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puckbunnyera · 8 months

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New Friend | Luke Hughes

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pairing: luke hughes x reader genre: fluff (?) word count: 1.3k warnings: none summary: a chance meeting with NHL superstar rookie, Luke Hughes, leads to an surprising new friendship

notes: first time writing on this account. will probably end up taking this down or heavily editing as my writing progresses because I'm not sure if I like this one. we'll see 🤷🏽‍♀️.

update: link to part 2 here

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The smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke overwhelms my senses as I sit at a booth in the corner of an overcrowded bar that my two best friends have dragged me to in Newark. Nausea swirls in my stomach at the sight of all the intoxicated bodies dancing and stumbling around me. After accompanying them to an intense hockey game between the New Jersey Devils and Chicago Blackhawks, ending with a 4-2 win for the Devils, they had decided that the success of their favorite team called for a celebration.

Not much of a party person, I decide to hang back at a table and keep watch of their belongings while they leave to go dance the night away amongst the other drunk people who litter the bar. To ease the anxious feeling in my chest, I pull my phone from my crossbody bag and open up my Kindle app. I choose the book I have recently been invested in, and I quickly become immersed in it. I'm not sure how much time passes by but I'm just reaching a really intense part in the storyline when a male voice grabs my attention.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Lifting my gaze from my phone screen, I meet with the gaze of a very handsome stranger. Shyness begins to take over as I realize that he's talking to me. My words leave me as I continue to stare at the guy in front of me. My lack of response must come off as apprehension because he quickly begins to apologize.

"Sorry if I scared you." He starts. "The bar is pretty packed and all of the tables are full. My friends ditched me to join the crowd and I'm not really a fan of these types of outings."

"It's fine," I reply as words finally find their way into my brain and out of my mouth. "I don't mind." I gesture to the empty seat at the other side of the booth.

"Cool." He nods, sitting down. "I'm Luke, by the way."

"Y/n." I respond. "Nice to meet you."

"I like your jersey." He refers to the Devil's apparel that I'm still wearing from the game I'd attended earlier in the night.

"Uh, thanks." A blush rises to my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "It was the first jersey I saw in my size at the fan shop so I bought it."

"I'm assuming you're not a Devil's fan, then."

"Not really." I shrug. "My friends are though. I don't know much about hockey, but they love it. They convinced me to go watch the game with them tonight hence why I bought the jersey. What about you?"

"Kinda have to be considering I play for the team." He responds nonchalantly. His words leave me a little stunned and a lot confused.

"I can't tell if you're lying or not."

"I'm serious." He chuckles. "In fact, that's my last name and number you're wearing right now. Look me up if you don't believe me. Luke Hughes, number 43, of the New Jersey Devils. I won't be offended."

I do just that after picking up my phone from the table from where I had previously abandoned it after he made his appearance. Looking through the Google results, I realize that everything he just said is true.

"Okay, so you are telling the truth. But why would you just openly admit that to me? Aren't you worried that I might run off and tell everyone in the bar that I'm talking to The Luke Hughes? Or post it on the internet or something?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Call me naive, but I don't think that's the type of person you are."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Instinct or whatever you call it." He shrugs, a goofy grin on his face.

"What's it like, being on the ice? It seemed intense, and I was only watching it. I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like to play."

"It is intense, but I love it." He replies honestly. "I always have."

We continue to talk back and forth for what seems like forever. Taking turns to ask each other questions and sharing random stories that have us laughing, almost to the point of tears. At one point during the conversation, he moves to sit on my side of the booth so he can show me a video of his brother falling off of a board while wake-surfing at their lake house in Michigan. He's in the middle of telling the story of the time he almost had to go streaking across his college campus when he's interrupted by a noticeably drunk man, a few others following behind him as he approaches the table.

"Lukey!" He exclaims loudly, making me laugh as he wraps an arm around the shoulders of a flustered Luke. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Who's your friend?" Another man questions as they file into the booth seat. The one embracing look shoves us over to sit on our side.

"I'm Y/n." I introduce myself.

"Nico." He greets me before pointing to the other men at the table. "That's Dawson, John, and-"

"And I'm Jack." The loud one from before interrupts. "I'm Lukey Pookies older brother." He lifts a hand and teasingly pinches Lukes cheek.

"My very drunk older brother." Luke huffs in annoyance and swats Jack's hand away.

"Nice to meet you." I giggle as the brothers begin to bicker.

As casual conversation begins amongst the group that has formed at the table, Luke scoots closer to where our shoulders and thighs lightly brush against each other with every slight movement and he leans in to whisper in my ear.

"Sorry about them." He smiles sheepishly when I turn towards him.

"Don't worry about it." I assure him. "They seem fun." He nods before turning to join the conversation.

It's nearing two in the morning when Nico, who seems to be the only sober one in the group aside from Luke, announces that it's time for them to head home. There are a few groans of disappointment, which Nico ignores as he begins to pull them from their seats. After they say their goodbyes and begin to walk away, Luke turns towards me.

"I know this is probably weird, and feel free to say no, but I was wondering if I could get your number." He questions, shyness washing over him. "This is the first time in what feels like a long time that I've been able to have a conversation with anyone, let alone a girl, whose intentions aren't to take advantage of my fame or status to influence their own. I would really like to get to know you more. As a friend, of course."

"Of course. I'm always down to make a new friend." I smile, a fluttering sensation forming in my chest as I take his phone and add my contact. A few seconds after handing it back, my own phone buzzes.

"I just texted you so now you have mine. I have to go but text me when you get home, so I know you made it safely."

He seems to hesitate for a few seconds, as if trying to make up his mind about something, before he leans in a brushes his lips softly against my cheek. When his face is visible again, he is sporting a bright red blush, mine surely looking the same if the warmth in my cheeks says anything. He says goodbye quickly before turning to run after his friends who are whooping and hollering, having seen the whole thing. I smile to myself as I gather mine and my friends belongings, a giddy feeling running through every fiber of my being. I make it only a few feet from the table when I almost run into my friends, both standing in front of me, with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Tell us everything!" They exclaim as they each grab one of my arms and begin to pull me out of the bar.

#luke hughes #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #lh43 #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes fic #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #isa.writes

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talkdutchtome · 10 months

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Bad Idea Right? - Daniel Ricciardo

pairing . . . daniel ricciado x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . .it had been three months seen you had seen your ex boyfriend, you had done everything in your power to get over him, so why does it only take daniel to look your way before you’re putty in his hands once again )

song . . . bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, choking, rough sex, spitting in mouth, use of the words slut and whore, degradation, face slapping, dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, use of petnames, not proofread )

word count . . . 3200 words )

a/n . . .i'm still pretty new to writing smut so this probably isn't fantastic but i've had it sitting in my drafts half done since guts first came out so i just wanted to get it done )

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now and I'm all fucked up And you're callin' my phone and you're all alone And I'm sensing some undertone

The second you saw him across the crowded club, you knew the months of progress and moving on would be for nothing. He looked better than ever, the tight white shirt he wore complemented his tan skin and made you press your thighs together. Daniel Ricciardo ended things with you 3 months ago because your relationship, though full of love, became extremely toxic; with the two of you constantly going through the vicious circle of arguing and then fucking to make up. It hurt to be without him as you truly believed the two of you were meant to be together but after months without him, you had finally started to believe that you could live without him; that was until you walked into a nightclub and found the Australian sat in the VIP section with two absolutely beautiful women sat either side of him.

Suddenly you were the 22-year-old girl that met Daniel three years ago, immediately transfixed by him and willing to do anything for his attention. You knew he knew you were there, when Max saw you, he waved and called you over, but you just waved and gestured to the bar, telling him that you were getting a drink. Still living in a post-breakup world, you had gotten especially dressed up for tonight; hoping to find someone who would help you forget about the Formula 1 driver who still had a hold on your heart. You wore a lilac lace minidress that hugged your curves tightly, it was brought for you by Daniel, but you didn’t see the need to throw out a perfectly good dress just because of whose money purchased it. Point was, you looked hot as hell and you knew it too, so you didn’t mind going over to the table your ex sat at, only to talk to Max though of course.

When he saw you walking over, he felt his mouth get dry and annoyingly, his trousers get tight. He had always loved you in that dress and now that he knew he couldn’t have you, you looked even better. He watched you talk to Max, laughing at all his jokes and batting your pretty little eyes at the Dutchman just like you used to at him. He also watched Max’s eyes watching you, he watched his friend practically eye-fuck his ex-girlfriend whilst he sat across from them. The girls sat next to him were now completely forgotten, all Daniel could focus on was you. When Max went up to the bar to get the next round, Daniel knew this was his chance; he scooted around the table until he was sat next to you and began to whisper in your ear.

“He wants you, you know”

You scoffed at your ex-boyfriend's words, you and Max may be flirting a little bit, but that’s all it was, not to mention that it was none of his business who wanted you anymore

“Well maybe I want him to” You whispered back at him with a smirk, expecting that to knock him down a peg or two but instead you saw him smile back at you before taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and starting to write something down.

“Yeah sure thing, but if you decide that you want to be fucked by someone who will actually make you cum tonight, heres my new address. I'll be waiting.” He told you before putting the piece of paper in your hands before getting up and walking away from you.

And I pull up to your place on the second floor And you're standing, smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when

You held the piece of paper containing Daniel’s address in your palms as you paced back and forth outside the door to his apartment. You knew this was a bad idea, but you craved him so badly. You had slept with other people since your relationship ended but none of them compared to the way Daniel made you feel, and you didn’t realize just how badly touch starved you were until Daniel whispered those dirty words in your ear and you felt throbbing coming from between your legs. “Fuck it, it’s fine” You spoke aloud before finally knocking on the door.

Daniel opened the door with a smirk painted on his face, he knew you would cave and follow him home. Seeing his face almost mocking you made you half want to turn around and walk home but half jump on him and let him fuck you senseless. Deciding on the latter, you walked past him into his home. Before you had a chance to say anything you were pressed up against the now closed front door with Daniel’s hand around your neck.

“What a silly little whore you are, trying to fuck my best friend right in front of me, and in my favorite dress too” He tutted at you, smirking more when you kept quiet, unsure what to respond to the words he had spoken.

“Do you really think he could fuck you like I can? Like anyone can fuck you like I can?” he asked you again, now starting to apply pressure to your throat with his fingers, you stayed quiet still saying nothing to the man in front of you. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain on your cheek, Daniel had slapped your face.

“Answer me pretty girl”

You could have cum right then and there; the issue with all of the sex you had been having post Daniel is that none of them knew how rough you liked it, and to finally have that feeling of a man stood in front of you getting ready to fuck you silly made your pussy quiver with anticipation.

“No Danny, nobody can fuck me like you can” you responded, looking up to him through your long lashes, giving him the doe eyes that you know he was never able to resist.

“You look so pretty babygirl” he spoke, bringing his hand away from your neck to your lips. He used his thumb to push your mouth open slightly, you opened it wider, knowing what he wanted. He spat in your mouth before using his hands to close your lips together again

“Swallow” he ordered and you did without a second thought. You felt his hands move down your body, coming from your mouth, stopping briefly at your tits before they travelled down even further, eventually ending up between your legs. He pushed up your dress to your waist and sunk down to his knees.

“Oh new panties sweetheart? Did one of your new fucktoys get you these?”

“Maybe” you retorted at him, but before you could finish the word Daniel had ripped them off, literally

ripped them off. He smirked at the sight of your glistening pussy, knowing that he had gotten you to the point of dripping without even touching you. He pushed his fingers through your folds, running his fingertips harshly across your clit before sinking two fingers straight into your core without giving you a second's warning. The involuntary squeal that left your lips only boosted Daniel’s ego, his smirk growing wider than you thought possible. The pleasure that you felt in the first ten seconds of him thrusting his tattooed fingers inside of you was greater than anything you had felt since the pair of you had broken up. Though just as quickly as he had started touching you, he stopped, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Such a slut aren’t you, so desperate for my dick” he taunted you, a low chuckle leaving his lips before he picked you up and threw you across his shoulders.

“Ahh Danny what the fuck?” you asked, genuinely startled as he began to carry you to his bedroom, before throwing you down onto the bed.

“Dress off” Daniel said, stood in front of where you laid, his eyes dark and focused on you. You thought about fighting him, to at least make it look like you’re not willing to give in to him too easily, to keep some pride; but the look he gave you sent shivers down your spine, you could feel the slickness building up between your thighs, you needed him, pride be damned. And if you thought Daniels eyes where dark and hungry before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked at you he towered over you on his bed. He looked like a man possessed when you slid off your dress, leaving you covered only by a black lace bralette that was swiftly removed by Daniel anyway. You opened your mouth to beg for him to touch you again, but you were swiftly cut off when his mouth crashed against yours, enveloping you in a earth-shatteringly good kiss that sent your mind swirling. The feeling of his lips against yours was one you would never grow tired of. The way his hands laced into your hair and his knee nudged your legs open made it hard for you to understand why you would ever willingly let this go.

It was only when you started to grind yourself against his knee that he pulled his lips off of you. The way that he looked down at you as you cried out for him was sinful. His messy chocolate brown hair, his swollen lips turned up in smirk, his eyes usually so bright and happy now dark and stormy, full of lust. Every part of him turned you on more than any guy you had ever known.

“Please Danny” your voice was horse; you were becoming desperate.

“Please what Babygirl?” he spoke with a chuckle, he loved having you like this, like putty in his hands.

“Make me feel good” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, not above trying any trick that would get too closer to cumming.

Daniel didn’t say anything to your request though, instead he just began pressing kisses on your lips, before slowly bringing his kisses down past your neck and chest, getting closer and closer to the place where you ached for him the most. This process lasted only a few moments, but those teasing moments felt like hours and when his tongue finally found your pussy you honestly felt like you had died and gone to heaven. He licked strips up your slit, savoring the taste of you, the taste that he had missed so much. Your hands found his hair as his lips attached themselves to your clit, the curls wrapping around your fingers as they had done so many times before. The way he sucked at and nibbled your clit made you see stars and you soon felt your first orgasm start to build up, that familiar feeling in your stomach making itself known.

“Ahh Danny I’m going to cum, please let me cum” you begged him, although if he said no, you weren’t sure you would be able to avoid it anyway.

“Sure, Babygirl you can cum all over my tongue, do you think Max could make you cum this hard” His words annoyed you, bringing up Max at this point was not necessary but before you could complain to him, he picked up the pace of his tongue and you quickly found yourself reaching climax, a string of profanity falling from your lips as you did so. The sounds you were making were music to Daniel’s ears, sounds that he wished he could hear for the rest of his life. If Daniel’s ego wasn’t big enough already, the way he had you falling apart in just a few minutes made his pride swell. You could walk away from him, pretend that you’d moved on and don’t want him anymore; but it’s him who knows your body better than you do, it’s him who knows exactly how to give you what you need to make your knees weak.

Once he had made you feel good, he turned his attention to himself. The way you tasted, the way you sounded; you were his kryptonite, and he was becoming so hard that it had started to become painful. His rock-hard dick straining against his jeans made your mouth water, it had been far too long since you had felt the sting of him splitting you in half, and you didn’t want to wait any longer; so, when you saw him reach for his belt you felt your pussy quiver with anticipation.

“Are you going to let me fuck you baby?” he asked as he began to pull his jeans down, revealing his grey boxers, damp from the way his cock had been seeping with precum. His underwear didn’t last long as they were the next thing to be removed, his length red and angry with how hard it was, how desperate for your touch it was. It had only been three months since you had last had him, but in that time, you had somehow forgotten just how big he was; it made you nervous, but it also made you that much more desperate to have him inside of you.

“Yes, Danny please fuck me” At your words of conformation, he roughly manhandles you to flip you onto your stomach. You prop yourself up on your hands and knees immediately on instinct; you knew how he liked to fuck you, and you also knew that if you did what he wants than you’re more likely to be allowed to cum around his dick.

“You’re such a good girl aren’t you baby; you know just how I want you don’t you” His hands fall to your ass, groping it and massaging it; savoring every moment of having you spread out in front of you, for all he knew this could be the last time that he has you like this so he was damn well going take his time.

“What’s the safe word sweet girl?” he asked you as he runs his hands across your body, wanting to feel all of you.

“Mclaren, please Danny, just fuck me I need you so bad”

Without warning he plunges two of his fingers deep inside of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure ringing throughout your body. He pumped them inside of you roughly and without care, the sting from just his fingers stretching your cunt out making your eyes water and you felt that oh so familiar feeling of another orgasm creeping up on you embarrassingly fast, however that was all taken away when Daniel abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine; feeling empty from the loss of contact. That emptiness didn’t last for long though, because just as soon as he took his fingers out of you, he slammed his cock into you.

Your cries filled the air and tears began to fall from your eyes as Daniel picked up his pace, still slamming himself inside of you despite your discomfort. His hand reaches around to grab your neck, pulling you up flush against his chest so he can see your face as he continues to wreck you.

“You look so pretty when you cry you know that, such a pretty little slut” as he speaks his hand finds your clit, rubbing it harshly. The pain starts to subside as you get used to having him inside of you again and it is quickly replaced by insane pleasure. The groans falling from the Australians lips sounds heavenly and you can feel your second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can” Danny tells you, letting go of your neck and gently pushing your head down to the pillow. He’s fucked you countless times, so he knows your body, he knows the way that your pussy starts to clench when you’re close, he knows that you’ll purposely not say anything to try and get away with cumming even when he’s told you not to. He is an expert in the subject of you, and that’s information that he’ll always keep, regardless of how long the two of you spend apart. He knows you more than anyone ever has, and anyone ever will.

“Oh, fuck fucking fuck you feel so good babygirl, you’re so tight for me” he said through gritted teeth, still slamming into you with all of his might, drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, your moans and cries spurring something on in him. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but he had missed you more than anything, he had missed the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you sound. Everything about you was perfect and, in that moment, he decided that he would never let you go again. The thought of another man getting to have you like this made him sick to his stomach, the thought of someone like Max getting to hear the whimpers you make when you’re being fucked, it was unbearable.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold off your orgasm, Daniel was fucking you like a man possessed and sooner or later you were going to cum whether you were allowed or not, and he knew that, of course he did.

“I’m so so close Danny, please please let me cum” You were begging, shame and pride had gone out the window when you turned up at his door after three months.

“Okay baby, cum. I’m close too, I’m going to fill you up, okay? This is my pussy, and mine only” Daniel just about spoke through gritted teeth. The second those words left his mouth though; you were over the edge. The feeling was overwhelming, you couldn’t remember the last time you came so hard. Tears spilt from your eyes as fireworks went off in your lower stomach and your legs began to tremble.

The combination of the sound of your cries and the feeling of your pussy contract around him had Daniel not far behind you. His hands gripped your hair in a makeshift ponytail as he picked up the pace one last time, fucking you so hard that you genuinely thought he was going to split you in half; his groans getting louder and his breaths getting deeper and more sparce until he spilled out into you.

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The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets, Memories of the night before float hazily in your mind and you catch sight of Daniel sleeping soundly next to you. Truth be told you don’t even remember falling asleep, you must have just crashed after such an intense orgasm. Reaching over to check your phone, you notice multiple messages from your best friend asking where the hell you got to last night. You quickly send a message saying that you were so tired you just went home to sleep, before putting your phone back onto the nightstand and cuddling back up to the man beside you.

But you never said where or in whose sheets

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 smut #formula one smut #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 fics #f1 imagine

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hollowed-theory-hall · 6 months

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what's the one harry potter pairing u like that u mentioned in the tags of your hinny post?

Anonymous: Can I ask who that minor character you ship with Harry is? For some absurd reason my mind jumped to Stan Shunpike lol but it's probably not him.... Or is it?

Okay, so this is kind of a funny story. Like, my pipeline through hp pairings was a weird one. Like, I used to read a lot of Harry pairings, still do on occasion (some make more sense than others). None of them were ones I would point at and say: "that should've happened in the books"

One day, I was innocently writing a fic (canon divergence of GoF), and it was just for me, for funnsies, never posted it anywhere and not planning to. And I planned to pair Harry with someone there (honestly, I don't remember who because I didn't write the plan down) but when writing, Harry ended up with a different character. And it was so strange to me because that never happened.

Like, how do you write a ship accidentally?

But I did. I wrote Harry into a ship by accident. So I went back to the books to try and figure out why the hell would my subconscious decide that's the way to go.

I'll also preface it by all this being my subjective opinion and I do read other Harry ships in fics, this one just quickly became my favorite to write (and the only one I write). Also, I don't actually think this is a pairing that should've happened in the books, it's place is in fic and that's where I like it.

So, the character I accidentally shipped with Harry is... *drumroll*

Stan Shunpike!

Not really, it's:

Theodore Nott

Now, you might look at the name and go: "Who the fuck is that?"

And you'll be correct. Theo has 0 speaking lines in the entire book series. His name appears twice. He, himself, as a person, only appeared on page, like, 3 times in the background. The scene that gives the most information about him is other characters talking about him. He isn't even present.

That being said, I'm very good at extrapolating a lot of information from very little evidence. So allow me, to walk you through who is Theodore Nott and why I ship him with Harry.

Basic Information

So, let's start with the most basic overview before I pull out the quotes and go any deeper.

We know Theo is a Slytherin student in Harry's year. So he likely shares a dorm with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Theo's father is both at the graveyard at the end of GoF and in the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP, so we know he is a Death Eater. We also know Thoe's father was one of the first and closest Death Eaters to Voldemort, who waited for him during his interview with Dumbledore in 1967:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed...”

(HBP, page 444)

We also know the Nott family is "as pure-blooded as the Malfoys" according to JKR in an interview. We also know Theo's great-grandfather (maybe? the family relation isn't clear), Cantankerus Nott, is suspected to be the one who wrote the Pure-Blood Dictionary, the book that coined the term "Sacred 28" and made that list (which the Nott family are on).

The name Nott is potentially to be derived from the name Nótt, which is the personification of the night in Norse Mythology. So it has been theorized the Nott family have a Nordic origin. Possible, but it doesn't really matter for this post.

What does, is that he comes from a dark, Death Eater, blood-purist family similar to the Malfoys. Even so, Theo never took the Dark Mark and never joined Voldemort in the books.

Now, that we have the basic information out of the way, let's look at Theodore as a person.

All the details I could gather from the books

Alright, now we get to the fun part. That is, me going through all the relevant scenes that mention Theodore Nott and actually creating a character psychoanalysis out of basically nothing.

So, the quotes aren't organized in a particular order. I'm just going to explain Theo and then explain why all this makes me ship him with Harry.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —” “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

(HBP, page 150)

This is a part of the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, Harry overhears when he is hiding in their compartment at the beginning of HBP. I have a few things to note regarding this scene.

Firstly, throughout this conversation, Pansy, Blaise, and Draco all call each other by their first name. This shows closeness, they are all friendly and familiar enough to use their first names with each other. Theo, though, is referred to as "Nott" by all three in the compartment.

He doesn't actually sit in their compartment which is in itself a sign about how he isn't really friendly with Draco's group. Considering the group is most of his year from his house, Theo is likely very lonely, and it will be apparent from other scenes I bring up later.

Secondly, Theo's father is in Azkaban. We know Draco is bothered about his own father's predicament. He mentions it to Harry and bothers him over it, Theo doesn't though. Theo doesn't seem to be bothered by Harry or his father's incarceration.

The only conclusion I can draw from this is that the relationship between Theo and his father is not a good one.

(I know some fics like to have Lucius be abusive towards Draco, for some reason. But the books really don't back this up. Lucius loves Draco and Draco adores his father)

Theo, though, Theo seems to be the one with a very strained relationship with his father. Strained enough that he isn't bothered the man is in Azkaban. What I'm saying is that Theo's father likely abuses or mistreats him in some capacity.

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters

(OotP, page 583)

This is a scene at the end of OotP after Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo's fathers were caught at the ministry and sent to Azkaban because they are Death Eaters. There are a few important notes about this scene.

The first, Hermione knows Theo, while Harry and Ron don't really. This means she likely knows him from the classes she takes and Harry and Ron don't — Arithmancy and/or Ancient Runes.

The second, he is sitting with other Death Eater children, but I don't think it's by choice. I mentioned in the previous quote how he isn't close to Draco and his crew. He sits with them here mostly because he doesn't have another choice. Theo doesn't seem to really have any friends, so he sits with the closest people he has to friends — kids he has known since he was young because their fathers were in the same circle.

The other note about this is that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco are all mentioned as being threatening and malicious towards Harry because they don't like that their fathers are in Azkaban. Theo, though, Theo doesn't threaten Harry, he isn't part of their whisperings. As I mentioned above, he's likely happy his father is in Azkaban.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

(OotP, page 445)

“The only people who can see thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

(OotP, page 446)

The stringy Slytherin boy mentioned here is Theo. This scene proves that:

He takes Care of Magical Creatures

He saw someone die

Let's explore the second one for a moment. The fact Theo can see Thestrals means he watched someone die and was old enough to comprehend what he was seeing. We also know Theo's mother is dead. So it's likely the person he watched die was his mother.

I also want to draw attention to Theo's distaste towards Thestrals. He could likely see them carrying the carriages every year since 2nd year, it's not his first time seeing them. But it doesn't stop his displeasure with their sight from showing. Which says something about him. It means he likely recalls his mother and her death whenever he looks at the Thestrals. and these are memories Theo rather not experience.

We don't know how his mother died, but I'd hazard a guess it wasn't natural. After all, wizards have long life spans, they are more durable to illness and injury, and don't usually die from accidents unless very extreme or magical. And there was no epidemic of dragonpox (a disease that does tend to kill wizards) in the time since 1980 and the books. So, she was more likely killed at some point between 1985(ish) and 1991.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

(HBP, pages 185-186)

First, Theo is an O student in potions since he is in the potions NEWT class, and was probably meant to be there even if Snape was the teacher.

Second, again, Theo doesn't really have friends. He sits next to Draco as the only other Slytherin in the class. Also, they share the circumstances of being sons of Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. Although both of them seem to deal with it quite differently.

Third, Theo joins Draco in making fun of Hermione's blood status, but he does not initiate it. Considering the environment he was raised in and is in, it makes sense he would make fun of it. Whether he's a blood-purist or not, he would want to keep his image considering he doesn't have many allies. Hanging out with Draco is survival, not friendship. They aren't even on a first-name basis with each other.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

(HBP, page 186)

The final quote I have about Theo is from the same potions class as above. Both he and Draco are portrayed here as underestimating amortentia and its potential damage. It makes sense for their upbringing in the Wizarding World, which has no real laws or regulations regarding love potions that are seen as harmless fun more often than not.

I'll add Theo likely didn't witness a healthy romantic relationship. Considering his father is a Death Eater who is likely abusive and may or may not have killed his mother. With this as his reference to a marriage, it's clear why he'd look down on love and love potions.

Why I think Theo and Harry have potential

Okay, so now that we know who Theodore Nott is, let's talk about why I ship him with Harry.

I think Harry, in general, would get along best with a clever partner with the ability to be ruthless (Slytherins or Ron fall into this category). Because Harry isn't some golden savior; he casts unforgivables, and is very willing to poison Umbridge or Crocio Snape if he could get away with it. He needs a partner that won't be horrified by these thoughts.

Also, Theo literally never speaks on page. Even when spoken to, his reactions are silent. I think this quiet and no need to talk, the ability to be comfortable in silence, is something that would be comfortable for Harry. Harry in the books finds himself annoyed with Ron and Hermione's constant banter on occasion, so I think it fits well.

Theo would also be comfortable around Harry without a need to play a certain part. Because Harry wouldn't care about that. He would honestly rather Theo forgo the pure-blood Slytherin act.

I feel like Harry and Theo, have a good potential to understand each other. Theo lost his mother and likely experiences abuse from his father. It makes them very likely to trauma bond over their crap life and shared experience. Two out of three only ones who could see the Thestrals in the entire class.

The other thing I feel they could connect over is being lonely. Harry spent all his childhood until Hogwarts basically being on his own. Theo stayed on his own. Draco at least has his parents, he has other students he's closer to, not that he shares everything with them, but he has some support network. Theo has none. And this is something Harry knows well.

Theo, I think, wouldn't expect anything specific from Harry. He doesn't even interact with him, not to mock him, and not to idolize him, he doesn't care at all. And we know how much Harry appreciates being thought of as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived. Theo would allow Harry to be himself without some mold he wants him to fit in.

The fact Theo never becomes a Death Eater, even though he was in Draco's year and his father was a Death Eater before Lucius (and in better standing than Lucius with Voldemort) is so interesting. It's somewhat surprising Theo wasn't marked. It means he didn't want to be. It means that Theo Nott didn't want to torture and kill muggleborns or blood traitors, or anyone really. And he didn't want to swear his allegiance to Voldemort. This is just a fascinating fact to me and something I enjoy considering. What life experience made him come to that conclusion? Was it just his dislike of his father that pushed him away? Could he have been another Sirius Black (Gryffindor in a Slytherin family) under slightly different circumstances? I mean, Voldemort likely wouldn't force him to become a Death Eater, but would his father? I don't know what at all went down there, but I like that potential story.

We also know he wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, even though some minor Slytherins were mentioned to be part of it. He just seems to be an actually decent guy (I don't care what Cursed Child says about him, I know he's there but I avoided almost anything to do with Cursed Child so I barely know the plot).

Finally, this is a character Harry doesn't have as much drama to get over with. Yes, sometimes I want to read overcoming drama between characters before it becomes a romance, but sometimes I want something chiller than that. And Theo is a really chill, safe, Slytherin option for Harry.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon #hp #hp thoughts #harry james potter #asks #anon asks #anonymous #theodore nott #theo nott #nottpott #ship talk

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scribblesofagoonerr · 8 months

Text

Cos' sometimes sleep isn't enough anymore | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, C - Cos' sometimes sleep isn't enough anymore

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

I guess I'm on a roll tonight? 3 parts posted so far, I'm not even sure how many parts this will end up with but, um, yeah, i hope you like this one and it's not to heavy to read.

Absolutely none of it's proof-read so yet again it could seem jumbled up or not even make sense but umm I can't sleep and my brain is overthinking at 4 am so this is the result of it :)

Thanks for all the continuous love and support on this so far!

Waking up in hospital, you think over your thoughts about what happened and wonder if you really did mean to do it?

tw: heavy angst, talks of SH, MH, suicide and death.

Bright lights and slow repetive beeps followed by the sterile smell of a hospital enrivoment.

That's how you knew it was bad when you woke up.

You really hadn't mean for it to get to that point though, you made the mistake of cutting deeper than you should have and now you have landed yourself in the hospital.

This was definitely not your smartest move you had pulled.

Something tells you it wouldn't be so easy to hide your pain behind a fake smile now.

You felt the wet tears covering your own hand along with the heavy weight of another body practically leaning on you.

"Geez, did somebody die in here or something?" Was the first words you spoke since you had fallen unconcious and of course, it was with your usual cocky teenage atttiude.

Dark humour has always been your go to, you hate to show any type of vulnerability.

"Y/N/N" Leah voice croaks in surprise as she sits bolt up right to look straight at you. "You're awake, finally!" she immediately breaks down into sobs again as she reaches towards you and wraps her arms around you.

"Yeah, I'm awake but there's no need to cry about it" You struck back with the same cocky atittude, that drove your team mates crazy but loved you never the less. "Seriously though, did someone die? Cos' you're crying that much right now that I'm begining to think so" you note, hiding your own pain behind the smile.

Just keep smiling, nobody will ask questions.

Everyone will think you're fine.

"Seriously, Y/N?" Leah is quick to smack you around the back of the head as she's now giving you one of her famous glares, one that you knew all too well. "You scared me to death, you little shit!" she admits, showing her vunerability.

"Ow. Ow-- Hey, you can't hit me, I'm fragile right now" You can't help but pout and hope for sympathy from the older blonde girl.

"Fragile, huh? You seem fine enough to be making jokes" Leah remarks as she continues to glare at you.

"Come on, you know that dark humour is the way to go sometimes Le" You grin at the blonde, who doesn't seem to have the same idea.

See? Totally easy to hide your pain.

Leah just stares at you in disbelief you're really cracking jokes right now, "You're unbelieve sometimes, Y/F/N" she mutters aloud.

"Uh oh, your using my full name, am I in trouble now?" You can't help to continue with your cocky, I don't give a shit attitude never the less you had worried all of your team mates like you did.

"Right now I'm just glad that you're alive," Leah admits as she rewraps her arms around you and squeezes you gently. "But if you ever scare me like that again then we'll be having a very different conversation!" she tells you, sternly.

"Okay" You wince slightly as the tightness of the hug that the blonde was very reluctant to let go off you. "Seriously, Le. I'm fine now, why are you still crying so much?" You ask, confused.

"I'm crying because I... I thought I had really lost you this time" Leah speaks her thoughts aloud as she still holds onto you like you would disappear all over again. "When I found you, like the... like the way I did, I thought you was going to die" she adds in, quietly.

Your own amused smile starts to falter as you glance down at the bandages wrapped around your arm. "I'm sorry... I am really sorry for scaring you like that" You apologise quietly, starting to realise the seriousness of it all.

You must've had all of your team mates so worried and right now you were only acting like a total jackass about it.

"I was so scared" Leah replies as she pulls away from hugging you before she readjusts to move onto the bed beside you. "There was so much blood, Y/N/N. I... I thought when we arrived at the hospital, it would be too late and I'd be saying goodbye to you instead" she explains, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

Shit, why did I go and do that? I've made Leah almost have a nervous break down.

How could you be so selfish? You didn't deserve the love you recieved from your team mate.

"I bet the bathrooms' a right bloody mess now then" You can't help the comment that slips out of your mouth.

Once again, dark humour is a key to hiding the reality of pain.

Leah clicks her tongue at your comment, although she can tell exactly what you're doing now.

You had been doing it all this long so easily, it was just that nobody realised it.

"Why didn't you tell me that it was getting bad again?" The blondes' question is something that catches you off guard.

Guilt-striken to hear her words, you found sudden interest with the crisp white sheets currently covering you.

There was a lot of things that you could have said, but would she want to hear any of it?

Nobody can help me with the way I feel,

I'm so tired,

I wanted to relieve the pain, I wanted a way out.

All of the questions racing through your mind, you actually began to wonder if you had cut yourself that deep on purpose? Did your own selfishness overshadow any other feelings inside of you.

The battle with your inner demons was just too much sometimes, you was just so exhausted now.

So, why couldn't you have just been left to die instead?

"What's going on inside your head, Y/N/N?" Leah's next question brought you out of your dark thoughts. "Talk to me, you know that I'm here to listen" she states with a gentle tone of voice.

Although the next words that you speak are nothing that she can be prepared to hear.

"I think... I think I wanted to die, I wanted an out on life" Your voice quivers as you admit the truth to the blonde, finally.

"W... What?" Leah looks at you with a mixture of shock and hurt.

"I'm so tired, Le-- I'm just so fuckin' tired. I... I can't do this anymore" You express your feelings as you feel yourself tearing up.

It was as if Leah hadn't quite regestered the words you had said, or she had but she refused to believe that you actually did want to try and kill yourself.

"The girls all went to get coffee, um I think that all of the girls will be back soon though" The blonde tells you quietly as she wraps her free arm around you and gives you a small smile.

Denial, it was so easy to pretend there wasn't anything to read into with your most recent confession.

"Leah--"

"I bet they'll be happy to know that you're awake now" Leah cut you off as she continues to give you that weary smile, you weren't sure if she was now clutching onto you a bit tighter in fear of you pulling another stunt like you did.

"Leah, didn't you hear me? I said I wanted to die!" You shout loud enough for her to suck in a sharp breath.

"I heard you, Y/N/N-- I heard you, I saw you, I... I was there for it all. I was the one who found you in the bathroom; You was lay in a pool of your own blood while you were slipping in and out of unconciousness" Leah broke her game of where she didn't pretend you as she turned to face you, you had her whole attention now. "I sat there, pressing a god-damn towel against your cuts, praying that you would make it and you... you tell me that you want to die? You don't get to die. You can't, we need you-- Damn it Y/N, I need you! Y... You're my family! So you don't get to tell me you want to die!" she tells you, the shake in her voice so evident that she's close to tears again.

"What? You... You want to die?" Beth broke the tense silence as she has a distraught look on her face.

"Do you really mean that?" Lia questions as her eyes widen in shock.

Neither you or Leah realise that some of the older girls had made their way back to your room, when they arrived they were delighted with the realisation that you were now finally awake after the long 24 hours but that quickly turned into shock and hurt when they heard Leah's words so boldly, that even the patients down the hall probably would've heard.

"I do, I did... I don't know. I'm tired, I can't... I can't keep doing this anymore" You admit out loud for every single one of them to hear.

You hear the blonde beside you suck in another sharp breath as she keeps her arm firmly attached round your shoulder.

The confession is left hanging in the air, leaving a tense feeling and it was suddenly so quiet that in the room that you were certain that you would even be able to hear a pin drop.

Nobody utters a word, a state of shock written across each one of their faces.

"Sometimes sleep isn't enough when it's my soul that's tired" You tell them, leaving them all stood there grief-stricken with the realisation that you really had been struggling for longer than you wanted to admit.

#arsenal x reader #woso x reader #arsenal women x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #heavy angst #woso one shot #arsenal wfc x reader

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katelynnwrites · 9 months

Text

You Look So Pretty (Pretty Like The Sun) | Sydney Lohmann

warnings: not proof read

word count: 2557

summary: after making your own name, you realise it's not enough because you are still missing your sunshine

a/n: i wasn't going to post this but i'm on a mission to leave all my bad writing behind in 2023 so here's part two of this fic

It’s with a certain amount of trepidation that you walk onto the Bayern Munich training pitch.

Both you and the facility have undergone a major change in the years that you have been away but one thing is the same.

You know when the love of your life is near.

It seems that the blonde can still sense your presence too because she looks up and visibly pales the second she sees you.

‘Sydney.’ You breathe but she shakes her head.

The German player’s eyes are wide and panicked.

You are torn between staying where you are, on the very edge of the pitch or making your way to her.

This is the closest you have been to her since the day she broke up with you.

Luckily or unluckily, your new manager spares you and calls your new teammates over so that you can meet them.

Seeing Magda and Pernille again is a welcome distraction.

The older women had practically adopted you as their own when you were at Chelsea and you sigh contentedly as they wrap you up in a hug.

‘I missed you two so much.’ You mumble.

‘I hope you’re prepared for dinner at our place tonight. You can tell us all about why you didn’t tell us you were coming to Munich.’ The Swede says.

Pernille gives her a fond swat, ‘Oh don’t sound so serious love.’

Conspiratorially, she turns to you and loudly whispers, ‘Magda just wants the chance to mom you again.’

You giggle at the defender’s immediate protests.

******

Meeting the rest of your new club teammates goes smoothly.

All except for one.

Magda and Pernille help with the introductions, easing you back into the Bavarian team.

For all your fame, you’re still shy so you are grateful for the help.

They’re not all new faces, most are familiar.

You grew up playing for the youth teams with Klara and Lea. Some others you know from international games or as opponents that you once played against in the Frauen Bundesliga.

It’s with laughter that you reunite with Lea, the older woman teasing you that you’re still shorter than her.

Your introduction does not last long but by the time you have properly met all of your new teammates, Sydney is nowhere to be seen.

And you hate how awful that makes you feel.

Maybe you didn’t make the right decision in coming back to Munich.

******

Sydney is still Sydney. That much you have come to realise. The blonde has grown up but at her core, she’s still who you fell in love with.

You are content to watch forever as she shines on everyone. There is never going to be anyone else like her. Sydney Lohmann is a singularity.

She shows up to training sessions just a fraction of a second early and drinks far too many coffees for her own good.

Her fancy footwork on the pitch puts everyone else to shame.

The sound of her laugh still makes you happy and her smile brightens up every room that she is in.

Unlike before, none of that is directed towards you.

These days, all she has for you is indifference and silence.

She doesn’t even look at you and from the only interaction you have had so far, the one from your introduction, the midfielder has made it clear that she doesn’t want you back at her club.

You try not to let it affect you or your performance.

The faking it till you make it must be working because you are all set to be a starter just two weeks after rejoining the Bavarian club.

******

Syd doesn’t start that particular game and it gives you an overwhelming sense of relief.

It’s already stressful enough to have to prove yourself good enough to start without adding on your standing with your former girlfriend.

You’re doing well against Köln and you’re proud of how you are adapting back to the German style of play, if you do say so yourself.

There is only about a half hour left of playing time when the blonde is subbed on.

She doesn’t look at you and you keep your gaze down.

Unfortunately, for her, her playing time is cut short. It is like a bad deja vu of her previous injury against Köln, a few years ago.

One second she’s jumping up for a header and the next she is on the ground, holding her ankle.

You hear her cry out and then you are sprinting.

Lina is already at her side and just before you reach her, you freeze.

Sydney doesn’t want you anymore.

So you stay away from her but just far enough that you can still see how she is.

It doesn’t look good.

The medics come on and it is agonising for you to have to listen to Syd’s pained whimpers and do nothing about it.

You are trying your hardest not to flinch when Lea comes up to you.

‘Go to her. She needs you even if she doesn’t know it yet.’ She quietly says.

‘Schülli…’

‘Go. I know you want to.’

Hesitantly, you approach the injured midfielder.

Sydney’s eyes are tear filled and when she sees you, she immediately stretches out her hand.

It is instinct for you to put your hand in hers.

‘You’re gonna be okay.’ You murmur soothingly and she closes her fingers around yours.

The blonde shuts her eyes, more tears escaping despite her best efforts.

You keep holding her hand until the medics signal that she needs to come off.

Your ex girlfriend cries even harder at that and you help her get to her feet.

The German woman stifles a whimper as she does so and you worriedly ask, ‘Do you want a stretcher?’

‘No! Please no.’

‘Okay. Lean on me then.’ You whisper and Syd nods.

She puts her arm around your shoulders and you wrap your arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

‘I got you.’ You assure her, as she limps towards the sidelines.

Once there, it is with great reluctance that you let her go, the medics taking over.

You look over at the bench where your manager is preparing the subs and you signal for you to be replaced.

‘I’m coming off too.’

‘No.’ The blonde snaps.

‘Syd this is not up for debate.’ You insist.

Your meaning and intentions are clear, making Sydney let out a frustrated noise.

‘No. You are going to stay on and be a star. Okay? Go be a star and play for us both.’

She squeezes your hand tightly, wanting you to know how much she means her words.

‘Are you sure?’

Your ex nods, ‘Go.’

‘Okay.’

Syd’s hazel eyes are filled with tears and she looks so vulnerable that you can’t help touching your lips to the side of her head.

‘I’ll score a goal for you. Promise sonnenschein.’

In running back onto the field, you miss the way she lets out a soft sob.

She doesn’t know if she cries harder because of the old nickname, the feel of your lips back on her skin or because of the way the pain in her ankle practically doubles once you are gone.

******

You keep your promise to the German midfielder.

Scoring not just one goal but two before the referee blows the whistle for full time.

Then you rush straight to the medical room where you had been told Sydney is.

You slow down, the clicking of your studs becoming quieter as you approach. Tentatively, you knock on the door before you open it.

Syd’s all alone, sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Her injured ankle has been fitted with a moon boot and her face is pale.

‘Sydney?’ You ask softly.

‘Why did you come back?’

‘Because I wanted to check on you.’ You answer immediately.

The blonde scoffs, ‘Not here here but Munich.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You murmur even though your stomach drops because you understand perfectly.

Sydney’s eyes narrow with anger.

‘Don’t give me some bullshit answer. You were doing so well for yourself over in Barcelona so why come back? You left before so why return now?’

Her words are clipped, filled with more than just resentment.

You sigh. She still knows you too well.

‘You. I came back for you.’

Sydney’s face goes blank.

‘No. You came here to win the league. You have won the English and Spanish leagues. The Champions’ League and Euros too. This is just one more thing on your list.’

Wincing audibly, you take a step forward.

‘I came back for you. You and you alone Sydney.’

‘No.’ The blonde adamantly says, even as her bottom lip starts to wobble.

‘Syd…I came back for you. I promise I came back for you.’

You are pleading with her now, almost begging for her to believe you.

The midfielder searches your face for traces of lies, tears spilling down her cheeks as she does so.

‘No. No. You chose to leave and I wasn’t enough to make you stay before. Why would I be enough for you now?’

‘Sydney I never wanted to leave you. It broke my heart to leave Germany with how things ended between us.’

Raw pain is evident in your admission and now it is your ex’s turn to flinch.

‘Why didn’t you come back earlier? You could have played for Germany. We could have played together just as we promised to all those years ago.’

You shrug.

‘I was eligible to play for England too and you made it clear that you didn’t want to see me anymore. I know me being here is the last thing you want but I just couldn’t stay away from you anymore. Not when I never stopped loving you.’

Sydney loses the little composure she has left.

Harsh sobs wrack her body and she covers her face with her hands.

‘I’m sorry. I-I’ll go now.’

You turn to leave but the blonde chokes out your name and a plea for you to stay.

‘What?’

‘I never meant for us to break up. I never meant to push you away. Fuck I am so sorry. S-So sorry.’ Syd stammers.

‘Sydney what are you talking about?’

Your words aren’t unkind, just genuinely lost. The German player’s actions have been plain and constant ever since you left. They have been nothing short of obvious in recent times.

Sydney doesn’t want you.

The midfielder wrings her hands, her voice barely a whisper as she says, ‘I love you too. There’s not been a fraction of a second where I haven’t.’

You are floored.

Literally because you have to sit down.

You stare at her silently and the only sound in the room is your ex’s quiet cries.

Eventually her tears slow and she sniffles, looking up at you.

‘Say something.’ She breathes after the painful silence continues.

You don’t know what to say so you go over to her and sit down beside her on the physio bed.

Sydney is trembling but she tentatively wraps an arm around you, getting you to lean your head against her shoulder.

After a few minutes, you curl completely into her side and the blonde sighs in relief.

It is how the rest of the team finds you later, Lea smiling a secret smile to herself.

******

You end up going with Syd back to her apartment. She gives you her address and you drive her there in your car since she can’t do it herself due to her injury.

The blonde keeps stealing glances at you as you drive, wondering if she is dreaming.

She thinks it would be too much if she puts her hand on your knee the way she used to, when you were hers and she yours.

Sydney is so busy overthinking it when you slip your hand onto her knee.

You keep your eyes on the road the entire time but a smile forms on both your faces as Syd covers your hand with hers.

Neither of you have said a word to each other but that’s okay cause there will be time for that.

******

It’s after you have helped the blonde onto her couch and brought her a mug of tea that you realise whose jersey is framed on the wall of her living room.

The three lions crest is familiar, the last name and autograph even more so.

‘Sonnenschein that’s mine.’ You murmur.

Your former girlfriend sets her tea down and nods.

With growing curiosity, you inspect the match worn jersey.

‘From the Euro final in 2022.’ Syd confirms when glance at her.

‘How?’

‘I bought it at an auction. I think it’s the one you wore during the first half.’

You remember now, the England staff had got the team to sign the jerseys before sending them off to some charity organisation.

‘Why do you have it? I would have given it to you for free if you’d asked.’ You question.

You have so many of them that this is as good a place to start as any.

‘Because I was so proud of your achievement. Even if you had to beat me to win that gold medal.’ She explains, picking up her mug again just so that she has something to fiddle with.

��And I didn’t ask you because I was afraid.’

‘Of me?’

You try not to sound hurt but it bleeds through anyway.

Syd’s hazel eyes gloss over.

‘Not of you. Never of you. J-Just how you would react I guess. Nothing like your ex girlfriend coming up to you after you’ve won your first piece of silverware for your country to spoil the mood.’

The midfielder lets out a strained laugh.

You frown, ‘You wouldn’t have. I wanted to approach you that day too but I didn’t know how. I thought you hated me.’

‘I could never.’

‘It felt like it.’ You softly say. She's, after all, been point blank ignoring and avoiding you ever since you resigned for Bayern Munich.

The blonde grimaces, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You said that I made you feel like you weren’t enough when I left for Chelsea. I’m sorry for that.’

‘You needed to leave. I get that now. Leaving Munich was the best thing for your career. Bayern might be my home but it wasn’t yours. I couldn’t see that at nineteen and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for letting my selfishness ruin us. I treated you the way I did all these years because of how guilty I felt.’

‘Sydney…you didn’t ruin us.’

‘Didn’t I?’ She hopelessly asks.

‘I played a part too. It wasn’t entirely your fault.’

The German woman looks defeated and sad. Her hazel eyes are downcast and her usually healthily pink cheeks are pale.

You sit down next to Sydney and take her hand in yours, ‘We’re not ruined. You are still here and I am still here.’

She squeezes your hand in hers, ‘A-Are you saying that you want to give us a second chance?’

‘Only if you want to.’

Your former girlfriend doesn’t need a second to consider it. Her mind is made up.

******

Sydney is pretty like the sun. You’ve always thought so.

Now that you have your sunshine back, you’re not leaving her again. She’s not letting you go again either.

German Translation:

sonnenschein- sunshine

#sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann imagine #sydney lohmann x reader #fcb frauen #gerwnt #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #dfb frauen #woso fanfics #katelynnwrites #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine

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wavelikewhat · 1 year

Text

Heartstrings

Pairing: Producer!Woozi x Producer!Reader (she/her pronouns) Summary: You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer. Wordcount: 4.5k Content notes: none Genre/themes/appearances: fluff, strangers to lovers, idol/non-idol, music talk, Hoshi meddling, Seungcheol interrogating, Jeonghan snooping

A/N: So this is technically a fanfic for two fanfics: when I read i look good on you by @seungkwansphd I needed a backstory for them immediately. Then last week I read Live by @wondernus and it felt like it fit into my headcanon, so my mind started filling out how they met and got back together and began a public relationship… So here I am posting my first Woozi fic that is a fake prequel to those two, in a way? Please read those because they are so short and so sweet and will have your imagination (and heart) racing! This story is about how this couple gets together :)

“Ya! Soonyoung!” Jihoon called out.

Soonyoung abruptly stopped dancing and turned around, surprised to see Jihoon in his practice room. “What are you doing here?”

Jihoon got straight to the point, as always. “Do you have the number of the producer who wrote the song you did with Youngji?” he asked as he walked toward Soonyoung at the mirrored wall.

Soonyoung’s eyes widened. “Y/N? Why do you need her number at…” He glanced up at the clock on the wall above the mirrors and added, “11:45 at night?”

Jihoon sighed, exasperated that this ‘quick question’ was turning into a full blown conversation. “I have to finish that song featuring a woman’s vocals. The company wants to hear it tomorrow, but I need someone who can sing on the demo. They’ll have a hard time picturing a woman singing it if I sing it.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Y/N sang the guide for that song. Yes, I have her number.” He walked over to his bag and fished out his phone. “Sent.”

Jihoon’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to see a notification from Soonyoung. “Thanks.” He turned and headed out of the room.

Soonyoung watched the door close, shrugged, and walked back to the mirrors to practice.

...

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:49 - This is Jihoon, Soonyoung gave me your number. Would you be able to sing on a demo for me tonight? I’m working on a song with a woman’s vocals and the company wants to hear it tomorrow.

[Y/N] 23:50 - Did you give someone my number?

[Hoshi] 23:50 - Woozi asked me for it. Did he text you?

[Y/N] 23:50 - He did, but I had to make sure it was real

[Hoshi] 23:50 - LOL!

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:51 - Hi! I’m just finishing up at my studio. I can definitely help.

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:51- Any chance you could come to my studio tonight then?

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:52 - Sure, send me the location.

...

You stared at your phone in shock. There is no way THE Woozi (and he called himself JIHOON?! like you were actual people who knew each other?) just asked you for help at midnight on a Tuesday. You honestly almost said yes even before your brain had a brief moment of sanity and directed you to check with Hoshi.

When Woozi asked you to come to his studio you completely froze, re-entering reality only long enough to let him know you could be there. You’d seen clips of him working at the studio and it seemed like such a cool place. You couldn't believe you were really about to go inside.

Woozi (Jihoon, you reminded yourself) even sent a company car to pick you up, which was very thoughtful of him. Then again, you were doing him a huge favor by agreeing to meet him at midnight on a Tuesday. He was lucky you were a night owl. The least he could do was give you a free ride.

All throughout the ride to his studio from yours, you felt like you should be manically texting someone about it, but you were somewhat frozen in shock. You sent a message to your roommate letting them know that you were staying out late to work with another producer, and you gave them the address for “Jihoon’s studio” and made sure location sharing was still turned on for your phone. (Safety first.) You did this frequently enough that they easily replied they'd keep their ringer on and check on you in the morning to make sure you made it back.

You stared out the window as buildings and brightly lit late-night restaurants flashed by. Suddenly, you realized, I am literally living my dream at this exact moment. You lived in Seoul working as a music producer, you had an amazing roommate you loved, you had fun meeting and collaborating with other producers in the business, and you worked on several very successful songs. And now you were about to meet one of the most successful producers in the world. Unreal.

The car arrived at what looked like an average gray building after a 15 minute ride from your studio. The subway entrance across the street told you the building was only one stop away from your apartment on the subway line you rode to work.

A security guard at the entrance let you in and pointed out the correct elevator. As the elevator doors closed, you heard him on the phone with Jihoon, letting him know you arrived. When the doors opened, you didn’t even have to wander around looking for the right room. Jihoon stood outside one of the doorways and nodded quickly before heading back into a room halfway down the hall.

You took a deep breath and started toward the studio. You had butterflies in your stomach. You didn't follow the group closely, yet among the members you’d always felt particularly drawn to Jihoon, not just for his looks (because he was so handsome you could barely believe it) but for his mind. This was an amazing once in a lifetime opportunity to work with such a talented producer.

When you walked into the studio, it was exactly as it looked in the clips you saw online. He was sitting at a computer and beside him was an empty chair. On the desk were big headphones and a microphone that were both plugged into his system. You’d only seen this microphone model online, and your excitement grew at the chance of getting to use it.

“Thanks for coming over,” Jihoon said as you walked to his desk. “I had a busy schedule today so I didn’t find out until an hour ago that they wanted it so fast.”

“Happy to help. I’m glad you thought of me.” At that moment, he looked up and met your eyes. His gaze was intense and his eyes seemed to stare into you. Maybe this was his work mode.

Shake it off, you told yourself, dropping your bag under the desk and sitting down. Be professional.

Jihoon played the ballad for you a few times and explained the concept. He sent you the lyrics so you could scroll through on your phone and follow along. You sang along under your breath, shoulders bobbing to the beat. The song was sure to be a hit, but he was correct that it was hard to imagine a woman featuring on the song with his (absolutely incredible) vocals on the demo.

“Are you ready to record?” Jihoon asked.

You nodded. You were never nervous the first time you sang something. It was like making pancakes: the first one didn’t count. That was your personal rule. You carefully put on the headphones and settled the microphone in front of you where you liked it.

You sang the lyrics exactly as written with the same vocalization he used in his version. A few times, your tongue twisted over the words. Your gut told you it wasn’t your singing style that was the issue. It felt like the sounds of those particular words didn’t fit those specific bars. As Jihoon played it back for you, you settled in to listen but you still felt some of the lyrics weren’t aligned with the song’s concept or sound.

Jihoon tilted his head and looked at you. It looked like he was calculating something. “What are you thinking?” he asked, turning his chair to face you fully.

You hesitated for a moment, but this was work. Jihoon was looking for your professional opinion as a songwriter. He obviously heard the demos you’d sent Hoshi back when you wrote a song for him and Youngji, and Jihoon liked your voice enough to ask for it on his demo. So this was definitely about work.

“I think a few of the lyrics need to be changed.” You scrolled to the first spot on your phone and pointed. “Right here, these three syllables are clashing against the musical phrasing underneath. You should do two syllables with an elongated vowel.”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. What about ‘only’ or ‘maybe’ in that spot?” He looked at the lyrics on your phone and sang that section a few times to test out both options. You nodded along, feeling the rhythm of the lyrics.

“Maybe. It fits the concept of the song better.”

“I agree. What else?”

As you pointed out a few other suggestions, you found yourself much more comfortable working with him than you expected. Sometimes when you met some of the bigger producers for the first time, you felt too starstruck to make any changes to their work. But something about working alone in the quiet studio with Jihoon made your typical unease disappear. His presence filled the room, but his questions were clear and direct and you always knew exactly what he was asking.

Ten minutes later, Jihoon started a second recording, this time with the new lyrics. Despite the late hour, your voice felt strong and your mouth formed every word exactly as you intended. When you finished singing and took off the headphones, Jihoon’s eyes sparkled at you before he spoke. You felt it, too. This was it. You wouldn’t need to lay another track.

“Ready to hear it?” he asked, looking back at the computer and not addressing the fact that you both knew it was going to be perfect. You could hear the note of anticipation in his voice.

“Yes.”

A broad smile stretched across your face as you listened to the entire song. Afterwards, Jihoon turned to you with his phone in hand.

“Send me your agency’s contact information and the email address for the legal department. I need the KOMCA registration details so I can list your name in the credits.”

And just like that, you officially collaborated on a song with Universe Factory.

...

“Did you end up recording with Y/N?” Soonyoung asked Jihoon as they walked back to the practice room holding fresh iced Americanos.

“She came over that night and recorded the demo,” Jihoon replied, heading up a staircase.

Soonyoung’s eyes bugged out of his head and he stumbled on a step. He grabbed the railing to catch himself. “That night? It was the middle of the night!”

Jihoon shrugged. “She said she could.”

“What did you do together?” Soonyoung asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean? We recorded the song.”

“That’s it?”

“What else would we do? She helped with the lyrics and I set it up to give her writing credits.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. She made the song better.”

Soonyoung watched Jihoon out of the corner of his eye. That was one of the nicest things Jihoon had ever said about anyone. Soonyoung took another sip of his coffee, his mind racing as he calculated a hundred algorithms at once. This whole situation was pretty unusual. But maybe, just maybe, his suspicion about Jihoon was correct.

“When are you seeing her again?” Soonyoung asked casually after they reached the top of the steps.

Jihoon cocked his head, thinking. “Maybe I’ll invite her to the recording. She would probably like that.”

Again, Soonyoung stumbled over his own two feet out of shock that Jihoon was considering someone’s feelings, and it wasn’t someone he’d known for a decade. And he didn’t always consider the feelings of members he knew for that long.

“Aren’t you going to buy dinner to thank her?” Soonyoung suggested.

“Is that necessary?”

“It would be the professional thing to do. Wouldn’t you do that if you worked with a guy? And Y/N really helped you meet your deadline.”

Jihoon thought carefully about the suggestion as they approached the door to the practice room. “You’re right. I should treat her to dinner. I’ll send her a message when we’re done.”

“I’ll remind you!” Soonyoung exclaimed enthusiastically.

...

Late at night a few days later, you walked up the hill to your apartment, completely lost in thought. You just finished dinner with Jihoon, and sharing the meal felt as comfortable as when you were recording in his studio last week.

After recording the demo together, he coordinated with your agency to make sure your credits appeared properly on the new song. You also had to sign an NDA about the song, studio location, and spending time with Jihoon. I guess it goes with the territory, you thought to yourself as you signed it.

During dinner, Jihoon explained the rushed deadline for the demo was because the song would be an OST for a drama starring one of the hottest actors in the country and the drama producers wanted to hear the song. Of course, they loved it and approved it.

It was hard to believe you worked with Jihoon on a song that Dokyeom was about to sing for a highly anticipated drama. It was even wilder that *Woozi* was saved in your phone simply as Jihoon, as if he was just another producer you worked with. And you were so surprised when he offered to buy you a meal to thank you. You should be the one thanking him!

But the simple meal was delicious and the quiet dinner in the small family-run restaurant near his studio (and near your apartment, but he didn't need to know that) was really nice. The owners seemed to know him well and treated him as a son. You knew you would remember the evening fondly.

Conversation mostly focused on work, but when Jihoon learned where you went to college for music production, it turned out you had learned from his mentors. He shared some genuinely entertaining stories from when he was starting to learn production software and recording tools.

It all made him more… real, and less of a person you just saw in videos on your phone. You sort of couldn't stop thinking about him, and as you walked up the steps leading to your apartment building, you found yourself mentally scrolling through all your draft songs to see if he might want to work on one with you.

...

[Jihoon] 21:09 - Would you be interested in coming to Dokyeom’s recording on Tuesday?

[Y/N] 21:15 - I would love that!

...

Through the glass of the recording booth, Jihoon watched you chatting with Dokyeom like you were old friends. He felt his stomach twist but couldn't figure out why.

Dokyeom had convinced you to record one track where you sang with him, even though they had a famous singer scheduled to record that verse tomorrow. So there you were, giggling with Dokyeom in the booth.

"Ready?" Jihoon asked over the booth speakers. He watched you and Dokyeom giggle yet again over the grumpy tone of his request before settling in around the mic.

Jihoon began the recording and heard your voice pipe through his headphones. Dokyeom added unplanned adlibs underneath, which Jihoon grudgingly acknowledged worked better than what he'd suggested.

It was so odd that Jihoon felt so protective of this song when it wasn't even his song anymore. You had made it so much better, and now the two singers were going to apply their own professional minds to the song. This is how it always went.

So why was he jealous of not being on the track himself? Of not being the one in the booth with you? Jihoon saw Dokyeom tap you on the shoulder to encourage you to join him on the final vocal runs. Oh yes, he was definitely feeling weirdly jealous over you two for some reason.

The music ended and you looked through the glass directly at Jihoon, eyes shining at him with a huge grin across your face. Jihoon found himself smiling back. You looked really beautiful at that moment.

Dokyeom's eyes widened as he glanced between you and Jihoon. He had never seen Jihoon appear so connected with a virtual stranger. The camera crew appeared to think the same thing, because he saw one of them move to get a close up of Jihoon, and he saw the robotic camera in the booth tilt toward you.

You broke eye contact with Jihoon to take off your headphones and thank Dokyeom for a chance to record the song for fun, and Jihoon shook himself out of whatever bizarre hypnosis he was going through. He headed over to the computer to send this track to his personal email, just in case he may want to listen to it later.

After a few more recordings of Dokyeom alone (his raw vocals were no joke), the three of you chatted in the studio while the engineer finalized the tracks and Dokyeom suggested getting dinner.

"I would love to, but I'm meeting my roommate for dinner," you explained. "We live nearby."

"Invite them!" Dokyeom replied. "Let me pick a spot and send you the location." He scrolled through the map on his phone.

Jihoon tidied the studio and listened to the two of you talk about dinner options. So you lived nearby and had a roommate. For some reason, he liked learning things about you. It must be because you worked together so well.

Dokyeom selected a restaurant and you called your roommate to ask about meeting you and your friends for dinner. You made eye contact with Jihoon when you said that into your phone. "Friends." Were the two of you friends now? Maybe.

...

"Jihoon, did you watch the new behind the scenes video?" Seungcheol asked as they rode to their next schedule.

Jihoon responded without looking up from his phone. "Not yet. It’s been a busy week."

"The fans are going crazy over your recording with Y/N."

Jihoon looked up at the sound of your name. He didn't realize Seungcheol knew who you were. "My recording with Y/N? You mean Dokyeom's OST recording?"

"That's not what Carats are calling it."

Seungcheol held his phone up so Jihoon could see a fan edit of the few clips from the episode that showed you with him in the studio. It ended with a screenshot from Dokyeom's Instagram story showing the three of you at dinner after the recording, in a photo taken by your roommate.

"What is that all about?" Jihoon wondered aloud. He was genuinely confused.

"Are you two dating?" Seungcheol asked directly.

Behind him in the car, Jeonghan and Minghao immediately stopped chatting. This was far more interesting than their conversation. While eavesdropping, Jeonghan frantically searched your name and Jihoon's name on social media to find the clip Seungcheol was talking about.

"No," Jihoon replied. "We worked together on the song and Dokyeom suggested we have dinner. We had dinner another time, too."

"That’s it?" Seungcheol asked skeptically.

"What do you mean? That's it."

Seungcheol looked from Jihoon to his phone, where the edit was playing again. Seungcheol agreed with the fans. There were definitely sparks between you and Jihoon. Maybe Jihoon didn't realize it yet.

By then, Jeonghan had found the clip and was watching it on mute with Minghao. They shared a meaningful look. They would probably agree with Seungcheol on his theory.

Jeonghan opened his text thread with Soonyoung and sent him a message out of curiosity. "Do you still hang out with Y/N?"

...

You were surprised by the reaction to the behind the scenes video. Most of your friends were excited to see the clips of Jihoon and Dokyeom and kept telling you the video was so cute.

Back when Dokyeom tagged you on his Instagram story, you explained to your friends that you worked on something with them and it had been an amazing experience. They were all happy for you and excited after the song was released and became so popular.

The fans seemed to have the same reaction as your friends. You were naturally a little nervous about what Carats would say when Jihoon's company asked if you were willing to be recorded. After the video, the fans seemed to think you were adorable and talented and that you worked well with Jihoon. It wasn't the dramatic reaction your roommate predicted.

But your roommate was also convinced you were into Jihoon and he was into you. While that might be half true, despite your denial, nothing in the video showed anything personal between you and Jihoon. Not that there was anything personal between the two of you, but sometimes you felt like he was giving…something. His attention felt more intense than regular coworker attention. You sort of loved having all his attention focused on you.

Nevertheless, you were barely in the video after all, since it was about Dokyeom recording the song. They cut the entire section with the track you sang with Dokyeom. The few clips where you appeared mostly showed you chatting and interacting with Jihoon, and you may have watched one or two fan edits of those scenes.

No matter what was or wasn't going on between you and Jihoon, you would never forget immediately after the music stopped, when the two of you stared into each other's eyes in a perfect moment in time.

Even if he never contacted you again, you would never forget that moment.

...

[Jihoon] 13:30 - I just learned the song was nominated for best OST

[Y/N] 13:31 - WHAT?? Really??

[Jihoon] 13:31 - It's your first nomination right?

[Y/N] 13:31 - Yes!

[Y/N] 13:31 - I can't believe it

[Y/N] 13:32 - I'm in shock

[Jihoon] 13:32 - I asked them to invite you to the ceremony

[Y/N] 13:32 - You didn't have to do that

[Jihoon] 13:33 - I have to sit with the group, but even if we don't win I want it to be a special night for you

[Jihoon] 13:33 - It's an honor to be nominated

[Y/N] 13:34 - Thank you so much for including me in all of this

[Jihoon] 13:34 - You earned this

...

"...produced by Woozi of Universe Factory, and written by Woozi of Universe Factory and Y/N of Bespoke Records. This is the first win and first nomination in this category for these songwriters. Please welcome Woozi and Dokyeom to the stage."

Jihoon was actually surprised the song won. The other nominees were very popular as well, but all were produced by groups who wrote many drama OSTs. Seungkwan clapped his back and encouraged him to go up to the stage with Dokyeom as the members cheered and clapped around him. Above the noise, Jihoon could hear the song playing in the background.

As he stood, he took a moment to scan the audience, hoping he might see you. He didn't know where your assigned seat was, only that you weren't at one of the tables at the front with the larger groups and celebrities. He knew you were here because of the excited text messages you sent him after you spotted his table.

Dokyeom led the way to the stage. Jihoon reached the microphone and accepted the award, bowing to the MCs. They stepped back and motioned toward the microphone. Dokyeom nodded encouragingly. Jihoon had done this so many times yet completely forgot what he was supposed to do this time. He wished you were on stage with him.

"Thank you, thank you everyone. Thank you to the company and the drama producers for this opportunity. Thank you to the viewers for appreciating the song from rookie OST producers. Thank you to Y/N, who is also here tonight, for elevating the song to what you hear today. She…"

Jihoon trailed off as loud applause covered his voice and people seemed to be looking at the screen behind him. He turned to look and his mind went blank. You looked radiant in your elegant dress and glowing smile.

He'd never seen you in such a beautiful gown (he only saw you in jeans or sweats and he loved that didn't follow all the trends). Your makeup was shimmering on camera (your everyday makeup always wore off by the time you arrived at your late night meetings but you were always beautiful to him). Everything about you was captivating.

He was a man of few words, generally, but right now he was speechless.

Finally, Dokyeom poked his side and nodded toward the microphone forcefully. Jihoon's years of media training kicked in and he turned back to the audience to finish his speech.

"Thank you also to our wonderful singers who brought so much life to the song. I hope we are all able to return to you soon as stronger artists."

When Jihoon returned to his seat, Soonyoung eagerly whispered, "Y/N looks gorgeous, doesn't she? How did you know she was here?"

"I invited her," Jihoon replied. And she does look amazing, he thought to himself.

...

Late that night, many hours later, Jihoon's phone buzzed as he filled a glass of water. He looked at the notification and saw it was a message from you.

[Y/N] 4:13 - Thank you so much for everything. I'm going to remember tonight for the rest of my life. It was an honor to work with you and I'm so proud of the song.

Jihoon looked at the time. Maybe it was too late to call you, but you were clearly up too late thinking about things, just as he was. He tapped the icon to call you and was still a little surprised when you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I just wanted to say it was a privilege to work with you too.” There was a pause and he awkwardly filled it. “The award will be sent to your company after they engrave it.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ve never won anything before. It still doesn't feel real.”

Jihoon heard a small thump in the background. It sounded like you sat down. He sat down on the couch himself and set his glass on the table in front of him.

“It would be funny if we worked together again and won another award.”

It wouldn’t be funny, Jihoon thought. It was very possible. You were extremely talented. “Why not? You should send me some of your songs.”

You chuckled into his ear. Something about this made his heart beat faster. “I've been thinking about doing that but I didn't know if you would want to listen to my music.”

“Of course I do.”

The line went silent.

Jihoon wondered if you could tell how he felt about you. His friends told him women were more perceptive than they expected, especially if you treat them disrespectfully. He tried to treat everyone with respect. But he wanted more from you. He wanted more with you.

“YN? Are you still there?”

“I am,” you replied quietly.

“After you send me some songs, should we have dinner again? Just us. We can talk about the songs.” He paused, thinking of how to put into words what he felt about you. “And anything else on your mind. I really like it when you tell me what you're thinking about.”

“That would be great. I would love to.” He could hear your smile over the phone.

#seventeen fluff #svt fluff #woozi fluff #jihoon fluff #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen fanfic #wavelikewhat #woozi fanfic #lee jihoon #jihoon imagines #woozi #jihoon #svt #seventeen #wavelikewhat svt

1K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

you and jake in a forbidden kind of situation, maybe you’re an important admiral daughter, rooster’s sister, don’t know. you two get close, but he can’t really make a move on you, someday you end up in the same bed, you’re like cuddling and you just move a little too much, just enough to leave him hot and bothered.

now what’s really on my mind is his big hands holding your hips in place, so you wouldn’t move anymore, like warning you “you need to stop now or i won’t hold myself”

this is along the lines of a goose lives/nobody dies au? basically they're at the bradshaw home, so carole and by extension nick would still be living there, with the reader as his younger (but adult) sister. hope that makes sense!!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

The Bradshaw house is jam-packed, and you're lucky that you have a bed at all. As a resident and not a guest, it would be common courtesy to offer your bed up to one of the pilots that have come to visit, but the one you'd chosen, Jake, had some other arrangement in mind.

Said arrangement is his broad hand over your stomach, toned chest against your back and muscled arm hanging over your shoulders. You can feel the soft, warm air that he's exhaling, washing over the back of your neck in waves as he tries falling asleep.

You'd normally be squished in with Bradley, a trip down memory lane of all the times you'd crawled into your big brother's bed after a nightmare when you were little. You're much bigger now, but you still have the same twin bed, so having someone even more broad-shouldered and bulky than your brother in it means you're extra close.

Bradley's not happy with the sleeping arrangement. Before he could secure his spot beside you to ensure that none of his friends did anything sleazy, your two younger cousins had latched onto his legs, demanding to sleep in their favorite Bradshaw's bed. You'd take it as an insult, but you're their favorite when he's gone, because they forget he exists. So you'd snickered as he committed himself to a restless night full of cold little feet and floppy babies, and lead his rival to your bed by his large, rough hand.

It feels nice where it's placed over your belly. Warm and gentle, a constant presence that rises and falls with your breaths.

You don't start it on purpose, you really are just uncomfortable laying on your hip. So you tilt yourself backwards, towards Jake, and settle further against his chest.

Then he moves. It's slight, barely-there, but he pulls his hips away from yours. Only his hips, and he clears his throat against your shoulder.

The second time is an effort of confirmation. You feign discomfort again, grunting slightly as you shimmy even further back on the mattress, locking your hips to his once more.

This time you feel it. A growing bulge, stiffening ever-so-slightly as your hips move. He's frozen, hoping you somehow can't feel it, because he can't scoot further back on the bed or he'll fall.

The third time is just for fun. You grind back into him, and his hand shoots from your stomach to your waist. His large hand blankets your hip bone, squeezing firmly.

"Don't." He murmurs, stern.

"What? You don't like it?" You peer over your shoulder, face centimeters from his own, "Feels like you do."

I'm serious, Y/N." He squeezes harder at your hip when you try to move it, "Stop now, or I won't be able to hold back."

"Then don't." You parrot him, equally as stern, "Why do you think I chose you? And why do you think I asked my cousins if they wanted to sleep over tonight, too? This is not a coincidence, Jake. I want you, too."

He's still at the information, save for the hardening of his bulge. Then slowly, tantalizingly slowly, he moves his hand off of your hip, and covers your mouth with it.

"Silent," He commands, lips brushing your ear, "Absolutely silent. Do you understand?"

You manage a nod, and he pries at your pajama shorts with his free hand, trapped beneath your side. They're loose, and he's able to flatten his hand over your cunt without taking them off. He brushes a thumb over your clit, dragging ticklish stripes up and down your slit with his thick pointer finger. They gush gooey warmth just below your stomach, and you arch yourself into his grip.

"Easy," He hums, at the bucking of your hips, "If you move, and the bed squeaks, I'm stopping."

You're at his mercy now, body begging for touch and lips silenced by his massive hand. When you feel one of his thick fingers slip beneath your waistband and slide against your slit, you gasp. It's muffled, of course, but Jake freezes.

"What did I tell you?" He whispers gruffly against your ear.

You press a kiss into his palm as your answer, a vow of silence.

"Better." He grunts, applying gentle pressure to your cunt, finger just barely breaching your slit, "If Rooster finds out he'll kill us both."

With that, he pushes his finger fully into your cunt, and its met with warm slick. You're decently lubricated already, the excitement and scandal of whatever's about to happen pooling itself inside of you.

"Good," He whispers, pumping his finger in and out, in and out. Once it's fully slick, sliding easily through your folds, he adds another, keeping them pressed together as he guides them through your cunt. You're spread open quicker than usual, but you suppose it's because his fingers are thicker than yours, and more exciting.

It only makes you more wet when he hoists himself up to his knees, rolling you onto your stomach and keeping his hand over your mouth. He has to sit up to tug your panties to the side and take his cock out of his pajama pants, but once he's settled and ready to go, his free hand lands by your shoulder.

HIs cock is thick, far thicker than his fingers that had already been a stretch. But it's only a slight burn that accompanies his cockhead at your entrance, and when he pushes himself in and bottoms out, it's gone. Now there's only pleasure swirling beneath your belly, and it's insanely hard not to moan.

He has to go slow and gentle so that the bed doesn't make noise. You're dreaming of the day when he can jackhammer you into the mattress and you can scream his name, but for now the slow drag of his cock through your cunt below your ass is enough.

More than enough, you think, as the pleasure coupled from his fingers and his cock is starting to overwhelm you. He's working a steady pace, albeit slow, and each thrust into your soaked cunt is a reward.

You can tell he's already chasing his own high, too. You suppose it's the forbidden aspect of the sex, the fact that if you get caught by anyone, you're in trouble for life. He feels so wrong bucking his hips against yours, feeling the soft flesh of your ass against his skin, but that's why it feels right. And it feels wrong for his cock to slam against your insides, over and over again, twitching slightly, but that's why it feels right.

It's quick, hasty sex so that no one has the chance to catch you in the act. You ramp yourself up, imagine the sight of his cock disappearing beneath your ass and into your gaping cunt. In turn, he fantasizes about the noises you're biting back behind his palm, leaning down to bury his face against your shoulder.

"Cum," He grunts, lips pressed to your skin and forehead sweaty, "C'mon, darlin', can't get caught. Hurry up."

His insistence, where you'd normally consider it bossy and inconsiderate, is hot. He's demanding an orgasm from you, ripping it out himself with every thrust of his thick cock. There's no way you can't cum, not with his breath on your neck, his voice by your ear, and his cock in your cunt.

When you spasm, he does, too. The convulsion of your cunt, rapidly tensing and clenching around his rock-hard cock make him stifle a groan against your skin. He hits his own climax as you're coming down from yours, and your legs tremble at the feeling of his cum gushing into your cunt.

He braces himself on his knees, using his free hand to flip you over. Once you're on your back he collapses over top of you, panting beside your ear and muffling the sound into your pillow. He only removes his hand from over your face to kiss you, lips lazily suctioning to your own.

"Good," He hums, careful to keep his voice soft as it thrums through your entire body, warm in his chest, "Nice and quiet, darlin'. They'll never know."

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peachy-panic · 7 months

Text

Companion, pt. 1

New Do No Harm content? In the current timeline? In 2024 the year of our lord? Could it be?

Here's part 1 of a couple-part saga in the Sebastian contract, which I lightly foreshadowed here.

WARNINGS: Not much outside the usual BBU tag and the uncomfortable power dynamics that come with it.

The house is warm when Sebastian gets home, in every sense of the word. A candle flickers an inviting glow on the coffee table, and the smell of garlic and onions rushes to greet him. As expected, he finds Jaime posted in the kitchen, tending to his latest creation on the stovetop. On the small bluetooth radio beside the toaster, a song he doesn’t recognize is playing.

It’s taking some time for Sebastian to get used to coming home to someone. For so long, for most of this adult life, it has been dark, empty apartments or cold, distant roommates, never allowed past arm’s length. And now, there’s Jaime, who has entered his life like a bullet and smiles over his shoulder when Sebastian walks into the room.

He is getting better these days at reading his smiles, and this one, at least, appears to be genuine. Relieved, almost, that he is home.

“Hi,” Jaime says first.

“Hello,” Sebastian echoes, dropping his coat over the back of a barstool. “What are we making?”

“It’s an Ezra recipe,” Jaime says, wiping his palms on his pants. “Is soup okay tonight? If that’s not substantial enough, I am happy to make something else with it.”

Sebastian does not let his smile drop or fade, no matter how desperately uncertain Jaime sounds. “Soup sounds great, Jaime. It smells amazing.”

It’s the truth, too. It’s a difficult balance, wanting to compliment his prowess in the kitchen and appreciate the genuine joy he seems to derive from it, while also trying not to think of the how and why. Sebastian doesn’t know much about what “training” looks like inside the facility, especially for the specialized domestic tasks that would have been assigned to Jaime, and he doesn’t particularly like speculating on the details. From everything he’s seen in the clinic, he knows that none of it is pleasant.

“How was work?’ Jaime asks, then seems to catch himself. He stiffens, looking sheepishly away. “Sorry. You probably aren’t allowed to talk about that.”

Sebastian snorts. “If only doctor-patient confidentiality applied in a place like that.” The words come out before he can consider the significance they carry to the person he’s speaking to. Guilt spikes sharp in his chest. “Sorry, that wasn’t…”

“It’s okay.” Jaime smiles, but it’s a tense, brittle line.

“Um.” Sebastian clears his throat, trying to get their conversation back on the rails before he ruins the evening completely. “My day was okay. It was fine.” He shakes his head, pressing his fingers briefly to his eyes. “That was a lie. It was terrible, as usual. I don’t think I need to convince you that having a good day in that building would be a poor reflection of one’s character.”

So much for salvaging the conversation, Tate.

“Anyway, how was your day?”

Jaime pulls the hand towel down from his shoulder and begins wiping at an invisible spot on the counter. “It was fine, thank you.”

Sebastian watches him, trying hard not to scrutinize the pre-packaged reply. His answer is always something of the same tune when Sebastian inquires about his day, never anything less than “fine,” never forthcoming on the details. It’s not the first time it’s sent Sebastian into a bit of a spiral about a concern he’s had from the very beginning: how does Jaime spend his days? Is he happy here? Has Sebastian provided him with enough resources to carve out some semblance of a life here?

He has tried. He has provided him access to the internet and all the movies streaming had to offer, he bought Jaime a reading tablet and granted blanket permission to fill it with as many books as he wants, he has given enthusiastic encouragement for Jaime to go for runs or walks whenever he’d like. It doesn’t feel like enough. He still ends up spending his long days at work wondering if Jaime is at home feeling like a prisoner.

Sebastian pushes the thought away for now.

“Is there anything I can help with?” He asks.

“It’s almost done, actually.” Jaime taps the excess liquid from the wood spoon and lays it on a ceramic dish. “Just needs a few more minutes to simmer. Sorry, I hoped it would be ready by the time you got home.”

Sebastian gives him a look. “You don’t have to cook at all,” he says. “Let alone have it hot and waiting at the table. You’re aware of my microwave burrito phase? My standards are low.”

“I remember.” Jaime assures him. “I don’t mind, though. I like trying new recipes. Ezra lent me a cookbook. I tabbed a few that look interesting. If they look good to you, that is.”

“You have yet to steer me wrong. I’m starting to think it’s impossible for you to cook anything less than a masterpiece.”

The slight stutter in Jaime’s stirring is quick enough that Sebastian can brush it off as his imagination.

“It passes the time,” Jaime says, a bit quieter.

“What?”

“Cooking. Planning the meals, ordering the ingredients. Prep and cook time,” he elaborates. “It’s productive, is all I mean.” Jaime has gone tense, the way he does when he seems to say more than he means to, but he recovers quickly.

The soup is ready shortly after, and dinner is delicious as always, but Sebastian can’t get out of his own head enough to really enjoy it. Jaime’s words—it passes the time—bounce around inside his skull, breaking open all sorts of subtext and confirming all of Sebastian’s fears.

They’re cleaning up afterward, Sebastian scrubbing the dishes while Jaime dries, when a thought that’s been brewing spills out of his mouth.

“Have you ever had any pets?” Sebastian asks, apropos of absolutely nothing. Jaime shoots him a quick side glance without pausing in his work.

“Once,” he says after a beat.

Sebastian knows it’s tricky ground, getting too close to details from Jaime’s past. He knows the rules he is bound by and how closely Jaime tries to follow them, even if sometimes Sebastian thinks he might be getting more and more comfortable with little rebellions. Sebastian is still riding the high from a couple weeks prior when Jaime had gifted him and Ezra the small nugget of truth that he used to play soccer, in his life before the system. What might have been an insignificant detail to anyone else was such a fragile, entrusted thing.

Sebastian doesn’t want to pry, though. He decides to keep his questions more general.

“Do you like animals?”

“Yes.” That answer comes much quicker.

“Would you…” Sebastian pauses, making sure he’s positive about the proposition he is making before he makes it. He is. “Tell me honestly if this isn’t something you’re interested in, and I won’t be offended in the slightest. I was wondering… if that might be something you would be interested in. Having a pet here.”

Jaime takes a minute to answer, like he’s choosing each word carefully. “Would it be solely for my benefit?”

“No,” Sebastian assures him, and it’s not a lie. “It’s something I’ve thought about before, but I don’t have a lot of experience with pets. Zero, to be exact, unless you count a goldfish that lived for under a week when I was seven.” He pauses. “I do worry about you getting lonely, though. Staying here by yourself all the time.”

“I don’t mind being alone.”

“I know. I just wonder if it might be nice to have some company. Something to look after.” Something to bring you comfort. Anything to make you happy here.

A quiet falls over them, interspersed with the sound of running water and dishes clanking around in the sink, and Sebastian starts to think of how to walk this back. Because clearly this is something that gives Jaime pause.

“What about…” Jaime starts, then stops. Sebastian puts down the dish he is working on and looks at him. Jaime meets his eyes for a split second and then averts them again. “Would you keep it, even after I’m gone?”

And shit. Maybe it’s a good thing he put the cup down in the sink, because Sebastian is pretty sure it would have shattered in his hand from the force of his grip. And he realizes, not for the first time, that the longevity of this… arrangement is something they need to talk about. In detail. At length. Soon. But now doesn’t seem like the right time.

“If I brought a living creature into my home,” he starts carefully, “then this would become its home, too. It will be here for the long haul.”

After a long, weighty silence, he sees Jaime nod in his periphery.

“I think I’d like that.”

****

@whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @finder-of-rings @melancholy-in-the-morning @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump @the-whumpers-grimm @thebirdsofgay @firewheeesky @whumperfully @hold-back-on-the-comfort @termsnconditions-apply @cyborg0109 @whumplr-reader @pinkraindropsfell @whatwhumpcomments @honeycollectswhump @pirefyrelight @handsinmotion @alexmundaythrufriday @scoundrelwithboba

#do no harm: jaime & sebastian #whump #whumplr #whump writing #bbu #like bbu adjacent?

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steviewashere · 6 months

Text

Leaving is Hard, But Loving You is Easy

Rating: General CW: None Apply Tags: Post-Canon, Post Season 4, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson is Leaving Town, Saying Goodbye, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kisses, Making Out, Love Confessions, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington

💕—————💕 He watches Eddie Munson leave in the middle of a Wednesday evening, 1991. It’s just turned 6:10PM and the sunlight is dipping low. There’s a chill in the air. Though he’s wearing a sweater, the breeze is felt more with the expected absence that will be left. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the guy over the last several years. If it meant he’d be standing and staring at the guy’s back. Watching him lug boxes into a van that’s probably older than the both of them. Toying with the collar of his sweater like the soothed over fabric will warrant him to not be so lonely. Maybe it doesn’t help that it smells like cigarettes. Steve doesn’t smoke anymore.

“That’s everything, I think. Well, I’m hoping,” Eddie’s saying, turning around. His voice is low and raspy tonight. Like it is when it’s been overused. Makes sense, considering he’d been talking through goodbyes and big plans and sincere farewells. Steve’s the last on his list. He’s not sure whether to feel heartbroken or…Who is he kidding? Of course he’s heartbroken.

One doesn’t become friends with somebody like Eddie Munson and then not be overcome with emotion when he leaves. But also. He doesn’t want to just be friends. Steve holds to himself, tight around the elbows, hunching inwards. Maybe if he’s small, the leaving will hurt less. He also doesn’t allow himself to look. Instead focused on a spot of rust on the van’s bumper. At the brand new DMV sticker on his license plate; it won’t expire for a while now. When he’s not even in Hawkins anymore. When he’s long gone elsewhere.

Eddie sits down right where Steve’s looking. Legs extended in front of him. A cigarette dangling between his chapped lips. Not even lit up. He doesn’t have a lighter right now anyway. Steve should know, Eddie’d been complaining about it for the last three days. He mumbles around the stick, “I’m not going to miss this place.”

“Really?” Steve finds himself asking. Though, he realizes it comes out more as a sigh. A breath. A certain type of mourning. He zeroes in on the knee hole of Eddie’s jeans. Large and manmade. Rippling on the edges and cinched oddly from strings of taut denim that Eddie has since plucked away. Probably from toying with the hole too much. From being restless on Steve’s couch during movie nights or birthed from slow lulls in Dungeons & Dragons campaigns or simply made from being shoved over in games of tag at Hopper’s barbecues.

“Well, yeah, Stevie,” Eddie says. As if it should be obvious. “People don’t like me ‘round here. I’ve felt that way for years. Now it’s my chance to leave.” He sighs through his nose. Like he’s actually smoking the cigarette in his mouth. Then, he continues quietly, “The only good thing to come out of…That hellhole and everything…Was the money to keep me silent. Put it away safely. Now, I’m gonna use it to find myself in a place where I’ll just be a speck. Nobody knows me, that kind of shit.”

Steve nods slowly. Agreeing minutely. If only because Eddie wants him to. “There’s not going to be anything you’ll miss about Hawkins?” Why does a part of him want to hear Eddie say his name?

He shrugs. “I mean I’ll miss having band practice with my buddies. And the Hellfire Club because I started it, y’know? I’ll always have an ache in my heart towards Wayne and the trailer, the first place that ever felt like home.” Eddie plucks the cigarette from his mouth and rolls it back and forth between his index finger and thumb. Both ends are practically dry. He’s staring at it. Contemplating. Then, he sighs mournfully. “I’ll miss the first day I came here. How everything was small yet meaningful. How after a week of walking around town, the folks at all the stores knew my name and my favorite things. Benny…Back at Benny’s Diner, you know the place, he had my favorite order down. I’ll miss the people nobody knows anymore.”

But then he looks dead on at Steve. And Steve burns with how intense everything has come to be. In the space of reconstruction after what such disaster he’s experienced, Eddie’s eyes and his bared soul are enough to nearly knock him down. Take the wind out of him for the moment.

“I will always miss the people here, Steve,” he rasps. “The ones that mattered.”

Steve swallows. “Makes sense,” he musters. Then, he does something he knows will destroy him, he sits down next to Eddie. Shoulder, hip, the outside of their opposite feet connecting in a warm line. His clothed elbow scratches roughly on Eddie’s bare one. He looks out at the space in front of him. The dirt road that gives the idea of a driveway to Forest Hills. At the dead grass that has since wilted from the winter weather. He notices the imprint of their shoes. Dangerously close together. He sighs.

Eddie’s quiet next to him. No longer fiddling with the cigarette. Still where he sits. Stoic in thought. “You’re the best of them,” he whispers.

Steve hums questioningly.

“You,” Eddie says, again like it should be obvious. “Steve, you’re one of my favorite people. Did you know that?”

“No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Gently, Eddie nudges his shoulder. Knocking them loose, but settling back warmly. Like he can’t get enough of them touching. Simply sitting there. Doing nothing. Saying goodbye. “Well, you are. You changed my whole worldview. Taught me how to be a better friend. To rid of a lot of my stupid high school bullshit. You’ve—“ He takes a moment to himself. A silence. Contemplating again. Searching. “—You’ve been there. For me. For everybody. A guiding hand. A voice in the darkness of a nightmare. A fixture. You’re wonderful. An experience that I don’t think I’ll ever—“ His next word is muffled.

Muted by Steve’s mouth on his. A hand to Eddie’s cheek, cupping him. Another to the back of his head, tangling hair around his fingers, pushing them together. He moves his lips slowly. Savoring. How Eddie’s lips are slightly cracked, yet plush soft. The breath that puffs onto the corner of his mouth from Eddie’s nose, apparent in the way their heads are angled to meet each other. He doesn’t explore with his tongue. Not at all. Leaving this to the simple movements of one another, the carnivorous way he tastes Eddie. Placating this goodbye with years worth of emotion and yearning, bottled up in his ribcage, and overflowing like a rolling boil.

Though when he takes a breath, he’s forced instead to gasp. To hiccup. To sob. Eddie carefully grasps him by the cheeks. Pulling him back enough to take a deep, swallowing, consuming breath. His thumbs tickle under Steve’s eyes. Patting at the warm skin. The edges of his fingernails gently press into the soft give of his bottom eyelids.

“Stevie?” He questions lowly. “Sweetheart, you’re…You’re crying.”

He sniffles noisily. His hand crumples in Eddie’s hair, probably tugging at the strands, but it’s not shown on Eddie’s face. Instead of answering, he dives back in. Pressing more firmly. Squishing the tip of his nose in Eddie’s left cheek. Slicking their chins with his spit. Stuttering through gasps, sobbing on his lips, squinting with every soft cry. He can’t even fully see Eddie’s face. Not his eyes, which he fell in love with first. Or the way his cheeks are lighting up red, given by the warmth radiating onto Steve’s own skin. He can’t see and he can’t breathe, but he’d be damned if he stopped right now. His other hand moves down to the side of Eddie’s neck, squeezing as if attempting to choke him out. The rapid thrum of Eddie’s pulse under his thumb. He thinks if he were to die in this kiss, he could be resuscitated by Eddie’s beating heart alone.

While Eddie is enthusiastic to respond, his eyes don’t close in bliss. And he doesn’t move further into Steve’s space. If anything, he’s inching away. Pulling again at Steve’s head. Forcing them apart. “Steve, you don’t want to—“

“You’re everything,” Steve is sobbing out. “Everything to me.” He swallows harshly. His tongue is heavy with saliva and emotion. “You stayed here with me after…After all the bullshit. When Robin left for school. And everybody graduated. When they moved on,” he’s rambling. He should stop. Get himself in line. Try to make sense of every word falling from between his lips. But he can’t grasp them. They flow. They spill. He’s boiling.

“Baby, I’m going, too,” Eddie cooed sadly. “I’m not staying here.”

“I know. I know, Eds, I know,” Steve mutters. He gasps through a hiccup, reigning in his tears, at least slightly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Tell me what, Steve?”

He bounces his eyes back and forth between Eddie’s. Their roundness. And the dark encompassing color to them. How they pull him in like black holes. He could probably destroy Steve, especially with what is said next.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve confesses. “I’ve been in love with you,” he reiterates, voice cracking and wet and too thick. “For years, Eds.”

The hands on his cheeks slither down to his shoulders. For a moment, his head is heavy enough to careen him to the side. His head resting on the closed back door. He looks on with half-lidded eyes and a shiver against his spine. Eddie’s looking low at Steve’s chest, where his heart is. He squeezes the sweater material under his hands.

He swallows heavily in the stilled silence. Whispers, “I’m flattered, Steve—“ And Steve straightens back up, flailing a little to get out of this hold. To make his escape. To just leave when he isn’t wanted. But Eddie holds to him harshly. Keeping him still. “—I really am. But what you said doesn’t change my mind. I’m leaving.”

“Tell me, then,” Steve shoots. His voice flat. Lifeless.

“Tell you…”

“That you love me, too. Please tell me that.”

Eddie sighs again. His hands pressing harder on Steve’s shoulders. If it’s not his eyes, then Steve will gladly be ruined by Eddie’s hands. “Steve. That’s not a good idea.” He states it like it’s factual.

To hell with that.

“Then lie to me,” Steve pleads. “You don’t have to mean it. Just tell me—“

“I don’t want to lie to you, Steve. And besides, I’d only be lying to myself if I said it like that,” Eddie says. He moves his left palm up to Steve’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Tickling it down to where it touches the tops of his shoulders. Moves back up and dully scratches at his scalp. “I do love you, Steve. I do. I love you with every muscle in my body and every freckle on my skin. But…Sweetheart, you’re staying here. I’ll be elsewhere. And I know how you are in relationships. You like being near. You like being able to touch and cherish and hold. You like waking up next to them. You like having a person with you.”

Sometimes knowing Eddie Munson means being known back. And Steve should’ve realized that. He’s been privy to it thousands of times over the last five years. He’s been pulled from his darkest thoughts because of Eddie’s perceptive nature. He’s been taken care of in a lot of aspects. Distracted when he’s bored. Cherished when he’s lack luster.

He moves his own hands down to his lap. Folding them together so he doesn’t do something more stupid than what he’s already done. Something like hold on and never let go. Because Eddie isn’t his. And sure. Maybe they do love each other. Madly. Deeply. Infatuated practically. But Eddie’s right. He’s right and Steve hates that.

“You’re everything to me,” Steve murmurs. “I can’t just let you leave.”

Eddie sighs. A grievance. “Then we’re at a stalemate, baby. I can’t stay.”

“Then take me with you,” Steve says back. Quick as a bullet. Even his words surprise him. He startles back slightly. But his eyes remain on Eddie’s.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Before Eddie blinks. Harshly. Tilting his head to the side. “Are you…You’re not just saying that, right? Do you actually want to leave? Because you didn’t want to before.”

Steve nods. “What’s left for me here anyway, right? I can just go to my house, pack my clothes, the few actual things I have, and we can go.”

This time, it’s Eddie who devours. Swooping in. Sucking on Steve’s lips. Nibbling. Holding onto him as to never let him go again. He barely moves to breathe. But when he does, it’s to whisper, “I would’ve loved you still anyway.”

“Hm?”

“If you didn’t want to come with. I still would’ve loved you. I would wait forever.”

“Well. I don’t want to keep you waiting. Help me pack?”

Eddie’s hands drift to his. He holds. Their fingers tangled. “As long as you won’t regret doing this.” His thumb is warm on the back of Steve’s left hand. It’s kind of funny. How big and moving Eddie seems to always be. Though, in this moment, every ounce of him is dedicated to devotion. To soft caresses and softer words.

Steve gives him a small smile. “The only thing I regret is not telling you that I love you sooner. Come on, Eds.” He tugs on their conjoined hands. “My life starts with you.”

💕—————💕 I thought about them not getting together. I thought about writing it so that Steve's love was unrequited. But I spared you. For today. Maybe not next time. We'll see.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfiction #angst and hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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starlightsreigns · 2 months

Text

close to you | d. mcintyre

summary: stella thought she knew what she wanted, but sometimes it's too late to change your mind.

word count: 1k

warnings: none!

author's note: heya, welcome to another part of the Anti one-shots. as per usual, ignore the errors and stay til the end for a question. find the other parts of here! x (two posts one day, say you’re proud of me!)

“Expecting me to let you go, but I won’t.”

stella’s diamond engagement ring shined as she stared down at it. The overhead porch light made it sparkle brighter against the rain droplets that dropped down at a constant pace. the rain also helps mask the tears that fell from her eyes, the only evidence of her emotions were the streaks of mascara. she glanced back at the darkness of the street, the moon only allowing a partial view into the void. stella wasn’t sure how she ended up an hour away from home with no keys, a dead phone, and dressed like she came from a fancy dinner. Her expensive dress and her even more expensive Louboutin’s were soaked from the downpour. Her usually perfectly curly hair was now laid flat, weighed down by the water.

now that she thought about it the ride from Palm Beach to Orlando was two and a half hours and she spent over $200 on the Uber ride. Yet, as she stood under the light flicker of the porch light, she slightly regretted her decision to come here. there had to have been another answer, but now, she was stranded. her hand shook from the cold as she pressed the doorbell, again staring at the sparkling diamond. It was silent for a while, with no noise or movement, and her heart dropped.

“shit,” she breathed, turning to come up with a game plan.

before she could move, the door creaked open and his voice surrounded Stella. “star?” the nickname he gave her so long ago made her heart jump. “what are you doin’ here?”

stella turned slowly, bracing a weak smile on her face as the rain continued to pour over her. She let out a shaky breath. drew stepped out when she didn’t move, taking her hand into his. he peered down at the ring that brushed the palm of his hand and then back to her face.

“what’s goin’ on?” concern laced in his voice.

“i-i had to leave, I couldn’t stay there and I didn’t know where to go.” Stella stammered out. “I know I shouldn’t have come here, but your address is the only one I had memorized, and I-”

drew cut her off with a tug of her arm, “Come here,”

nothing else was said for a while as drew ushered her into the house she knew so well. it’s been over a year since she’s seen the inside of it, yet nothing had changed. it was exactly as she remembered it. stella stayed quiet, to herself, as Drew handed her a t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and a towel to dry her hair. even with the dry clothes, she shivered while she sat on the couch.

it was strange. the last time the pair sat together on his couch, was the day they broke up. it was mutual in the sense that they needed time apart to see if it could work. that time apart became permanent as Drew climbed the ranks at work, his schedule doubled, and Stella became aforethought. granted, she became busier and fell into other relationships. now, engaged, she felt regret amongst other feelings.

“Stella, talk to me,” Drew rested a hand on the back of the couch to watch her face. “you can tell me.”

it was hard for the words to come out of her mouth, “You know, the day I said yes to this ring I thought it was what I wanted. I convinced myself that it was what I needed and it would make all my hurt go away.” Stella stared at the ring. “you know, tonight he yelled at me because I mentioned your name.”

stella met her fiancé through a friend. she liked him and for a long time, it felt like enough. unfortunately, love never entered the picture, she was just too scared to deal with her feelings for Drew and where everything was left off. her fiancé became a long-term rebound. it was killing her and guilt chipped away at her day and night. maybe that’s why she ended up at Drew’s place tonight. was it closure? yet, she wasn’t ready to move on, she didn’t want to.

“Stella…” Drew sighed, unable to truly respond.

“Drew, I broke off my engagement tonight.” Stella finally let out.

“I love in your direction, hoping that the message goes somewhere close to you.”

The truth felt so freeing. Drew was shocked and watched as Stella stared at the ring. At dinner, she couldn’t help what she was feeling anymore, and surprisingly, her fiancé knew all along that Stella hadn’t moved on from her old relationship. he held onto hope for a while that she’d come around, but after months and no wedding plans, he knew she’d eventually break it off.

So, right after leaving the restaurant, she needed to know if Drew was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him.

It was quiet for a long while. Stella was too afraid to look up at Drew as she stared past her, filled with his thoughts. He didn’t know where to start. She twisted the ring around her finger over and over, stuck in fear, stuck in the thoughts that there was no chance of this working out anymore.

“Star, I love you, but…” Drew sighed again.

Her worst nightmare was being realized. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear and could feel her heart breaking all over again. Stella looked up in his direction, praying that the tears that brimmed in her eyes would stay at bay. She couldn’t show any more weakness that she’d already shown tonight, but it was becoming impossible.

“It’s taken too long to get to this point, I don’t know if I can do this again.” He finished his thought, unable to look in her direction. “I can’t do it.”

Stella stood from her seat and licked her bottom lip. She quickly wiped away a tear as Drew tried to take a step towards her.

“Okay, good to know.” Stella faked a smile.

Drew shakes his head, “Stella, you were engaged.”

“Okay?” She raised her voice. “Because I took your promise of waiting for you more seriously than you did. You went on to have relationships and I tried my best to move on from you, and I’m being blamed for all of this?” Stella huffed.

“But I’m in love, can’t blame me for checking.”

It wasn't going to work.

Stella stood on the porch, facing Drew, needing to leave. He stared at her in sadness.

"Stella-"

"Please, Drew, I get it." Stella shrugged. "You've taken this whole thing better than me and I need to move on, I understand that now."

Drew shook his head, "I love you."

The rain seemed to fall harder on the car ride back home. Stella held back the tears causing only pain to ripple through her chest. Nothing about this night was what she expected.

i have an idea for this one since it was short - i had no plan on doing a one-shot for love on the brain, but maybe I'll make an exception and make love on the brain a sequel to this one. what does everyone think??? x

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre x reader

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marsbarsfrommars · 2 months

Text

alone with you (the only heaven I'll be sent to)

summary

She nods and simply says the only thing she has to, “I understand.”

“I knew you would,” he responds with a certainty that makes Avar's heart seize.

or, in a quiet moment post-chapter 53, avar finds out about elzar almost dying on grizal

read

under the cut or on ao3 for better formatting

notes

first of all, this is dedicated to the person who headcannoned that elzar has burn scars on his hands from crashing his vector on grizal. I've tried, but I can't find their post, so if anyone knows whose post I'm talking about, please comment so I can tag them here.

edit: it's the lovely @ledalausnows and you should definitely check out her posts bc she's super cool!!

also, a huge shout out to the thr fans on tumblr: if it wasn't for you I probably wouldn't have finished this. thank you for all your support and I hope you enjoy this <3

this is the first time in at least six years that I've actually finished one of my wips, so while I'm a little proud of this, the quality might be questionable. my perfectionism made me proof read this so many times I could probably recite it from memory so I hope this is readable and I fixed all major mistakes. anyways, I hope you enjoy this

also, english isn't my first language, so please just ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes

content warning for mentions of scars, injuries, near-death experiences and past major character death. none of this is in any way graphic but I wanted to mention it anyways

The overhead lights in Avar’s quarters are turned down to a dim glow, and it's quiet apart from the gentle hum of the ship's engines. The night cycle must have started a while ago, but neither of them had noticed; both of them were too wrapped up in each other. Now, though, they're resting. Elzar on his back in her bunk, one arm gently wrapped around her with his hand lazily caressing her waist, and Avar on her stomach, half resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under her wandering hands.

It's nice like this—peaceful. For a moment, Avar allows herself to forget about their upcoming task, about the possible danger the future holds, and just exist in this moment with Elzar. She feels more at peace than she has in months, possibly years. She slowly runs her hand down Elzar’s arm and intertwines her fingers with his, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand. The motion is familiar; they've held hands more times than she can count in those weeks since she escaped the Occlusion Zone, but there's something that makes her pause. It only takes her a moment to realise that tonight is the first time since that fateful night in the garden on Starlight Beacon that they've held hands without the barrier of Elzar’s gloves between them. Elzar wearing gloves is in itself nothing out of the ordinary for a Jedi; most of them routinely wear them as part of their robes, which explains why she hasn't noticed it before. Now that she really thinks about it though, it does strike her as odd that she can't remember seeing him without gloves even once since their reunion.

She slowly brushes her thumb over the back of Elzar’s hand again. The skin feels rougher in some spots. Avar knows the feeling of scars, enough of them are covering her own body, but she can't recall Elzar ever suffering an injury to his hands that would cause scarring this significant. She raises their intertwined hands to his chest, and sure enough, a thin web of healed fine-line and burn scars covers the back of his hand and wrist. An uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. What happened to Elzar to leave his hands scarred like this, and why wouldn't he tell me?

Elzar, sensing the subtle change in her demeanour, chooses precisely this moment to open his eyes and look up at her. And for a moment, as silly as it may sound, she feels overwhelmed by the sheer force of her feelings for him. She had missed him for years, and sometimes, even though it's been months since their reunion, she still can't believe she doesn't have to anymore. Avar is certain he already knows what she wants to ask about, but he doesn't say anything, waiting for her to take the first step, so she does.

“These aren't recent.” It's a remark, not a question. She knows Elzar will tell her everything without her having to ask. There are no secrets between them; nothing is left unspoken. Not anymore. The thought makes a familiar warmth bloom in her chest.

“No.” Elzar’s voice is soft, reserved for the quiet of quarters and whispered secrets after dark. “I got them on Grizal when my Vector crashed. The healers at the Temple did their best and apparently Bacta also helped a lot, but they couldn't prevent the scars.”

Avar furrows her brow. “I didn't know you were injured on Grizal.” She feels Elzar's body tense ever so slightly underneath her, anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but him and her—and Stellan, of course—have always shared an unusually deep connection, and now they're as attuned to each other as they haven't been in years, perhaps ever.

“It was at the end of the battle. We thought we were winning, but we didn't know there were Nameless on Grizal. I don't remember this part at all, and most of what came after is pretty blurry in my head, but Stellan later told me that he saw my Vector go straight down. I don't understand why, but I must have passed out when the Nameless appeared. My Vector caught fire when it crashed, and the cockpit bubble shattered. I wasn't wearing gloves that day, that's why the damage to my skin there was so severe. Ty pulled me out, saved my life. I don't remember anything after, but I know Stellan was with me.”

Avar takes a moment to process all of this. When she finally speaks, her tone isn't accusatory, there may be a tinge of hurt to it though. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Stellan?” she asks. Before Elzar can answer, a terrible thought takes shape in her mind. “It's not that you thought I wouldn't care, is it?”

No matter what happened, she had never and would never stop caring about Elzar and Stellan. She knows without a doubt that it's the same for them, but she and Elzar hadn't spoken for a year at that point, and her relationship with Stellan had already been strained, so what if they had started to doubt her? Avar lowers her head. She's not sure she can look him in the eyes when he answers, the possibility of what she'll see there—of what he'll see in her—too overwhelming.

Elzar draws his hand away from her waist to gently cup her face and tilt her head up until her eyes meet his again. His gaze is earnest and there's an urgency in it—he needs her to believe what he says next. She already knows she will before he can utter a single word because she trusts him implicitly, and she knows that trust is mutual.

“No, I never thought that, I promise.” He pauses for a second and takes a deep breath, “And I know that Stellan didn't either.”

Avar lets out a shuddering breath and tries to quell her bubbling emotions, which threaten to spill over at his words. Even so, her voice sounds a little shaky when she asks, “Are you sure?”

Elzar nods sincerely. “I am. Stellan wanted to comm you, but I told him not to. We argued about it, and he relented in the end.”

The sheer relief she feels at his reassurance is dampened by one burning question, but she doesn't have to ask for him to tell her.

“I wanted you to know, I really did, but you were halfway across the galaxy fighting the Drengir and I didn't want you to be distracted.” He briefly averts his eyes, as if he's unsure about his next sentence, before he says, “I thought if you found out, you'd want to come see me, but we both know you couldn't have, and I didn't want to make it harder on you.”

Part of her wants to argue, wants to protest that she would have come if only she had known. But Elzar is right; she couldn't have. Still, she wishes someone had told her. But of course he wouldn't want that, she should have known. Elzar tends to view himself as selfish, but she has always known him to put the wellbeing of others, particularly hers and Stellans, above his own.

“And later?” she prompts gently. It's certainly not a conversation either of them had expected to have tonight, and she never wants to push him, but they've spent so much time keeping things to themselves in fear of crossing a line that hardly existed in the first place, and what good did it do them?

“As bizarre as it sounds, almost dying wasn't the worst experience I had that week.” Now it's his voice that sounds shaky. The experience has clearly affected him more than he's currently letting on, understandably so, and Avar sends a burst of warmth through the Force.

“When I was fully healed, everything was still so chaotic after Valo and Grizal, and there was so much going on that it just didn't seem that important.” Avar hates that he thinks that way but doesn't interrupt him; there will be time for reassurance later. “I got used to the scars fairly quickly, and even though they should be a constant reminder, I hardly think about it now. And I don't wish to. I've made my peace with everything that happened and everything I did then, I truly did, but I still don't like to remember it.”

Avar understands, of course she does. Enough bad things have happened to her in these last few years that she's made peace with, as is the Jedi way, but still doesn't like to think of. They're the same in that way. She nods and simply says the only thing she has to, “I understand.”

“I knew you would,” he responds with a certainty that makes Avar's heart seize.

There's a pause in their conversation then, both of them processing and coming to terms with what was and what hasn't yet been said. Avar is the one to break it when she says, “Please never do that again.”

Elzar quirks an eyebrow, the tension caused by their conversation slowly melting away. It seems he has decided that the heavy part of their conversation is over, which Avar truly doesn't mind. “Which part? Almost dying or not telling you about it?”

“Oh, do shut up,” Avar says, but there's no heat to it, just affectionate warmth.

Elzar laughs softly and pulls her down for a gentle kiss. Far too soon, Avar pulls away again and cups his face with her free hand, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. This time it's her who needs him to believe her next words. Her voice is soft yet insistent when she says, “I care about you, El. I don't want you to get hurt. And if you do, I want to be by your side if it's in any way possible. And even if I can't be, I want to at least know, please.”

Elzar nods, every trace of playfulness gone from his face and replaced by sincerity. “I know, and I promise you, the next time anything of the sort happens to me, I will tell you.”

Avar nods as well. “Good.”

A slow smile spreads across his face at that and the tenderness in his eyes is almost overwhelming. Avar thinks if she had a mirror, she'd surely see it reflected in her own eyes.

Elzar turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist, and she feels the familiar warmth spread in her chest once again, chasing away the last remnants of distress.

She leans down to press her lips to his once again, their connection in the Force glowing with love and understanding, making her feel almost giddy.

The kiss turns heated when Avar slides the hand still cupping Elzar’s check back into his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft strands, pressing her lips to his with more urgency. Elzar responds in kind by wrapping his arm around her waist once again and pulling her as close as their current position allows. She feels butterflies in her stomach at that, like when she was seventeen and kissed him for the first time. It amazes her that time and distance haven't dulled the effect he's always had on her in the slightest, but then again, how could they? He's Elzar, after all, her Elzar.

They don't belong to each other, of course not; there's no possessiveness to their love. But they belong with each other; side by side always. They both know it and the Force rings true with it.

They break apart, eyes closed and foreheads still pressed together. The kiss has left both of them breathless, as kisses like this often do. Once they've recovered enough to open their eyes and ever so slightly pull away from each other, and Avar really gets to look at him again, she is hit with the realisation of just how beautiful Elzar is like this. She doesn't think there has ever been a moment where she hasn't thought of him as beautiful, but seeing him like this is something else entirely. The dim glow of the overhead lights is reflected in his dark eyes, his hair disheveled from where she ran her hands through it earlier, a soft smile gracing his lips. A sight that's reserved just for her.

Avar's musings are interrupted when Elzar starts to speak again, his voice still sounding a little breathless. “Avar, I…,” he begins but then trails off, unable to finish his sentence. It doesn't bother Avar. She knows.

She pulls their still-intertwined hands up to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles, then the back of his hand, then his wrist. She feels his sharp intake of breath more than hears it, and when she meets his eyes, he's gazing at her with a look in his dark eyes Avar can't quite place. Later, she will come to recognise it as pure, unfiltered devotion.

“Stars, Avar,” he murmurs.

Elzar seems to know exactly what she's thinking—or maybe he just shares the sentiment—because he kisses her again, his hand slipping under her shirt to gently caress the bare skin of her waist. It's an exquisite kiss, and for the moment Avar allows herself to get lost in it, in this, until the only thoughts in her head are how lovely it is to feel so at peace, and Elzar. Always, always Elzar.

“What is it?” she asks. For a split-second, she's scared she's overstepped, but Elzar just shakes his head and leans up to brush his lips against hers in a tender kiss that ends far too quickly for her liking. If it were up to her, he'd never stop kissing her, she thinks, only slightly bothered by the fact that she sounds like a character in one of those stereotypical Jedi romance novels Kantam and her used to read to each other for fun in their Padawan days.

#avar kriss #elzar mann #avar kriss x elzar mann #elvar #the high republic #star wars #fanfiction

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lucky-clover-gazette · 4 months

Text

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 7

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Seeing no reason whatsoever to cooperate with that order, Damen stood up.

very much a “damen is not a slave” moment. this is the opposite of what they’ve been trained to do.

‘You are really courting danger tonight,’ Laurent said. ‘Am I? I thought I was appealing to your better nature. Order whatever punishment you like, from the coward’s distance of a chain-length. You and Govart are two of a kind.’

yessss, question his integrity! i love that they both get really pissed off when they’re implied to be bad people, but only by each other. it’s like they’ve mutually identified each other as their own personal moral arbiters, and couldn’t stop caring even if they tried.

Laurent transferred his gaze back to Damen and said, pleasantly, ‘Does that bother you? I recall you being free with your own hands, not so very long ago.’ ‘That was—’ Damen flushed. He wanted to deny that he’d done anything of the kind, but he remembered rather unequivocally that he had.

called out for enjoying the bath scene a little too much

‘I promise you, Govart did a great deal more than simply enjoy the view.’

vine boom so you WERE enjoying the view

‘To a slave,’ Laurent said. ‘The Prince’s Guard doesn’t interfere with the Regency. Govart can stick his cock into anything of my uncle’s he likes.’ Damen made a sound of disgust. ‘With your blessing?’ ‘Why not?’ said Laurent. His voice was honeyed. ‘He certainly had my blessing to fuck you, but it turned out he’d rather take a blow to the head. Disappointing, but I can’t fault his taste. Then again, maybe if you’d spread in the ring, Govart wouldn’t have been so hot to get inside your friend.’

context of what laurent is implying here (not what’s actually true): this is not laurent’s command or responsibility, but the regent’s. and it’s somehow damen’s fault that this happened to erasmus, because he didn’t let govart take him instead, which is what laurent had intended to happen. massive laurent ethical L on both counts. do better.

Damen said, ‘This isn’t a scheme of your uncle’s. I don’t take orders from men like Govart. You’re wrong.’ ‘Wrong,’ said Laurent. ‘How lucky I am to have servants to point out my shortcomings. What makes you think I will tolerate any of this, even if I believed what you are saying to be true?’ ‘Because you can end this conversation any time you like.’

damen won this interaction! called out laurent for clearly giving a shit, because he’s still talking!

also, craft note: great back-and-forth throughout this entire exchange

With so much at stake, Damen was sick of certain kinds of exchanges; the kind Laurent favoured, and enjoyed, and was good at. Wordplay for its own sake; words that built traps. None of it meant anything.

i have several hundred annotations that suggest otherwise

‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent.

context: nicaise :( and horse :( and a lot of things :(

break the cycle of abuse laurent i know you can do it

‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.

context: laurent knows, from experience, that the answer is yes

‘I don’t think I need to bring in more men,’ said Laurent. ‘I think all I have to do is tell you to kneel, and you’ll do it. Without me lifting a finger to help anyone.’ ‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I can end this any time I like?’ said Laurent. ‘I haven’t even begun.’

damen won the confrontation morally, and they both know it. laurent won in practice by being intentionally immoral, and instead reminding damen that he has been given power over him that he can abuse. this is exactly what the regent has done to laurent, over and over again. sad.

Laurent said, ‘There is no bargain between us. A prince does not make deals with slaves and insects. Your promises are worth less to me than dirt. Do you understand me?’ ‘Perfectly,’ said Damen.

translation: “you win.” “i know.”

Damen rethought that particular approach. He turned over the information he’d just been given. Re-examined it. Turned it over again. ‘What changed your mind?’ Damen said, carefully.

context: maybe i’m too optimistic, but i think it’s genuinely an ethical decision on laurent’s part. there’s a strategic purpose in here, too, but that’s more of a convenience. laurent knew he was wrong, and might have even connected himself to his uncle and disliked the similarity. he doesn’t act smug when he’s doing something he doesn’t want to do, but he knows he should do this. that’s why he’s pissed at damen, but not playful about it at all. so i do think this was ultimately a “laurent was called on his bullshit, and has too much integrity not to act based on that callout” thing.

‘I’m not sure that I believe anything that you’ve just told me,’ Damen said. ‘Do you have a choice?’ ‘No.’

silver lining for laurent: re-asserts his own power and moral high ground by helping damen, instead of threatening him in a way they both know is fucked up

He has experienced things many adults have not, and his mind is no longer that of a child.

laurent would know :(

‘Is there anyone at this court who isn’t my enemy?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Laurent said.

okay this is just him being mean. it’s his enrichment

‘So he’s tame,’ said Estienne, and reached out tentatively, as though to pat a wild animal. It was a question of which part of the animal he was patting. Damen knocked his hand away. Estienne gave a yelp and snatched his hand back, nursing it against his chest. ‘Not that tame,’ said Laurent. He didn’t reprimand Damen. He didn’t seem particularly displeased with barbaric behaviour, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.

they’re insane

As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen’s presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation. The third time this happened Damen said, ‘Shall I make a face at the ones you don’t like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?’ ‘Shut up,’ said Laurent, calmly.

emotional collapse animal to keep people from annoying laurent. love the banter here. damen knows that’s exactly what’s happening, and laurent is annoyed that he knows, because it makes him seem like an antisocial loser, which he is

Torveld was a handsome man in his forties

ew. leave laurent alone. he’s like half your age and he has specific trauma that makes this particularly uncomfortable

He reconciled himself to an evening of listening to Laurent lying a great deal, about everything. Laurent was a nest of scorpions in the body of one person. To hear that Akielos was weakened was as painful as Laurent must have meant it to be.

context: not entirely sold on the idea that laurent is having this conversation about akielos specifically to upset damen, but i get why damen feels that way

‘I wish we had more time together,’ said Torveld, showing no inclination to rise.

GET A JOB. STAY AWAY FROM HER

‘Nephew. You were not invited to these discussions.’ ‘And yet, here I am. It’s very irritating, isn’t it?’ said Laurent. ‘You’ve never applied yourself seriously to anything in your life.’ ‘Haven’t I? Well, then it’s nothing serious, uncle. You have no cause to worry.’

laurent applies himself seriously to most, if not all, of the things he chooses to do. regent just dislikes that laurent has a choice and uses it.

#capri #captive prince #sam reads capri #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #getting the rest of these out tonight!#they've been done for days #i'll be glad if anyone enjoys them but i also want to move on to the next book!

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goosewriting · 2 years

Note

Hi! First of all, i love your writing! I wanted to request Leo with scenario 24 and pink prompt 45 where the first line is Leo's and the second one is the reader

When realisation hits you (literally) (rottmnt Leo x reader)

scenario 24: Cloudgazing or Stargazing together, as you lie next to each other, their hand slips into yours. prompt 45: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.”

summary: Leo confesses to reader after a tiring day.

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader

warnings: none, fluff!

word count: 1.1k

A/N: not entirely sure if this one makes sense but i think it’s cute!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

After a long and tiring week, you finally got to kick back on Friday night. The turtles had been on a mission all day, and you were looking forward to when they’d come back, so you could have your usual start into the weekend, which consisted of eating, gaming until ungodly hours, and sleeping in a cosy pile with your favourite reptiles in the projector room, with no set alarms the next morning.

You were already waiting at the lair, watching some Japanese show with Splinter, when you heard the steps and shuffling at the entrance. Scrambling to your feet, you quickly made your way to the turtles. You were about to greet them, but the moment you took a look at them you couldn’t help but notice how exhausted they looked. They were super beat.

After cleaning themselves up, they excused themselves and went straight to bed, they didn’t even have the energy to eat. Since you had ordered takeout, you wrapped it up and placed it in the fridge, leaving a post-it note in each room, telling them to get food when they woke up.

It wasn’t rare for one or two brothers to go to bed if they were super tired, but you’d at least stay up with one of them. At this point the lair was like your second home, but even so you felt a little silly to be the only one awake at someone else’s house.

As you made your way into Leo’s room to leave the note, you saw him sitting on the bed, head in his hands. Your heart skipped the tiniest beat at the prospect of getting to spend the night with your favourite turtle after all, but he looked just as tired as his brothers. Why wasn’t he in bed yet? You approached Leo and noticed he was trembling slightly. Of what exactly, you didn’t know.

“Are you okay?” you asked, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I can sleep yet” he said, voice laced with exhaustion, and lifted his head to look ahead at the wall of his room. “I’m way too wired.”

With a deep sigh, he then turned to you.

“I’m sorry you came over for nothing. There won’t be any games tonight it seems” he apologised and rubbed his face.

“Hey, it’s no problem” you said genuinely, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “The others need the rest. And so do you, honestly.”

“Do I look that bad?” he asked, to which you nodded and he chuckled.

You removed your hand from him and placed them both in your lap, waiting for him to say something. You wanted to wish him a good night and let him rest, but you also didn’t want to leave just yet.

“How about we do something low-key?” you asked after a while of him still staring ahead in silence. “Since you can’t sleep and I’m already here. We could go to the rooftop across the street and just chill for a while?”

Leo thought about it for a moment, then agreed to your suggestion.

You made your way to the roof in comfortable silence, and once you got there, you both lied down next to each other on the fluffy throw blanket you had picked up on your way out.

There wasn’t a single cloud in the night sky, the stars shone brightly, surrounding an almost full moon. From below you, you could hear the jostling of the city night life. Breathing in the cool air, you made a mental note to come here more often at night; it felt really peaceful.

Stealing a quick glance at Leo, you could see his furrowed brows, like he was deep in thought. You assumed it was about something that went bad in the mission or the like, so you decided to distract him a little, if only to help him calm his mind so he could sleep.

You started pointing at different stars, telling him their names and some facts and stories you remembered about the constellations.

As you were almost running out on info, you looked at him again. While he was listening, there was still something clearly troubling him. You stopped what you were saying, which caught Leo's attention since you suddenly went silent, and he looked back at you.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, referring to the mission.

He merely hummed in response, still lost in his thoughts. Then he turned on his side, so that he was facing you completely, and you mirrored him. Suddenly aware of how close you two were, you tried to control your pounding heart while he looked for the right words to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

You studied his face in the meantime, and that’s when you realised there was a slight bruise on his jaw. Without thinking, you instinctively reached out to hold his face, running your thumb over the darkening spots on his skin.

Physical touches and caresses weren’t very rare with him, but something about this moment felt different. There was some unspoken tension between you, and you hoped you weren’t wrongly reading something into it that wasn’t there (because you wished there was…). Your train of thought was interrupted though as Leo took your hand in his, closing his eyes. Your breath hitched at that, and you waited expectantly for him to talk.

“You know” he started, still with his eyes closed. “I realised something today.”

You didn’t answer just yet, waiting for him to continue.

“In fact, I got punched in the face because I was distracted thinking about it.”

For a second, an amused smile appeared on your lips as you wanted to make a joke about it, but there was something about his tone that was so uncharacteristically serious that you stopped yourself. There was no trace of sarcasm in the way he spoke, no mischief, no smirk.

“What were you thinking about?” you asked instead, almost in a whisper.

That’s when Leo opened his eyes, and even in the dim moonlight, that painted everything with pale and cool hues of blue, you saw the spark in his gaze and light blush prickling his cheeks.

“You.”

“Huh?” is all you managed to answer, but it sounded more like a squeak than a question. Despite the cool night breeze blowing over you, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“I think… I think I’m falling in love with you” Leo said with a loving squeeze to your hand, and gave you the softest and most earnest smile you had ever seen on him.

You mirrored his smile, and propped yourself up on your elbow. Leaning down, you saw Leo’s eyes go wide for a moment as you placed a gentle kiss to the bruise on his jaw. Without leaning back completely, you looked back at him with flushed cheeks.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

~~~~~🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz

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