#then I was going to pack everything up and sort everything out

[lyricwritesprose]

"Miss Sevrene! Miss Sevrene you gotta help save my chicken!"

There's something about the place, is all. There's something about the people. There's something about the way the people look at me.

"Sorry, Miss Sevrene, I know you have things to do, but Estasia's chicken really has—I don't know, there's been some sort of—"

"It's turned into a werewolf!"

"It has not, it just—it's a lot more hairy? And bigger, and fangs. Can you take a look at it?"

Because I remember the way the the soldiers went quiet when I came near them, the way the trainees talked about me—just one look and you'll never stop screaming, or, I heard that she dissolved a squadron into jelly and rags—I remember how even General Latos spoke to me with respect, how I liked that at first, how I slowly started to realize that respect based on whether you can blow someone's head off with a glare—isn't respect. It's something else. Something I don't want at all.

I thought it was just that the villagers didn't know what I could do.

And then the Winteroak came out of the forest, a corrupted tree with twigs and roots and vines that could grow into a body in seconds and leaf out of mouths and eyes faster than you could choke, a monster that didn't kill but took people (took my people) as seeds to make more monsters, twisting everything they saw and were and wanted, and I took it down in an explosion of superheated sap and ripped its remnants out of the villagers and I know—I felt what they felt—I know that some of them got a glimpse of me. Of what I can do. Of how quickly I could end them, how thoroughly I could torture them, how completely I could rewrite them.

I walked off and went to my thatch-roofed hut and wondered what, if anything, I should bother to pack. Whether I wanted to be out of there by sunrise.

Half a bell later there were four people bothering me into going to the tavern so I wouldn't be alone with memories of the war. Estasia's mother Tiala brought a casserole.

There is a whole three-act drama going on with Tiala's husband being unkind to her and being encouraged to leave and now I think she's set her sights on me, and I am going to have to deal with it in some way eventually, but I don't even know how, because—there is something so unbelievably refreshing about someone who looks at you and is clearly thinking, "I like the looks of her and she'd keep me and my daughter safe."

I don't know how to deal with being a safe person.

I just know I'm starving for it.

"All right," I say, picking up my notebook, "I have got to see a werewolf chicken. Show me?"

Estasia grabs my hand to lead me there, and Tiala smiles like that's where I'm supposed to be.

After the long war, you return home, as a famed battlemage, hoping for peace and time to heal your bruised soul. But quiet life escapes you: children beg for stories, villagers need magic, and monsters keep intruding. Yet somehow, this chaotic little town is exactly what heals you.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Camping

Wandanat x hybrid!puppy!reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha have been looking for a pet for some time, but they've had no luck until they meet you, will you be a good fit for their lives?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Hybrid AU (human with animal traits), light animal behavior themes, use of pet names/titles (e.g. “Daddy”), mild fear and emotional distress, implied past trauma (Bumble’s protective instincts), wolf encounter, light scolding/disciplinary tone, comfort/reassurance, human-animal interaction depicted with hybrid characters.

Authors Notes: This was a request from my little woof~ You can find the request here!

“Okay Tasha, you have everything for the two of you, right?” Wanda’s voice floated through the house, a mix of worry and affection. She’d been double-checking the list for the third time now, fluttering around like a nervous mother hen. You had been trailing the two of them all morning—your nails clicking against the hardwood, ears perked, head tilting at words like tent, river, and trail snacks. You weren’t entirely sure what “camping” meant, but the way your owners moved with purpose had your tail wagging all the same. Something exciting was happening. And you were going.

Natasha—Daddy—stood near the front door with a hiking pack slung over one shoulder, calm as ever. Her sunglasses were already perched on her head, and a cooler waited by her boots. She gave a short nod as Wanda approached her with a folded flannel in hand.

“I’ve got everything. Tent, food, water, bug spray, the meds kit, her blanket, even that weird little toy she sleeps with,” Natasha said, nodding toward you with the smallest of smirks.

Wanda didn’t look convinced. She turned sharply and you almost bumped into her knees trying to stop fast enough. Dropping your rear to the floor, you blinked up at her obediently, tail sweeping the floor with fast, hopeful thumps.

“Okay, Bumble,” she said, squatting down and holding your face between her hands. Her warm thumb stroked over your cheek, and you leaned into it. “You listen to Natasha, okay?”

“Yes! Listen to Daddy!” you said quickly, a little breathless with excitement. Your voice was light and eager, like it didn’t know how to contain itself. You didn’t even realize you were vibrating in place, tail lashing side to side with joy.

Wanda giggled and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

Behind her, Natasha chuckled. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know, I just…” Wanda stood, brushing invisible lint from Natasha’s jacket. “It’s her first time really out like this, away from both of us. And there’s bears out there.”

“I have a knife,” Natasha deadpanned.

“And a hybrid who’s afraid of the vacuum,” Wanda countered.

Natasha gave her a crooked grin, then leaned in to kiss her. “We’ll be fine. Go enjoy the quiet house while you have it.”

You watched the kiss curiously, ears twitching. Then Natasha patted her thigh and you jumped up on all fours ready, tail wagging again. “Let’s go, pup.”

You barked once and followed her out the door, casting one last look over your shoulder at Wanda, who smiled softly, waving from the porch with both hands.

You didn’t know what camping was yet—but with Daddy by your side, you were sure it was going to be your favorite thing.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

You couldn’t believe your luck.

From the moment Natasha opened the passenger side door and patted the seat, your brain short-circuited with pure joy. You paused on the sidewalk, blinking up at her in disbelief, as if this were some sort of test.

“The front seat’s for you this time, pup,” she said, tossing her bag in the back and sliding into the driver’s side.

You scrambled up immediately, clumsily bracing your hands on the edge of the seat and hauling yourself up. Your tail thumped wildly against the upholstery, ears perked so high they practically touched the roof. You turned in a quick circle—once, twice—before sitting tall, knees tucked to your chest, tail wagging over the console.

You glanced at Natasha as she buckled in. She shot you a quick side-smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it. You’re only up here ‘cause it’s just us,” she said, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes.

You didn’t say anything. You were too busy glowing. Front seat. The front seat. You had never been allowed here before. This was sacred territory. Wanda had always clicked her tongue and steered you toward the back, mumbling something about dog hair and seat safety. But now? Now you were queen of the world.

Your nails tapped lightly against the center console as you shifted, leaning closer to the window. When the car started moving, you gasped. The rush of air! The view! You pressed your nose to the glass, watching the world zip past in a blur of green trees and open sky.

Natasha chuckled lowly, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over briefly to scratch behind your ears. “Not bad, huh?”

You turned toward her, eyes wide and sparkling, and gave a soft, breathy sound of agreement before returning to the window. Your tail never stopped moving, swaying with the gentle rhythm of the road.

And when Natasha reached down to turn up the music—some steady, low-beat rock that thrummed in your chest—you leaned over just enough to rest your head on her thigh, letting out a happy sigh.

You didn’t know where you were going, but for once, it didn’t matter. You were in the front seat. With Daddy. And life was so good.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

The car door creaked open, and before Natasha could even tell you to wait, you were already wriggling out with a huff of excitement, hitting the ground with your hands first, then your feet. Grass and pine needles crunched beneath you as you stared wide-eyed at the scene ahead—towering trees, a canopy of green, sunlight breaking through in dappled patches. It was quiet. Still. The air smelled like dirt and leaves and woodsmoke from a nearby site.

You turned to Natasha, your mouth parting in a question, but she was already circling to the back of the car, popping the trunk.

“C’mere, Bumble,” she called, her voice steady but warm. “We’ve got work to do.”

You padded closer on all fours, tail swaying, head cocked. She pulled out a folded bundle of fabric first—a tent—and a couple of long metal poles. You blinked at it, uncertain.

“This is our shelter,” Natasha said, holding up the bundle. “Keeps us dry if it rains. Keeps bugs out. Watch, I'll show you.”

You sat back on your heels, resting your hands on your thighs, eyes fixed on her as she laid everything out with the kind of precision you always admired in her. She explained each piece—how the poles connected with little snaps, how the tent had to be staked into the ground just so. She gave you tasks: hold this corner, press down here, bring me that hammer.

And you did. Happily. Eagerly. Anything to please her. Your tail wagged constantly, brushing over the soft dirt as you mimicked her movements.

“See? Not so hard,” Natasha said as the tent finally stood tall, taut and secure. She ruffled your hair. “You’re good at this.”

You beamed up at her, panting just slightly from exertion and the heat, and leaned into her hand.

Next came the fire pit. Natasha cleared a space, circled it with stones, and showed you how to gather the right kind of wood—dry twigs, not too thick, plus some leaves for kindling. You watched, nose twitching at the smoky smell of the old charred wood in the pit, while she explained how to build a fire safely.

“You don’t touch this part, okay?” she said, pointing at the lighter before tucking it into her jacket pocket. “This is mine. You just help me feed it.”

You nodded seriously.

She lit the fire, and the sudden bloom of warmth and light made your ears perk. But what really caught your attention were the tiny flickers of ash that lifted into the air, twisting and dancing like tiny gray bugs. Your eyes tracked them, body tense—prey.

You lunged, snapping at one as it floated near, catching nothing but air and letting out a startled huff. Natasha laughed, reaching out to hold your shoulder steady.

“Bumble, no—those are ashes, not snacks.”

You looked up, confused, then tried again when another one drifted low. This time, she caught your chin gently and made you look at her.

“Hey,” she said with a small smirk. “No biting the fire.”

You whined softly, ears pinning back, but the warmth in her eyes kept your tail wagging.

By the time the campsite was set, the sun had shifted to mid-afternoon. A breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the tent, and you lay on your side by the fire ring, panting, watching as Natasha finally plopped down on a log bench with her thermos.

“You did good today, Bumble,” she said, glancing over at you with the faintest smile.

Your tail thumped against the dirt.

You might not have understood everything this “camping” was about yet—but if it meant spending the whole day close to Daddy, learning from her, helping her, earning her quiet praise?

You could stay out here forever.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

The woods had gone quiet in the late afternoon—soft and golden, the fire crackling low beside Natasha as she scribbled something into her little notebook, lips pursed in focus. You lay near her feet, half-dozing, your head resting on your arms, tail occasionally flicking across the pine needles.

It was peaceful.

Until you heard something.

Your ears twitched—just a subtle sound at first, but different. Not the breeze, not the birds. A high, soft whine. Barely there, like the rustle of something trying not to be heard.

Your head lifted.

Natasha didn’t react, still hunched over her notebook, so you didn’t bark or whine. You simply stood and tilted your ears, angling them until you caught it again. Closer now.

Sniff.

It was faint, earthy, unfamiliar. A mix of wet moss and something wild.

You padded away on all fours, slow and cautious, slipping just off the trail until the tall grass brushed your shoulders and the scent grew stronger. You ducked beneath a branch, pushed your nose into a thicket—

And suddenly—

Boop.

Your snoot bumped another one.

You froze. So did it.

A tiny little creature blinked up at you, its nose trembling, ears low. Gray-brown, just like yours but shaggier, rougher. A pup. Small. Frightened. Shaking.

It let out a soft, pitiful whine.

You leaned in and sniffed again. It smelled wrong. Wild. Unclean in a way that made you tense—but also small. Helpless. Alone. That protective instinct that had always burned beneath your ribs roared up like fire.

So, before you could think about it too hard, you reached forward and gently grabbed it with your mouth by the scruff, kind of like how you’d seen Wanda carry toys to the laundry. Its body went limp. It didn’t fight.

You turned and padded back to camp, tail held high in quiet pride.

When you emerged from the brush and dropped the squirming pup carefully at Natasha’s boots, tail wagging slowly, head tilted just a bit to say Look what I found!—

Her reaction was... not what you expected.

“BUMBLE!”

You flinched as she shot up from the log, eyes wide in pure horror.

“No! Stop! BAD GIRL!”

You instantly shrank back, curling your body protectively around the pup, letting out a soft whimper as your ears flattened.

But you didn’t leave it.

You couldn’t.

The little thing pressed into your belly, whining quietly, and you responded by licking the side of its face with a soft whuff, tail low but still wagging. You didn’t understand what was wrong—but it was scared, and so were you, and that meant you needed each other.

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, pacing once before crouching down near you, keeping her voice low but panicked. “Bumble, baby, that’s not a dog. That’s a wolf. A wild animal. You can’t just—oh my god. We have to find its pack, or—shit, its mother could be close.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide and confused, your tongue slipping out as you gave the pup another kiss. It squeaked, pressing closer to your warmth.

“…Oh no,” Natasha muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s already attached.”

You didn’t understand all the words. But the tone? That you understood.

So you whined, low in your throat, curling your body around the pup like a nest. You weren’t letting it go. Not yet.

Not until you were sure it was okay.

The little pup stayed curled in your arms, warm and trembling. You nosed at its scruff gently, feeling the soft puffs of breath against your skin. It had stopped whining now—maybe because it felt safe. Because you were warm. Because you wouldn’t let anything near it.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

Natasha had stopped pacing.

She was sitting now, watching, jaw tight, arms on her knees. Every few seconds her eyes flicked to the trees, sharp and alert, scanning for movement. For danger.

Then it came.

A distant, bone-deep howl.

Low. Long. Echoing over the hills like a call from the earth itself. You lifted your head sharply, ears flicking to attention. The pup jolted too—but not in fear.

In recognition.

It squirmed in your hold. Not to get away—just to get higher, closer to the noise. And then it did something strange. It howled back. A high, uneven wail. Lonely, but loud.

You felt something stir deep in your chest.

You’d never done it before. Not really. But it felt natural. Right.

You raised your head, opened your mouth—

And you howled.

Not quite like the pup. Not quite like the wolf that had called.

But something in between. Raw and wild and full of ache.

“Bumble—” Natasha’s voice was strained now. “No. No no no—baby, don’t—”

She stood, fast, reaching for you, but you were already on your feet. The pup squeaked and scrambled up onto your back, and you dropped into a run before she could catch you.

“Bumble!” she yelled.

But the trees swallowed her voice.

Your paws—no, your feet—pounded the ground, strong and certain, following a scent you didn’t even know you could track. The pup clung to you, small claws gripping your shirt. Another howl—closer now. More desperate.

You howled back again, heart beating wildly.

You didn’t know if you were scared or sure. You didn’t know what was waiting at the end of the trail. But the pup needed you. Something had pulled it to you—had pulled you to it.

And you weren’t going to let it be alone again.

“Bumble!”

You heard Natasha behind you—branches snapping, her boots pounding the dirt, her voice sharp with fear.

But you couldn’t stop.

The wolf pup whimpered and dug its little claws into your shirt tighter. It could feel it too—her. She was close. So close you could smell the scent of wild earth and warm fur in the air.

You pushed through one last thicket, your hair catching on twigs, your breath coming hard—

And then you stopped.

There, standing in a clearing bathed in pale moonlight, was her.

The wolf.

Massive, sleek, and silver-gray. Her fur shimmered with the same strange lilac hue you’d seen in the pup’s eyes. Her chest rose and fell slowly, but her eyes were locked on you—piercing, wary, and fierce.

You froze, slowly lowering yourself to all fours, letting the pup slip from your back and tumble gently onto the soft ground. The little thing scrambled up, took one shaky step, then another, and whimpered once.

That sound shattered the wolf’s stillness.

Her body shifted, her ears twitched, and then—

She bounded forward in two graceful leaps.

You barked—a short, sharp warning.

She stopped.

You could feel Natasha finally catch up behind you. She skidded to a halt, breathless, voice caught in her throat. “Bumble… don’t move,” she whispered.

But you weren’t scared.

You lowered your head, tail still, and gave a small yip. Not aggressive—just… asking.

The wolf huffed, muscles tense, but her gaze darted to the pup now wagging its tail and crying soft happy yips of its own. You yipped again. One low, one high.

Safe.

Found.

Yours.

The wolf blinked once.

Then her pup barked—tiny, high-pitched, and full of joy.

And the mother relaxed.

She stepped forward, brushing her snout gently over her pup, licking its ears and neck and nudging it close to her side. Her tail lifted and curled around it, protective, maternal, strong.

You stayed still, watching, every hair on your arms and neck standing straight.

And then she looked at you again.

Not with fear.

Not with threat.

But with something… older. Something like recognition.

She studied you—your ears, your tail, the silent language that passed between hybrid and beast. And for a long moment, it was just the two of you, breathing the same air under the same sky.

Then, without a sound, she turned.

The pup followed, still wobbly on its legs but glowing with purpose. Together they stalked back into the trees, fading into the night like ghosts.

“Daddy, that was so scary but so fun! I helped them!” you chirped, bounding ahead of her on all fours, tail wagging like crazy. Every few leaps you turned to look back at her, eyes wide with excitement, panting through your grin. The trees felt lighter now, the air crisp and proud in your lungs. You did something good—you helped.

But Natasha didn’t share your bounce.

“Do not ever do that again.” Her voice cut through your joy like a firm hand to the chest. You stopped mid-bound, landing in a crouch, ears flicking back at the tone. It was that training tone. The one she used when you chewed something you shouldn’t or got too mouthy.

She walked past you without stopping, not even looking down as she said it again, quieter this time but no less sharp, “Not ever again, Bumble.”

Your chest sank a little as you followed her, slower now. You weren’t in trouble—not really—but you knew that voice. It meant worried, even if she’d never admit it.

You crept closer, brushing against her thigh until she sighed and her hand dropped to your hair, fingers threading through it absentmindedly.

“Could’ve lost you,” she muttered. “I would've lost my mind. What would I have told Wanda?”

“M’sorry, Daddy…” you murmured, voice barely more than a breath, hoarse and small. “It was instinct to protect. Didn’t mean to worry…”

Natasha didn’t say anything right away. She sat down heavily on the log near the fire, the quiet pop of the flames the only sound between you. You curled up at her feet, your limbs folding in tight, ears tucked back, tail wrapping around yourself like a blanket.

The heat of the fire kissed your skin, low but steady, casting long shadows that danced gently across the clearing. You peeked up at her—her jaw was tight, hands braced on her knees, eyes locked on the embers like they held all the answers.

Then slowly, one hand left her knee and slid down, knuckles brushing your shoulder before settling in your hair. She didn't pet you. Just held you there. Grounded you.

“I know, Bumble…” she finally said, voice quieter than usual, rougher. “I know you didn’t mean to scare me.”

She ran her fingers through your hair once, twice.

“You did good,” she added after a moment. “But I need you to let me keep you safe too. That’s my job, yeah?”

You gave a soft whine and nodded, leaning your head against her leg, your nose tucked under her knee like you were trying to disappear into her.

“I’ll always come back, Daddy. Promise.”

“I know,” she said, and this time her hand moved with more purpose, stroking your head slowly. “Just… maybe let me talk to the wild animals next time, okay?”

You gave a tired little huff of a laugh. “Okay, Daddy.”

[lvnleah]

baby miedema’s arrival | our little love.

The phone call came in the middle of the night. You were sound asleep, sprawled out in the middle of Beth and Viv’s bed with Twix tucked into your chest tightly. You were completely oblivious to what was going on around you. 

Beth’s phone rang at around 4am, waking both her and Viv up unexpectedly. She groggily wiped the sleep from her eyes as she sat up and read the name on her phone screen.  

“It’s Sarah.” Beth said, turning to Viv who was now fully awake. 

They both knew what it meant. 

Beth quickly answered the phone, her voice low but steady despite the heaviness of the situation. “Hello?” she said, trying to shake off the drowsiness from her sleep.

Viv sat up beside her, her body tense. She watched Beth closely, knowing from the moment Sarah’s name flashed on the screen that it was urgent.

There was a long pause on the other end before Sarah’s voice came through, soft but firm. “Hi Beth, I’m so sorry for phoning at this time but I thought I’d phone to tell you that you’re now parents again to another little baby girl.”

Beth’s heart skipped a beat, the realization setting in. Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of Sarah’s words sank in. 

Parents again. To a little baby girl. 

She glanced at Viv, whose eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and joy. Neither of them had fully processed the idea of becoming parents again properly, but now it was real.

“Is she okay?” Viv asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her concern overtaking the excitement.

“She’s healthy. Just a bit small, but she’s doing well,” Sarah responded, the warmth in her voice comforting. “If you can, we’d appreciate it if you could get to the hospital as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I reckon we can be there in around an hour if that’s okay? We just need to sort something out for Rory.” Viv explained. 

“Yeah, of course, take your time.” Sarah told them, “Congratulations on your baby girl!”

Beth’s heart raced as she quickly pulled herself from the bed. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she knew there wasn’t time. They needed to go, now.

Viv had already hung up the phone and was up, grabbing their overnight bag from the corner of the room, “I’ll drive to Leah’s,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

Beth scrambled to grab her own things, still feeling like she was in a bit of a daze. It had been a whirlwind, the idea of adopting again, and now it was happening. The moment had arrived.

They’d had a plan in place for weeks now. With no family living locally, they’d arranged that whilst they were at the hospital with the baby you’d go to Leah’s house. They felt bad dropping you off during the middle of the night while asleep, especially since Leah already had hands full with a newborn, a troublesome 4-year-old and a hormonally infused teenager but Leah insisted that she didn’t care. 

While Viv packed a few things for you into an overnight bag, Beth pulled up Leah’s contact. It only took a couple of rings before Leah answered the phone. 

“Hey, Beth,” Leah mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Everything alright?”

“Hey Le, I’m sorry for waking you up but can you have Rory for us?” Beth asked her, “I know it’s four in the morning but the social worker just phoned and baby girl is her and they need us at the hospital and—”

Beth was cut off as Leah let out a soft gasp, “Oh my god the baby’s here? Of course, I’ll have Rory, bring her over and I’ll put her in Buddy’s bed or something.”

“Are you sure?” Beth asked. 

“Course I am, Roo’s no trouble.” Leah said, “I don’t care what time it is, drop her off on the way to the hospital.”

“Thank you, Le. We’ll be there soon.” Beth hung up the phone with Leah and glanced at Viv, her heart still racing. “She said it’s fine, we should get going.”

They moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake you as they grabbed the last of the things they needed. You were still fast asleep, oblivious to the life-changing moment unfolding around you. Twix was tucked tightly in your arms, and your soft breathing filled the room as Beth and Viv exchanged a look.

“She’s gonna be so happy when she wakes up,” Viv whispered. “She got a little sister like she wanted.”

Beth nodded, walking over to you one last time before they left. She gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, her heart swelling with love for you, her first little girl.

Viv carefully lifted your overnight bag as Beth put a blanket over you before scooping you up. The house was silent except for the soft rustle of clothing and the quiet footsteps.

When they arrived at Leah’s house, the world outside still dark and quiet, Viv parked the car in front of Leah’s doorstep. Beth turned to look at you one last time, her fingers lightly brushing against your cheek. 

“We’ll be back soon, Roo.” she murmured, “With your little sister too.”

Viv opened the car door and gently lifted you out, still wrapped up in your cosy blanket, your little body curled into her chest. She nudged the doorbell softly. Within seconds, Leah appeared, looking just as groggy but eager to help.

“Hey,” Leah whispered, her voice soft in the early morning silence. “I’ll take her, don’t worry about anything.”

Viv carefully passed you to Leah, whispering a quick thanks before kissing your forehead.

“We’ll be back soon, munchkin,” Beth added, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. She didn’t want to leave you, but her heart swelled with the excitement of meeting their new baby girl.

Leah smiled, adjusting you in her arms as she backed into the doorway. “Go, go. I’ve got her. You two go meet your new daughter. Send me a photo of the new Bubba yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Beth nodded, “Thank you again, Le.”

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Beth kept stealing glances at Viv, whose knuckles were white against the steering wheel. They were both nervous, every red light made them want to both scream as they tried to get to the hospital. 

“You okay?” Beth finally asked, breaking the silence.

Viv nodded, her lips pressed into a line. “I’m just thinking about what she looks like… and how Roo’s going to react when she sees her.”

Beth smiled at that, her own nerves easing slightly. “She’s going to adore her. She’s going to be over the moon that she’s got a little sister.

Viv chuckled, the tension in her shoulders loosening. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see them together. I can’t believe we’ve got another little girl.”

“I know,” Beth sighed, a smile spread over her face, “Reckon she’ll look like Roo?”

Viv nodded, “I think so, it’ll be nice to see if she looks like Roo from her baby photos.”

As they pulled into the hospital car park, the sun was just beginning to rise. Both of their hearts were pounding as they grabbed their bag and hurried toward the entrance.

The maternity ward was quiet, the hushed tones of nurses and the occasional cry of a newborn echoing softly in the air. A nurse greeted them at the front desk, her smile warm despite the early hour.

“You must be here for the baby,” she said gently. “I’ll take you to Sarah now.”

Beth and Viv nodded, their hands tightly intertwined as they followed the nurse through the corridors. Their hearts felt like they might burst with every step closer to meeting their daughter.

When they reached the room, Sarah was waiting for them just outside the door. She greeted them with a soft smile. 

“She’s right in here,” Sarah said, her voice kind. “She’s a little on the smaller side but she’s doing well. The nurses have been keeping an eye on her since she was born and she’s doing good.”

“What time was she born?” Viv couldn’t help but ask.

“3:35 this morning,” Sarah smiled, “so she’s only…” she quickly checked her watch that read 5:30am, “two hours old. She only weighs 6 pounds, so she’s small, but she’s healthy. Strong set of lungs too.”

Beth and Viv exchanged a quick look, their excitement bubbling over. “Can we see her?” Beth asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Of course,” Sarah said, stepping aside to let them through.

The room was softly lit, and in the middle of it was a small bassinet. Beth’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the tiny bundle inside. Viv reached out to gently touch Beth’s arm, grounding her as they moved closer.

The baby was impossibly small, her tiny fists curled up near her face. She had a full head of blonde hair, totally different from yours, and the softest little features. Beth’s hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“She’s perfect,” Beth whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“She’s so tiny,” Viv murmured, her voice barely audible. “Look at her little nose, it’s like Roo’s.”

Beth reached out a hand, brushing her fingers softly over the baby’s cheek. The little girl stirred slightly, her tiny mouth opening in a sleepy yawn before she settled again.

“You guys can hold her, you know.” Sarah smiled, standing a little further back.

“You hold her first,” Viv said to Beth, a smile on her face, “my hands are too shaky.”

“You sure?” Beth asked, getting a nod from Viv. 

Beth hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she reached down to gently lift the tiny baby from the bassinet. She was so light, feeling like a feather in her arms. Beth cradled her carefully, tears streaming down her face as she stared down at her daughter for the first time.

“Hi, baby girl,” Beth whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m your Mummy.”

The little girl stirred, her tiny fingers curling into a soft fist as Beth held her close. Viv moved closer, her hand resting gently on Beth’s back as she leaned in to look at their new daughter.

“She’s beautiful,” Viv murmured, her own tears threatening to fall. She reached out and let her finger brush against the baby’s hand, and to her amazement, the baby’s tiny fingers wrapped around it. “She’s strong,” Viv added with a soft laugh. “Just like her sister.”

Beth chuckled through her tears, her heart swelling with love. “Roo’s going to be so protective of her.”

“She’ll have to be,” Viv teased gently. “I reckon this little one is going to be feisty.”

The baby let out a soft sound, a little coo that made both Beth and Viv laugh. Beth kissed the baby’s forehead, her heart feeling so full it might burst. She gently turned to Viv.

“Your turn,” she said, carefully transferring the baby into Viv’s arms.

Viv held her daughter close, her larger hands cradling the tiny bundle with such tenderness. She studied every little feature—the soft blonde hair, the delicate nose, the tiny chin.

“Hey, Kleintje,” Viv said softly, “I’m your Mamma.”

The baby shifted in her arms, her little face scrunching up before she let out another soft sound. Viv smiled, her heart melting. “You’re going to be so loved. Your big sister is going to spoil you rotten.”

Beth leaned her head against Viv’s shoulder, watching the two of them together. “She’s perfect, Viv,” Beth whispered.

“She is,” Viv agreed, her voice thick with emotion.

Sarah, who had been quietly standing to the side, finally stepped forward. “We’ve got some paperwork to sort out, but there’s no rush,” she said kindly. “Take all the time you need with her. What’s her name?”

Beth and Viv exchanged a glance at Sarah’s question, their expressions were soft but unsure. They hadn’t settled on a name yet—just two possibilities they weren’t entirely sold on.

“We’d been thinking Freya or Sienna,” Beth admitted, her eyes lingering on the baby in Viv’s arms. “But now…I don’t know. Neither feels right.”

Viv nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she looked down at their daughter. “She doesn’t look like a Freya to me. Or a Sienna.” Her voice was gentle but firm, as though she were already ruling the options out. “They’re nice names, but they don’t fit her.”

Beth frowned, biting her lip. “She would've been Mason if she’d been a boy,” she mused quietly. “But now I feel like we’re back to square one.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the soft coos of the baby. Then Viv’s expression shifted, a small smile tugging at her lips as a thought came to her. “What about Phoebe?” she asked, her voice warm and soft.

Beth’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion, her heart skipping a beat. “Phoebe,” she repeated, testing the name. 

It had been one of their very first ideas, months ago, but somehow it had fallen to the wayside in favour of other options. Now, looking at their tiny daughter, it suddenly felt perfect. 

“Phoebe,” she said again, this time with more certainty. “That’s it. That’s her name.”

Viv chuckled softly, her finger brushing over the baby’s tiny hand as she spoke. “Phoebe June. After your mum.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Little miss Phoebe June.”

The baby shifted in Viv’s arms, her little mouth opening in a sleepy yawn before she settled again, as if agreeing with their choice. Viv smiled, her eyes shining. “It suits her,” she said softly. “She’s a Phoebe.”

Sarah, who had been standing quietly nearby, smiled warmly at their decision. “Phoebe June,” she repeated, jotting it down on some paper. “It’s perfect. A beautiful name for a beautiful baby girl.”

Beth leaned her head against Viv’s shoulder, her gaze fixed on their daughter. “I can’t believe we were thinking of anything else,” she said with a quiet laugh. “She was always meant to be Phoebe.”

Viv nodded, “Welcome to the world, Phoebe June,” she murmured, brushing her finger over Phoebe’s nose. 

The next few hours were spent getting used to life with a newborn. While Sarah sorted out some paperwork, Beth and Viv were shown all of the basics they would need to know about life with a newborn. 

Beth and Viv spent all morning doting on Phoebe, both overwhelmed with love and excitement. They took turns holding her, each marvelling at the tiny life that had just become part of their family.

Beth’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down to see a message from Leah: Roo’s awake. Told her about the baby being here, and she’s already planning what toys to give her. No rush; take your time, we’re all good here x

Beth showed Viv the text, and they both laughed softly. “She’s already head over heels,” Beth said.

Viv laughed, looking down at the baby in her arms, “You better be prepared for your big sis, Phee.”

“Phee?” Beth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Phee,” Viv nodded, “She’s our little Phee.”

Hours later, after the initial paperwork was signed and the nurses confirmed Phoebe was ready to leave with them, Beth and Viv prepared to head home. Beth carefully placed Phoebe in the tiny car seat they’d brought, securing her with a gentleness that only came with experience. Viv hovered nervously, adjusting the blanket and double-checking the straps.

“You’re going to drive like a grandma, aren’t you?” Beth teased, noticing Viv’s serious expression as she buckled herself in.

“Of course,” Viv shot back. “Precious cargo on board.”

The drive home was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and occasional coos or whimpers from Phoebe. The normal fifteen-minute drive ended up taking thirty minutes because Viv drove so carefully. 

“Welcome home, Phee!” Beth cooed as she took the car seat out of the car. 

Viv carried the bags inside while Beth gently lifted Phoebe’s car seat out of the car. Together, they stepped into their quiet home, a peaceful contrast to the whirlwind of emotions they’d experienced at the hospital.

The living room was cosy, the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. Viv set the bag down and carefully unbuckled Phoebe from her car seat, lifting her into her arms. Beth busied herself setting up the bassinet they’d prepared weeks ago, glancing over at Viv, who was swaying gently with Phoebe.

“She’s so tiny,” Viv murmured, her voice filled with awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby this small.”

Beth smiled, “Roo’s gonna seem massive compared to Phee.” She moved closer and gently ran a finger along Phoebe’s cheek. “It’s so strange, ain’t it?”

The next few hours passed in a blur. Beth and Viv spent the quiet time adjusting to life with Phoebe at home. They soaked in the peacefulness, knowing it wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, as the clock ticked closer to your arrival, the tranquillity gave way to anticipation.

Right on cue, the front door opened, and chaos bursted into the house.

“Is she here? Where’s my sister?!” Your excited voice echoed through the hallway as you bounded into the house, Buddy hot on her heels, giggling just as loudly.

“Girls! Wait—Buddy, Roo!” Leah called after you both, stepping inside, carrying Rugrat inside in her car seat.

Both of you stopped, turning to face Leah with matching grins. “We need to use our indoor voices, yeah?” Leah said gently, crouching down to their level. “The baby is only a little, so we have to be extra careful. And let’s take our shoes off and wash our hands before we say hi, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Okay! But where is she?”

“She’s in the living room,” Viv said, stepping into the hallway with a smile. “But Auntie Le is right, wash your hands first, yeah?”

“Okay, Mamma!” You nodded, running off into the kitchen with Buddy. 

Leah laughed softly, shaking her head. “They’re so excited,” she murmured to Viv and Beth, who both chuckled knowingly.

“You look shattered yourself, Le,” Beth commented, noting Leah’s exhausted face, “Rough night with the baby?”

“Something like that,” Leah chuckled, setting the car seat on the plush carpet in the living room, “This one woke up after you guys dropped Roo off. And then Monkey woke up as well. Thankfully, the only two that remained asleep were Buddy and Roo.”

“Hopefully, it won’t be as bad tonight. You can always call Jordan to come round and help, right?” Viv wondered.

“Thankfully, yeah. They have the game against West Ham tomorrow, so she’s already offered to have Buddy at hers, and Rugrat too if I need a breather. I think I might take her up on that offer so I can spend some quality time with Monkey,” Leah explained, bending down to unbuckle Rugrat out of her car seat and scoop her into her arms, “Ooh, we’re awake, are we? Do you want to meet your new little cousin, as well?”

“They’re going to be best friends, aren’t they?” Beth grinned, peering down at Pheobe, who was still asleep, “Who’d have thought, eh?”

“It still can’t quite wrap my head around it,” Leah murmured, holding Rugrat as she gently sat her up and took her small cardigan of her, “Never in a million years did I ever think something like this could happen. My family are still in shock.”

“That’s to be expected,” Viv responded, “What was your Mum’s reaction?”

“Just… pure shock. Just like everyone else. Jord’s family too,” Leah admitted with a chuckle, “They’ve all been saints though with helping out. J adores her.”

“We washed our hands!” Buddy shouted as she ran through into the living room, as you trailed behind her, “Now can we hold her?”

Once you had scrubbed your hands so thoroughly that even Leah joked you’d polished them, you made your way back into the living room with Buddy trailing behind. Your excitement from earlier had shifted into a quiet, nervous energy as you approached the couch where Beth was now sitting, holding Phoebe.

Buddy climbed up onto the arm of the couch again, peering down at the baby with wide eyes. “She’s so tiny. Just like my sissy!” she whispered. “Mummy, look!”

You hung back near the doorway, your hands twisting the hem of your shirt. You couldn’t look away from Phoebe, but you couldn’t seem to move closer either.

Beth noticed immediately. “Munchkin, you okay?”

You nodded quickly, “She’s… she’s really little,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“She is,” Beth agreed, “Do you want to hold her?”

You glanced down at your hands, your feet shifting nervously. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

Beth quickly handed Phoebe to Viv before crossing the room to crouch in front of you. “Oh, she’s going to love you. You’re her big sister.”

“But what if I’m not good at it?” you asked, tears pricking your eyes. 

Viv spoke up from the couch. “Roo, You don’t have to ‘know how.’ You just have to be yourself.”

Leah soon chimed in, “Roo, you’ve been waiting for this day forever. Remember how excited you were?”

You hesitated before nodding, taking a small step forward. Beth held out her hand, and you grasped it tightly as she led you to the couch.

“Come sit here, next to Mamma,” Beth suggested, patting the cushion. “We’ll help you hold her.”

You climbed onto the couch, sitting next to Viv. Your heart was pounding as Beth carefully took Phoebe from Viv and lowered her into your lap, helping you support her tiny head.

“She’s so soft,” you whispered, your nerves melting into awe as you looked down at your baby sister for the first time.

Phoebe’s eyes fluttered open briefly, and you gasped. “She looked at me!”

“She did, didn’t she?” Viv laughed, nodding her head, “I think you’re the first person she’s properly looked at, Roo!”

“What’s her name?” You asked, realising that you forgot to ask after all of the excitement had overtaken your thoughts. 

“Her name is Phoebe.” Viv answered, “Do you think it suits her?”

“Yeah!” you nodded, “Hi Phee-Phee! I’m your big sis!”

Buddy leaned closer from beside you, “Hi, Phoebe!” she whispered loudly, making everyone laugh. “Why she sleeping? When she gon’ wake up? She need to play with us! Her and sissy can play!”

Beth chuckled softly, brushing a hand over Phoebe’s tiny head. “She’s sleeping because she’s so little. Babies need lots of rest to grow big and strong.”

Leah added with a smile, “They're tiny right now. And they won’t be able to play for a while, Bubba. But when they’re older, you two can show her all your games.”

Buddy’s eyes lit up. “I show ‘em my dinos!”

“She’s so small,” you whispered, like you were afraid to speak too loudly. “Will she always be this tiny?”

Viv chuckled. “No, she’ll grow to be big, just like you. But for now, we have to be extra gentle with her, okay?”

You nodded seriously, adjusting your hands slightly as Beth helped support Phoebe’s head. “Okay. I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

Phoebe let out a little yawn, and your eyes went wide as she stirred in your arms. “Did you hear that? She made a sound!”

Beth grinned. “She did. I think she likes being with her big sister already.”

You looked up, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I think I like her, too.”

As you cuddled Phoebe on the sofa, Beth and Viv fell into an easy conversation with Leah, who held Rugrat in her own arms. You and Buddy of course had to tell them about everything you’d done throughout the day while they were away, giving them every little detail. 

Beth raised an eyebrow, “Where’s Monkey?”

Leah let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Don’t ask… things are a bit… tough right now,” she said quietly, clearly worried.

Buddy piped up from her spot beside you, crossing her arms and pouting. “Monks’ has done nuffin’ but cry! I think she been silly!”

Leah smiled at Buddy but shook her head gently. “No, Buddy, Monkey’s not bein’ silly. She’s had a baby, remember? That can make her a bit sad right now, but she’s with Auntie Katie who’s looking after her.”

“Oh,” Buddy said, her expression softening as she looked up at Leah. She then nodded as if she understood. “I cheer her up with Lego!” she declared, as if the solution to everything was that simple.

Leah laughed softly, her voice filled with affection. “I’m sure that will help, Bubba. You’re very good at making people feel better.”

Just as Buddy declared her plan to cheer up Monkey, Phoebe’s tiny face scrunched up, and she let out a sudden wail, startling everyone.

You froze as her tiny cries grew stronger,  “Why’s she crying? Did I do something wrong?”

Beth was quick to reassure you, her voice calm. “No, Munchkin, you didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes babies just cry.”

“But—what if she’s upset because of me?” you asked, your bottom lip wobbling as Phoebe’s cries grew louder.

“She’s not upset with you, Roo.” Viv said, “She’s just trying to tell us something but because she can’t talk like you yet, she cries instead.”

“She don’ like sitting. She wan’ crawl?” 

Leah chuckled softly. “She’s too little to crawl, Bubba. But that’s a good guess.”

Beth crouched down in front of you, her eyes soft. “I think she’s just hungry, munchkin.”

You watched as Beth carefully lifted Phoebe out of your arms. “But… are you sure she’s not crying because of me?”

“I’m absolutely sure,” Beth said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “You were doing a great job holding her. She’s just telling us she needs her milk.”

You watched as Beth cradled Phoebe and began to soothe her, her cries slowly quieting as Viv prepared a bottle for her. “See?” Beth said, smiling at you. “It’s nothing to worry about. She’s calming down now.”

Buddy crossed her arms, nodding like she had it all figured out. “I get grumpy I’ hungry too. Phee like me!”

Leah laughed, pulling Buddy into a playful hug with her other free arm. “You might be onto something there, Bubba.”

“Roaaaaar!” Buddy leaned forward in Rugrat’s face, startling the newborn and causing her to let out an ear-piercing cry, “Mummy! She cryin’ I don’ like dat. Make it stop!” She exclaimed, holding her hands over her ears.

“Oh, Bubba,” Leah exhaled a sigh, instantly trying to soothe the baby in her arms, “Rugrat is only a tiny baby. You can’t do things like that, because it’ll scare her, remember?”

“I only wanted to cheer ‘er up tho, Mummy!” Buddy scrunched her face up in disagreement, “Rugrat’s borin’ an’ don’t do nuffin’! Send ‘er back!”

Leah chuckled, shaking her head, “Silly, Bubba. I can’t send her back. She’s part of our family now, isn’t she? Your little sister. You have to be a good big sister and protect her.”

“I can do dat! I can protect ‘er!” Buddy declared, puffing out her chest, “I be da bestest big sister!”

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching Phoebe calm down as Beth fed her. Then, you looked up at Viv. “She’s not upset with me?”

Viv shook her head with a smile. “Not one bit. She loves you already, Roo. You’re her big sister.”

You nodded. “Okay. When she’s done eating, can I maybe cuddle her again?”

“Of course you can,” Beth said, beaming at you. “She loves being with you.”

The evening soon came quickly. Leah, Buddy and Rugrat left after a little while, Leah quickly helped tidy around the house. After they left, the house fell into a calm stillness. Beth cleaned up the kitchen while Viv settled on the couch with Phoebe cradled gently on her chest. You sat beside them, your eyes growing heavier with each passing minute.

Phoebe had just finished another feed and was now fast asleep, her tiny hand resting against Viv’s shirt. Viv traced gentle circles on her back, her spare arm wrapped around you. 

You shifted closer, tucking yourself into Viv’s side, your head resting against her shoulder. “She’s really small, Mamma,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice muffled.

“She is, isn’t she?” Viv murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You scooted closer, leaning fully into Viv’s side. “I love her a lot already.”

“I know you do,” Viv said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As the night stretched on, you slowly began to fall asleep. Beth returned from tidying up the kitchen and paused in the doorway, her heart swelling at the sight of you curled up against Viv, Phoebe fast asleep on Viv’s chest.

“She’s completely out,” Beth murmured, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she walked over.

“Both of them are,” Viv whispered, glancing down at you with a tender look.

Beth leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, then one to Phoebe’s head. “Perfect, isn’t it?”

Viv nodded, her arms tightening just slightly around both of you. “It is.”

[enjoythebutterflies33]

✮ FACETIME | Isack Hadjar ✮ 

Summary: little drabble where Isack gets his girlfriend to travel with him to races word count: 591

⋆˙⟡♡ masterlist

It’s late. Way too late for you to still be awake, but here you are anyway, laid in bed with your laptop resting next to you, on facetime to Isack in Canada. 

You already know you’re going to regret the lack of sleep while you’re at work in a few hours, but he’s been gone for 5 days already and you’ve barely gotten 10 uninterrupted minutes alone. 

“I hate this” You blurt out, without really thinking about what you’re saying.

“Uh.. Oh.. I-I” Isack stutters, completely taken aback and misunderstanding what you actually meant by that. 

“Oh god no!” You cut in quickly. “I didn’t mean this, not us, not you. It’s just we’ve been together for four months and you’re gone all the time”

“I know b��bé, I’m sorry” Isack looks disappointed, and a wave of guilt washes over you. You’re regretting saying anything about it now, but you significantly lack a filter when it’s late and you’re so tired.

“No baby, I'm sorry, please don’t apologise. I just wish we could stay in our little bubble all the time”

“We could” Isack said so matter of factly. 

You briefly frown, not out of anger, but confusion, because how could you stay in your bubble while he travels at least once a month. Before you get a chance to ask what he means, Isacks speaks up again with a cheeky grin on his face. “Travel with me, you can work on planes and in cars and in the paddock”

“You’re forgetting about time zone differences, I’d be working in the middle of the night, in like half the places you go” You sighed. “Plus, I can’t just follow you around like some lost puppy, I couldn’t afford flights every week or two, I can’t just leave everything behind and we’d be living in hotel rooms, an-”

Isack's laughter stops you in your tracks, he can’t help but think you’re completely adorable, even when you’re in an overthinking ramble. “Bébé” Isack mutters, while shaking his head. “Half of that isn’t even an issue. First of all, I’d love you to follow me around like a lost puppy” 

You roll your eyes playfully and mutter out “Of course you would”

“Listen to me bébé” Isack tells you gently. “The only thing you need to worry about is packing your bags and talking to your manager about working remotely”

“But” You squeak, taken aback at how simple this all seems to Isack.

“No, no buts, no what ifs” Isack tells you seriously. “If this is what you want, I won't force you, but if this is what you want, I will have it sorted by 9am”

You finally take a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and then suddenly a fit of giggles slip past your lips. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Isack’s grinning giddily and nodding through your computer screen. “I’ve wanted you to come with me since I left for testing”

“We’d only been official for like three weeks!” You gasped, covering your mouth. 

“We’d been spending time together for two months already! I just didn’t want to come on too strong and beg you to follow me everywhere” Isack admits as a crimson blush cascades over his cheeks. “Like a lost puppy” Isack added in quickly with a playful smirk.

“You liked meeee” You teased in a sing-song voice, causing Isack to rub his hands over his face with a groan. “God, we’re grossly in love” Isack nodded along happily. “Tellement dégoûtant d’amour bébé” so disgustingly in love baby

[loveyouprongs]

bringing up baby part 2

remus lupin x whimsical fem!reader | Buttoned-up grad student Remus Lupin has the rare chance to work under one of the top scholars in the country. But his carefully laid plans keep getting derailed by the scholar's free-spirited whirlwind of a daughter who seems determined to unravel both his plans and his sanity.

upcoming content: fluff!! remus is overwhelmeddddd, sirius is a menace but we love him

authors note: part 2!! i’m going to try and stick to some sort of weekly schedule!! i hope you like it :)

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist | masterlist

tagging (pls lmk if you do or do not want to be tagged): @wrenisrad @daydreamandforget @jamesweather @oldhollywoodniall @shipwreckedlor

“You look amazing!!” Sirius sang from the couch, gasping exaggeratedly.

Remus stepped into the living room like a man heading toward a firing squad. “They look like they were painted on.”

“Oh stop it, that pair’s just got… integrity. The hug the soul!”

“They hug everything.” Remus yanked at the hem of the jeans, which refused to budge.

“Be grateful I had a pair without rips,” Sirius said, lounging dramatically, as if that alone made him a hero. “James offered you his Gryffindor pajama bottoms. You’re welcome.”

Remus gaped at him, causing James to snort. He always said Remus looked like a muppet when he made that face. “They’re not that bad,” he began, cut off by Remus.

“Me be grateful? You bleached every pair of slacks I own!

“Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t wash six bloody pairs of pants all at the same time!”

“I was being responsible!”

“Exactly, and I was helping. Whitened your whole wardrobe. I did you a favor.”

“You turned my trousers into Swiss cheese.”

“Stylish Swiss cheese.”

Remus took a long breath in through his nose. It wasn’t worth it. He had somewhere to be. His notes were in order, his satchel was packed, and the jeans—tight as they were—weren’t technically violating any academic dress code. Still, as he grabbed his coat and moved toward the door, he could feel Sirius’s grin behind him.

“Flaunt what Lyall gave you, moony! Sexy ankles!”

Even James, who tried his best to stay out of their spat, let out a barking laugh at that. His wheezing being the last thing Remus heard before he slammed the flat door behind him.

The halls at this hour were quiet, aside from the occasional shifting portrait or the distant wheeze of old pipes. Remus kept his strides purposeful, ignoring how the denim tugged uncomfortably every time he moved too quickly. He was not going to let a pair of Sirius Black’s tragically snug jeans ruin what was the first day of the rest of his professional life.

As he rounded the corner near the east wing stairwell, his right hand warming by the hot chocolate he picked up, he caught sight of Evan Rosier leaning against the banister like he was waiting to be painted. Evan looked up, made direct eye contact, and narrowed his eyes at him.

Remus didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just smiled politely and kept walking, chin up, shoulders back, hips doing far too much thanks to the jeans.

“Rosier,” Remus said coolly as he passed.

“Lupin,” Evan replied, all venom and vowels.

Remus didn’t look back, but he did allow himself the quiet satisfaction of imagining Evan’s expression the moment he found out Remus had been personally invited to assist Professor Binns on the most prestigious archival project in the department. A small, smug voice inside him whispered, Suck it, Evan, and Remus didn’t even feel bad about it.

He reached the old brass-handled door of the History of Magic offices and paused to smooth down his coat and push a curl out of his eyes. This was it. First impressions and all that. Deep breath. No biting. No declarations. No-

The door creaked open before he could knock.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” Binns said, appearing with a towering pile of papers in his hands. “Right on time. Come in.”

Remus quickly gathered the papers from his hands, shutting the door behind him with his foot, immediately regretting it when he saw Binns’ eyes linger on his much too high pant hem.

“Thank you, thank you.”

The office was larger than Remus expected, lined with mismatched shelves, floating document cubes, and at least three clocks that each showed a different time. It smelled like ink, old spell parchment, and something slightly singed. Remus’d barely slept, too busy rereading Binns’ lesser-known essays and cross-referencing archival theory. He was ready.

Professor Binns didn’t bother with a greeting. “These are your primary subjects,” he said, waving a hand toward the rows of cabinets like he was gesturing at a herd of semi-domesticated beasts.

Remus, trying to look intelligent, adjusted his satchel. “Of course. Very… thorough setup.”

“They’re organized by usefulness, age, temper, and, on occasion, scent. You'll pick it up.”

“I- yes. Obviously.” Remus nodded quickly, pretending that made sense. “What’s the… um… temperament of that one?” he asked, pointing to a cabinet that let out a low groan and rattled ominously.

“Likes riddles,” Binns said. “Hates sarcasm.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Right.”

“That drawer there,” Binns continued, pointing to one with scorch marks on its face, “ate a student’s sleeve last term. Don’t feed it after sundown.”

Remus gave a weak chuckle, just in case it was a joke. It did not seem to be a joke.

“Cabinets six through twelve have been known to reshuffle themselves out of spite. Keep your wand on you.”

“Absolutely,” Remus said, trying not to look like he was already reconsidering his life choices. “And, uh, should I use a specific spell for sorting, or…?”

“Oh no,” Binns said, already halfway out the door. “They don’t respond well to structure. Try... small talk.”

“Small talk,” Remus repeated blankly.

“Exactly, Mr. Lupin. I’ll leave you to it!” Binns began, and Remus could only nod shakily.

With one foot out the door, Binns turned around and looked Remus up and down, “I really am glad you’re here, Remus, I know you’ll do great things and help me immensely.” And with a nod, he disappeared into the hall, leaving Remus standing alone in his office, feeling completely out of his depth.

One cabinet rolled open an inch and hissed.

He slowly opened his notebook and wrote: “Ask Binns if this is a prank.”

Then, after a pause, he underlined it. Twice.

Still- he’d asked for this. He was chosen for this. He had a job to do, Binns believed in him.

Remus squared his shoulders, took one brave step forward, and said, “So... who’s in charge here?”

A file folder flew across the room and hit him in the face.

Remus blinked. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”

Your boots clicked softly against the stone floor, baby blue tights peeking out from beneath a dark plaid skirt that swished with every step. A lacy white blouse buttoned all the way to the throat made you feel properly academic, though the heart-shaped tote bag slung over your shoulder, currently overstuffed with annotated anthologies, a dog-eared romance novel, and a suspiciously squished chocolate frog, undermined the effect a bit.

You liked reading in your father’s office. It was quiet. Peaceful. Predictable in its chaos. The same could not be said for your room, where the nargles had been stealing your bookmarks again. Possibly your socks too. Last week, you’d set down your copy of Runes and Romanticism for all of seven seconds and returned to find it upside down, missing page 241, and inexplicably humming.

So, no. Your father’s office was safer. For the books, at least.

You turned the corner, humming a little yourself, and were just about to knock when you heard something crash from the other side of the door.

“…I swear if one of you bites me again,.,” came a voice, tight with panic and mild despair.

You paused, lips parting in delighted curiosity. Slowly, carefully, you pressed your ear to the door.

“Who’s in charge here?” the voice asked, Remus Lupin’s voice, you realized, right before a loud thwap echoed and he muttered, “Cool. Perfect. Great.”

Remus. Your grin widened. You pressed a little harder against the door, trying to catch more. Behind you, a passing professor did a double take. Then, recognizing you, wisely kept walking.

They’d learned by now. You were just… like this.

With a giggle building up behind your tongue, and heat rising to your cheeks at seeing poor Mr. Lupin again, you carefully turned the knob and stepped inside, Remus none the wiser.

He was on his knees in the middle of the office, trying (and failing) to subdue a particularly unruly book. The thing kept snapping open and shut, flapping its covers like wings, and every time he reached for it, it clamped down on his fingers with a disgruntled thwap! He flinched each time, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like an apology and possibly also a threat.

His sandy hair was a bit mussed, as if he’d ran his hand through it too many times, his long legs were pretzeled beneath him, and he looked vaguely betrayed by the entire concept of paper.

You leaned lightly against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold.

“Now now, Glossary of British Battlefield Curses,” you scolded, hands on your hips like a disappointed nanny. “Is that how we treat our friends?”

Remus looked up from the chaos monster in front of him to you, who was now peering down at the book like it was a rogue puppy in need of some serious training.

Oh. It was you.

Remus felt a stinging behind his eyes at the sight of you, like the universe had found yet another way to overwhelm him. First, Sirius’s skin-tight jeans. Then, he made an absolute mess of his boss’ office. And now the girl who made him dizzy by just existing was hovering over him while he sat on the floor like a child.

“How could you treat Mr. Lupin so poorly, that’s not very nice at all,” you continued.

The book paused mid-flutter, almost sheepish.

You smiled, crossing the room with a sigh and kneeling beside him, scooping the book up. “She’s moody in the mornings. You have to compliment her footnotes first.”

Remus blinked. “You’re joking.”

You didn’t answer, just patted the book twice, set it gently on the shelf, and turned back to him with a smile as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“That’s the spirit,” you said brightly, hopping up beside him and surveying the scene like a proud curator of chaos. “Now then, let’s see what sort of mess you’ve made.”

“I, excuse me, I didn’t make a mess,” Remus said, affronted, gesturing to the stacks like they might rise to his defense. “They refuse to stay put. It’s impossible to get them in any kind of order, which is ridiculous considering they’re books. Not exactly famous for their socializing.”

You rolled your eyes with all the drama of a girl who had long given up expecting anyone else to understand. “Oh please, you should see the Transfiguration folios when they’ve had a row. Complete nightmare.”

Before he could process that, you were already flitting to the desk, humming a little under your breath as you leaned over a particular cluster of books and began murmuring sweet nothings to the hardcovers.

Remus scrambled up, waving a hand. “No, no, not those, please, that’s the only section I actually had in order.”

“Oh dear,” you muttered, tilting your head at a stack of books that looked suspiciously smug. “I fear you were fooled, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Fooled by…?”

You took a dainty step toward the shelf, tucked your tote bag on top of a stack, and said gently, as if speaking to small children, “Alright, dears. That’s enough now. Jackets on correctly, please. We’ve got a guest.”

At once, several books gave a disgruntled rustle and started shimmering. Their covers shifted—fonts realigning, images reprinting, colors swirling until what had once been Hogwarts: A History now clearly read The Warlock’s Guide to Ale-Based Hexes.

Remus stared, open-mouthed.

“What the-”

“Well,” you said, tsking at a particularly vain volume trying to keep its floral binding, “can you blame them? I’d want a new outfit every now and then, too.”

"They're very fashion-forward you know, in this office. Not like those snobs in Divination, always the same dusty sleeves. Boring.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I studied for this job. I trained. I prepared. I laminated tabs.”

“And how charmingly futile that turned out to be,” you said, breezing past him to pluck a stack of misbehaving papers off the desk. “Honestly, they can sense desperation. It’s like blood in the water.”

He followed your path with a sort of polite, exhausted horror. “You talk about them like they’re… alive.”

“Remus! Don’t say that too loudly. They get self-conscious.” You gave him a very serious look, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed and amidst the unbelievable past two hours, Remus couldn’t help but laugh, which only seemed to upset you more.

“I’m serious! I just got them to like you and you’re going to mess it all up!”

Remus could only laugh some more, going from quiet chuckles to restless, almost maniacal laughter. Your lips parted at the sight before you, watching his shoulders shake and eyes form crescent moons as he flopped down on the small couch against the wall.

“Remus, what’s the matter with you!” You asked, rather liking this version of him before you.

“You look like Paddington Bear!” He giggled.

“Wha?” You began, looking down at your outfit, “...how?”

Remus then mocked the serious look you gave him earlier, his eyes becoming slits and his mouth pouted upset, “You were giving me the Paddington Bear Hard Stare!”

“And.. and the books were listening to you, and they were biting at me, and… none of this is making any sense.” He sighed and you moved to sit next to him, ignoring the urge to press your skirt against the denim. Where did that come from anyway?

You turned toward him on the couch, folding your legs beneath you, expression all amusement and sympathy. “It’s a lot, I know.”

Remus gave a hollow laugh. “A lot is a generous term. I feel like I’ve fallen into some… whimsical alternate universe where books have personal vendettas.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, that’s not far off. But you’ll get it.”

“I really don’t think I will,” he muttered, rubbing at his temples. “You’re talking about them like they have personalities.”

“They do,” you said brightly, like this should’ve been obvious. “That one’s a drama queen, that one lies constantly about its contents, and that one,” you pointed behind you, “thinks it’s a journal and will try to record everything you say out loud.”

Remus blinked. “Why?”

“No one knows,” you whispered, wide-eyed. “We tried to ask once, but then it started quoting me back in iambic pentameter.”

He stared at you, trying to decipher if you were joking. He decided he didn’t want to know.

When he didn’t respond, you sat up straighter. “Alright, come on. We’ll do it together.”

“What? No, wait—do what together?”

You were already standing, brushing off invisible dust from your skirt. “Restore some kind of order to this place. Surely you can’t leave my father’s office like this.”

That made him freeze.

“Oh god,” he whispered, looking around at the battlefield of scattered pages, fluttering books, and slightly dented furniture. “Your father.”

“Exactly.” You offered him your hand like you were inviting him onto a rollercoaster.

He sighed, but took it. “This is emotional manipulation.”

You just smiled. “It’s archival collaboration.”

He let you pull him to his feet. “If I die, tell James and Sirius I want ‘attacked by knowledge’ on my tombstone,” he muttered to himself and you took note to ask him who they were later.

You led him toward the far left wall of shelves, pausing in front of a particularly lumpy set of tomes. “Alright,” you said. “We’ll start simple. This row is mostly biographies. They’re snobs. Speak clearly and no abbreviations.”

Remus furrowed his brow. “I… okay?”

“Try asking it to alphabetize.”

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “Would you… please sort yourselves alphabetically by author?”

There was a pause. Then the books began shifting, shuffling their spines like a chorus line.

Remus jumped. “Holy sh-”

“Language,” you teased, nudging his side.

He huffed, but he was smiling.

You moved to the next wall, explaining which books needed to be stacked upside down, which liked being wrapped in ribbons, and which ones were still recovering from a minor fire.

Remus tried to take mental notes, but your voice was warm and distracting and you moved through the space like you belonged in it. And, against all logic, it was starting to make sense.

Eventually, you turned to him with your hands on your hips. “Pop quiz! What do you do with this one?”

You gestured to a short, squat book with a velvet cover and an unsettling glint in its title font.

Remus hesitated. “Compliment its… index?”

The book purred.

You clapped your hands. “Good job, Remus!”

He blinked, startled by the praise—and maybe by how nice it felt. His ears went pink.

Your smile widened. “See? You’re a natural.”

He looked down at the smug little volume that had nearly bitten his ankle earlier, then back at you. “You know,” he said quietly, “this is the weirdest help I’ve ever received… but probably the most useful.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Was that an attempt at being charming?”

“Maybe.”

You grinned.

But before you could reply, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Both your heads turned.

“…Do you think it’s Professor Binns?” Remus whispered, already moving to fix his hair.

You tilted your head, listening intently. “No, that’s not him. My dad’s knock is more like… tap tap pause THUMP, like a galloping librarian.”

Remus blinked. “A what?”

“A galloping librarian. You know, all dignity until the third beat, and then chaos.”

Remus could only roll his eyes, standing to straighten his collar. “Right. Of course. Silly me.”

The knock came again, followed by a high-pitched, “Hello, is Professor Lupin there?”

Remus felt his stomach sink for the millionth time that day, immediately recognizing it as the door creaked open, revealing Sirius in all his glory.

“Special delivery!” he declared. “One freshly humbled academic and three brand new pairs of slacks.”

Remus stared at him, red-faced. “Sirius, what are you—”

“I felt bad!” Sirius cut in, breezing past a stack of floating parchments like they didn’t exist. “Figured I’d show up with a peace offering before you swore a vendetta against me and my jeans, which I want back by the way so, chop chop!”

“You brought me trousers.”

“Yes, and a blueberry scone. But I ate that on the way here.”

Remus rubbed his eyes. “This is mortifying.”

“You’re welcome.”

You watched the entire exchange with a kind of delighted confusion, eyes flitting between the two of them. “Remus,” you said slowly, “are those not your jeans?”

Remus groaned, but Sirius stepped in like this was his stage. “Oh no. Remus never wears anything with style. Half his closet still has his mum’s department store tags on it.”

“She knows what I like,” Remus mumbled defensively.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Exactly. The boy’s allergic to flair.”

You tilted your head, considering. “I did think the jeans seemed a little… uncharacteristic. But I wasn’t sure if this was some sort of” you gestured loosely, trying to find the words, “some kind of statement? Like, ‘watch out world, I have ankles and I’m not afraid to use them.’?”

Remus watched as Sirius’ grin split his face, “YES! That’s exactly what I said before he left the house, love, sexy ankles!”

You nodded heavily, “Sexy ankles indeed!”

“Oh my God,” Remus groaned.

“Sirius let out a bark of laughter that nearly knocked over a tower of journals. “Oh, I like you.”

He stepped forward, offering a hand. “Sirius Black!”

You shook his hand, smiling. “Pleasure. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling. “You’re the mystery girl who bit Remus!”

“I did do that,” you agreed.

Remus, who had wilted into a nearby chair, groaned again. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Believe it, darling,” Sirius grinned. “Now please go change so I can have my trousers back.”

You looked over at Remus thoughtfully. “They do look like they were trying to pick a fight with your thighs.”

You glanced at the stack of slacks in Sirius’s arms and then back at Remus, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Well,” you said, brushing imaginary dust from your skirt, “I’ll give you two some privacy. It was lovely meeting you, Sirius.”

Sirius gave a half-bow. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Binns.”

You turned to Remus, who was still half-collapsed in his chair, and leaned in for a hug. He stiffened like a board.

You paused, lips twitching. “Relax, it’s just a hug. I’m not going to bite you…”

Remus blinked at you.

“…this time,” you added with a wink, and bit your teeth at him.

He made a strange sputtering noise as you pulled back, your laughter dancing in the air.

With a final pat to his shoulder, you turned toward the door. “Be good, books!” you called brightly to the shelves. A few rustled in what might have been acknowledgement.

And then you were gone, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft click.

Remus let out a long exhale and stood up, grabbing the slacks and retreating to the tiny ensuite loo. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sirius called out, “Mate. She’s fit.”

From behind the door: a loud thump. “Sirius!”

“What?” Sirius said innocently. “I’m just saying. Funny, too. And clearly into books. It’s like your dream girl.”

“No, she’s not,” Remus said eventually, voice too fast, too defensive.

Sirius grinned. “Mmhm.”

“Books and jokes don’t make someone my— What does that even mean, dream girl, that’s not even— You’re being ridiculous.”

“Right,” Sirius said. “Totally ridiculous.”

“She bit me.”

“You liked it.”

“I did not!”

The bathroom door opened with a huff and a very pink-faced Remus who, now dressed in proper slacks, looked more like himself but somehow even more flustered.

Remus busied himself with folding the jeans, trying very hard not to look like he was thinking about anything at all. “She can be a right bother, you know that?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Remus sighed, “Still. She… did pull my ass out of the fire earlier.”

“I’m just saying,” Remus mumbled, cheeks still pink, “she knows her father’s office, that’s all.”

“Sure, that’s all,”

Remus scowled. “Can we please focus on anything else?”

Sirius smirked, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Sure. But just so we’re clear—I’m onto you.”

Remus threw a rolled-up pair of jeans at his head. “She bit me, Sirius.”

Sirius caught them with one hand, still grinning. “And yet you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!”

“You’re kind of smiling.”

Remus immediately stopped.

“Oh, Moony, my melodramatic friend.” Sirius stood, slung the jeans over his shoulder, and made his way to the door. “Try not to shut the world out before it even says hello.”

Remus didn’t answer. Just gave a half-hearted glare as the door clicked shut behind him.

The quiet returned, and with it, the strange little symphony of rustling parchment and the occasional content sigh from a shelf. Remus rolled up his sleeves.

He got to work.

It took time, more coaxing than commanding—but the files began to shift, the cabinets responded, the scrolls uncurled with something almost like trust. And somewhere between reorganizing the seventeenth-century scandal archives and negotiating peace with the index cards of ‘62, the chaos began to make sense.

By late afternoon, the room looked—well, not perfect. But like someone had listened to it.

And if, now and then, he found himself smiling at the sound of his own voice echoing yours… well.

That was no one’s business but his.

[lackofspace]

ok kandreil? where they had a thing, it was small still, kept a secret but developing, trying to be something, then Baltimore and they act like nothing ever happened even with Kevin's bruises and Neil's scars loud.

They are forced to talk about it when Neil coming into the dorm one afternoon after a run finds Kevin packing his stuff.

"What are you doing?" He asks from the door frowning

"Taking my stuff to Matt and Aaron's" Kevin speaks still sorting through his things

"Why?" Neil says moving deeper into the room

"Matt suggested it, the upperclassmen said now that you and Andrew are a couple I should stop trailing behind you, give you some privacy" he pauses "I hadn't realized– I didn't notice I was doing that"

"You are not, Kevin, what?" Neil already agitated comes closer to where Kevin is now gathering the stuff in his desk

"They are better at knowing this kind of stuff," He shrugs "Don't worry, we are still doing night pratices, although you should warn Matt that's something you want or else he'll be in my case about not giving you a break,"

Kevin glanced up to Neil

"Do you? Want a break from night practices?"

"Who are you?!" Neil exclaims more than asks, shocked

Kevin frowns

"Whatever, your choice. Please remember to wash your clothes regularly and tell andrew to eat real food at least once a day" He pauses dropping a backpack by the door "I guess I should inform you I'm not going to Columbia this weekend, so you can just go after practice if you want"

"What the hell, Kevin! Why the fuck not?"

"Aaron is staying for Katelyn and Nicky says he has to finish a project"

"What does this has to do with you staying? You've come with us without them before" He's getting angry with how confusing this conversation has been

"I guess, but now Nicky and Dan will yell at me if they know"

"You're no making any sense"

"It means you'll have the house to yourselves and I should stay away from you, Dan told me" Kevin tells him like it should be obvious

"Why are you suddenly listening to everything they say? Why don't you ask Andrew and I what we would like?" Neil is desperate, exasperated

"I didn't at first, I thought they had misunderstood but I asked Aaron and he agreed, he said I was using you so I wouldn't be alone, I can't let myself rely on crutches anymore, I know what you and Andrew think of me, I'm just trying to stand with my own two feet, I'm glad they told me it was happening"

With that he grabs his last duffel and backpack and leaves the room

I guess this is really ooc in the way they deal with their emotions, talk and overall openess, I just wanted to write about Kevin being kind of worn out, like he's giving up fighting trying to have someone like/respect him outside of the nest (if you count Jean and the ravens who maybe admired him for being perfect court) he's affected by what happened in Baltimore (Andrew chocking him) but he can't bring himself to talk about it or ask for accountability.

this came to me with Nora talking about how the foxes don't want to listen to Kevin talk about history and I guess misunderstanding him a lot (please know that in this universe Thea does not exist! Jeremy's existence is also debatable bc I think he would be much more present in Kevin's life)

[lucydixon]

Home is where the heart is

GIF by @lords-of-mayhem

Summary: On this week's episode of Lost in the Sauce with Roommate!Reader... Øystein is spiraling after losing Helvete. He finds the two of you an apartment, insisting that he doesn't need your help throughout the process, in hopes that it'll make him feel useful. (Spoiler alert, it doesn't) Warning: NSFW, Fluffy Comfort sex, Body Worship, Unprotected P in V, Oral Male!Recieving

Ever since he’d resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep the store no matter how hard he tried, especially with everything that was going on, Øystein had been insecure and mopey. 

You’d been trying to be there for him, but he was being a stubborn little bastard and insisted on sorting everything out for both of you, no matter how many times you tried to offer.

He’d found an apartment for the two of you and had unloaded all the boxes while you were starting to pack up Helvete with Faust. He’d been gnawing his lip bloody and biting his nails all day, anxiously waiting for you to walk in through the door for the first time to see what you thought.  

When he heard your keys jingle on the other side of the lock, he started thinking that he should’ve shown it to you first.

It was your first time seeing it, and his eyes were locked on you, waiting to catch even a glimmer of distaste in your reaction, sure that you would hate it. That he’d fucked up another good thing by trying to do it without help and he’d lose you next and be left with nothing. 

You didn’t even glance around the apartment when you pushed the door open, too busy trying to get your key out of the lock with clumsy hands. You looked up and smiled warmly when you found him standing just inside the apartment and took a few steps to close the distance, slamming the door shut with the key still in the lock, and draped your arms over his shoulders before kissing him softly. 

A little shocked, he pecked you on the lips before you could pull away from him fully, brows pulled together. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“You didn’t even look.” he threw his arm out, gesturing to the apartment for you to check out, but then rested his palm on the small of your back gently as if he didn’t want you to.  

“I can’t say hello first?” you pouted teasingly, still staring back at him. “I missed you.” 

He made a soft scoffing sound that made your chest ache, and looked away as if he couldn’t fathom you having missed him. 

“Øystein,” You breathed, eyes widening slightly. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

“You missed me?” He muttered, voice dripping with self-loathing, “You deserve so much better than all this.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” your brows pulled together “why would you say that?” 

“Just fucking look at it.” He grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around so you could see. “I picked a shitty apartment and you’re gonna hate it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” You sounded genuinely confused, glancing around. 

You couldn’t see anything amiss. It had a kitchen and a real bathroom, which was leaps and bounds better than the store. It wasn’t even small. There were rooms separated by actual walls and windows that weren’t caked in black paint and nicotine. 

“Seriously, Oy. What’s the issue?” Your eyes darted back towards him, but he was staring at the ground, gnawing on his bottom lip. 

He just shrugged weakly.  

You’d never seen him so meek and unsure of himself, and it was a little jarring. You weren’t used to being the one doing the comforting, but you could very clearly see that he needed it. 

“Hey,” You muttered softly, reaching out for him. “What’s going on with you, baby?” 

He let you lift his head up with a gentle grip on his chin but wouldn’t look at you. Regardless of where he was looking, you could see the tears brimming his eyes and the warm flush of shame radiating off of his skin. 

“C’mere.” You tugged him towards the couch, which he must’ve hauled out of the basement at Helvete without you noticing and sat down with him. As soon as you were on the couch, you pulled him into your chest and wrapped your arms around him tightly. 

Øystein buried his face in the crook of your neck and could feel himself losing his composure. 

A part of him didn’t want you to see him like this, but the overwhelming majority of his cells longed for your touch and knew that you were the only thing he wanted needed in that moment, even if he felt he didn’t deserve it. 

He’d been carrying too much for too long and had fucked up by brushing you off everytime you offered your help. 

All he wanted was you.  

All he’d ever wanted was you and he’s wasted so much of his time and energy on Varg and all the bullshit that came along with him.

Yet here you were, holding him while the tears spilled from his eyes and rolled down your chest, muttering reassurances into the top of his head.

“I fucked everything up.” He spoke into your skin shakily. 

“No you didn’t.” You brushed your fingers through his hair “You’re just overwhelmed, there’s too much shit going on all at once.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about this place though,” 

“It’s a shithole.” he scoffed, but it came our sounding choked. 

“It’s really not, Øystein.” You assured him “It’s nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived.”

“And you do realise that we’ve been living in a store, right? It wasn’t exactly the height of luxury, baby.”

“I know.” He groaned, still hiding his face in your neck “cause i keep moving you from shithole to shithole.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” You were quick to correct, eyes slightly widened “Øystein, I went with you willingly. I could’ve gone with Jan and had my own room, but I chose to go live at the shop with you.”

“Could you just look at me for a second?” You urged gently, nudging him until he begrudgingly pulled back, dragging his hands over his face to get rid of the tear stains on his cheeks before you could cradle them in your hands, staring right into his bloodshot eyes. 

“I don’t give a shit where we live.” You told him “Even if this place sucked, which, it really fucking doesn’t, by the way, none of that shit matters. All I care about is having you around. We could live in a fucking shoebox, and I wouldn’t care, because you are my home. Fuck the walls and the roof. It’s always been you.” 

He couldn’t find the words to express how full of love he was in that moment. It felt like his heart was beating out of his chest.

“You did good, baby.” You pressed your lips to his forehead. “I like it. I promise."

You could feel that he was overwhelmed, and gave him a break from your unrelenting staring to look around the apartment again. 

Your eyes landed on the bed in the next room over and you grinned immediately. 

“Wow,” You whistled, shaking your head playfully, “Look at us go, we’ve finally got a real bed, with a frame and everything.”

“It’s gonna be alright, Øystein.” You turned back to brush his hair out of his face, trailing your fingertips over his cheekbones as you went. “You just need to relax. "

“Let me help?” the pad of your thumb brushed up against his bottom lip tenderly and his breath hitched in his throat “why don’t we take that bed for a spin?” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, sweeping you up in his arms to carry you while you shrieked and looped your arms around his neck. 

Øystein walked you over to the bed and threw you down on the mattress as gently as he could before shrugging off his shirt and joining you. He crawled on top of you and slammed his lips onto yours, only for you to pull back after a few seconds. 

“Hold on there, mister.” You chuckled, nudging him off of you. “You wanna fuck me all crazy? You absolutely can, but there’s some stuff I wanna do first. So lie down, would you?” 

A little confused, he rolled himself onto his back and blinked at you while you peeled off your own shirt and straddled him. 

You settled once you had his quickly hardening cock pinned between your bodies with your still-clothed cunt. 

You rocked your hips, just barely, and got a shaky groan in response and caloused fingers digging into your skin. 

It had been a good couple of weeks since the two of you had been intimate, which is the longest you’d ever gone since you’d shared your first kiss. 

With all that was going on, you’d been neglecting one another.

It certainly didn’t help that he kept you at arms length while he searched for your new home.

The only solace was the hours you spent asleep, clinging to eachother as if you could make up for lost time. 

“I’ve been missing you.” You muttered, ducking down to press your lips to the tip of his nose, then each of his cheeks, “Not just today, either.” 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you.” you pouted playfully, but your words rang true. 

“I just wanna take my time,” You moved onto the corners of his mouth before trailing your lips down his jaw “really get my fill, ya know?” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Øystein hummed, melting into the mattress below you. “I’m sorry for neglecting you”

“No apologizing.” You breathed, shutting him up with a kiss and the roll of your hips. “You’ve been working so hard, baby. Just let me take care of you.” 

He nodded hesitantly, swallowing hard and when you grinded your hips down against him, you could have sworn you’d heard him fucking whimper. 

Instead of commenting, like you desperately wanted to, you decided that now was not the time to poke fun at him and wordlessly continued your way down his throat, leaving increasingly sloppy, open mouthed kissed against every inch of skin while he made soft sighing sounds and dug his fingers into your hips so hard they’d be bruised in the morning. 

You couldn’t have given less of a shit. 

It had been far too long since you’d woken up bruised and sore and you were eager to allow him anything he wanted on this particular evening.  

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Your palms glided down his chest, caressing the hard plane of his stomach and swiping your tongue over his collarbones, then trailing kisses down his arms. 

“And, god. these fucking arms.” You groaned into the skin, dragging your teeth over the hard muscle “I think about them all the damn time. Can never get anything done when you’re walking around with them out.” 

"Don't even get me started on these."

One of your hands intertwined with his and you raised it to your mouth, swirling your tongue over his fingertips before taking them in your mouth, sucking on them while his hips bucked up into yours. The sounds coming out of your mouth, muffled by his caloused fingers, were damn near pornographic. 

Your mouth slid off of them with a satisfying pop.

“Take your pants off.” You snapped the waistband of his boxers with your free hand.  

He seemed a little dazed by the request, very much not used to this dynamic between the two of you, but he had to admit that he liked the attention despite the urge to take over. 

So, he followed your orders and shimmied out of his jeans, holding your stare the whole time. 

The seemingly endless stream of attention flowed down his body until your hands were wrapped around his length and your tongue was lapping at his tip, collecting the salty drops of precum, all while your eyes bore into his from below. 

Usually, he’d never let you tease him like this, but,  Øystein wanted to see where this was going. Besides, the second he felt the warmth of your mouth engulfing the head of his cock, he was a goner. 

A low moan tore it’s way out of his throat, so raspy that it sent a shudder up your spine. 

His hands gathered your hair up in a ponytail and he, very gently, used it to guide your movements. 

He didn’t push or pull.

Didn’t thrust into your throat from below or ram himself into your windpipe like he usually did. 

Just offered soft prompts. 

The longer your mouth was wrapped around him, the tighter his grip on your hair became until he just couldn’t take it anymore and pulled you off of him roughly. 

You gasped, startled, but in no way surprised that he was done letting you hold the reins. 

In all honesty, you were surprised he’d held back for that long. 

You were thrown down on the mattress, and he immediately tore your jeans down your legs, closely followed by your panties.

He was almost frantic in his undressing of you, so much so that you’d half expected him to rip your clothes to get them off faster, but he didn't. 

You could tell that he was trying not to be too rough with you, but he was very quickly losing his composure. 

The second that your clothes were gone, he was prying your legs open and ran two fingers down your slit. A growl sounded, deep in his chest when he felt just how soaked you were and it was enough to make his cock throb with need. 

Still, he eased two fingers into your weeping hole just to make sure you were ready, ripping them out and jamming them in your mouth once he was satisfied. 

You tasted yourself and sucked them clean, moaning around his fingers. 

Within a matter of seconds, they were done and Øystein was sinking into you slowly, holding your jaw in a tight grip to make sure you were looking at him when he bottomed out, nudging your cervix insistently. 

You moaned breathily, struggling not to let your eyes roll back into your head as you felt the stretch of your walls around him. 

For a second, he held you there, and the two of you took ragged breaths, exchanging a look so full of love and desperation that it made your chests ache.

“I love you,” you breathed, eyes so full of conviction that he thought that he might start crying again. 

Instead, he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you. 

It was soft and sweet, akin to the way he kissed you when you were trying to pry yourself out of bed at night to get a glass of water. It held the same desperate, pleading, ‘don’t leave’ sentiment to it. 

“I love you too, Angel,” he muttered into your mouth, slowly pulling back to sink back into you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’re never gonna have to find out,” you promised, arching your back into his body. “I’m yours,  Øystein. Always have been. Always will be.” 

A soft whine fell from his lips, desperate, and full of failing restraint as his hips bucked forward suddenly. 

You gasped, wrapping your legs around him. 

“It’s okay,” You urged, panting into his ear as he clutched you to his chest “Just let go, baby. I want you to.” 

That was all he needed. 

 Øystein immediately started slamming into you, quickly building a bruising pace coupled with grunts and groans, muffled by your neck as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, drawing a sharp cry from your throat. 

“Taking me so good,” He gasped, already able to feel himself crumbling “Shit. feels so fucking good- like you were made for me-” 

The praise had you climbing to your peak just as quickly. You met each slam with the roll of your hips, sucking him in further while his name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

“I fucking love you” He grunted, really ramping up in speed now. “You gonna cum pretty girl?” 

All you could do was nod frantically, burying your face in his neck. 

“That’s it.” his hands found yours tangled in the sheets, and pinned them over your head, maintaining the brutal pace. “Look at me.” 

Your eyes snapped up to his, pupils blown and glazed over as you neared release. 

“You gonna cum with me?” Even he was struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back when you nodded immediately “Good girl, cum with me. Fucking cum with-” 

He cut himself off with a sharp gasp rutting into you while you clamped down around his glistening cock, pulsating around him while he pumped you full of cum. 

A string of curse words tore out of him as his pace grew sloppy, then slowed to a stop. 

He stayed buried deep inside you and rolled onto his side, keeping you tightly wrapped in his arms as you both caught your breath, chests heaving against one another. 

Even after your breathing had evened out, you clung to one another. 

“Fuck.”  Øystein breathed into the top of your head. “I’m gonna marry you.” 

You stiffened, eyes eidening in shock against his bare chest. 

“You’re crazy for putting up with me, so I’m not letting your crazy ass go.” He sounded so sure. Like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wanted you forever “So yeah, I’m gonna marry the shit out of you if you let me.” 

“Of course I’ll let you.” You made a startled sound, but you were smiling. “Are you asking me to marry you right now?” 

“No, no.” He pulled back to look at you, cradling your face in his hands. “I’m gonna get you a ring and do it properly. Okay?” 

“I don’t need a ring.” You rested your palms over his shakily, “I’d marry you right here,” 

“Just let me ask you, properly.” he grinned, pecking you on the forehead. “Let me do one thing right. The normal way”

“Sure.” You choked out a laugh. “Whatever you want, baby.” 

“I want you.” 

“You’ve got me.”

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics MDNI Banner made by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

[joocomics]

UPCOMING: ZOMBIEBOY

✭ 18+

with danger lurking behind every door of your elite college, suddenly your survival comes down to one thing - favour for favour with your former high school enemy kim jungsu. starving and desperate, you’re willing to do anything to take a bite of the candy bar he hides in the pocket of his jeans

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader | perv!jungsu x perv!reader

genre: smut w/ plot, angst | university/college au in the middle of a zombie apocalypse | inspired by the series all of us are dead and a dream i had the night after i watched it

c.w ! zombie apocalypse, mentions of blood, death, murder, bullying (i don’t go in details but please skip this one if these topics make you feel any kind of uncomfortable!)

general warnings: corruption kink, richboy!jungsu (he’s also manipulative and used to getting what he wants), toxic relationship; when they sleep together, it’s as in favour-for-favour, but in reality she likes it, because although he’s always been an asshole to her, she still has feelings for him; everything is consensual

release date: 26 june 2025

preview word count — 586

🎧 now playing… new person, same old mistakes - tame impala, you are my obsession - trevor something, terrible thing - ag, zombieboy - lady gaga, black out days (future islands remix) - phantogram

a.note ! my first time dipping my toes into a darker scenario like this. there won’t be any gore or descriptive elements of horror in general because they’re not up to my writing abilities; the story leans towards angst and the relationship between jungsu and reader

taglist is open! comment or send me an ask and i will add you right away so you don’t miss out on the story when it’s up ♡

READ A PREVIEW BELOW

You make sure to avoid two things - zombies, and Kim Jungsu.

The first is obvious and needs no explanation. The second… well, you’ve been dodging him long before the virus. Jungsu has been a problem since high school. For as long as you can remember he’s been smug and dishonest. Charming when it serves him, kind when it benefits him. Always surrounded by a pack of sycophants who laugh a little too hard at his jokes just so they can keep their spot in his popular circle.

Everyone knows he discards people the moment they stop being useful.

Back then, he made your weeks hell - always teasing, condescending. Guilt-tripping you to do his homework, to write his English essays (even when the topic was as simple as how did you spend summer break), forcing you to help him cheat during tests.

He never missed a chance to chime in whenever the other guys in your class made jokes at your expense. He didn’t need a reason - it was entertainment. It was funny to him how hard they were trying to impress him in all sorts of ways too.

And all of that, he did while wearing his trademark smile - soft and alluring. Because nothing he could say or do could be that big of a problem. You were just too sensitive.

Since the day you both set foot on campus, nothing about him has changed. You, due to countless sleepless nights and relentless studying, he - due to his father’s name.

You don’t see him as often anymore - college is way bigger, and your circles don’t have a reason to overlap, but you’ve run into him enough times to know he’s still the same.

The only thing that’s changed is that his mocking comes with a twist now - about how much you’ve blossomed; how hot you’ve become. And when you don’t thank him for the backhanded compliment, he frowns, of course.

As if he’s making you a favour by noticing the changes in your appearance.

Maybe if he had called you pretty or hot few years ago, you would’ve thanked him. You’re almost sure of it. Even though he gave you a hard time, your crush never really faded, not completely. Just like many other students in your school, you were swooning over his charming looks too.

In the beginning, you liked him so much that you fooled yourself into thinking that his behaviour was just a cover for something else - that maybe he secretly liked you too. After all, wasn’t that what moms always used to say? If a boy teases you or pulls your hair, it means he likes you.

For a while, you believed it. But eventually you saw it for what it was, and you knew that the best thing to do was to stay away.

You’ve always done your best in avoiding Kim Jungsu.

But for some reason, the universe insists on shoving him back into your life.

Even now, as you’re trapped in an abandoned lecture hall, waiting for your death. Because, let’s be honest - you don’t exactly have the skills to survive in a time like this.

Luckily, at least you weren’t alone. You had crossed paths with this freshman with whom you managed to take shifts keeping watch through the nights.

But if you had known that this exact freshman would be the reason behind Jungsu crashing back into your life, you would’ve made a different choice than trusting him.

to be continued… please, look forward to the full story!

[inkyrainstorms]

I had Thoughts about Glass Twins today. (I’m still writing them, lmao. its slow going but its so fun)

Mainly, it’s about the years Hyde spent locked up in his own house. Just. The idea that he retreated into himself in the months following the accident, then began acting out. His parents would be relieved at first, that he seemed to be recovering, but then he would actively get worse. He’d become volatile and destructive (mainly out of desperation for some sense of control in his life), and his parents would respond by locking down the house, slowly, bit by bit. The alcohol cabinets get locked, then the windows, then the doors, and in trying to escape himself and his own thoughts, he’d inadvertently lead to his own home becoming a prison.

It doesn’t help that Henry’s face is everywhere. On the walls, in he picture frames, the very guy he thought tried to murder him followed him everywhere.

And then! And then, in the beginning of that third year, when Henry’s halfway done with college and his parents are talking about how proud that they are, that their son is already planning to get a doctorate, already making such big steps forward in his life (Hyde never got his diploma) (his parents brought it up, once, back when Hyde was first pulling himself out of his depressive funk and into a New and More (not) Fun funk) (he asked them what the fucking point was, if he could barely step foot outside without them having a heart attack) (he was hoping, in a sort of halfhearted way, that they’d agree. Yes, Hyde should try and get his own life back, that he wouldn’t be stuck here forever) (but his parents never brought it up again) Hyde begins mellowing down.

He doesn’t kick up as much of a fuss, doesn’t insist on fighting them at every turn, even participates in conversations at the dinner table once in a while (not a lot) (but… more than usual). His parents are so glad he seems to truly be recovering. He hasn’t had an episode, self-destructive or otherwise, in months. They begin to loosen up, begin to forget checking if they’ve locked the doors every time they leave the house

Hyde packs a bag.

Hyde tries and fails to pick the lock on his window, and he gets his hands on a sturdy hammer from the shed they’d forgotten to lock up one day. He smiles at dinner the night he breaks the lock off his window and tucks it behind the bed. He asks questions, pays attention and everything.

He waits. He’s ready to leave, he wants to leave more than anything— but he waits.

He’s not sure what for. (He’s not ready to let everything go, like holding the broken glass of a picture frame, scared that if you let go, you’ll bleed out, you’ll scar, and things will never be the same).

Henry will come home for the summer. He’ll visit soon, for as little time as he always did, then leave and graduate and Hyde will probably never see him again. Henry will leave eventually, for good.

And that haunts him.

The Anniversary passes. Hyde decides he’s going to get to leave first.

(He doesn’t leave if a note or anything. Henry will be home soon, sooner that usual, probably. He’ll see the house and Know. He’s understand. (And Hyde hopes it hurts anyway) (he hopes it hurts them both))

———————

@afkphorabit @kaykayli @aliens-took-my-iwa-chan and everyone else I’ve accidentally indoctrinated into the most self-indulgent au ever. Wooo

[catcatb0y]

Trying and fighting and biting to NOT be mad that the ONE plan we've had on the calendar all week did not get done. We ran around to hell and high water in a bunch of UNPLANNED plans, but did not do the ONE that was planned.

[gregmarriage]

i don’t understand ppl who leave their packing, until the last minute. i am already packing and i don’t go anywhere for over a week, imao

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

check out my buy me a coffee!

[gloomwitchwrites]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjHFAReU/

This TikTok lit a fire in me ,like just imagine it happening with the 141 and possibly Alejandro 🥲their reactions after they open the lunchbox

141 + Alejandro? Yes, please. Also, I absolutely adore this. I keep imagining reader angrily packing their lunchbox and muttering under their breath but still thinking "goddamn it I love this man" and "this'll show him." Like, we might be upset with them because of the argument but we aren't sacrificing their nutrition over it.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): established relationship, married life, swearing, arguments, brief suggestive themes, light angst, fluff

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is alone in his office.

There’s a pile of paperwork on his desk. Files. Photos. Unfinished reports. It’s never-ending, and it’s the least favorite aspect of his job. John would rather be out in the field or back home with you.

But going home feels a bit daunting. The fight the two of you had last night was the worst one, not that there are lots of fights to begin with. With heated words exchanged, the two of you argued until you were both red in the face. You had stormed off, locked yourself away, and then John sat in silence for hours afterwords, staring at the wall.

All of that, and it was his unpacked lunch that broke him. You always pack it with filling food that keeps him going on the days that he’s not in the field and just sitting behind a desk. He loves the notes you leave inside, and how you always prank something in his meal that makes him chuckle.

But right now, all he can do is stare at the container before him, knowing there’s nothing inside it except what he packed himself last night.

“Damn it all,” he mutters, slowly tugging on the zipper, knowing it’s better to just face the measly meal than ignore it.

Yet as he opens up the container and glances inside, John finds something odd. Everything he packed last night is gone. In its place is what he’s always come to expect.

Disbelief spreads as John removes container after container, opening each one in turn. How did you manage it? How did he not sense you getting out or even returning to bed in the night? How did he not hear you in the kitchen?

John leans back in his chair, staring at the spread before him.

Where’s the note?

Grabbing the bag, John checks, and finds nothing. He even opens up each food storage container, trying everything to see if you’ve tampered with it. And still, everything is fine.

Reaching for his phone, John opens his messages, and there—right there—is one from you.

Sorry. Forgot to pack a note. Love you.

John sighs heavily, tapping the phone against his forehead. All this stress, all this worry, and you still care about him.

Thank you, he texts back. I love you, too.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m done talking about this.”

Johnny shakes his head, grabbing your upper arm to pull you back into the conversation. “And I’m not.”

You roll your eyes, but Johnny ignores the attitude. Whenever the two of you argue, it’s mostly frivolous nonsense that ends with the two of you fucking until the both of you are too exhausted to care about whatever you were arguing over in the first place.

This is not that sort of argument. The both of you are far too heated for this to devolve into rough kissing and even rougher sex.

“I know you’re angry,” replies Johnny. “But—”

“Let go, John.”

Johnny cringes on hearing his government name. You never call him John unless you’re looking to draw blood.

He releases your arm and steps away. “Fine. But this isn’t over. I’m not going to let this go. We have to talk about it.”

“And we will,” you sigh. “But I can’t—I can’t think. I need…space. Just…space.”

Johnny watches you walk away and hates every second of it. The feeling only worsens when he glances over and notices his empty lunch pail. You always prep it for him, making sure he’s fed. He likes that you do it. Makes him happy every time he opens it up on his lunch break.

But you’re raging mad, and it’s late.

Johnny is on his own.

With reluctance in every step and movement, Johnny fills the pail with all sorts of junk. It’s all snack food, but he hardly cares. If he has to, he’ll grab something while on break. When he’s done, he heads into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway.

You’re already in bed, covers pulled up over your head.

Johnny frowns but he doesn’t bother you, and when he finally rolls into bed, sleep alludes him for a solid hour before seizing him.

The morning isn’t much better. You’re still submerged under the covers and unresponsive. Johnny dresses for work in silence, grabs his lunch he packed in silence, and leaves the house in silence. He can’t even bring himself to turn on the radio or listen to his favorite music. Part of him is empty.

The day drags at the construction site, and when he finally—finally sits down to eat, he doesn’t want to open up his lunch pail and see the pathic meal he packed for himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters while pulling on the zipper and flipping the lid.

Johnny blinks, staring down at the food before him. Gone is the prepackaged snacks and junk food. There’s a homecooked meal in here along with several snacks, fresh fruit, and veggies. On top of it all is a small handwritten note on heart-shaped pink paper.

I’m mad at you but I won’t let you starve.

He didn’t even hear you get up in the night.

Johnny’s eyes sting, and when he blinks to chase away a few tears, he realizes how stuffy his nose has become.

“Fuck,” he mutters, opening up the container of strawberries.

You’ve cut them into heart shapes.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has been a grump all day.

Doesn’t matter that he wears a balaclava, and no one can see his face. He hasn’t cracked a single smile once. Any question asked is responded to with a grunt, and if he must speak at all, it’s nothing more than a one-word answer.

He’s not in the mood. His mind is elsewhere. All he can focus on is the fight the two of you had last night. Fights are rare but they’re always fierce, and you never back down during an argument. For Simon, it’s simultaneously attractive and frustrating.

“Up to trade anything, Lt?” Johnny saddles up to Simon, peering over his shoulder at his lunch pail.

The rest of the team teases him endlessly about the fact that you always pack Simon a lunch. They call it cute—domestic. But they’re also jealous. Johnny is always trying to barter and trade with him, and Simon always refuses.

Until today.

There is absolutely fucking nothing in his lunch pail except a protein bar and a bag of crisps. Simon packed his lunch last night while you went to bed after verbally chewing his head off. This time, Simon is willing to trade the whole thing, but he’s too proud to spend money on picking something up. He’d rather starve.

“Maybe,” answers Simon as he unzips the lid. “What you offering?”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise slightly. Simon never shares. Never.

Simon flips the lid over but doesn’t look.

Johnny leans forward, eyes widening. He whistles lowly. “Damn, Lt. Wifey hooked you up today.”

Frowning, Simon glances down and finds—not the lunch he packed himself—but one you packed for him.

“Changed my mind,” mumbles Simon, closing the lid and pushing the lunch pail away from Johnny’s reach.

“Changed your—” But Simon is already walking away, intending to enjoy his meal in peace. “Oi! Lt!”

Argument aside, you still got up early and put this together while he slept. For the first time today, Simon smiles.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle holds onto the lunch pail like a lifeline.

It’s such a silly hesitation. He already knows what he’ll find inside. He packed the damn thing.

Cup-o-Ramen. Plain crisps. An apple.

I don’t want to talk to you right now, Kyle.

Leave me alone. Give me some fucking space.

Even now the resentment and anger still lingers on Kyle’s tongue. For all the years you’ve been together, arguments have been few and far between. And even when there is a fight, the two of you talk it out until a solution is found. Neither of you like going to bed angry.

But last night was an atomic bomb. An explosion of dissent.

You broke off to the bedroom, slamming the door, and locking it behind you. Kyle ended up sleeping on the couch with nothing but a decorative pillow and a throw blanket that hardly covered his body.

After all the yelling, after all the back-and-forth and then your sudden disappearance, Kyle was left with two realities. One, you were pissed at him, and nothing was resolved. Two, you didn’t pack his lunch.

It’s the one thing Kyle loves most about working, knowing that you’ve put together something healthy and filling. The cute notes aren’t so bad either. But there was zero possibility that you’d pack him anything after that argument, so Kyle set to it, dumping stuff into the lunch pail before falling asleep on the sofa.

And now, here he is, sitting down for lunch and dreading the choices he made last night.

“Better get to it,” he sighs, tugging on the zipper.

When he flips the lid over, he’s momentarily stunned. Gone is the Cup-o-Ramen and plain crisps. The apple is still there, but it’s sliced and in its own container with some chocolate spread on the side of dipping. You’ve replaced it all with sealed containers. Pasta. A salad with homemade dressing.

And on top of it all, a sticky note.

I’m mad but I love you.

Kyle’s trepidation vanishes. He chuckles as he picks the note up and presses it to his lips.

Everything is fine.

Everything will be okay.

Bonus: Alejandro Vargas

When you and Alejandro fight, it’s explosive.

If something doesn’t break from being thrown, it breaks because you and him were fucking like animals on it.

Last night wasn’t a simple disagreement. You threw a shoe at him, and when Alejandro knocked it out of the air and kept going, you threw a pillow, and then attempted to throw the lamp. All in vain. He had yanked the lamp out of your hand, had it back on the end table, and tossed you onto the bed in a matter of seconds.

It was just pure need after that. All carnal lust.

After all the energy and anger vanished, Alejandro was left staring up at the ceiling as you dozed beside him. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was fixed.

And when he woke up late and rushed out the door, he didn’t even think about that fact that you hadn’t packed his lunch. Alejandro grabbed the container, brought it with him out of pure fucking habit.

Not, it stares back at him, and he doesn’t know if he should even open it. Not like you got up in the night and packed it. Alejandro would have woken up if you had crawled out of bed in the middle of the night and returned much later.

No. No.

He won’t find anything in here. Nothing. A shame really. He’s going to have to convince someone to go out and grab something for him, or hope someone brought something to drop off in the break room.

Alejandro swears under his breath and then opens the damned lid.

He expects nothing, and yet, it’s not empty. For a second, everything freezes, and then Alejandro isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Inside is easily enough food for two. You’ve packed it to the brim, and as he explores, he even finds your homemade tortillas.

“Is this an apology?” he asks out loud, as if you’ll pop into appearance and answer.

There isn’t any note, and there isn’t a single message from you on his phone. Either you’re waving a white flag, or you’re still angry, but not angry enough to allow him to go hungry.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny's Hustle Part 2

Title: "Hit of the Day — Part 2: Enter the Bat"

The crowd had started to die down.

Not because people lost interest — far from it. It was just that after two hours of getting walloped by angry Gothamites wielding everything from pool noodles to a frying pan labeled “Justice,” the Joker had finally passed out with a giddy smile on his face and a glittery bruise shaped like a Hello Kitty.

Danny had raked in nearly $6000, most of it in crumpled fives and change. He was packing up when the shadows behind him grew... heavier. Denser. Thicker.

He froze, feeling that chill crawl up his spine. Not ghost-sense. Something worse.

The alley grew quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then came the voice.

“Explain.”

Danny didn’t need to turn around. He already knew.

“…Hi, Batman,” he said casually, still stuffing the glitter pillowcase full of cash and half-used weapons. “Did you want a turn? I’ll waive the fee for you.”

The Bat didn’t reply. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, there was a soft fwip as the Dark Knight landed silently beside him, the cape rustling like doom incarnate.

Danny turned and met his gaze — well, the intimidating white slits where Batman’s eyes should be.

He held up his hands, glowing faintly green. “Look, it’s not what it looks like.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You tied up the Joker.”

“Yep.”

“You charged citizens to physically assault him.”

“Correct.”

“And then Red Hood participated.”

“That one surprised me, honestly. I thought for sure he would have taken the chance to Kill him.”

Batman was silent again. He stared past Danny at the Joker — still unconscious, now drooling on his own shoulder, someone’s lipstick scrawled across his forehead: I DESERVE THIS.

“I didn’t kill him,” Danny offered helpfully.

“That’s the bare minimum,” Batman growled.

Danny scratched the back of his neck. “I mean… look, I needed cash, Gotham hates this guy, and nobody died. Probably the safest Joker encounter this city’s had in years.”

“You committed extortion.”

“No, no. Voluntary donation in exchange for therapeutic expression.”

“You used a known criminal as a punching bag.”

Danny smiled brightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Batman took a step forward. Danny didn’t flinch, but he did shift a little, ready to go intangible if things got too batty.

Then Batman looked down at the Joker, sighed through his nose, and muttered, “He's going to wake up and think this was a dream.”

“Nightmare,” Danny corrected.

Another pause.

“…You’re not from here.”

“Depends. Are you going to arrest me?”

Batman just stared at him.

Danny gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m Danny. Just… a kid, okay? And before you growl at me again — I know vigilante justice is your thing, but I’m broke, hungry, and honestly? I don’t think this city minds a little comedy revenge. I kept it clean. Mostly.”

Batman tilted his head. “You restrained the Joker without lethal force. Neutralized him. You kept civilians from real danger. You improvised… uniquely.”

Danny blinked. “Was that almost a compliment?”

“No.”

“Sounded like one.”

Batman’s gaze flicked to Danny’s hands, to the lingering green aura, to his faintly glowing eyes. “Metahuman?”

“…Sort of.”

Another long silence.

Batman finally exhaled and tapped something on his gauntlet. “Clean-up crew is en route. Leave the Joker. Take your money. Get out of Gotham.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me go?”

“I’m giving you one chance. You seem like you want to help people. Next time, find a better way.”

Danny looked down at the still-giggling Joker, then at the pillowcase full of cash.

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m keeping the glitter pillow.”

Batman said nothing. But Danny swore — swore — the Bat’s cape twitched just slightly in what might have been a suppressed chuckle.

A moment later, the shadows swallowed Batman whole, and he was gone.

Danny stood there, blinking at the spot where he’d been.

“Well,” he muttered, slinging the glitter pillowcase over his shoulder, “that could’ve gone way worse.”

As he turned to leave, he passed a cop approaching the alley, who glanced at Joker and muttered, “What the hell…?”

Danny just gave a friendly wave. “One-day special. Sorry you missed it.”

Then he vanished into the Gotham dusk, already planning his next “fundraiser.”

part 1

[grotesquevi]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ YOUR LOVE HAS GOT ME GOING ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ LIKE YOU COULDN'T IMAGINE.

cw  #  18+ mdni, stripper!reader + older and divorced!ellie getting all hot and bothered, dirty talk, contains metaphors to addiction and vices, fingering in the bonus side yikes. i'm sorry mutuals, i'm not usually like this but made this everything sean baker’s was dreaming of when he wrote anora with his dick.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ boycott tlou || check out my fic directory

side note  #  i went above and beyond to search for this two motherfuckers, they were not even in tumblr so i thank this to moya since i had to go to the dark places to get 'em aka the wayback machine on internet's archive. if you recognize this? or are you my pillar nonnie? you may be confused but its because tumblr deleted my old account thinking i was a fucking bot, i used to be under the name vicorices. bare. with. me — wonderful art bellow by @nramv

things would be different if you weren't blatantly pressing your ass against ellie's belt, cause those feelings she exhaustingly told herself not to have? — she suffering from all of them.

it may have to be with the outfit or the lack of it, the way your long, pointed nails scratch over her naked arms. but it's the perfect combination to make all this façade of having her life already sorted out fall apart to the ground when she recently signed up her divorce papers and she's there, getting a lap dance from this girl she really, really fucking likes, as if she wasn't slipping dollar bills beneath the thin strip of your underwear.

so she's been in a similar situation before, promising herself she wont ever step a fucking toe back in the club — she's not that kind of person anyway, the kind that salivates over strippers. the club's packed with men, and being the only girl there it's almost shameful as she has this need to go on and ask for a lap dance from you cause yeah she's greedy, greedy, spoiled, ravenous: ellie has now turned into a junkie trying to get more of their vices.

and in the secluded room, she forgets about previous inhibitions cause you're leaning against her, dancing along the sound of the music already sitting in her lap and her mind bubbles around this stupid rule, the one that forbids her to touch you under any sense of the word if she wants to keep her hands attached to her arms, but she's temped, tempted even when the security camera is pointing right in front of you two.

"yeah? that's what you'd like huh?" the sound of your voice is almost normal, a huge contrast when ellie's feeling like drowning, when the bass on the speaker’s so low it resonates in her damn heart, pouring all over her like ocean waves in the sand "want me to be your little spoiled slut? you'd buy me expensive gifts and get me out of this hellhole?"

ellie's glasses rest on the lower part of her nose, almost slipping as she looks up to you, cheeks blushed cause she's hella ashamed of it, hellhole. when she's in the club you almost rejoice in bliss happiness cause she has money, a pretty face, nice hands and more important — she's not a pervert guy.

there's a huge difference between a perverted guy and a perverted girl in your brain — cause while 50-years-old trying to hit on you disgust you, she's in her 30's and in the best fucking moment of her life and you’re struggling to not ask her to touch you.

"i- fuck. i really don't know why i'm here" ellie admitted the first time after seeing your pole routine of a much shorter version of bauhaus's 'bela lugosi's death', conflicted as you're pushed to talk to her because of your boss: business, it's fucking business "don't know how this works."

"you should ask me for a private dance," you reply, of course you want to dance for her, feel her closer and she won’t say no, no when your index finger trail down her collarbone "maybe you can start finding out by that."

there's something insanely hot about the idea of taking a woman so put together completely apart. ellie knows that, you do. so when she comes back again two nights after, and every-single-time after that, she makes sure to ask for you, name loud and clear in her lips as she enters and you know, just know it's going to be a good night — please, fucking pay for me the rest of the night.

wrong. sets back feminism at least 30 years, but ellie's there anyway, seated like she is during various times the week, letting you take control of her cause it's just what she needs, comfortably seated on a velvet couch with you on top; it seems like the cure to all her ruins — how is she not going to be infatuated with you? how is she not going to suffer from withdrawal when she don't see you for days?

"you know i can," she replies, and your skin shivers against the serious tone in her voice, almost recovered from her sore throat as she takes a sip from the heavy glass of neat whiskey in the table next to the seat "i can afford your lifestyle if that's what you're asking. let me take care of you."

she don't know what's so funny, what entertains you so much as you giggle on top of her, but ellie's distracted as she stares at the tiny underwear you're wearing, the friction between you and her as her fingers ache to reach and touch you, make the triangle on your ass to the damn side.

the sound of your laugh catches her off-guard, and she don’t think when her hand gently pushes you down, making you rest your weight against her legs and let yourself rub your thin underwear in her jeans: sin feels good when you do it right cause shit if it's not the best thing in the world when you're taking her hands in between yours, polished and soft, they guide ellie into your sides, allowing her to trail down your body before giving a sly look to the camera, almost afraid you're going to be caught.

leaving her hands in your thighs seems an invitation cause your movements get slower. fuck the song, if someone's looking, let the lucky bastard live enough to see ellie's hand rub circles in the skin of your inner leg, close to the little outfit you're pulling and barely manages to cover your cunt.

your back presses against her chest, resting against her frame as you move your hips in slow circles, making ellie feel the scent of your perfume in her nose, the way it lingers in the air surrounding the private room.

"ask me again," you whisper, and her gaze lingers in the front part of your body as you lay on top of her: the curves on your skin, the silver and glittery fabric that cover your tits — nipples hard beneath as she has the damn need to use her right hand to do something much better than just sweetly touching your fucking leg "i'll be your good new wife, let you whine about your important job, fuck the stress out of you, all domestic and shit."

it's the way you say it, how you move on top of her, the sparkles splattered in your skin that makes you seem almost ethereal, however it makes ellie moan as she's nodding already on an invisible leash you tied around her neck from the very first time she came, intoxicating, her right hand moves from your leg to your hip, back to your navel and up to your very ribs.

"they are going to see that," you said, the camera always a fucking reminder of her ripping need to have a bit of decency, self-control as ellie's cheeks turn red — "you cannot touch me, love."

"to be fair at this point club 976's alive thanks to me" draining her money cent by fucking cent, she’s sure she keeps the place rolling during the week "so let them be pissed, m'snatching their best worker and takin' her away from this dump anyway."

it must be evil, should be if it isn't, cause just like you landed on her lap you're swiftly turning to face her as you dance, dragging your nails across her chest as from this angle, she becomes aware of your barely covered pussy that grinds against her legs; yeah, she has a much better view of your fingers slipping beneath her belt, of you basking in bliss almost unaware of how stupid ellie’s left when you're around.

"you really mean that?" you ask almost like it's a secret, and she’s smashed with this need of pulling you into a kiss, get lost in the threads of your hair “don’t fuck with me ellie.”

"i'll pay for your nails," her words are warm, her breathing now heavier as her fingers toy with the hem of your underwear: one little tug and it will surely let ellie see your soaked folds, sure you're wet when she see's the splotch in your underwear, the darker hue right between your legs "your clothes, fuck. i'll take you to fancy restaurants anything you want, just- just say you let me."

she can’t pay for interest, that reaction you got when moving on top of her, that almost silent moan you make as you dance or grind to seek for more friction. fuck it, she really don’t know it at this point.

“that’s enough for fifteen minutes,” she’s not aware also of the other people in the room until you’re standing up and she’s going to whine about the lack of touch until you’re screaming at the guard that’s yanking her outside the club — “respect the girls or don’t fucking show up here, got it?”

“outside,” she manages to says to you as she’s being pulled away “ah fuck off man- i’ll wait for you outside!”

the biggest surprise of the night though? she was serious, dead fucking serious; so when you’re leaving the club at almost five in the morning, she’s smoking there, back against her black mercedes as she tilts her head satisfied you’re looking out for her.

yes, ellie williams’s leash is tied to this pretty stripper she has in her sheets, spread over her kitchen island, under the cascading water of her shower, wearing her shirt, eating her food, taking her life — hand-cuffed.

i totally envision it and i’m getting brainrot about rich and divorced!ellie whos ex wife hates you when noticing how fucked up you have her already, wrapped around your finger — ellie’s important to her clearly and you’re quickly becoming a distraction: too much weed, late nights talking, buying you clothes, not picking up the damn phone. shocking cause makes ellie miss up work one morning since you convinced her to call in sick: yeah she’s important to the company, but why can’t she spend just one little morning with you? just one. cross your heart cause you’ll make her time worth it.

she likes it even when you’re a danger to her lifestyle, when you’re slipping inside her office after your collage classes (same ones she’s already offering to pay), and you go there sitting on her lap as ellie tries to be concentrated in reading this paper about the growing insides of the economy for tomorrow, but you’re making it hard to keep her attention in her best behaviour when you’re leaning to see more of her work curious about it, and she has the best view she could ever ask from your bare back and those pajama shorts you use to roam around her penthouse.

so politely fuck work. ellie’s planting some wet kisses on your back, her fingers tug on your crop top and suddenly, you’re leaving wrinkles over her papers cause you’re gripping the wood desk too hard in hopes to hold onto anything, anything that connects you to earth and prevents you from spiraling. shit, shit, shit. how did it end up like that? how she’s so quick to make you stand between her legs? to bend so she can shove her fingers on your already wet pussy? it’s so easy for her to reduce you to this state, this plain mess. her gaze seems to burn holes in your skin, wanting to say something about you ruining her work, yet her mind does not function when she cannot say nothing more than, — “that’s it- can you bend for me? cheek against the desk baby.”

her free hand holds on the fabric of your short and your panties to the side, keeping them hooked in a finger as she uses it to make you move, a gentle pull that invites you to roll your hips back to meet her digits again before she’s slowly shoving a third finger inside and yeah, work can wait.

“faster,” you ask, a lewd sound filling the air when your arousal drips on her hand, coates her palm and makes your folds glisten in evidence of your needs, only gaining a needy sound in return when she’s compelled to follow your orders, keep you satisfied “fuck ellie- s’good you’re filling me so damn good.”

it’s dangerous cause she’s driven by your words, those sounds she loves to hear, the way you seem to suck her fingers deep inside until she’s curling them to rub on your velvety walls, that spot you overly enjoy and ellie discovered during the week: sure.

work can wait for an hour or two, she has better things to take care of now.

[scribblemesylus]

What they need to hear from you

The one where you comfort him : Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Xavier

Hello! This is my first official writing of the LaDS characters; I hope you enjoy it! comments and reposts and love are most appreciated! 💕 The reader is the MC in this one! Angsty (but happy endings) No other warnings.Thank you to my friend who helped me find some inspiration for this post <3

Caleb

Caleb always tried to be the Caleb you remembered, even if he could not remember it that well, he searched through the little memory he had left to piece himself together. Because it was for you. He saw your face that day, the day you told him you didn't need him. That look in your eye, he didn't know exactly what it was; disgust? Pity? Terror? He couldn't recognise it. So, instead of acting like it never happened, he tried to make himself better, just so you would never leave his side again... you liked him before, right? So, it shouldn't be too hard... right?

Turns out, it was harder than he had ever imagined, after all the time he had not seen you since you were released from his fleet, everything between the two of you became suffocatingly awkward. Neither of you knew what to do, what to say, he was beginning to believe that even with the silly coupon (he didn't find it silly... not really), there was no salvaging what the two of you had.

He had destroyed it all in desperation to have you.

So, even though whenever he was near you, he felt like as if is chest was caved in from shame; he stayed by your side. Letting himself silently suffocate because that is what he deserved for letting you down -- or so he believed. It wasn't until you came back injured from a mission, where he ran to you, but he didn't dare touch you, his hands just sort of... hovered over your injuries, his eyes darting around, his brain trying desperately to find a way he could help you without terrifying you again. You sighed and watched him before slowly reaching toward his hand, your fingers brushing against the top of his hand "Caleb..." You whisper, your now strained relationship was hurting a lot more than your physical injuries "Caleb, I am not scared of you... I need you to help me." You push and look at him "Please.." It was true, what happened in Skyhaven was behind you and even though it was killing you with how different the two of you were compared to before, you aren't able to clean all these wounds yourself.

Caleb's eyes softened immediately, and he nodded. "Of course, Pipsqueak, you must be hurting a lot; I'm sorry." He quickly got up and grabbed the first aid kit as he slowly sat you down gently and began to look at your injuries, taking a deep breath before he peeled your sleeves away. "Pips... where did you go to... to get these types of injuries?" He asked gently, but when he was met with nothing but silence, he let out a sigh. "Please, prioritise your safety..." He muttered before continuing to help you as you focused on other wounds. You turn to him and nod "I do, it's just-" He didn't need you to explain, "I know." Was all he said before finishing up and packing the first aid kit "Do you... uh.." He scratched the back of his neck. "Need help with anything else?" He asks gently, but when you shake your head, he just gives you a soft smile and lets you be.

He stood in the kitchen and sighed gently as he slipped the first aid kit back into the cupboard. It wasn't easy to see you like this, in pain and uncomfortable. He just wanted to fix everything; he was good at it whilst he was younger, so why wasn't he good at it now?

He knew you had to do this; you had to save the people the way that you and he weren't in that catastrophe, but he wondered if you were trying to prove something to yourself, too. Caleb wanted to push them, tell you that saving the world wasn't your responsibility, but he has just got you back; you're finally not scared of him anymore; he couldn't ruin that. All he could be is glad that you were here now, that you came to him after all.

He closed the cupboard and prepared a small cup of hot chocolate for the two of you, and sat in the sitting room, waiting for your return.

After getting changed into comfier clothing, you nestled into Caleb, your heart racing slightly in fear he would reject this form of affection after so long... after what you said to him. But, he welcomed it and wrapped his arm around you. "I want to go back to how we used to be.." You say softly, looking up at his big purple eyes. "A-At least, start working towards it... You're my home, Caleb... I don't want this... awkwardness anymore."

You swore you could almost see him levitate off the couch as he practically shone with happiness as if those were the only words he ever needed to hear. "Anything you want, Pipsqueak, I am yours to command."

Rafayel

Rafayel was not an insecure man. At least, that is what everyone else thought. Rafayel, on the other hand, was not so sure. It is not that he felt insecure; it's more he felt this emptiness inside of him, and he had no clue what to fill it with. After all these years, he had you in his grasp once more, so close, yet so far. Because he remembered everything, he even knew what was to come, but you? You're so clueless. He knew how he lost you, how he would lose you and how he could lose you. And he had to deal with this pain and anger all alone.

His past failures jabbed into him as if he were Prometheus, constantly being pecked by a bird. He lived between what was his life and the life he had before, dealing with the betrayal he caused, all for the one he loved, for you, but you didn't know. You will never know.

A part of him did not want you to ever find out what kind of monster he was, afraid he would scare you away, like the otherworldly beast he is, but the other part of him was so tired of carrying this alone.

He wasn't insecure in himself, but insecure for what he could do for you, insecure in his love for you. Would it be enough for you to stay? For the two of you to finally have an entire lifetime together? Would it be worth plunging his people into darkness?

It was a constant spiral he had since you came back into his life, like a rollercoaster, but forever stuck on the loop, the happiness that he finally has you and the pain of what he was - it was a never-ending cycle. That a part of him didn't want to escape; he deserved this pain after all, didn't he? For what is a God who does not live in shame for causing suffering to his people?

But, deep down, he was just afraid he would become unloveable in your eyes. That was his deepest, darkest fear, the one that drowned him in darkness once the night time hit.

You knew something was wrong. It seems silly but when your world was a bit duller, when the grey clouds seemed more prominent or when the lakes and seas swayed as if it was heavy, you knew Rafayel was not himself. So, with a spare bag of seashells in hand and some of the rare materials you knew he liked, you headed over to his place.

The plastic bag twisted against your fingers, almost cutting off circulation entirely as you made your way through the streets and to the beach, slipping your spare key out of your pocket and into the keyhole of the gate, twisting it a few times to unlock the gate.

You gently swished the bag beside you as you made the way to the door, and you imagined your boyfriend's smile when he saw you. However, your heart fell to your stomach as Rafayel's 'organised' mess was scattered and ruined across the floor. The studio was a mess and unkempt; it was almost like an abandoned building.

"Rafayel?" You called out and looked around the place before you saw him sitting on the balcony.

He turned to you, his eyes screaming emotions at you that you had never seen on him before "Cutie..." He whispered meekly.

You fell to your knees by his side once you approached his side and cupped his face "Darling? What has happened? Are you struggling to paint?" You ask as you caress his cheek, your heart fluttering as he leans in as if he hadn't been touched by you in weeks (he saw you yesterday)

"Will you still love me, no matter what I become?" He asked you suddenly, and you froze as you looked at him; the two of you had silently loved each other until now, finding other ways to highlight your love rather than saying it.

"Of course you wouldn't." He muttered bitterly and turned from you, missing how your brows scrunched together with a mix of confusion and anger

"What-?"

"How could an angel like you love a monster like-" "I love you." You blurt out and make him face you, "I wanted to say it in a more romantic way, in a way that you will always remember.... but I love you, Rafayel, no matter what you become.." You smile softly and place a kiss on his cheek and caress it into his skin as if to heal him.

Rafayel's hand slipped down from above yours to your wrist as he searched your eyes for any deceit.

"Promise?" He asks, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he anticipates your answer.

"I promise, my heart has always been yours and always will be.

Rafayel may have a piece of him missing, but he was sure it was to be filled by you.

Zayne

Zayne is a man who craves control, not over anyone else, just over himself. He had to, because if he was void of control, there would be cracks and the cracks he could not let you see. If you saw his cracks, how could you trust him as your doctor?

He had let you down once, all those years ago when he left you, abandoned you, even if it was not his choice. But he had a choice now and he would use it to make sure he never let you down again.

So, every single crack he kept to himself, stayed up later, worked later until he could fill them all up again before he could see you. However, as he scribbled down notes on his research, the memories of his nightmares played in his mind, taunting him, punishing him, and he came to accept he deserved it. He shouldn't have let all those people come to die, he was a doctor, and a doctor's role was to save a life, not to let it fade away, yet with every year, the list of his letdowns grew.

Everyone told him that it was expected: that to save a life, you were bound to lose a few; it was how life worked. But not for Zayne, not at all, because with every name that appeared on that list, he was afraid it was a name closer to yours.

He couldn't have that, not when he gave up the life he wanted for yours to prevail.

You, on the other hand, were becoming increasingly worried and slightly frustrated with your doctor because this was the third time you tried to coax him out of his office. You have tried everything; cake, macaroons, sweets... all came to a disappointing ending. You thought that trying something as harmless as sweets wouldn't highlight your increasing worry, and it was small enough so you could get a small look at him.

It had almost been two weeks now, and so you made your way to the hospital. You just wanted to know that he was okay and maybe scold him slightly for shutting you out... again.

Once the doors slid open, you gently greeted Yvonne and walked to Zayne's office after making sure he had no more patients to see. You looked down at the box, a small muffin for Zayne, before inhaling and knocking on the door.

Gosh, you hope he doesn't reject you because as your knuckles collide with the door, It dawns on you that he might be avoiding you because you might have done something wrong.

"Come in."

You gulp down and hold the small box a little tighter in your hand, causing it to crease slightly before opening the door. You shifted on your feet as he was too immersed in his work to even look up at you.

"Hi." You greet him gently and slip the muffin on the table, and his eyes instantly break away from the paper at the sound of your voice

"I thought that since you wouldn't come to me for the sweet treats, I would just come to you because I know you cannot go too long without them." You say lightly and place yourself on the chair opposite his desk.

"Thank you." He says softly and looks between you and his work a couple of times before bunching the papers together in a neat pile and slipping them away. "Did you just come from a mission?" You raise a brow. "Are you not going to explain why I haven't seen you in two weeks? I know being a doctor is exhausting, Zayne, but you normally tell me ahead of time-"

"I didn't want to worry you over something foolish. I have it under control."

"Under control? What is under control? Why aren't you talking to me? You know that I am here." The words fall out, conveying your desperation. You had felt empty without him, alone, and you didn't want to feel that again. "It does not concern you, Y/N." He retorts, "If I thought you needed to know, I would have told you." You bite back your words and nod "Alright.." You sit there silently. You would've typically left, but something told you that this time, you needed to stay, that he needed you.

After a few beats of silence, you try again. "You don't have to keep it all to yourself... I know it may not concern me, but that doesn't mean you have to lock it away."

He tensed up. He hated how you could still see through him, even after all this time. He pulled away from his computer, which he was only looking at to control his anxiety for nearly scaring you away. He released the tension in his shoulders and took the muffin. "I lost a patient... two weeks ago."

Sylus

'What a fool' is all he could think as he sat in his office, piles of vinyl scattered across his usually clean office. No tune or genre was calming him. After all this time, after sensing you like he did, after preparing this life for you, he had scared you away.

He couldn't bear to think that because of who he was, his reputation, and who you believed he was made him lose you, not after all this time, not after the promise the two of you shared, not after what you went through.

He was a fool for pushing you too quick, too hard; his excitement and desperation had blinded him; why was he so hellbent on making you remember if he could just build new memories with you? Foolish.

You not remembering a thing, he could get behind, it made sense, but your hatred, your disgust. That he could not get behind, no matter what you believed about him. All he wanted to do was to have you in his arms and to show you what he had made. It might not be the cave you had a lifetime ago, but it was spectacular in this lifetime. A lifetime he built for you, and you didn't even want it.

He supposed he could understand. You did think he killed your family, even though he would never. All he would do would be to keep you safe. It pained him to understand your point of view, to see him as a monster. He was in his last life, so it only made sense that he was in this one.

But he had made you fall in love with him once, and back then, he was truly a monster, so he could make you fall for him again. He just had to give you the choice to choose him.

So, over the next few weeks, he let you choose him, come back to him. Not pushing or pulling, he didn't need to; the door was always open, and you knew that.

That didn't stop his heart from doing flips in his chest each time he saw you walk through the base's doors.

Tonight, you were also expected to come through the doors; he had the twins make sure the base was clean and tidy, that your room was prepared, and that security was at its highest. It was something he always did when you were coming over.

However, you never showed; you were on a mission, so maybe you went home and forgot; that would be reasonable... except come rain or shine, injury or no injury, if you said you were coming, you were always there.

He knew there was something more to your tardiness; without another thought, he sent Mephisto to look for you, and when he came back, the air was knocked out from Sylus' lungs.

You were found passed out, just outside of the base; it didn't take him a second to cross the base and have you in his arms "Oh, kitten.." He brushed the hair from your face, his heart breaking as you weakly opened your eyes.

"Sylus, I am sorry, I tried to call, but..."

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe now." He tried to use his usual tone with you, but his voice was softer, almost as if he was trying his hardest not to let it break.

He worked quickly to get you patched up, swallowing down his worries and quite possibly his tears as he did so, not even letting the twins near you. He sat with you, putting on your favourite vinyl softly in the background as he waited for you to wake up, not leaving your side, his hand placed on yours, afraid that if he let you go, he would lose you like he almost did tonight and the guilt was eating him alive.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mutter and glance toward him. "You're looking at me like your cat just died." You smirk slightly, and he lets out a chuckle "Kitten, why didn't you ask me to pick you up?"

"I assumed you had business to attend to-" "You should've called me. What happened if you never made it here, if we never found you, if you never came back to me, do you think I could live with myself."

You slowly sit up and look toward him "Sylus, I will always come back to you, always. I will always find myself here. You need to trust me on that."

"I do. It's just tonight seeing you like that made me feel-" "Scared?"

He huffed through his nose and pinched the bridge of it "Something like that..." He brushed the hair out of your face "Call me next time." You nod and smile "I will."

A few days later you were back fighting wanderers, but this time Sylus was by your side, his evol swirling around his arm and his hand "You sure about this, Sweetie?"

You nod "I'm Sure, I am safe by your side."

Sylus smiled; you were safe with him; you chose him, and fighting beside you was the greatest honour to have, so he made sure you left the mission without a scratch.

Xavier

It wasn't unusual for you to not see or hear from Xavier for days; you were sure he would pop up at one of the most convenient moments to be by your side. Or, pop up just before you were assigned another partner by Captian Jenna.

This is what happened; before you, the captain, could even mutter another person's name, Xavier appeared, literally faster than the speed of light beside you. Jenna sighed and cleared her throat. "Y/N, your partner will be Xavier for today's mission.

You didn't even look at him before you went to collect what you needed from the information room, and Xavier didn't seem to mind this. He just followed you obediently and read through the information quickly.

You were brought out of your focus when you suddenly heard his voice.

"Aren't you even going to ask where I was for the past few days?" He questioned and tilted his head, unsure why you're not interrogating him like you usually do.

You shrug and turn back to the tablet sitting in your hands. "Why should I? I trust you. If you want to let me know, you will when you need to."

To you, it was just a simple establishment of trust that you assumed you both knew of, but to Xavier, it was everything, and quite clearly, as little lights started to float around him, there was a slight smile on his face.

Trust was a big deal to him; after meeting you for the second time, he almost felt guilty about how angry you were at him for leaving you behind like he did. Not only that, but he failed his planet and the people on it, as well as the people he dragged here, to try and save you... He had failed them all and probably even you to the point where he believed he wasn't even worthy of trust.

You two didn't make a comment about it from that point. It was almost like, 'What is said in the information room stays in the information room.'

You watched him stand there and fiddle with the protocore between his fingers before, like always, crushing it into oblivion.

"Why do you always do that?" You ask, but he does not answer; he just walks you home. "Xavier, are you feeling okay? You've been silent the whole walk home.."

"I'm alright." He shot you a small smile like he always did and went inside. It was yet another protocore that was a waste, another step further from home, another disappointment to the people relying on him... but, at least, you trusted him.

So, he walked down the stairs and to your apartment and knocked on the door. He didn't even have to say a word, you just let him walk in and sit down, plating up some food for him.

You sit opposite and begin to eat, speaking about trivial things with him before he speaks up, "I don't expect you to understand me fully, but I need to find something, and I can't find it, and it's driving me mad."

"I can help-" you pipe in, but he just shakes his head, causing you to deflate, but you understood him in a way; you had things to do, personal missions to complete that you wouldn't want anyone to touch either. You clear your throat. "Well, if you ever need someone to help cheer you up or clear your mind, you can come here. If I can't help you with your mission, I want to at least help you after them." He smiles and looks at you, placing a star-shaped dumpling into your bowl and nods. "That'll be nice..."

Taglist: @61chai-tea @lueurjun @thebangtancloud @nawysstuff @phantom-astra