of emotion. You were touched by the proposition, by the whole ordeal, really. But nothing could change your mind.

He pursed his lips, “Is there something about this office you dislike? Something you’d like to request? I’m listening.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you swallowed. Your mind whipped out an impossible thought while you glanced at the clock — 9:58 AM. When you looked back at him, you were almost shocked; he was at ease, just looking at you. As though he didn’t have another meeting in two minutes. As though you weren’t a replaceable piece in the system. As though he actually was willing to stay there with you and negotiate the conditions that would change your mind and bring you to his side.

You swallowed dryly again, “The office is great; like I said, it’s an amazing opportunity. I just don’t wish to be uprooted.”

A few seconds ticked by in silence while you waited for those soft features to twist into petulance or anger at the rejection.

But then his lips pulled in a crooked smile, and you just knew he was amused, maybe even impressed by your resilience.

“It’s a shame, and an incredible loss for this office. But I don’t plan on doing without you from here on out. Thank you for your time, talk soon.”

He bowed, and you hurried to do the same through your bewilderment, and in seconds the call was cut. You were left breathless and a little stupefied by CEO Jeon Jungkook.

You weren’t sure how to feel about today.

As you shut the front door of your apartment with your heart in your throat and disheveled hair from running, you leaned your back on it as if your weight could stop whoever was chasing you from breaking it down.

Your first instinct was to push the camera button to see outside your apartment and of your apartment building, but it was all normal and quiet. Slowly, your heart calmed as you stared endlessly into such a peaceful and unmoving image, you wondered if it had been hacked to play on a loop.

But then you scoffed and reasoned with yourself; that’s just an exaggeration. This whole thing was. This whole day was.

First, the CEO of your conglomerate all but interviewed you and tried to negotiate you changing offices to Seoul. Just that implausibility could have made that day already sound bonkers.

But then, because you had taken the metro that day, you had to walk a bit home, and you were almost snatched.

You swallowed, getting your heels off. That was exactly what it was — a car had stopped next to you on the street and two men had tried to grab you and push you inside. They must have been coordinated, because the men were following behind you, and the car knew exactly when and where to stop. Still, the nearing car alerted you, so as soon as you felt someone behind you, you were ready to fight. You struggled and managed to slip through their fingers, instantly running to a very busy street nearby. You knew no one would help you even if they saw it, but you were hoping it would deter them at least.

You ran straight home; you hoped they didn’t follow you.

You went all the way to your fridge, grabbed a soju bottle in your shaky hands, then turned on the TV to create background noise. You were nervous, trembling, and you needed normalcy to calm down. The familiar sound of a journalist reporting the news allowed you to down half a bottle in a go before heaving a long sigh straight from your soul.

Abductions weren’t common, but men or cults were known for unorthodox methods like those. You tried to shrug it off as being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it wasn’t enough. The news wasn’t enough, either. So you grabbed your phone and called your mother.

“Hi, my butterfly. How’s my precious daughter?”

She instantly started going on about what she was doing and her day, and you finally closed your eyes with a sense of normalcy. You managed to switch clothes while she talked, then went over the small and less impactful moments of your day for obvious reasons — the Jeon alpha and the almost abduction situations would just worry her terribly.

But then the TV reporter started speaking on a piece about a series of attacks targeting women in Busan, and you reached for the remote to increase the volume. Your mother kept talking, none the wiser, while you listened to the piece and noticed the similarities to what happened to you: men followed them on the street, shoved them into a car, asked a bunch of questions, touched them inappropriately, and then let them go.

Your mind was going over the motive of such a weird event when your breath caught. On the screen, the interview of one of the victims shocked you — it was the barista from this morning, eyeglasses and all.

Your alarms went off. “Mom…” you interrupted. “I need to tell you something.”

You started by commenting on what the reporter was saying, talking about the events happening locally, and your mother scoffed bitterly, “I told you not to move to the city.”

“It’s just Busan,” you argued, tired of that same old discussion.

“Even Busan is too big! Big cities are hunting grounds for—”

“Do you think that’s what this is?” You asked more sternly, wanting her opinion without freaking her out.

“Yes,” she sighed, knowing her daughter was dismissive of the subject. “It sounds like they’re scenting people.”

“What?”

“Hunting for omegas.”

You bit your lip for a second, still hesitating, “And why do you think that is, all of a sudden?”

She hummed, “They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

You sighed with exasperation; this was serious, “You think they’re hunting ghosts and risking lawsuits?”

“These Families don’t need to worry about petty things like lawsuits! You should know that!”

You groaned, rubbing your face. You had misstepped and given her even more reasons to be agitated, and she didn’t know the half of it yet.

“An omega is a powerful tool to exert control. Remember the legends? Seven great Families once controlled the nation—”

“Yeah, yeah, omegas disappeared and now there are only four families,” you wrapped up dismissively. You didn’t care about snobs or hierarchies, not even in what concerned your disconcerting CEO. You cared where that left you.

“Whether you want to bury your head in the sand or not, it’s still very much true. The four Families have four unmated alphas, it’s a wonder they didn’t start searching sooner.”

“You think this is them?” you probed, biting down your nail.

“Or someone who knows how valuable such a person can be.”

You scoffed, “How would they even know who is an omega?”

“Some are trained to pick up the rarest of scents. Don’t forget how invaluable—”

“Right, right,” you dismissed, hiding your eyes from the TV and the world. You could still see the barista giving her testimony to the journalist; there was no dismissing it anymore. Your mother was making too much sense, paranoia be damned.

“Whatever Family gets their hands on one will get the upper hand.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you burst in a low hiss, angry at the world. You were not a tool or bargaining chip.

“You say that because you don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to be in a room full of alphas, the power that—”

“Nor do I want to,” you grumbled. “Do I have a reason to worry?”

Your mother’s tone was surprisingly calm, “No, I don’t think so. Our family is not in the registry, they have no way of tracking you down. Why?”

You went over the episode briefly so as not to shock her too much, though to no avail. “Mom…” you tried, but she didn’t stop her litany of I told you so. “There’s something else.”

You had to tell her about the barista because to you, that was the nail in the coffin. You were pragmatic and knew the law; regardless of the Families’ standing, you didn’t believe they were above it. Maybe they did hunt for omegas in order to gain advantage over each other, you couldn’t be certain. Realistically, alleging such things would get you nowhere, and you were living under the radar, staying away from the capital where most betas and alphas migrated decades ago. But the barista changed everything. Because you went to that café almost every day and this time, you had touched her. You could have left your scent behind.

It was just too much of a coincidence that the two things happened the same day.

“You need to leave.”

Your mom’s tone dropped, hinting at an incontestable seriousness. You still tried, “You said I’m not in the registry.”

“Yes, but we can’t risk it!”

You groaned, “What the hell will they do? Kidnap me?”

“Yes!” You pursed your lips this time. “You’ll be seen as a tool! And we don’t have the means to protect you!”

You rubbed your eyes but agreed, “I… I think I can go to Seoul for a while. For work. I know,” you continued, with a hint of frustration. “It’s the worst place to go, but I have my life, my work. I can't just disappear. Maybe if I leave for a week or so, it will be enough to throw them off.”

Your mother wasn’t convinced, but she was reasonable — you could leave tomorrow and ask for vacation as soon as possible to maybe travel and lay low for a while.

It was nerve-wracking, but you were willing to do anything to stay safe and hidden. To stay autonomous and live freely, to not be used as leverage in power games that deemed you a worthless pawn. You just wanted to live your life, regardless of your blood or status.

You had a plan, so after booking a flight and a hotel room, and messaging your mentor about the sudden change of plans, you were able to sleep a few hours. Because you wanted to work the next day, you had an early flight that allowed you to arrive and get ready before starting within normal working hours.

That was how you left, waiting for a taxi in front of your building when the sun wasn't even up. And that was how you were shoved inside a car when you were distracted, and finally taken.

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unremarkablehouse · 8 months ago

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Mulder’s Bathroom

Let’s take a closer look at Mulder’s bathroom in All Things. The first time I watched this scene my immediate thought (other than Scully has a bellybutton ring!!) was damn Mulder has a lot of hair products. Originally, I assumed it was just a jab at Mulder being vain or something, but his hair is actually quite short that season. On further obsessive inspection, I believe this was one of the Easter Eggs that their relationship hadn’t just started, but was actually going on for longer than suspected. Excuse the low resolution, I had trouble finding a good enough quality source. Exhibit A: Toothpaste cap on! Mulder is canonically a slob, brushing his teeth in the living room and leaving his toothbrush on the living room table. Here we see the toothpaste lid on the toothpaste, and it’s been squeezed from the bottom up, obviously Scully’s doing. (Not a huge leap considering she is getting dressed in the morning in his bathroom)

Exhibit B: why does Mulder have a magnifying retractable makeup mirror in his bathroom? This is not standard in apartments and I love that there’s a hair dryer casually hanging from it. We all know Mulder has made a deal with the devil to convert his hair from a drowned rat to styled, simply by using a towel!

Exhibit C: look at all of Mulder’s beauty products, a little much for a single guy, unless he has a regular female visitor. You can’t tell from this picture but on the far right you can just make out two toothbrushes in the cup (the top of the first and the second is obscured by the mirror but you can see the base. Augh I wish I had this in high res lol).

Exhibit D: Mulder has art hanging in his bathroom. I love watching the transformation of his apartment from Season 5 to Season 7. The man went years without a bed and somehow now he has amenities to have sleep overs with Scully?

While I think it’s very clear that All Things is an important milestone for their relationship, the background props in the apartment allude to this being more than just a one time thing.

#the x files #txf #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #txf meta #x files #Over analyzing props

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librarygarten · 6 months ago

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Hello, i loved all your LU scenarios, specially the ones where the chain reacts to their games, they were so well written.

I was wondering if you could do some scenarios where the reader talks about some Zelda trivia with the chain, like the development of some games (Majoras mask was made in just one year and the director of Zelda don't like it, there were supposed to be more dungeons in Wind Waker) or the reception of their releases (Four swords adventures sold less than a million copies, WW was poorly recieved unlike TP for it's art style, this changed as time passed, etc.), perhaps some easter eggs or cameos (Talon and Ingo looks like Mario and Luigi, Link appears in other games as a cameo).

Okay, but why is this lowkey me 😭. My autistic ass would NOT shut up about their games, even if I was telling them stuff they didn't want to hear about.

It was a peaceful day. The chain had found an inn to stay at for the night. Nobody was injured. Supplies and spirits were high. Until Wind decided to ask you a question.

“So, if our adventures are games, does that mean you know everything that happened during them? Like everyone we met, everything we did, EVERYTHING?” Wind asked. Some of the other Links brustled, clearly uncomfortable with the question and what you might say. You smile nervously.

“Basically? But you don’t talk in the games, so I don’t know anything you said.”

“But who made the games? How do they know about our adventures?” Wind asked.

“Oooh boy.” You scratched the back of your head, “There’s a company called Nintendo, they made most of the Legend of Zelda games. I think Four’s games were made by a different company, though. That’s why some of the details are a bit screwy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Four snapped his head up to look at you, forgetting the weapon he had been working on.

“Oh, uh…” you stammered, “Well, the other company made your games, but they didn’t use the same stories as Nintendo did, so the lore gets a bit weird. Like, your Ganon is probably a completely unrelated guy from the Ganon that Time, Wind, Hyrule, Legend, and Twilight all had to deal with. The way he randomly turns into a pig in your game after getting that trident or whatever doesn’t match up at all with how Ganondorf turns into a pig after being sealed away by Time’s Zelda in an alternate timeline where Time dies during the final battle.”

“Wait, there’s a timeline where Time DIED?” Twilight is behind you now, and you’re not sure when he got there. You turn to look at him, his face full of panic.

“Yeah, Ocarina of Time kind of broke the timeline into three different paths. The game was so popular it became, like, the most important part of the timeline. It actually sold so well that the people who made the game made a sequel to it, Majora’s Mask, in under a year, which is kind of insane. For context, Ocarina of Time took over twice that long to make.” Time raised an eyebrow at your explanation, but decided he didn’t want to know more.

“Wait, if there are multiple timelines, how can you know which of our adventures are ours and which were just really similar? The many timelines means there’s infinite possibilities.” Sky asked, reminding everyone that he was the only Link to ever attend school (and remember it), and apparently he studied multiverse theory???? Moving on.

“Well, there are some differences between languages, I guess? Like, in the English version of Link’s Awakening, there’s a quest to get a mermaid’s lost necklace, but that was just a change the translators made. In the original Japanese, the quest is to get the mermaid’s bikini top.” You chatter on, missing the blush that creeps up Legend’s neck and ears. “And some of the items in Wind Waker are mixed around between the English and Japanese versions. Like maps, heart containers, and rupees are in each other's spots.”

“Can we go back to the part where there’s multiple Ganons, apparently?” Wild gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. You hadn’t notice him sit down. Actually, the whole chain seemed to be listening now. Wuh-oh.

“Oh, well, not at one time. Unless the dragon cutscenes from Tears of the Kingdom happen after Skyward Sword and Breath of the Wild is after all the other games. Then, Calamity Ganon was just kind of… chilling under Hyrule Castle while Four and Time dealt with their respective Ganons. But fans still argue about where your games fit on the timeline.” You shrug, trying to downplay how absolutely terrifying dealing with two Ganons at once would be.

“Wait, why do fans argue? Isn’t there an official timeline?” Hyrule asked. You groan.

“Yes, but it was published before Breath of the Wild was released, so we need to figure out where it is on the timeline based on the stuff in game, which is hard, because there's so many easter eggs.”

“Easter… eggs?” Warriors tilts his head.

“Items or decorations that reference other games. Like, in A Link Between Worlds, Legend’s house has Majora’s Mask hanging on the wall for no discernable reason. And in Breath of the Wild, there’s areas named after places in Link’s Awakening, like Koholit Rock and Goponga Island, which makes no sense because those places were dreamt up by a wind fish. Not to mention the fact the ruins of Lon Lon Ranch can be found, but there’s no way that structure would have been in as good of condition as it is for how old it is. And Lurelin village is an almost exact copy of Outset Island, but again, the timing is just too far apart.”

“But you never answered my other question.” Wind tapped your shoulder, stopping what would have been an hour-long rant on where Wild’s games fit on the official timeline. “How did ‘Nintendo’ or whoever else know about our adventures with that much detail?”

“UHHHHHH………. OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME.” You quickly stand up from the table and launch yourself out the nearest window, escaping the conversation. (You were on the first floor. You’re fine).

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linked universe + reader #linked universe x isekai!reader #lu legend #lu wild #lu x isekai!reader #lu time #lu warriors #lu wind #lu four #lu x reader #lu sky #lu chain #lu twilight #lu hyrule

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ourlittlehouseinthecountry · 26 days ago

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This Easter, we’re slowing down and embracing simplicity. No fuss, no overwhelm—just heartfelt moments, peaceful spaces, and meaningful traditions that truly matter. In this week's blog post, I'm sharing gentle ways to celebrate Easter at home: think nature-inspired décor, simple table ideas, mindful family traditions, and reflections on what Easter really means. It’s all about connection, calm, and creating beauty in the everyday. Whether you’re planning a quiet weekend or simply looking for ways to bring more intention into your celebration, I hope this post feels like a breath of fresh spring air. You can read the full post now—link in bio and link in stories! #GentleEasterWithOLH #EmbraceSimplicityAtEaster, #SimpleEasterTraditions, #MindfulEaster, #NatureInspiredEaster, #SlowLiving, #EasterAtHome, #SpringDecorIdeas, #EasterWeekendVibes, #MinimalistEaster, #IntentionalLiving, #SlowSpring, #EasterTableInspo, #PeacefulCelebration, #SimpleLivingCollective, #SpringInspiration, #HomeWithHeart, #GentleCelebrations, #EasterWithEase, #CalmAndCreative, #LittleJoysofSpring

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abby-howard · 7 months ago

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i don't know if you've ever been asked this, but which game do you like drawing for the most? Scarlet Hollow or Slay The Princess?

I'm absolutely in love with your STP designs, and I've been studying it for weeks :3

Aw, thank you!! I had sooo much fun designing Princess forms, I could gladly do it all day honestly. It's like designing digivolutions...

As for which is my favorite, I love all my children equally. They both bring different things to the table, and I found I usually missed working on one while working on the other!

Scarlet Hollow has:

• Characters and backgrounds that are rooted in reality, so I can do my favorite thing of adding 10,000 little details to backgrounds and outfits to help reveal more about who they are, as well as adding easter eggs for Hollow-heads to hunt for. It's so satisfying when they find one of the little clues I hid for them :3c

• I feel very connected to the characters, who are like my friends.

• It's all in pen and ink, which is my favorite medium by a country mile. Pencils are fun and fast, but are a little stressful considering the smudging that can happen. It also gets my hands covered in graphite, so I'm constantly washing my hands, which get all dry and crackly as a result. I don't like to get messy... I do not like to use messy tools....

While Slay the Princess has:

• More opportunities for dynamic art, which is the really big exciting one for me. The player and Princess are constantly doing things, interacting, changing position, which leads to really interesting comic-style posing and blocking.

• More opportunities for drawing horrific things, since the player can die. This was the other major fun bit of working on Slay the Princess. I could really go ham on the body horror! Which ties into the other major difference/benefit to StP:

• I can draw the player character interacting with the world, which was a big relief compared to the un-bodied player in Scarlet Hollow. It is definitely tricky to draw a lot of things from a first-person PoV, but at least I didn't have to juggle that AND work around the fact that you can never see your body.

#slay the princess #scarlet hollow #process post #my nightmare is having to use chalk or oil pastels #those are my least favorite #paint is okay but I'm not amazing at it and it can get on my clothes which is evil

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abarbaricyalp · 23 days ago

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Hop To It

Happy Easter to those who celebrate, and happy regular Sunday to those who don't. And happy discounted-chocolate-tomorrow day to all 🐰🐣

"Bucky, are you gonna get an Easter basket?" AJ asked as he set aside the egg he'd been attempting to paint for half an hour already. Everyone else at the table had moved on to a second and third and fourth egg already, but AJ was not very interested in this part.

"A basket?" Bucky asked without looking away from the fine gold lines he was zigging and zagging around his egg. "I don't think I'm allowed to do the egg hunt," he said. "I'm gonna be hiding them, remember?"

Cass snickered across the table. His eggs were all beautiful water colors, a style they'd discovered by accident when Sam and Sarah had ended up flicking water at each other after a dispute over who messed up the tiny paint brush. The water had reacted with Cass's base layer on the egg, making it look like tie-dye and he'd been playing with that technique ever since.

"He doesn't mean for the egg hunt," he explained. "Mama makes us Easter baskets each year. It used to be 'cause the Easter Bunny would leave them when he hid the eggs, but we're both too old to believe that now."

"Yeah, the Easter Bunny isn't like Santa or the Tooth Fairy," AJ agreed.

Bucky set aside his egg and glanced over at Sarah, whose eyes were bright as she listened to the boys go back and forth. Sam looked amused too, but he was too fixed on putting the fine tissue paper across the top of his egg. He was being incredibly particular about the confetti amounts that went into each egg, so he was on confetti and sealant duty.

"I don't think any rabbit is interested in giving me a basket. A basket of what?" Bucky asked, when it was clear he wasn't getting any backup.

"Treats!" AJ said. "Lots of candy and some toys."

"And that illustrated bible story book every year," Cass added pointedly, glancing at his mom.

"Uncle Sam gets one, so you should to," AJ continued diplomatically.

"Sam gets an Easter Basket? Even though he's a grown up?" Bucky asked.

"Hey!" Sam objected.

"No, Sam sits next to me while I'm putting together baskets for children and steals the candy from them to make his own," Sarah corrected with a smirk.

"I make one for you!" Sam continued to object. The tissue paper was forgotten and World War Wilson was beginning to brew.

"Literally taking candy from babies, Samuel?" Bucky asked in shock. "How could you?"

"Not just babies," Sarah continued, delightedly. She tucked away the egg she was coloring to avoid Sam swatting at it. "I help make the baskets for the church's egg hunt. He's literally taking from the kids of the church," she laughed, folding over on herself as Sam tried to get a hand over her mouth.

"Samuel Thomas," Bucky gasped.

The boys oohed the way they did when either of them was in trouble too.

"We always have enough left over to run the whole event again!" Sam defended, trying to grapple with his sister. She threw her elbow back against his ribs and he groaned out an objection as he stumbled away. Bucky had seen him literally fight through stab wounds, but everything that happened to him in this house was treated like a fatal blow.

"It's the principle of it!" Bucky continued, keeping his face straight. He tried to focus back on his egg, though he was definitely not focused even a little bit.

"So what kind of stuff do you get?" he asked the boys.

"Last year, we got those fidget poppers!" AJ said. "The bunny and egg ones? And Cass got one of the animal Lego sets and I got a book about pirates!"

"And those little keychains. The soft toys that Uncle Sam uses as a stress ball," Cass added.

"And chocolate!" AJ finished with a flourish, flinging paint to the next wall over. "You've got to have a lot of chocolate."

"I'm discovering this about this holiday," Bucky conceded. "Egg laying rabbits eat chocolate rabbit effigies and chocolate eggs."

"And there are marshmallow chicks," Sarah reminded him with a grin.

Bucky pretended to gag, which launched Sam into a heated defense of original Peeps. (Only the originals, everything flavored or shaped differently was free for criticism, but those yellow and pink chicks were not.)

Bucky threw him a grin as the rant subsided and was pleased to see Sam beam back at him.

. . .

The idea of an "Easter Basket" stayed on Bucky's mind for a while. It wasn't something he'd ever heard of before. Not that he remembered anyway. But the concept didn't seem that difficult. Once it had been pointed out to him, he started to notice the pre-made ones in stores and understood an extra joke or two on the internet.

Knowing Sam liked them was another part of the intrigue. That's why Bucky ended up buying a nice faux-rattan basket, which wanted to look like faux-wood, from the spirits store that sold the expensive wine Sam liked. The fact that it was free after the price of the wine was a good motivator. He still didn’t fully understand the concept of filling it, but the basket was large and the wine seemed silly and small by itself, so he added some of the sausage and jerky from the meat market down the way and a couple of the crew-neck shirts that Sam liked but never bought for himself. He added in a record that he had been saving for Sam’s birthday to even out the height of the wine bottle on the other side, then dumped approximately twenty pounds of candy into the bottom of the basket.

That looked right, he figured. It was all things Sam liked. Did it honor the theme of spring harvests or Jesus rising or whatever these were supposed to represent? Not really. Did it seem like the kind of thing an egg laying rabbit would leave behind? Probably not. But he thought Sam would like it anyway.

Sunday morning, after Sarah had corralled the boys into their Easter best and headed out for church, Sam and Bucky went to the house to hide eggs, including quite a few that got tucked into the lower branches of the trees in the front yard. Sam had threatened to use the wings to hide the eggs earlier in the week, so the boys should think to look up.

By the time they were done, Sam teased that he had enough time to make it to service on time and Bucky, like a child, crushed a cascarón on his head so he couldn’t. Or, at least, wouldn’t.

There had very specifically been one carton of cascarones left for them to ruin on their own. After about five minutes, there was no carton and they were both covered in tiny, bright confetti pieces. Sam had made sure to rub confetti and eggshell into Bucky’s hair, even when Bucky threatened to make him get them all out in the shower later. And, since he didn’t mind shoring up his ego a little bit, he accepted that Sam very intentionally made the next round of confetti even messier and harder to get out.

The rule had been: No cascarones in the house. So, Sam and Bucky waited out the return of the other half of the Wilson family on the back of the truck, passing a bottle of coca-cola back and forth.

“Easter Sunday was always one of my favorite days of the year,” Sam said, tilting his face up as a breeze swirled around them. “It was always something I felt in and outside of myself.”

Bucky hummed and studied Sam’s profile, watching the early morning sun streak across his cheeks and paint long shadows beneath his eyelashes. He hadn’t had any strong opinions about Easter Sunday, but now he was suddenly getting the appeal.

“The air just seemed fresher and the birds were always out and it never rained and it wasn’t hot yet. It was one of my daddy’s favorite sermons of the year. He’d wander around the house, humming, ‘He is risen. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.’ It was our favorite. Hard to have a bad day after singing that at sunrise.”

Bucky leaned against Sam’s shoulder and let himself take in a little bit of that happy nostalgia. He didn’t really have any of it himself. Easter was just another day of the year and he’d hated the way his parents preened over them as kids to look exactly a certain way. It was a terrible way to wake up at five in the morning.

But, like this, he figured he could listen to Sam read the whole bible and still want more at the end.

He leaned over to kiss just below Sam’s eye, then hopped off the bed of the truck. “I got you something,” he said. “And no laughing if I did it wrong.”

“You think you can do a gift wrong?” Sam asked in amusement. He leaned back on his hands, a perfect picture of a joyful, warm sprawl.

“I know I can. You know I can.”

A lazy, amused smile curled Sam’s mouth and Bucky wanted to kiss him so badly it was almost an ache. He tore his eyes away and grabbed the basket out of the cab of the truck. Sam never checked the back unless they were with the boys, so it was an excellent hiding spot.Bucky had go-bags for all of them stashed under the seats and beneath the bench and Sam was none the wiser about it.

“Now you don’t have to take from church kids,” he proclaimed, dropping the Easter basket in Sam’s lap with a flourish.

Sam peeked open one eye, then grinned broadly when he realized what it was. “You made me a basket?” he laughed.

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky said, suddenly a little shy with the idea. “Dig through it. I didn’t put any plastic on it ‘cause I hate the sound.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” Sam teased, fully aware that they actually both hated it. It sounded like fire, or the rapid crack of a lightweight, heavy powered gun. Bucky had always thought he was overreacting, until he saw Sam flinch at the same sound during someone’s party.

Sam, as always, was methodical in taking apart the basket. He carefully lined everything up next to him on the tailgate and examined each piece like there might be a mystery to things he already liked. Bucky took an extra mini-candy every time he took longer than ten seconds to look at something.

“Buck, this is really sweet,” he sighed airly. He tugged Bucky between his legs by the shirt collar and Bucky obligingly dipped down for a kiss. (Finally) “I feel bad I didn’t get you one.”

“I still don’t get the appeal,” Bucky admitted. But he reached over the complicated bow that had been taped to the front of the basket and stuck it on Sam’s shoulder. “There,” he said. “Now you got me something.”

Sam beamed at him and kissed him again. The Easter morning sun rose on plastic eggs, and a quiet patch of world, and them tangled together.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfic #writing

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