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yanderenightmare · 9 months

Note

Just bunny reader going into heat, asking her wolf boys Katsuki and Izuku to double-pen her because her screaming insides just can’t get enough<3

BNHA ! POLY ! THIRST

Bakugou Katsuki x darling x Midoriya Izuku

WC: 1.5k

TW: NSFW, yandere, dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, vulnerable reader, oral, double penetration

“Bunny, we’re home~” Both called in tune once stepping through the threshold.

Balancing grocery bags cradled in all four arms – Deku with keys in hand, followed by Katsuki slamming the door shut with a nudge of his foot.

Stepping towards the kitchen to put everything down, they both gave each other a look as if to ask the other where you were. Usually, you’d come padding – shyly but surely – to welcome them home like you knew was expected of you. But this time, you were nowhere to be seen or heard.

That is… before the scent in the air caught their nose.

A scent that went straight to their loins, making both their eyes go ink-black and opium-blown.

“D’you smell that, Kachan?” Izuku asked with a breath, placing the groceries down on the kitchen aisle with a thud – nose raised in the air and lips parted.

Katsuki cracked a grin in return, dropping his own bags down alongside the other two – licking his teeth. “Oh yeah~ I fuckin’ smell that.”

You had your head drowned in the sheets, frenzied – clutching the dirty laundry to your face while rubbing on it desperately, keeping it hugged tight between your thighs – your back in a slope with your springy little tail dancing in the air.

“Bunny-baby? We’re home~”

Their voices had you halt – reaching you through your fever – ears shifty, nose twitchy, eyes peeled.

“Tsuki? Zuku?” You called out in a hopeful whine – muffled in the laundry pile before you popped out of hiding, a head of tousled hair and a pair of puffy eyes on a face riddled with despair.

Naked and shifty – you looked a mix of manic and relieved when seeing them.

“Help me-” You sobbed, thighs remaining pressed and quaking, your bottom lip blubbering, lop ears more lopped than usual, hanging droopily, framing your cute little face like a portrait.

“Aw~ Poor thing~” Izuku drawled in a purr – feeling thrills carve up his spine and the quickening beat of his heart spread to every corner of his body – blood hot and thickening, rushing straight to his cock, growing heavy and taut in his pants.

You crawled over in a rush, slipping in and on the mess of clothes you’d made on the floor surrounding you. Shuffling the rest of the way on your knees until you reached the nearest of the two – your hands attacking his hips.

Almost making him stumble back, you began messily unbuckling his belt – desperate in your haste.

“Easy, Bunny- no need to rush~” Katsuki teased – having been the closest one you could get your hands on.

“It hurts- please… don’t be cruel- just… take it off-” You whined in a whimper – wrangling off his belt in a struggle – your fingers shaking desperately, hastily when tugging down his boxers to be met with his already fat and straining length arched and bobbing proudly against his stomach.

You wasted only a split-second, locking your mouth around the length at once when it reared its round head – sucking the tip eagerly and urgently – aggressively enough to make Katsuki suck his teeth.

A shuddering moan escaped you next, followed by other blissful sighs when swallowing the taste. Continuing to suck rhythmically while feeling it soothe every flaming fiber throughout your body. Traveling down to your lower belly – making you flutter around nothing while slick escaped you, layered on your inner thighs.

Katsuki sighed then, halfway in relief and the other half in pleasure as you settled – having felt a flare of terror, thinking you were about to bite his cock off before you started sweetly glucking – your hot mouth full of drool and teeth tucked behind soft billowy lips.

He cupped your head in his paw, but it wasn’t necessary – you were determined enough on your own without his help. Nips perky as you swallowed him down to the base and hollowed your cheeks in a tight chock around him – hungry for it – needy and possessed by the white promise stored within the big beautiful sack of balls swaying with weight against your chin. A promise already coming through in sweet pre-spills making your mouth water and eyes roll back beneath your lids.

Tits bouncing as you moaned around his shaft – eyes closed and swept into a blessed state of frenzy at the taste with one hand between your thighs, touching yourself, and the other reaching for Izuku, becking him over with needy little grabs to the air.

He unzipped himself for you, making the jump from Katsuki to him swift and easy for you – taking him in your mouth with a needy whine and a continuous string of whiney suckling mewls as you hurriedly sucked off and swallowed all the precum leaking from his head.

Your cotton tail wagged impatiently behind you, swapping between the two cocks while they silently smiled down at the view – both keeping an endeared hand on each of your lop ears, rubbing them encouragingly while watching you pop off one cock with a smack before downing the other in a gulp – chuckling at you when you eventually began desperately trying to press them both passed your lips.

Hot tears on your face, feeling your lower belly fold at the horrid emptiness inside – aching from the starving hunger that all but started to eat itself.

“Please-” You begged. Naked and dewy with sweat, blushed and drunken with tears glossing your cheeks, all puffy as you rolled back against the dune of soft laundry beneath you – thighs spread wide while you touched yourself with both hands between them. “Please, I need you~ both~ here, please~”

Their ears spiked at your request, tails swishing behind them while the purr in their gut grew into a growl. You’d grown comfortable with them lately, and it showed – even in heat, you’d never been so brazenly lewd before.

“Please, it hurts- hurry~” You continued pleading, quaking where you lay with your lip tucked between your teeth and big eyes glistening, full of distress and prayer. Every inch of skin coated in something wet – pills of dew and streaks of tears, the rest a slick honeyed sheen – begging to be touched and tasted.

They both lay down in the laundry. Crawling over on either side of you, each lifted and held a thigh to their chest, spreading you open – their minds in the same place, casting each other a heated glance while reaching for your pussy with their hands first - Katsuki working the clit while Izuku pumped your hole on two thick fingers.

“No- I want cock~ I need cock-” You protested with a whine, shaking your head while writhing between the two. Thighs tensing, trying to close while trembling small hands dove down to swat at their bigger ones.

“No, no, no-” Katsuki tutted, swirling your clit beneath rough fissures, making your hips buck. “Be a good bunny and cum first.” His voice a gravely guttural – having your toes curl, and fists clench.

“I can’t- not without cock-” You sobbed, head thrown back and nearly screaming before Katsuki shoved three fingers in your mouth, muffling any and all sounds you had – reducing them to sweet mews where you promptly started licking and suckling the digits for comfort.

“That’s it, don’t be a bratty bunny- you know the rules.” He soothed, continuing to flick your clit while your thighs trembled around them. “No cum, no cock.”

Deku fondled your chest while your cunt made out with his fingers, sucking and slicking them up. Hole fluttering, walls velvety and wet, spongey, milking him for more. Soon tightening up – choking – leaving no room.

You made a whine, feeling the coil in your lower tummy pull and tighten – getting so hot and knotted before snapping – breaching and bursting and gushing all over the hands who’d made it happen – leaving you to twitch and moan around the fingers stuffing your mouth.

“Good bunny~” Izuku cooed, retracing his slicked fingers with a wet shlick. His eyes fixated on the arousal coating the digits – connected to your cunt in strings where you fluttered around nothing. He swallowed thickly, feeling his cock do a jump of impatience. “Now you get your reward.”

Katsuki pulled away from your mouth, wrapping the spit-glossed fingers around his needy shaft instead. Eyes on your dewy face – watching pills of sweat run from your forehead, similar droplets leak from the corner of your eyes, and other trails of spit trickle from your mouth where you were shakily left panting.

“You still want this?” He whispered as both of them lined their cocks up alongside each other, ready to press inside you.

“Yes, please-” You sniffled, biting your lip while watching the sight – feeling everything inside you scream for it. “Give it to me~”

Izuku felt his curls stick to his face and the beating of his heart take another leap. You were being so cute and needy he could barely think straight enough to doubt if they’d both even fit. Right now, everything just seemed so right that nothing could go wrong.

“Okay, bunny-” He swallowed thickly, followed quickly by Katsuki’s grunt. “You asked for it…”

Snuggling closer until their heads touched yours, hot breaths and lips and teeth and tongue licking your throat – sucking the scars left by their bites while beginning to push. Eyes no longer green and red but purely black – slowly sinking inside inch by inch, feeling you cramp around them as a squeal left you.

Back lifting, arching off the ground as you grabbed for their hands – crushing their fingers tight.

You squeezed your eyes shut whilst they held their eyes wide – watching their cockheads fight for space inside you in one massive belly bulge.

tip-jar: Kofi

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beansprean · 4 months

Text

You can see now that this was all written well before s5 lmao.

My Familiar’s Ghost part 64

Masterpost

See new pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up on Nandor newly dressed in his leather buckled tunic and fur stole as he pops his head into Guillermo's room beneath the stairs. With a polite but cautious expression, he calls out, 'Guillermo?' 1b. Zoom out to full body, Nandor standing in the entry in the background and twiddling his hands together. Guillermo, redressed in a cardigan and chinos, is kneeling on the ground in front of his bed, fumbling around with something beneath it. The nightstand behind him is cleared out, lamp on top unplugged, and a cardboard box filled with random crap sits on the bed. Nandor glances around at this with sudden anxiety and asks, 'You are...moving?' Guillermo replies instantly, 'Just upstairs! I'm a vampire now, so I should get my own room, right?' Nandor responds woodenly, 'Oh. Yes. That is the protocol.' 1c. Repeat, wider shot. We can now see Guillermo's desk against the left wall, cleared off but for a plastic milk crate with a small lamp, the Nandor and Guillermo dolls, and the glitter portrait nestled carefully inside. Nandor notices them and leans over to get a closer look, a pleased little smile crossing his face. In the foreground, Guillermo sits up slightly and holds up an empty box of band aids, squinting inside of it with a frown. He says, 'Also it turns out I do still need glasses. No idea where they ended up, but I have an old pair in here somewhere. I think.'

2a. Bust of Nandor as he straightens and turns his head back toward Guillermo, brow furrowed. He asks, 'You mean...your vision has been impaired this entire time?' Offscreen, Guillermo replies 'Oh yeah, I can barely see my own nose right now.' 2b. Repeat. A dazed look comes over Nandor's face, gaze aimed at the ground, unfocused. His cheeks flush with color and he fidgets, flustered, as memories of their fight in Panera flash behind his head: Guillermo throwing stakes at him and missing by a hair, blocking his sneak attack, charging at him with a growl. Nandor thinks to himself, impressed and more than a little turned on, '...Wow...' Offscreen, Guillermo crows, 'Aha! Here they are!'

3a. Medium shot of Guillermo from behind, Nandor's POV, as he stands up from his kneel and places a pair of glasses on his face. He says, 'Oh, wow, that's so much better.' Behind him, the countless tally marks on the wall are still visible, but the drawings and photos and mask have been taken down, leaving it strangely bare. 3b. Close up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV as he turns to face him, the background blooming into peach bokeh lights. Guillermo smiles a little cautiously, fangs on full display, hand hovering around the rim of the glasses as they slip down his nose. The glasses are oval shaped and wire rimmed - the glasses he wore when he first became a familiar. When they first met over 13 years ago. He looks up at Nandor over the lenses and asks, 'It's not too different, right?' 3b. Reverse shot of Nandor on the same peachy background, staring at Guillermo with wide eyes, lips pressed together. He says nothing for a moment as, behind him, memories of Guillermo from their first meeting flash past warmly. 3d. Waist up of them both in profile, the background of the room beneath the stairs fading back in. We can now see a second box on Guillermo's bed - a large Top Ramen box - full of the items that were once tacked on the wall. A few notebooks are scattered on the mattress along with an open glasses case. In the foreground, Nandor takes a step closer to Guillermo with a fond smile and reaches out one finger to push the glasses back up his nose. Nandor says, 'They are not very flattering, but I like them.' Guillermo goes cross-eyed watching his hand, grinning bit confusedly, and replies 'Ohhhkay.' /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandermo #mlm #vampire guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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munson-blurbs · 11 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary: Conflict arises with Harris's new teacher, filling Halloween with more tricks than treats. But it's nothing a visit with Ms. Sweetheart can't fix.

Warnings: allusion to Reader and Eddie's one-night stand, panic attack, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 5.6k

Chapter 6/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Guns N’ Roses t-shirt: check. Goodwill jeans with makeshift holes in the knees: check. Bandana tied snugly around his forehead: check. Arms littered with an assortment of temporary tattoos: check.

Eddie grins as he assesses his son’s costume, reaching into the thrift store bag as he pulls out the pièce de résistance: a denim jacket, only two sizes bigger than Harris would usually wear. It was a bit over what he’d been hoping to spend, but he’d reasoned with himself that it could also be worn after Halloween. It was an investment, he’d decided, not a splurge.

His smile falters when Harris indignantly stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. While Eddie had hoped his son would go with more badass tattoo options, perhaps a skull and crossbones or even a snake, he had insisted on a Sesame Street theme. Cookie Monster munches on his signature treat as Harris pouts.

“No, Daddy!” he whines, twisting away when Eddie holds the jacket closer to him. “I can’t wear that!”

“C’mon, Har,” he tries, scouring his brain to come up with a convincing enough lie. “Axl Rose wore jackets all the time!”

Harris doesn’t just shake his head; he swivels his entire body back and forth in protest. “I don’t care! No one’s gonna be able to see my tattoos!” He holds out both arms in front of him; nearly every square inch (besides the section blocked by his cast) is covered. Eddie had spent most of last night diligently applying them precisely where Harris had asked, lest there be a tantrum. There was, unfortunately, a headless Elmo from when Harris had asked–no, demanded–that he try by himself. Still, Eddie figured that only one casualty was a win.

“Those are some sweet ol’ tatties,” Eddie muses, biting back a laugh at the two-dimensional Big Bird on his son’s forearm. “But wouldn’t it be cool if you wore the jacket into school and then–BAM!--took it off and surprised everyone with them?

Harris appears to consider this, mouth tucked into his cheeks. “Can I show Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Sure, bud. We’ll stop by her classroom when I pick you up.” Whatever gets us out of the house in weather-appropriate attire. “But first, show me your most metal pose.”

The boy opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue as far as it extends, scrunching his face dramatically until the corners of his eyes crinkle. His middle and ring fingers press into his palm, thumb crossing over them, with his forefinger and pinky raised in the quintessential rock ‘n roll symbol.

Eddie swoops down and smacks a wet kiss to Harris’s cheek. “That’s my boy!”

Standing among the crowd of parents at pick-up, Eddie opts out of making banal small talk and instead chooses to look at the bulletin board. The previous art project that had been hanging against the faded blue paper–”self-portraits” that the students had made on the first day of school–have been replaced by finger paintings of orange blobs that vaguely resemble pumpkins. There wasn’t one for Harris because he was in Ms. Sweetheart’s classroom then, so it’s his first art project in his new class. He eagerly scans the board for Harris’s, frowning when he can’t find his name.

Maybe it’s still drying, he tries to convince himself, imagining his son over-saturating the paper with globs of paint. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character.

Ms. Marion’s classroom is a sea of costumed children. A boy dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stands by his mom. A Cinderella, a black cat, and a Thomas the Tank Engine surround Ms. Paula. As soon as Eddie spots Harris, he smiles and waves him over, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the sign-out sheet.

He expects Harris to zoom past the other kids, fueled by the standard Halloween diet of sugar and chocolate, but he just kind of…mopes to the doorway. His shoulders slump dejectedly, and though he keeps his gaze low, Eddie can still see the film of mist staining his innocent eyes.

“Har, what’s wrong?” He waits for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one–an oddity for his perpetually chatty son–he tries a new tactic. “Wanna show me where your artwork is? I must be gettin’ old, because I couldn’t find it on the board out there.”

“‘S not there,” Harris mumbles, scratching off a flaking piece of the Rosita tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Eddie watches as the tears start to slip down his cheeks, and he brings him into the hallway before Ms. Marion or Ms. Paula sees what’s going on. He can’t be certain, but his paternal instincts tell him that they’ve contributed to Harris’s sad state. “Why not?”

“I-I t-tried, but M-Ms. Mar-Marion and Ms. P-Paula got m-mad at me.” The words come out between choked sobs. “‘C-Cuz I c-couldn’t sit d-down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I k-keeped st-standing up, ‘cuz m-my legs wanted to st-stand.” The explanation tumbles out of him so quickly, as though he’s trying to beat the clock. “And they s-said if I did-didn’t sit down, I c-couldn’t do art. But I k-keeped f-f-forgetting, and th-they t-taked away my pay-pay-paper and said, ‘sit in the c-corner!’”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “Did…did that happen in Ms. Sweetheart’s class? The legs thing?”

“Mhm,” Harris manages, “b-but she let me stand and d-do ju-jumps to get the wig-wiggles out. She just t-t-telled me not to do ju-jumps with s-s-scissors, ‘cuz of s-safety.” His breathing increases to a rapid pace, face flushing red as his chest heaves. “B-But Ms. M-Marion ye-ye-yelled at me!”

Eddie’s brows pinch together, and he gently presses his calloused palms against Harris’s narrow shoulders, desperate to prevent him from hyperventilating. “Harris, you gotta calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re crying like this!” Despite his efforts, his frustration bleeds into his tone, and he winces when the latter sentence ends with an unwanted snap. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just an art project.”

“Harris?”

The sound of your voice draws the attention of both Munsons. You let out a small oof as Harris flings himself against your legs, and though he practically flew the five foot distance between his father and you, now is not the time to remind him about using his walking feet.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You crouch down, taking his hand in yours, and notice his quick, shallow breaths. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Eyes on me.” You demonstrate inhaling for three seconds, holding for three seconds, and exhaling for three seconds. “Now let’s do it together.”

He hesitates but ultimately follows your lead, and you guide him until his breathing slows enough for him to sputter, “I t-tried to sit, b-but I c-couldn’t.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but Eddie fills you in. You feel the heat of anger creeping through your body, not just for the way your co-worker treated the sweet boy, but for her insolent approach to teaching as a whole.

“We can go to my classroom,” you offer, silently sighing in relief when the boy nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I have the supplies to make the same project as Ms. Marion, but if you have a few minutes, you can draw something now. I bet Mr. Will would love to help you; he’s a super-duper artist.”

Just as you’d predicted, Will jumps at the opportunity to help Harris with his impromptu art project, encouraging him to draw something that makes him happy. While he does that, you comb through the mess left behind from the Halloween party you’d thrown. You’d sooner toss one hundred cupcake wrappers in the trash before attempting a conversation with Eddie Munson. He’s simply too unpredictable; kind and thoughtful one day, harsh and guarded the next.

One of the wrappers in your hand drops to the floor and you reach forward to pick it up, pinching the pleated material between your pointer and middle fingers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your form, the way the backs of your thighs are slightly exposed when you bend over, and you stand up quickly.

“Are you the Magic School Bus lady?” He takes in your lavender dress with planets and stars stamped all over it. Oh. He wasn’t checking you out; he was just trying to figure out who you’d dressed up as. Good. Anything else would be inappropriate.

So why does a twinge of disappointment radiate through you?

You glance at your costume; with all of the commotion, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing one “I mean, would I even be a teacher if I didn’t jump at the chance to be Ms. Frizzle?” You motion over to Will, decked out in green from head to toe with two yellow horns glued to a headband atop his mop of brown hair. “Have you met my trusty sidekick, Liz the Lizard?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Byers actually used to play in my D&D club back in high school. Made some pretty sick art pieces to liven up that dingy excuse for a room.”

You look between the two of them, trying to do the mental math. “Will, didn’t you say you’re twenty-four?” And if Eddie is thirty, that means…

“I, uh, had a little trouble graduating,” Eddie sheepishly admits, ruffling the back of his hair and offering a tight grimace. “But I got there eventually. Class of ‘86, baby!”

“Worked out for me,” Will shrugs with a grin, looking up from Harris’s drawing. “You were the best DM Hellfire ever had. Although, rumor has it that Erica Sinclair gave you a run for your money.”

Harris picks up a yellow marker, furiously scribbling a circle in the left-hand corner of his paper. You try peering over to see the whole drawing, but he presses his whole body against the table, successfully thwarting your plans. “No peeking!” he warns, not putting his feet back on the ground until you’ve averted your gaze. “‘S a surprise.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be surprised.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, who shares a similar response in return.

“Dunno when he got so bossy,” he snorts before calling out to his son, “Har-Bear? Five more minutes. We gotta get home to trick-or-treat with Grampa Wayne.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you echo as Harris grabs a purple marker from the box. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hmm.” Harris uses his free hand–the one with the cast–to tap his chin, continuing to color with the other one. “M&Ms. But only the plain ones. Daddy doesn’t let me have the peanut ones ‘cause he says I could choke.”

You shoot a sly, knowing look at Eddie. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. Such a selfless father.” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head innocently. “And what do you do with all of these confiscated peanut M&Ms, Mr. Munson? Donate them?”

Eddie tucks his lips into his mouth to mask his grin. “Listen, the jig is gonna be up at some point,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough so you can hear but soft enough that Harris can’t. “Let me enjoy my free candy while it lasts.”

“No judgment here,” you say with a small laugh, “they’re one of my favorites, too.”

“TA-DA!” Harris shouts, startling you, Eddie, and Will. He holds up the construction paper and smiles widely. To anyone without kids–or who didn’t teach preschool for a living–it would look like a bunch of colorful scribbles. But you can tell that he’s drawn a group of people standing by a tree (or a really, really tall flower) underneath the sun.

“Wow, Harris! That’s amazing!” you clap your hands together to punctuate your enthusiasm. “Who are all those people?”

Harris’s pointer finger travels left to right across the paper as he names each person: “That’s me, Grampa Wayne, Daddy, you, and Mr. Will!” The stick figure that represents you has a purple scribble on it, which you realize must be the costume you’re wearing. “An’ we’re all smiling because we’re happy!” Sure enough, each person has a curved red line at the bottom of their face. But there’s something else that catches your eye.

All of the people have a small space between them, except for you and Eddie. The circle that Harris drew to represent your left hand overlaps with the circle that is Eddie’s right.

You glance at the real Eddie, and if he notices, he doesn’t give any indication. “I love it, buddy.” He takes the drawing and inspects it closely. “Yup, this one’s definitely going on the fridge when we get home.” He flicks the paper for good measure. “Go clean up the markers so we can head out, Axl Rose.”

Among the noise of markers clattering back in the bins, you lean in to Eddie, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cigarettes and cologne. For a brief moment, you’re transported back to the night fate had led you to cross paths; the thought of his lips on your neck in the stairwell has you clenching your thighs and swallowing thickly as you murmur, “I can ask him to make a new one with just you, him, and his grandpa.”

Eddie shakes his head. “N-No. I like this one.” He lets one hand drop to his side and it grazes yours. His rings brush your knuckles, and you instinctively draw back at the sensation of the cool metal and the zing of heat that pulses at his light touch. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“S’okay.”

He blinks a few times and redirects his attention to his son. “What do you say to Mr. Will and Ms. Sweetheart for letting you do your art project?”

Harris’s little chest swells as he inhales deeply, storing up as much oxygen as he can fit in his lungs before bellowing, “THANK YOUUUUUUU!”

Eddie brings his palm to his ear canal, rotating his forefinger as though trying to repair a punctured eardrum. “Love the enthusiasm,” he says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, though. Thank you both so much.”

“Of course,” Will says warmly, picking up the marker bin and placing it in its space on the shelf.

“Anything for Harris.” You smile, motioning towards the little boy already by his father’s side. “Have fun trick-or-treating tonight, bud! I can’t wait to hear about all the yummy candy you got.”

Harris scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Are you going trick-or-treating, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Nah,” you laugh, “I’m gonna stay home and give candy to all the kids who come by.” And pray that Grandma doesn’t curse them out, you silently add.

“Oh.” Harris pauses, grabbing his dad’s hand. “Okay, bye!”

Eddie chuckles as his son pulls him towards the door. “That’s my cue. Um, Happy Halloween,” he adds awkwardly, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

There’s so much more that he wants to say: you’re the best; you saved the day; you should be my son’s teacher instead of that old, bitchy bat. But he didn’t have time. Maybe another day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Wayne arrives just a few minutes after Eddie and Harris get home. As soon as his gruff voice comes over the intercom, Harris excitedly buzzes him in. “Grampa Wayne’s here!” he yells, even though Eddie’s standing right next to him. He grabs the pillowcase from the couch; it was originally white, but after Eddie accidentally threw in a red sock with the white laundry, it’s tinted light pink.

No sooner does the older man cross the threshold into the apartment, Harris is trying to drag him out again. “Let’s go, before all the good candy is gone!” he whines. His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his grandfather’s hand. “Oh, wait, I gotta show you something.” He scampers off into the kitchen, and Wayne winces when he hears the rattle of magnets falling to the floor.

“I’m okay!” Harris calls out, running back with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look what I drawed at school today!” He gives Wayne the rundown of who’s who.

Wayne analyzes each person in the picture, stopping at the overlapping circles between you and Eddie. “This is great, Har-Bear,” he muses. “Are, um, are Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart holding hands?”

“Mhm,” Harris casually confirms, taking the drawing back. “‘Cause they’re married.”

Eddie chokes on air as Wayne does a double-take. “Congrats, Ed,” he jokes, clapping a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Gotta say, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Harris, why do you think that Ms. Sweetheart and I are married?” He wracks his brain for answers, but he can’t come to a logical conclusion. Did I talk about her in my sleep? Oh, shit, what if it was when I had that dream—

“Because you gived her a present,” Harris says, eyes innocent and wide. “And when grown-ups love each other, they give each other presents.”

“Oh, he gave Ms. Sweetheart a present, huh?” On the surface, Wayne’s words are as innocuous as Harris’s, but Eddie hears the teasing buried just beneath.

Harris nods. “Mhm. He gived her a tape!”

“It was the Toni Braxton one that she came into the shop for…that day that, uh…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at his uncle, who nods in acknowledgment. He brings his focus back to his son. “It doesn’t mean that we’re married. People have to go on dates and fall in love before they get married.”

The young boy absorbs this information. “So you should go on dates and fall in love with Ms. Sweetheart!” His face lights up at the idea of it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to let him down.

So, he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you hang that back up so we can get outta here and get you some candy, huh?” He forces a smile and watches his son scamper into the kitchen before turning back to Wayne and shaking his head.

Harris peels a magnet off of the fridge, the one Eddie bought him on their Daddy-Son day. It has a sea lion balancing a beach ball on its snout, with HAWKINS ZOO printed in bolded letters along the bottom.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he speaks directly to his drawing. “When Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love and get married, I’ll finally have a mommy.” He presses his hand flat against the paper as though he’s sealing in the wish. He stays like that for a moment until his dad calls his name, and he clutches his pillow case as they head out the door.

Eddie assumes that the love and marriage talk is done for the evening, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last long. The trio of Munson men is halfway down the stairwell when Wayne starts instigating. “Hey, Har, is Ms. Sweetheart pretty?”

“WAYNE!” Eddie grits his teeth and shoots a sharp look at his uncle. The last thing he needs is for Harris to get his hopes up about a blossoming romance between his dad and his former teacher.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris gleefully agrees, oblivious to the mounting tension. He grips the railing and jumps from the second to last step onto the tiled landing below. “Super pretty! Like a princess.”

The eldest Munson turns to Eddie. “Didja hear that? Pretty like a princess.”

“I heard him,” Eddie replies tersely.

“Daddy?”

No. Don’t ask me. Harris Wayne Munson, do not ask me what I think you’re going to—

“Do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty?”

Although he anticipated the question, Eddie still freezes. If he disagrees, Harris will inevitably want to know why not. And if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t name a single ugly thing about you.

He does think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And even though he’s literally seen you naked, fully on display for him–a memory he revisits more often than he’s willing to admit–it’s the thought of what you did today that solidifies your beauty. The way you’d effortlessly calmed Harris down without Eddie even having to ask. The frown on his face almost instantly became a smile, the flow of his tears ceasing and turning into the giggles that brought sunlight into Eddie’s life. You did that.

Any woman can be sexy, but you? In that moment, you were perfect.

Fuck.

“Daddy? Hello?”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Eddie realizes that he physically hasn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. His hand is gripping the banister so tightly that it leaves an imprint in his palm. “Yeah, buddy,” he manages through his Sahara Desert throat. “I think Ms. Sweetheart’s pretty.”

“Like a princess?” Wayne’s eyes twinkle mischievously. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to tease his nephew about a crush, and he’s not passing up this limited opportunity.

“Yeah. Like a princess.”

Education outsiders might think that Halloween is one of the worst days to be a teacher. The lethal combination of sugar and excitement barely contained in tiny costumed bodies seems like a recipe for disaster. But any teacher worth their salt will tell you that there is a day far, far worse than Halloween: November 1st.

On Halloween, there is the expectation for fun. There’s a costume parade, classroom trick-or-treating, and even a little party. The kids are out of control, but who cares? It’s Halloween.

But on November 1st, there is work to be done. And you’re expected to teach the months of the year to 10 four-year-olds who are suffering from candy hangovers and won’t stop asking why they can’t go trick-or-treating again today.

You and Will are preparing for battle as students trickle in, excited to show off the candy stashes they acquired the night before. Abby Carver cries because she ate her Reese’s cup and now she’s sad that it’s gone. Joshua Harrington is continuing to “sling webs” at the other kids despite your incessant reminders that he is no longer Spider-Man. A fight over a KitKat bar breaks out not even five minutes into the day, and you confiscate it before someone causes serious bodily harm.

Two fingers lightly tap on your shoulder—too high up to be a kid—and you whirl around with an irritated, “what?”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, concern etched into his otherwise soft features. He takes a small step back, nearly tripping over a rogue Lego that somehow made its way out of the toy area. He stumbles but catches his balance easily. “Everything okay?”

“‘S a warzone out here,” you try and joke, but you feel it fall flat. You’re too tired for humor. Grandma may not have yelled at the trick-or-treaters like you’d feared, but she did get increasingly angrier with each knock on the door. After the fifth time of her snarling at you to “shut the hell up” (like you could simultaneously be on both sides of the door), you’d relented and just put the candy bowl on the welcome mat, scribbling “TAKE ONE” on a yellow sticky note, adhering it to the plastic container.

Two decades earlier, Halloween at Grandma’s house had a completely different connotation. She’d have a little pizza party all set up for you, and she’d buy a big bag of your favorite candy, in case you didn’t get enough during your door-to-door quests. And she’d always let you watch whatever spooky movie your heart desired, regardless of your parents’ rules.

“That’s what grandmas are for,” she’d said with a wink, and the two of you curled up to watch Little Shop of Horrors. Her demeanor matched the hokey magnet on her fridge that read, If I knew how fun my grandkids would be, I would’ve had them first. You’d stay like that until you both fell asleep, only being roused by your parents arriving to pick you up. The good old days, before Grandma waking up involved watching the confusion in her eyes as she tried and failed to place you.

“C-Can I help you with something?” Your guard goes up immediately when you notice that Harris isn’t with him. The time you’d spent together after school yesterday had been nice, fun, even, but you couldn’t trust that today would be the same. Not after what happened a few short weeks ago.

“I, um…I just swung by to give you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his denim jacket; it’s the same one that he lent to Harris when he’d forgotten his at home. A flash of yellow paper catches your eye, and he unfurls his palm to reveal a small bag of peanut M&Ms. “You said they were one of your favorites, right?”

You look at the treat, not willing to reach out and grab it. What if it’s a joke? An elaborate ploy to reel you in, just to shout “gotcha” when you finally let your walls come down?

“Are they poisoned or something?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you spike them with Ex-Lax?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise before he collects himself. “Guess I deserve that,” he mumbles. “But, no. They’re not. I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” He drags his fingernail over his heart in an X-formation.

You take the bag, inspecting it for any sign of tampering, but you come up short. The edges are sealed, and there are no pinpricks as far as your eyes can see. “Dipped into Harris’s stash for me?”

“Hey, these bad boys are technically mine for the taking until he figures out that he can eat them without dying.” Eddie chuckles lightly, peering at you through impossibly long lashes. “But, yeah, I was hoping you’d accept these as part of my apology. Or apologies, I guess. For, uh, for not calling when I said I would, and all of the awful shi—awful things I said to you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he steps closer and says, “I am so fucking sorry.”

You make a small tear in the bag, tapping it against your palm until an M&M falls out. Popping the blue candy in your mouth, you allow the shell to start dissolving on your tongue before crunching on the peanut, hoping you can process what he’s said by the time you’re finished chewing.

This is what you’ve been waiting for—an actual heartfelt apology. His brown eyes reflect nothing but shame and remorse, and you can tell by the way that he’s fidgeting with his rings that he’s anxiously awaiting your reply.

His vulnerability softens you slightly, and considering you haven’t keeled over after ingesting the candy, you throw him a bone.

“This fun size bag covers the ‘not calling’ part, but I’m gonna need a lot more candy if you want me to forgive you for what you said at the music store.” You keep your tone light; teasing, even, but there’s a layer of truth to it. He can’t merely waltz into your classroom with a gift and expect you to forget his hurtful words.

Eddie nods, his frizzy curls brushing the tops of his denim-clas shoulders. “I know. I’ve said some pretty terrible things in my life, but that might’ve been the worst. And, um,” he fumbles his words, desperately searching for the right ones. Semantics has never been his forte. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not true; your grandma didn’t want to forget you. And…neither do I.” When you raise your eyebrows, he starts to backtrack. “Because you’re so great with Harris; like, you understand him and stuff. He’s always talking about you.”

Daddy, do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty? The question replays like a song he can’t shake from his head, its melody familiar but the notes still keeping him on edge. Pretty like a princess, only instead of saving her, I’m the one who needs to be rescued. So much for Prince Charming, huh?

The M&M melts in your mouth while you formulate a response to his candid admission. Sweetness seeps into your taste buds as you try to straddle the line between careful consideration and overthinking. Speak too quickly and you might say something you’ll regret. Take too long and you’ll make this even more awkward.

“W-Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Short, simple, to the point. Your words are slightly slurred by the candy obstruction, but what else is there to say? You could add that you forgive him, but you’re truthfully not sure that you do. His words scarred, had taken your already mangled self-worth and snapped it into pieces, and so did his reasoning for hurting you. Despite the love and kindness you’d shown his son, Eddie had fully believed that you were responsible for spreading personal information that would wound him. It was exactly as Jeff had said: Eddie struck below the belt at the first sign of conflict, so determined to protect himself that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the people on his side.

The sound of books clattering to the floor snatches your attention from him, and you whip your head to your little classroom library to see two kids standing over a pile of fallen books, guilty looks stamped on their faces. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, dashing off to assess the damage. You’ve never been so grateful for your students causing mischief.

The hour hand crawls to the number two; at one point, you swore the clock was moving backwards. The chaos of the morning was only a preview of the rest of the day’s fiascos, but you and Will had navigated as best as you could.

“Jesus,” he murmurs once the kids have all been dismissed, gingerly rubbing his temples, “that was brutal. I can handle the day after Halloween; I can handle Fridays, but when they coincide? Nope, never again.” He slumps into a chair dramatically, letting his arms drape over the sides.

“Gonna have a glass of wine when you get home?” you joke, wiping Play-Doh residue from a tabletop.

Will nods. “Or a whole bottle.” His focus shifts to your desk, and he nods his chin in that direction. “I see you have something to look forward to tonight, too.”

You follow his gaze, widening your eyes when you see the object he’s referring to. A bag of peanut M&Ms–much bigger than the one you’d inhaled this morning–sits on top of your desk calendar; resting next to it is a cassette. You walk over, curiosity getting the better of you. The cassette is Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction; you recognize the iconic cover as soon as it comes into view. It’s not your usual music choice, but you’ll listen to almost anything.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the giant yellow M&M bag, folded in equal triads. Messily scrawled across the front in black ink is Ms. Sweetheart. You gently pull the adhesive loose and open the letter, nervously running your forefinger across the irregular edge where it was obviously torn from a composition notebook.

Fun size mistake=fun size bag of candy

Family size mistake=family size bag of candy

I’m really good at fucking things up, but really bad at fixing them. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know that I did.

You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.

-Eddie

P.S. Not sure if hard rock is your thing, but I saw this at work and it reminded me of the kindness you showed our favorite little Axl Rose yesterday.

“Who’s it from?” Will asks, breaking into your thoughts. “A secret admirer?” He brings his clasped hands to his cheek in mock dreaminess.

You manage a laugh as you fold the note back up and tuck it under the calendar. “If it is, he’s really bad at it, because he signed his name.” When did he even sneak in here to do this? Kind of scary that someone could walk in and you didn’t even notice.

“Aha! So it is a guy!” Will pumps his fist triumphantly, though you’re not quite sure what he thinks he’s won.

“Just Eddie Munson, thanking us for letting Harris draw here yesterday.”

It’s not a total lie, but Will sees right through it. “Uh-huh. Thanking us? So that note is also for me? Can I read it?” He starts towards your desk, outstretched hand reaching towards where you’d tried to hide it, but you playfully swat them away.

You glance at the clock and frown. “If you leave a little early, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will flips you off; over the last two months, you two had developed a sibling-esque relationship that came out more once the kids had left for the day. He grabs his backpack from the supply closet and slings it over his shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, or I’d stick around and keep bothering you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, knowing full well that he’s itching to leave regardless. “Gotta save up your energy for when Marshall visits.”

Will blushes at the mention of his long-distance boyfriend’s name. He still wasn’t out to many people, but when you’d casually mentioned the date Jess had with a girl named Robin, he’d felt comfortable opening up to you. “I can’t wait!” His grin is so wide you swear it’ll stretch right off of his face. “Thanks again; you’re the best.”

That leaves you alone with your gigantic bag of candy, a Guns N’ Roses cassette, and an apology that you have no idea what to do with.

Once again, Eddie Munson has given you more questions than answers.

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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ghostofthejungle · 5 months

Text

Brace yourself, Zukka headcanon incoming in 3…2…1…

Everybody makes fun of Sokka’s drawings when they’re all together, but in private Zuko actually encourages him to keep practising: therefore, Sokka never quits and gets really good at it.

Finally, when he feels confident enough, he asks Zuko to pose for him; the Firelord feels embarrassed and reluctant at first, but decides to give it a try anyway and he sucks at being a model ‘cause he keeps moving (mostly because he wants to glance at what Sokka is doing, but also for the sake of pissing the artist off.)

Anyway, he would soon get lost in the sight of Sokka’s concentrated face: it was the same focused expression he had while planning an attack or strategizing, but there was something different Zuko couldn’t quite understand: maybe it was the way his gaze indulged on the Firelord’s shoulders, wrapped in a see-through red and golden scarf? or the brush he placed behind the ear? Or the messy hair strands escaping his usually perfect ponytail?

(Somewhen, Zuko finally realises it was the caring way Sokka looked at even the tiniest and ugliest bits of him, wanting the canvas to carry all the loving things Zuko couldn’t see and appreciate about himself)

The final results is astonishing. The Firelord is taken aback by the warmth and the glow the portrait emanates, as if Sokka somehow managed to capture his firebending powers in it.

He can’t take his eyes out of it, not really out of vanity, but simply because seeing himself through Sokka’s eyes is way different than looking in a mirror: it was like looking at the best version of himself, the one he always hoped and tried to become, and…

And he is so glad Sokka, of all people, sees him that way. 🩵

#Zukka #Zuko x Sokka #Sokka x Zuko #Sokka #Zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last braincell #headcanon

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purpleyoonn · 6 months

Text

baby (you complete us) 12

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: protective bangtan, anxious mc, mc has a panic attack, more of mc’s background, mentions of bullying, some issues with consent, mc has all the feelings, Hobi bonding with mc, some cuteness overload,

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

beta’d/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias

masterlist // chapter 11 // chapter 13

taglist: @imnotlauriane @mageprincess7 @m1sss1mp @0funsite0 @strawberry-moonpies @singukieee @btsw1fe @fluffy-canada-pancakes @carolinexkpop @agusfree @sakurarukas @iamkookiesforyou @skyys-universe @toughbook @plutoneu @whisperssuga @welcometomyworld13 @yuzon3 @wittyreader @jnghs @cyd0129 @exfolitae @queen-in-the-shadows @nen-nyy @pandxthings @schniti-is-in-the-house @juju-227592 @jinseartharmysmoon @wooya1224 @ddaeng-angmoh @gratefullygrateful @veronawrites @xiusmarshmallow @xicanacorpse @kalala22 @ok-boke @namjoonswaifu @sweetcheeksdna @promiseokza @mushroom-main @bookluver01 @butterfliesinthenightsky

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———————————————

Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Thank you for doing this, Noona! We will tag you when it gets posted!” Yeonjun exclaims once you were done filming in front of one of the portraits outside of the café.

“Thank you! It was fun. I could really go for a drink now though!” You laugh as the boys agree with your statement, Taehyun and Soobin pulling your arms and dragging you into the café.

The café was one of the things you didn’t get to see on your tour with Songun, given it wasn’t near the meeting room you met the boys in. You were still shocked when you walked in and realized the café was more like a cafeteria, with many different food options, vendors, and drink options galore. You were awestruck, ignoring the laughter coming from the boys as they dragged you to the smaller coffee vendor.

“What drink would you like, Noona?” Taehyun asked you as he began looking over the options. You looked over the menu but didn’t see anything you recognized so you just told him to pick something out for you.

His eyes grew wide in excitement, animatedly looking over the coffee options as you turned around, looking for a seat nearby. Your knee was giving you trouble as you could feel it shifting with every step you took, and you needed to massage it soon before it inevitably popped out.

You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your new friends, and a sure-fire way to do that was to have your body work against you. You couldn’t stand the looks you would get whenever you had to pop something back in or massage your body to counteract the pain you felt in your joints.

You moved to the counter to pay, only after receiving a weird look from the barista did you realize you forgot you didn’t have to pay for anything. You nod your head awkwardly, not waiting for the boys as you moved to the closest seat and began massaging the muscles around your knee cap. You couldn’t stand up any longer or you knew your kneecap would pop out.

You sit down slowly, with care, and place your drink on the table before bending down a little to massage the muscle to the side of your knee cap. It was a long-practiced massage, something your specialist recommended to you when you were in school and always on the move. You were regretting not bringing your cane with you today, thinking you wouldn’t need it.

You always did this to yourself. You had a good day yesterday, so you thought you would have one today. But of course, why would you have two good days in a row?

“Are you okay, Noona?” Taehyun had come up to you, noticing you had disappeared from next to him. He was concerned that you were hurt, seeing you rub at your knee. The entire building knew about your disability, a few concerned words overheard by one of the staff after walking past Jin and Sejin had spread to everyone within the span of an hour.

Your head shot up at Taehyun’s question, not realizing he was standing in front of you.

“Y-Yes, I’m okay.” You nod your head as you speak, trying to reassure him you were fine, but failing to do so as your stutter gives you away. You try to play it off as you forgot the word for yes, but he just shook his head.

“Do we need to go get hyungs?” Taehyun asks just as the others walk over.

“Go get hyungs for what?” Beomgyu questions Taehyun before seeing you and the way you were practically cradling your knee. “Ahhhhhh.” He nods his head in understanding.

“Do you need us to go get the hyungs?” Heuning Kai ask you softly, leaning over so he was almost whispering in your ear. You appreciate the sentiment, but it seems people were beginning to look your direction anyway.

You look around shyly, not wanting everyone to know what was going on.

“Everyone is curious about BTS hyungs’ soulmate.” Yeonjun states, seeing the way you were looking around. “The announcement was pretty big, especially after the one they put out about trying to find you.” You let out a sigh at his words, understanding what was going on but that didn’t mean you necessarily felt comfortable with all the looks.

“Why don’t we take you back to Hyungs? They should be having a break right now…” Yeonjun trailed off as he looked at his phone.

“Okay.” You stood up slowly, testing your weight on your knee, hiding your wince at the sharp pain.

“Oh! I promised them I would bring them something back from the café!” You make for the counter again but hands gently push you back into your seat.

“Rest, noona. We will go get hyung’s favorites!”

-*-*-

And grab their favorites they did. Not only did they arrive back to the table with three drink carriers and two paper bags filled with pastries, but they insisted to helping you to bring everything back to the practice room, Soobin even assisting you in walking once he realized you were favoring your leg.

“You better put your arm back by your side, Soobin!” You chastis for the third time, seeing him bring his arm back out to try and carry you. He kept insisting that he didn’t want you walking on your leg and that he should carry you back to the room, but, of course, you insisted the opposite. You weren’t fragile and didn’t need to be carried anywhere.

“Hyung, will you get the door please!” Beomgyu and Taehyun plead out, trying to not have the drink carriers fall as they make it to the door. Soobin looks at you again, before moving over to the door of the boys’ practice room, music still blasting from the speakers. You recognized the song this time as the chorus to Idol plays. As the door opens you begin to limp over to Yeonjun who holds one of the pastry bags and a drink carrier.

“Here, give me one.” You hold your hand out, but he shakes his head.

“Noona, you’re hurt. It’s okay.” He steps back, moving towards the open door but you just follow him.

“I’m fine though! I promise. I just want to help.” You insist again, stepping into the room and still reaching for the pastry bag.

“Noona you’re hurt. You don’t need to be carrying anything.” Yeonjun is stubborn, you’ll give him that, but unfortunately, someone overhears his words. Footsteps come pounding towards you and Soobin and suddenly you are picked up, your chest pressed against theirs and your thighs tossed around their hips.

“Jungkook, I’m fine!” You whine as soon as you realize who picked you up, his scent making you feel calm despite your embarrassment. You slumped in his arms, trying to hide yourself in his sweatshirt hood as he walked away from the younger boys.

“What happened?” You hear Namjoon ask Heuning Kai as he was closest to the leader.

“Y/n Noona hurt her knee at the cafe.” Was his simple reply, not exactly knowing what happened to your knee.

Jungkook carried you over to the seat you were sitting in before, and proceeded to kneel in front of you and holding your leg up so he could look over your knee. He instantly became a “doctor” prodding and running his fingers over the expanse of your knee, trying to feel for anything out of the normal.

Yoongi and Taehyung also came over, leaning over Jungkook and looking at your knee, the three men ignoring your attempts to push them away. You were bordering the line between feeling embarrassed and humiliated and it had your cheeks red and eyes blurring with tears.

“Please stop. I’m fine.” You repeated, trying to get their hands off of you. You didn’t care that they were your soulmates at this moment, you just wanted to go back to your hotel.

“Please stop touching me. I’m okay.” You tried to push Jungkook’s hands away, but he was more focused on your knee, even though his touch wasn’t helping in the slightest. You could tell that the others could hear you, Jimin and Namjoon glancing your way and Hoseok trying to get the focus of everyone off of you by asking the boys what they had brought.

You felt like you were in school again, getting made fun of for your knee dislocating in gym class. You hated everyone watching you, trying to see if you were faking or not, ignoring the pain and tears rolling down your cheeks as your gym teacher stresses over your disfigured knee, wondering if she should call and ambulance.

The insults “attention whore” and “lazy” running through your mind from when you were younger as everyone in the room continues to look at you now, Namjoon and Jimin beginning to walk your way as Jin says his thanks to the boys. One final prod of your knee from Yoongi has you snapping, pushing them away from you and pulling your knee to yourself.

“I asked you to please stop touching me.” You push out, trying to stop the tears already flowing down your cheeks. You were even more embarrassed now, crying in front of them. You hated how emotional you get, especially when you get stuck in your head with your past.

“Baby, I—” You cut off Yoongi, his face shocked at your actions.

“I think I would like to go back to my hotel now.” You whispered, withdrawn, and looking down at your lap. You felt a tug in your chest as Jungkook moved closer, trying to get you to look at him.

“Baby, We’re sorry. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“We got worried when we heard Soobinnie say you were hurt. Our instincts took over.” Taehyung finished Jungkook’s thought. Namjoon tried not to interrupt, but he knew he had to.

“Our instincts don’t make us ignore the words of our mate, though. We all heard her ask you not to touch her.” Namjoon scolded the three, even Yoongi looking down in guilt.

“We are all so sorry, Y/n. We should have listened to you; there is no excuse.” Yoongi spoke up, his eyes piercing your own as he spoke.

Jimin, Jin, and Hoseok stood a couple feet away, watching as you close in on yourself. Jimin couldn’t believe how everything changed so quickly. They were making such good progress with you, their bond with you was growing and solidifying and now, he was only hoping you didn’t change hotels and block their numbers.

“Honey, please stay. I know that you want your alone time, but you just entered the next stage of the bond with Jungkook. It will hurt both of you if you are alone for two long now. At least, until we all have completed the bond.” Namjoon explains. “Besides that, I don’t think you really want to be alone right now.” His town turning in on her.

And he was right. The first stage of the bond had just solidified with Jungkook the night before. You knew what would happen if you were apart for long. You also knew you didn’t want to be alone. You hated that he was right about that.

All you wanted was to be comforted, to be wrapped in their arms and told that everything was okay. You’ve never felt like that before. Usually you want to be alone, lying in bed and wrapped under the covers, completely hidden from view.

Now, all you wanted was to be comforted by your soulmates.

One look from you was all it took for Jungkook to lift you off the chair and into his arms, sitting himself down and holding you in his lap. The tug in your chest finally settling, the embarrassment and insecurity slowly ebbing away the longer he held you to him.

Once the others started moving away, Jungkook having motioned to them while you weren’t paying attention, he began to comb his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he did so. He knew it helped soothe your mind and calm your body.

“I am so sorry, baby. I need to open my ears and become more aware even with my instincts screaming at me.” He squeezed you a little tighter. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t leave.” You could truly hear the fear behind his words, thinking you would leave them.

Jungkook had really thought he messed up everything. He thought you were going to reject them now; he was so sure about it. He tried not to imagine the pain the others would feel at your absence, and only hoped he could fix things between you.

“I may not…understand the bond like you do.” You started, still trying to find your words. “But I wouldn’t reject you all over something as small as this.” Almost immediately Jungkook began to protest.

“It’s not ‘something small’ if it makes you cry.” He adjusted you on his lap so you were now facing him. “We are all still getting to know each other, still growing the bond our souls have. I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but I would like to know what made you cry so I can fix it.” He brings his palm up to your cheek, cupping it. “I hate seeing you cry. It makes me want to fight who or whatever it is that made those precious tears fall.”

You look down again, trying to decide if you had enough courage to tell him the real reason behind your tears, or a slimmed down version of your feelings.

“I uhm, was embarrassed.” You decide to tell him, to try and explain what was going through your head.

“When I was younger, before the doctors had figured out what was wrong with me, I was just known as “clumsy” and “lazy” by everyone. No one ever taking my pain or injuries seriously. Even doctors just told me it was my weight, despite being healthy. I was told I was just looking for attention.” You tried blinking away your tears, feeling them begin to pool on your waterline.

“It got really bad when physical education became a class in middle school and high school. I hadn’t received a diagnosis yet which meant I had to push my limits for a grade. One day…” You pause, swallowing down the choking sob so you could talk.

“We were supposed to be running the mile for our fitness test. I was in eighth grade and barely lasted one lap before my knee dislocated. It wasn’t the first time any of my joints fully dislocated, but it hurt all the same.” You began to explain the memory you flashed back to. You couldn’t help but grip his shirt tighter, your body full of anxiety.

Jungkook almost wants to tell you to stop. That he doesn’t need to know, not if it makes your heart hurt, or if you are pushing yourself to open up to him. That was the last thing he wanted to do, to push you into anything.

“I remember falling to the ground, my knee in excruciating pain. I hadn’t gotten used to the feeling yet, but I didn’t want to have everyone looking at me and wondering “What did she do now?” like I did this on purpose. I didn’t want anyone’s attention and I remember swearing to myself that I would finish the mile. So, I moved to put my knee back into place but the teacher had already seen me on the floor.” You grimace, remembering vividly how she ran up to you.

“Her voice seemed to be attached to a microphone as she yelled across the field, telling me not to touch my knee and asking if I was okay. She made a huge deal about it, sitting next to me and trying to figure out if she should call an ambulance. She even got another teacher involved.” Jungkook was confused, wanting to know what you meant by making a big deal out of the situation.

“I had spent months already putting my knee back into place and with everyone looking at me I just remember starting to cry, pushing my teacher away. Everyone’s stares on me, the whispers I could hear and the laughter coming from some of my classmates had me feeling humiliated. I felt even worse when my teacher did call an ambulance.” You whispered the last sentence, unable to stop the tears from slowly falling down your cheek.

Jungkook now understood everything, with the help of some of the Soul Bracelet messages he remembered reading. (read: that he continues to read every night so he doesn’t forget anything) He recalled reading multiple messages where you vented about growing up hearing that you needed to stop “attention seeking” and that you were faking your injuries, with classmates making fun of you, and no one believing you, that day was just a culmination of everything at once. Your dislike of attention and being the center of it, especially when injured, now made complete sense.

He couldn’t help it, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up so he could see you. The feeling of your wet skin under his thumb as he wiped away your tears was something he didn’t want to feel again under the circumstances. Placing a soft and slow kiss to your lips, trying to push through his feelings of love and admiration for you, he held you close, closer than he already was.

He knew he would tell the boys this later on, somehow, but for now, you needed him.

“I am so sorry, baby. For everything. I will do my absolute best to stop that from happening again now that I know.” Jungkook kissed your mouth again, a chaste kiss that had your lips tingling. You don’t think you will get used to that, ever.

-*-*-

You were able to be held by Jungkook only for a little bit longer, seeing as they did have things to do today. But after receiving his hoodie again, you were happily snuggled into it eating your forgotten watermelon cup from earlier. You had borrowed Namjoon’s headphones, after repeatedly asking if he was sure, and watched TikToks on your phone.

You don’t know how long has passed before Taehyung is placing kisses to your face in a quick attack to steal your attention. A squeal escapes your lips as the headphones fall off your head and another set of kisses is aimed.

“Oh baby! We’re all finished which means kisses!” Taehyung sings, making you laugh at the reminder. But before he can give your face even more kisses, he is pulled away by Jin.

“Hi, baby. We have some recording to do in the studio, but after that we were hoping to take you to dinner. Then maybe some movies at our place?” Jin smiled at you, seemingly nonchalant but on the inside, he was freaking out. His eyes showed the hope he had for the evening, showed his desire to just get to know you more and spend time with you.

To you, it sounded nice. Just a simple night with all seven of them. It’s not something you’ve had the chance to experience yet. You make the first move this time, moving forward and putting your lips on his plump ones, shocking the man. Jin was in heaven at the feeling of your lips on his and he almost cried when the kiss was over, your big smile aimed at him ones he opened his eyes again.

“That sounds nice, Jinnie.” You verbally respond to his words, making the others silently cheer at your acceptance.

You move to snuggle back into the couch, only for Jin’s hand to move into your line of vision, his palm up and ready for you to take. You look up at him, confusion written on your face.

“You didn’t think we were going to leave you here, did you?” Jin’s tone was teasing but held a real question, wondering if he didn’t make the plans obvious enough.

You did actually think the plan was for you to stay in the practice room. You didn’t know what rooms you had access to yet, despite the boys saying you had access to everything they did. You didn’t know if they were just saying that or not.

“Oh uhm, okay.” You didn’t answer his question, but the blush of embarrassment on your cheeks did. But Jin, nor the others, said anything about it. They knew the relationship between you all was still so new, so innocent that they didn’t want anything to go wrong, not like the incident earlier.

You took his hand and he helped you up off the couch, not letting go of your hand as he led you out the doors and through the building until you reached the studio he was talking about.

On the way to the studio, you walked by numerous staff members but your eyes stuck on the trainees who passed by as well. There were a couple groups of them, probably going from class to class, you thought. They bowed to your group a couple of times, some of them even stopping to bow a full ninety degrees. It was weird seeing it, but you knew it was a show of respect for the boys.

Jin was first up to do his thing in the studio, your eyes barely catching the soft wink he sends you as he gives your hand a small squeeze before letting go and moving into the booth as your vision swept over the recording studio. There were buttons and keys of all kinds and you were curious and wanted to push every single one, needing to know what each button did.

Hoseok caught your eye and put his hand on your lower back, moving you to sit in the producer’s chair and he knelt by your side. He knew it would take some time for Jin to get himself ready in the booth, so he took the time to indulge your curiosity.

The others watched on as Hobi spoke animatedly about the digital audio workstation, pressing buttons and telling Jin to speak into the microphone to show what each button did. Hobi loved the way your eyes lit up when a particular button made Jin sound like a chipmunk. He loved the sparkle in your eye and the fascination with the workstation. He couldn’t help but imagine you and him in the studio one day, making a song together.

When Jin was ready, Hobi let you stay in the chair, telling you what buttons to push while he instructed the room. Hobi, along with Namjoon and Yoongi, were in full producer mode now, but still held patience as you pushed the buttons and used the workstation.

As each member went into the booth, Hobi would let you know how to save the audio and would give you the biggest smile and praise you for your work and help.

“You could be our producer!” He smiled so wide that you ended up blushing under his praise. You felt like a little kid, wanting to do anything to make Hobi smile and praise you again.

“No, no. I’m just pushing the buttons.” You tried to play it off but he just shook his head, shaking his finger at you.

“Nope! You are now our producer.” He stated it with such conviction that you had to look away from him, not wanting him to see you blush, your cheeks surely lobster red by now.

Once the boys were done, two hours or so had passed. Hobi explained to you that they just needed to record some adlibs for their final song for the album, and that it would be quick. Having seen some “Bangtan Bombs” where the boys were in the studio, you could only guess they were normally here for hours and hours a day.

You had been so relaxed and at ease that you didn’t even realize Hobi had slipped his hand in yours, intertwining your hands together so he could hold it. It took him helping you out of the chair for you to notice. You didn’t realize how easy it was to feel comfortable with Hobi, to feel like you had known him forever.

Being with Hobi was easy and simple. Effortless.

It was like you could go to him for anything and you knew he would just smile and listen to you. It also helped that he had a penchant for squeezing your hand in reassurance, as if speaking to you in morse code. He just smiles softly at you and hums under his breath. His actions speak louder than his words, the silence filled with so much that you don’t even notice the silence when you’re with him.

As you all move to the big SUV to go to the restaurant the boys rented out, you pull Hobi so sit next to you, feeling the same way you did with Jungkook the previous day. You wanted to see who he was beyond the cameras of Bangtan that you got to know him from. You had a sweet smile on your face, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you laid your head on his shoulders, smiling softly, wanting to stay in this moment for a little longer.

The car ride was filled with music and lots of talking; Taehyung asking what the name of the restaurant was, Namjoon asking what kinds of movies we all wanted to watch that night, Jungkook asking what snacks we were going to have, all while you and Hobi just talked. You asked him about his family and he asked about yours.

You already knew about his older sister, and he somewhat knew about your siblings, but he

still listened attentively as you talked about your family.

“My older sister is protective and was the one to help me get my diagnosis after my mom passed. She went to every appointment with me and made sure I was eating and drinking. She actually made a joke at one point that you all would be my soulmates, and after I got off the phone with you the first time, I immediately called her.” Hobi smiled as he listened, glad to know that you had someone there for you when they couldn’t be. It hurt to know you suffered through so much in such a short time frame.

He rubbed his thumb across the top of your hand, trying to soothe you as he noticed your voice shaking a little.

“My brother, on the other hand, is also protective, but like the stereotypical older brother way. He is the only other one of us who has met his soulmate. Lena is super sweet and they met in middle school. She’s like an older sister to me.” At some point, everyone else in the car had stopped their conversations to listen to you. They wanted to know everything they could, and they loved knowing you had a supportive family by your side.

When you got to the restaurant, you ended up sitting in between Hobi and Jungkook at the large booth. Jin took control of ordering the food, while Hobi and Jungkook whispered to you what Jin was ordering so you knew what was going on. It was really sweet.

While waiting for the food, you joined in on the movie conversation that Namjoon and Jimin had started. They seemed to be fighting over two different movies and you questioned why you couldn’t just watch them both. They looked at you and began trying to get you to see their point of view.

“We don’t want to watch it again because its boring…”

“He always falls asleep during the best parts!”

“There are so many mindless plot points that…”

Your head was whipping back and forth as you tried to keep up with their arguments, the boys speaking so fast you eventually had to give up. You sat back down in your seat, returning the soft smiles that Jin and Yoongi gave you from across the table.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. They always get this way about movies. We tend to just pick one out and put it on before they notice anyways.” Hobi leans over and whispers in your ear, making you nod your head in understanding.

“They get passionate like this over movies, huh?” You ask, almost rhetorically, as you watch it firsthand. You smiled as you watched them, Jimin throwing sass making Namjoon roll his eyes at the younger man.

“They are more alike than I think they realize.” Hobi whispers back, “They are both passionate beings. Just in different ways. But they both have strong feelings about what they believe in, which makes the debate about which movie to watch an entertaining and sometimes chaotic event.” Hearing his words, you had a new perspective for the two boys, not even just in the capacity of arguing. It was like a new light shown on the two men and it had you wanting to know more about them.

After Hobi’s words, a multitude of waiters came over and placed plate upon plate of food down on the table. The entire table was covered with food and it was at this moment you realized just how much food the boys could eat. You guessed most of the plates would be empty by the time you all were ready to leave.

Your guess was cemented once Jin grabbed his first piece of food, signaling to everyone else that they could start. You didn’t know what to grab, everything looking so good, that you were kind of sitting there in awe. You were shaken out of it though once you saw chopsticks placing meat onto your empty plate.

Hobi, on pure instinct, was making sure you had enough food on your plate before everyone else got their pick. He tried giving you a little of everything, but he also gave you some extra meat pieces, knowing you had a liking for them from your KBBQ trip with the maknaes.

Once Hobi put the first piece of meat on your plate, however, Taehyung and Jungkook noticed and also began putting food on your plate. Soon enough your plate was overflowing with food, and you had to stop your mates from continuing to give you more food.

It was a sweet gesture, but you couldn’t even make a dent in your plate. You ate slowly, savoring every flavor and taste you could. Despite not being used to Korean cuisine yet, you were slowly falling in love with all of it. Unfortunately, you could not handle any spice. You wanted to, but your mouth would slowly descend into flames if you even tried to eat anything even remotely spicy.

So, at one point, you’re pretty sure you asked for a drink refill three times within ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked you, noticing you fanning your mouth from the heat as you slowly chewed your food.

“Uhm, yeah.” Your voice was pitched higher as you tried to reassure him you were fine, eyes watering and cheeks heating up.

Jungkook just quirked his eyebrow at you, automatically catching you in your lie. Taehyung was the same way with spicy foods, so Jungkook knew you were battling against the foods he had put on your plate. He didn’t mean to, he only wanted you to be able to try everything.

Movement from the side caught your attention, as Hobi found a small empty plate and began removing everything on your own plate that was spicy and depositing it onto the smaller plate with the help of Taehyung. They both had seen how you reacted to the food and Taehyung helped tell Hobi everything that would give you trouble, knowing from experience.

It was nice and heartwarming; it didn’t make you feel like a burden. Normally if this happened, if you tried to do something about it, like ordering a glass of milk, you friends would make fun of you, or your family would complain that they had to always go through the trouble of not getting what they wanted because you couldn’t handle anything spicy.

Despite having a supportive and loving family, it was hard not to feel like you were a burden growing up. Sometimes a single scoff or deep breath of air from someone could have you becoming silent, trying to hide behind your hair.

The boys didn’t make you feel this way. They didn’t make exaggerated movements as they removed the spicy food from your plate; they only sent you reassuring smiles and glances as they made sure they removed everything.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t like spicy foods either.” Taehyung reassured you again, before starting to eat his food, not giving the situation a second glance or thought. It was nice and left you smiling as you continued to eat slowly, still struggling with using the chopsticks you were given.

For your first meal with everyone, the boys wanted to document it.

“Okay everyone, smoosh together!” Jin yelled out so he could get everyone into frame on his phone. He was the one taking the selfie, his long arms giving him the advantage as he sat at the end of the table.

You had your cheeks almost pressed to Hobi’s as he had an arm around your shoulder. Your height was not giving you any advantage as you tried not to be hidden by anyone. You were standing on your tippy toes and smiling as big as you could, showing just how truly happy you were in the moment.

This was the first time you truly felt a part of the soul group and connected to each of the boys.

“Okay…and 3, 2, 1!” You blinked as the flash went off, hoping that your eyes weren’t closed in the photo. Jin took a couple of pictures, each one had everyone doing something different, at one point, Jungkook and Hobi both pushed their fingertips into your cheeks causing laughter to bubble from your throat.

“Are you gonna post those on Weverse, Hyung?” Jungkook asked once the photos were taken and everyone was moving towards the doors, content from their bellies being full.

The boys had all tried being active on all of their social media, but they were all still partial to Weverse, liking that they got to interact firsthand with Army. They loved reading the comments on their posts and hoped that you would come to as well.

“Yeah, but I don’t know which one to post.” Jin responded but knew he would probably post a different one to each of the Bangtan Official social media accounts.

He zoomed into your face on the last photo, laughter clear on your face as your eyes were closed. He wanted to take more pictures of you, thinking you were the perfect muse for his camera. He couldn’t help but to think you were the perfect fit for them, for their soul bond.

Jin was happy you were their missing piece.

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daycourtofficial · 2 days

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Amber eyes, looking into mine

Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee

TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt

Word count: ~1k

A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.

His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.

It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.

The night hadn’t ended there.

Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.

“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears.

Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.

Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.

Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed.

His eyes.

What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.

Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.

If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?

The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?

All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.

He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.

He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.

Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore.

The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off.

Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.

He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.

Five.

He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.

Four.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.

Three.

It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-

He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.

He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.

He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.

And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father.

Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.

Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader

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jovial-thunder · 2 months

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Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

#lancer tactics #made with godot #godot 4 #indie game dev #game dev #lancer rpg #tactics rpg #indie dev #godot engine

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souliebird · 7 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 5]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

words: 4.4k

It has been one week since you saw Matt Murdock on the evening news, and it feels like it has been a complete whirlwind. First, you reintroduced yourself to him and let him know he was a father, then you had a nice little outing, and to tie it all up, a trip to the doctors to confirm what you already knew.

Matthew Murdock is the father of your daughter.

It is nice to have an official statement from a doctor and now you can start the process of changing Minnie's paperwork to include his name. You have to go to the courthouse to file for an updated birth certificate. Matt has very kindly offered to take that task on for you - he goes to the courthouse often for his job and he knows the ins-and-outs of navigating legal paperwork. You just have to go and drop off the right documentation.

You had a brief call last night, after Minnie had been put down, and decided that you would visit his office today to do just that. You are going to kill two birds with one stone - hand over what needs to be filed and give Matt more time with his daughter.

To your great surprise, your timid little Mouse absolutely adores him. She was not happy to have to be at the doctor's office yesterday and was on the verge of tears before he showed up. Her whole mood shifted, and she had spent the brief time you were in the waiting room and exam room telling Matt about different things around them.

You have a feeling, when you sit down and tell her the truth, she is going to be thrilled.

You told her that you are going to visit Matt at work today, and all morning she has been hunched over her sketchbook making pictures for him while you try to get in some hours at work. Try being the key word, as you've been thoroughly distracted by today's news cycle.

You were half listening to a puff piece about something or other when breaking news flashed across the screen. A neighborhood in Connecticut has been leveled by some sort of explosion, killing hundreds. They don't know if it was an accident or some sort of attack - the epicenter of the blast was a school, so it could potentially be either. You pray it was a freak accident, some faulty pipeline or a weird meteor, because the world doesn't need any more horribleness in it.

The idea that it might have been an attack makes you nervous. You've been through two horrible attacks on New York, and you didn't realize another big event so close to home would shake you so hard.

It scares you that you have to raise Minnie in such a harsh world, where monsters of all kinds are very very real and you don't know who you can rely on. The police and government have been shown to be all kinds of corrupt and people who can shoot laser beams fight each other in the skies.

You end up clocking out and going to sit with Minnie to get yourself to stop your doom-listening. She's got a few drawings scattered around the table and you pick up the one closest to you, smiling at her handy work.

You recognize the shapes as her interpretation of people - oblongs with stick arms and noodle legs. Unknowingly, she's made her first new family portrait. There are three blob-people all holding hands: you suspect you're the big orange one with a smile, Minnie is the little pink one in the middle with what you guess are pigtails, and Matt is the black one with red eyes, who is also holding a stick. To confirm, you ask her.

"Is this one Mister Matt?"

Her head shoots up and a big grin spreads across her face, "Yeah! And that's you and that's me and we're gonna go to the zoo!" There is a little flurry of motion and suddenly you are getting a picture show. She holds up the paper she was working on - there's another family drawing, but this time there's green scribbles all around you and a blue square with zig zags all over it. You guess that is some sort of animal.

"You want to go to the zoo with Mister Matt?" You ask, examining her masterpiece.

"Yeah!" She says, pulling over another picture that you know are her versions of flowers, even if they are all different colors. "And the park!"

"And the park? Wow, that's a lot of things to do. Do you want to ask him if he wants to go to the zoo with us when we see him today?" Minnie eagerly nods at the question and that makes you smile. "Okay, we can invite him to the zoo. When are we going to the zoo?"

The question makes her bounce in excitement, "My birthday!"

You laugh at her enthusiasm and give her a little back rub, "Exactly. We're going to go for your birthday. And get a big cake with whatever you want on it." That makes her a giggly mess and you temporarily forget all the bad things in the world.

You hand her back her drawing before kissing the top of her hair, "How about you finish this one up and we get ready to go see Mister Matt? We can only visit for a little bit, because he's working, but I bet he'll love everything you made him."

Greedy little hands take back the paper and instantly Mouse is hunched back over her zoo scene, purple crayon in hand. You get up and go to make sure that you have everything you need to bring to Matt in order. You are extremely lucky that the doctor has the ability to print out things in Braille, so you don't need to make an extra stop to get things translated.

You debate bringing Matt lunch, but ultimately decide against it. You don't want to push too much too fast, and you think it might be a little weird for his coworkers, to see a random person bring him homemade lunch. You know he hasn't told anyone yet about yourself and Minnie - he had shyly admitted it didn't feel real until the test results were given and you completely get it.

You tidy up until you spy Mouse dropping her crayons into her bucket and cleaning up her drawing area. You let her do her thing, then approach, "Let's put your drawings with the other things we need to give Mister Matt. That way they won't get lost or wrinkled."

She nods like you've just said something very wise and gathers up her stack of papers before handing them over. There's five in total; the three she showed you and two more full of colorful lines. You decide you'll listen in on her explanation to Matt on those two, as you're curious as to what goes on in her little mind.

Once everything is safe and ready to go, it's just a matter of getting shoes on. You go with your sensible sneakers while Minnie opts for her frog themed Wellingtons. The plan is for both of you to walk to the office, and after one final wallet-keys-phone check in your purse, you head out hand-in-hand.

It's mid-morning, so foot traffic is decent, but not heavy - nothing that makes Minnie too uncomfortable. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, and it makes you wonder if the rain that has been promised in the forecast will be coming sooner than expected and you are glad this outing is the only one you have planned. Taking Minnie around in the rain is never fun. It always seems like everything becomes more bustling in the rain and trying to navigate that with a crying toddler just makes you want to cry as well.

But the promise of her new favorite person and mild weather has her walking like the born and bred New Yorker she is - a determined little pout with no nonsense steps. No one will be trying to sell her things on the sidewalks once she gets bigger. If she had a different personality, you'd want to teach her to say "Hey, I'm walking here" just to hear a toddler say it.

As you spy the building Matt's office is in, you realize you should have sent him a text to say you were on your way. You did let him know vaguely what time you planned to stop by and he had assured you that they had no appointments - it was catch up on paperwork day - but that didn't mean walk-in clients hadn't come by. You're so close to already being there that you think the gesture is pointless, so you just keep walking until you get to the building.

"This is where we are going," you tell Minnie as you approach. You scoop her up to show her the business directory on the outside of the building. There aren't very many plaques to begin with, so it's easy to find the Nelson, Murdock, and Page one. "That is where Mister Matt works with his friends."

She leans out and feels over the embossed sign, running her fingers over the different letters. "'M'! For Minnie!" She says, pointing out the letter with a big smile.

"Exactly. Mister Matt's last name starts with M, too. That word is his last name - Murdock."

That gets her to turn back to the sign, fingers dancing over the letters, brows knitting with curiosity, "How is it spelled?"

You spell out Murdock for her and Minnie repeats each letter after you. You do this a few times until she's able to say it out loud on her own. You don't know how long she'll retain the information, as spelling isn't really on the board yet, but you're happy she's interested. You set her back down and she makes a beeline up the steps, grabbing and pulling at the door with all her three-year-old strength.

The lobby to the building is sparse, with basically only an elevator and staircase, with a door to what you suspect is a supply closet. "We're going up two staircases," you tell your daughter.

"Two!" She confirms before taking off towards the stairs. You have a brief moment of panic that she's going to zip up both sets faster than you can catch her, but to your great amusement, she grabs a hold of the banister with both hands and pretends to use it like a mountaineering rope to climb the stairs. She even adds little fake huffs and puffs. You follow behind her, ready to catch her if she slips. She doesn't, and when you get to the floor Matt's office is on, she turns to beam at you, clearly proud of herself, "We did it!"

"We did it," you parrot, offering out your hand again. She takes it and you lead her to the correct door. The same plaque that was on the exterior of the building also hangs beside their door and Minnie astutely points to it.

"Murdock!"

"That's right, it says Nelson, Murdock, and Page."

"Can I knock?" Mouse asks, raising her fist to do just that.

You hum, then gently explain, "This is business, which means work. For work, we don't have to knock. We can go in if it is open."

As soon as you say that she's opening the door and marching inside and you quickly follow her.

Matt's law partners, Foggy and Karen, are in the reception area with a man you assume is a client of theirs, talking in hushed annoyed sounding whispers. He radiates intimidation, with a huge black eye and what looks to be a makeshift cast made of duct tape around his right wrist. The three of them turn to look at you and you get the sense Minnie had the right idea in asking if she should knock first.

Your little one quickly latches onto your leg, turning timid in the space of a second and you can't really blame her. Part of you wants to turn and run.

Karen recovers first, breaking away from the two exasperated men to step towards you and going into receptionist mode, "Hi. You were here last week to meet with Matt, right?"

"Uh, yes, that's right. Is he, uh, available?" You ask, feeling like you no longer know how to speak English. The energy in the room is not a pleasant one and you very much feel like you've interrupted something important.

"He's on a call currently but I'll let him know you are here," Karen replies in a voice far kinder than what she uses to address the men behind her a beat later. She turns to them and points to the office you know is not Matt's. "In there. Now."

Foggy throws up his hands, like he's frustrated with whatever is going on and disappears into the other room. The man you don't know doesn't follow, eyes on you and your daughter as Karen crosses the room to knock on Matt's door before opening it and slipping into the office. You quickly decide you are not going to make eye contact with him, instead ducking your head and putting a comforting hand on Minnie's head. She's practically hidden herself behind your legs, clinging to your pants so tightly you fear they might rip.

"I like your boots," the man says into the quietness. You expect him to sound like gravel, but his gruff voice is rather soft, and you get the feeling he understands how to talk to children "My daughter used to have boots like those."

Part of you wants to tell the man to not talk to your daughter, but that would be rude and just because he looks like he's been through the ringer doesn't mean he's a bad man. You decide to let her determine how she wants to proceed.

You feel Minnie poke her head out from where she's hidden herself. At first, you don't think she's going to reply, as you know how she is, but she surprises you yet again by mumbling out, "They're froggies."

"Yeah? You like frogs?"

Mouse somehow tightens her grip, "I like animals." She presses her face against your leg, then admits, a little louder, "we're gonna to the zoo for my birthday."

That makes the man smile, and that changes his whole demeanor. Suddenly he looks friendly and kind and not like he's likely to stab you, "That's a good place to go for your birthday. How old are you gonna be?"

Before she can respond, the door to Matt's office swings open and Karen stalks out, followed by Matt, who seems much less agitated than everyone else. The blonde points to the unknown man, a little scowl on her face, "What did I say?"

The man holds up his hands defensively, stepping away from Karen and towards the office he was previously told to go in, "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'm going." That doesn't seem to help soothe her at all, as she grabs the man by the bicep and frog-marches him to join Foggy, closing the door behind them.

"They didn't make you wait long, did they?" Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him. There is a cut on his lip that wasn't there the last time you saw him, and your instinct is to ask if he is okay, but you don't know if you are at that level with him yet.

So instead, you address his question, "No, no, we just got here."

He motions back to his office, a smile spreading across his face, and you almost forget about the cut, "Come on back and we can review everything."

Minnie lets go of your pants only to take your hand again and you lead her into the other room. As you pass Matt, she looks up at him and gives a tiny wave.

"Hi, Mister Matt."

Matt's shoulders visibly relax at her greeting, and you can't help but start to smile, "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Good! I maded you pictures," she says proudly. That causes him to pause as he starts to follow you into his office. You can tell he is surprised by the news - his voice gets a little choked up when he responds.

"You made me some pictures?"

"They are very good pictures," you advise, squeezing Minnie's hand slightly before letting go, "Do you want to tell Mister Matt what you drew for him?" She nods eagerly, so you point to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go sit like a big girl and you can tell him."

She makes a dash for the chair, and you take the time to address Matt, "I'm sorry, I should have called ahead."

He shakes his head, and as he walks past you to go behind the desk, he reaches out and brushes his hand along your arm. A little shiver runs up your spine at the touch and you tell yourself the action was so he could orient himself. "Not a problem, I knew you were coming. How is everything?"

"Everything is good," you reply, a little shyer than you intend to. "I, uh, have everything for you. Is there anything else I need to fill out?"

Matt shakes his head, "Just a signature and date. You've done all the work for me already. I don't think I've ever had to file where I don't need to actually do anything but sign the document. It's a refreshing change."

"Do you know how long it will take to process?" You ask as you move to join Minnie in sitting. "The website gave multiple timelines and I just want to be realistic."

Matt takes his seat with a cocky grin, "Not long at all, I know a few judges I can ask to push it through."

You flush at the idea of him asking a favor to a judge on your account, "That's not necessary, Matt, I don't mind waiting."

He shakes his head, getting that soft look again, "I don't want to wait. I want it to be official in the eyes of the government."

His words make you feel even warmer, and you distract yourself by pulling the file with all the paperwork out of your purse and pass it over to him. "Minnie's additions are at the bottom of the stack. The last five pages"

His fingers twitch slightly, and you wonder if he wants to flip right to those. You get your answer quickly.

"Minnie, is it okay if I go over the paperwork with your mom before you tell me about your pictures?"

"It's okay!" She replies, her voice much more cheerful now that you are alone with Matt. "Do you needs help?"

Her sweetness makes Matt smile more and he shakes his head, "Not right now, sweetheart. I need to read, and I can do that with my fingers, but after that you can help with some other things."

"Okay," she says happily, kicking her feet a little bit.

You catch her attention and motion to your purse, "Do you want a toy while you wait?"

She shakes her head and beams up at you, "No thank you, I'm a big girl!"

Both you and Matt chuckle at her declaration and he moves to open the file.

"There's multiple copies of everything," you tell him as you move onto business, "One printed text and one in Braille for the courts and the same for you. I have the same at home, as well. They are bundled in packets. The court papers are on top, Braille first."

He thanks you then begins to read the forms. Mouse sits up straighter in her chair to try and see what he is doing. She can just peek over the edge, and she watches in fascination as his fingers move over the pages. You wait quietly, not wanting to distract in any way.

"Everything appears to be in order. We will just need a signature," Matt says after a minute.

"Should I do that now?" You ask. The response is him offering you a pen, so you lean in to sign the various forms. As you set each document aside, Matt adds his own signature. It is silly how giddy you feel just having the forms finally completed. You don't know how long you've had just blank copies, waiting to be filed.

"And done," Matt says with a final flick of his pen on the last page. "I'm going to the courthouse on Tuesday, so I'll get it processed then. I'll push to get an updated certificate as quickly as possible."

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person. This isn't some dream or far off fantasy. Matt isn't just saying he wants to be Minnie's father. He is following through, with urgency. This is something he wants and it's almost surreal for you - you are so used to promises being broken and no one being on the same page as you in your desires. Even if this is all for Minnie and not for you, it is still on the edge of overwhelming for you.

You never thought you'd be so happy over paperwork.

"Thank you, Matt," you whisper, leaning back into your seat to sit properly.

Immediately, Minnie parrots you, thanking Matt even though she has no idea what is going on.

"No, thank you. Thank you both," he says, and you wonder if he is also holding back from smiling. He gathers the papers and sets them aside before running his fingers over the folder you gave him and addressing his daughter. "Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to come tell me what you drew?"

You expect Minnie to stand on the chair and even prepare yourself to balance her, but that does not happen. She hops down and scurries around the desk to be at Matt's side and a moment later, he is pushing his chair back and she is climbing up into his lap. Embarrassment rushes through you - she's only ever behaved like this with you. She actually used to fuss and cry if anyone else tried to hold her. You haven't seen her sit in anyone else's lap since she had a say in who gets to hold her.

"Minnie!" You scold but Matt quickly shakes his head as he helps her up.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he tells you even though he looks completely shocked. If he wasn't her father, you wouldn't allow this, especially with someone so new to her, but he is her father, even if she doesn't know, so you don't tell her to get down.

Instead, you give a stern frown, "Minnie, you still need to ask before climbing on anyone, okay? Can you apologize?"

Your little girl nods, then looks up at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Matt."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Like I said, I don't mind, but your Mommy is right, and you should ask so I know you are there. Next time, you'll know. Now, your Mommy said there were five pictures. Which do you want to start with?" He asks, scooting his chair back to the desk while wrapping one arm around Minnie's waist to keep her secure.

Once she's able to, she leans in and picks up the first drawing in the stack. It is the family portrait, and you quickly get your phone out so you can record this interaction as Minnie lays out the picture. She then takes Matt's free hand and guides it to the paper before letting go to point at the circle that represents him.

"This is you," she tells him. He quickly finds where she is pointing and begins to trace the figure.

"That's me?" And there is definitely more than a little bit of emotion in his voice.

"Uh-huh, and that is me and Mommy and we're gonna go to see the duckies. Mommy said we can go again. But we're gonna get ice cream too. And a balloon," she says, moving her little finger all over the page.

You watch Matt's finger follow hers - first over the doodle of himself, then Minnie's, and finally yours. Then, he traces back to the center figure. "We're holding hands?" He asks tentatively.

"Yup!" She answers, popping the p. "Mommy says we gotta hold hands if we go outside."

Matt licks his lips a little and you see his muscles flex under his jacket as he holds Minnie a little more firmly to his chest, like he doesn't want to let go of her. "That's a good rule."

"Mommy makes good rules," your little one replies wisely. That makes your ego sing a little. Mouse has always been good at doing what she's told, and you are proud that she understands your rules keep her safe.

Before she moves onto the next picture, you gently prompt her. "Sweetie, was there something you wanted to ask Mister Matt?"

Matt's head jerks up at that, looking right to you with brows slightly knit. Minnie bounces in his lap just a little, squirming so she can turn to look up at him, "I'm gonna go to the zoo! For my birthday! Do you wanna go?"

His lips part in surprise at the question and before you know it, he has both his arms wrapped around Mouse, hugging her to him. She instantly responds, looping her little arms around his neck and squeezing back. He rests his cheek against her head, and you see him slightly rock her from side to side. "I would love to go with you to the zoo, sweetheart."

Minnie giggles into his neck and you one hundred percent know that the transition to suddenly having two parents is not going to be hard for her at all. It might be confusing because Matt won't be living with you, but you have never seen her so comfortable with someone who isn't you. You know it's not just because he gave her a toy. They just click together so well.

You switch from video to your camera so you can sneak as many pictures as you can of Matt and Minnie hugging. They've completely forgotten about you and that is a-okay.

In this moment, nothing else matters to you - not the strange man in the other office or the devastation a few states over or all the other trivial things that nag you and make your stomach turn.

Your world is right in front of you and for the first time in a very, very long time, you really, truly believe everything is going to be just fine.

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then I met you #theres plot hints

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empress-simps · 15 days

Note

May I please request a fic with James and a tomboy!reader? She’s into sports (namely quidditch, ofc), doesn’t mind getting dirty. Typical tomboy-ish stuff lmao!!! I’m not sure how to describe it. Whatever house you think is fitting will be fine by me :)

Thanks for the request darling! I hope this is what you had in mind! I’m not quite confident on how I wrote the reader but I hope it’s alright, this is my understanding of your request🥹 Thank you!(I was listening to “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees when writing this!)

Bruises and Broomsticks

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

CW: Implied Fem!Reader (uses she/her pronouns), Reader getting injured, Jealous James, and Language. (2.4k words)

James doesn’t know how it happened or when it happened.

He viewed you as a great friend- even going as far as calling you an honorary marauder. James had always seen you as one of the guys, someone who could take a joke and throw a punch. Your laughter was infectious, your loyalty unwavering, and your spirit indomitable. You were the one who would challenge him to a race on brooms, who would formulate the best strategies for capturing the snitch, and who never backed down from a dare as ridiculous as spray painting a random wall in Hogwarts.

Although, there were moments that caught him off guard—like the way the sun caught in your hair during a late afternoon practice, or how your eyes sparkled with mischief before helping them plan a prank. It was in those quiet, unguarded moments that James found himself drawn to you.

James thought it probably was the way you care and defend everyone close to you with everything you got, or how you don’t care what people thought of you. You were confident to be yourself. Whatever it was, he realized his feelings for you ran deeper than he had ever anticipated.

“Marls!” You called, running to her (almost tripping) as you entered the Gryffindor common room, sporting an ever-growing bruise on your cheek. Marlene smiled, but quickly frowned as she spotted the purple-green blob on your cheek. “Godric! What happened to your face, Y/n?!”

James quickly perked u as he heard your name, pulling him out of the conversation he’s having with Remus. He watches as you shrugged, “Dolohov was messing with me again earlier.” Sirius grinned, emerging from the portrait a second behind you. “She was a menace, I tell you!” The tall boy barks out a laugh, backing you up as a toothy grin appeared on your face.

Poor James, one of these days he’s bound to have a heart attack if he hears another news of you getting into a fight.

James watched one of his best mates throw an arm around your shoulders, hyping you up. His jaw clenched, trying to mask the growing pit of jealousy in his otherwise calm demeanor. He couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that sparked within him each time Sirius got too close, each time his laughter mingled with yours in a way that made James’s heart race for all the wrong reasons. He knew Sirius meant no harm, that your friendship with the marauder was just that—friendship. But as James’s eyes followed the casual way Sirius’s hand rested on your shoulder, he felt a possessive urge to sweep you away from everyone. He thinks he should be the one who’s on your side.

Remus tried his best not to laugh; he leans to Peter beside him, whispering “Looks like Prong’s about to burst a blood vessel,” his voice low, laced with amusement and humor as Peter looked up from his essay.

James shot Remus a warning glance, but it was softened by the half-smile that betrayed his true feelings. “Shut it, Moony,” he said, though his eyes never left you.

“What happened?” Peter asked, most students lounging in the common room looked at you, awaiting your reply.

You placed your hands in the pockets of your worn-out wide legged jeans. “I beat the shit out of that fucker.” You shrugged, a triumphant smirk on your features.

As the common room erupted with laughter at your bold proclamation, James couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. There you were, fearless and fierce, and utterly oblivious to the way he hung on to your every word, to the way his world seemed to orbit around you.

And perhaps, he thought, that was exactly as it should be. For now.

Remus looks at him with a mirth present on his face. “You know, Prongs, one of these days you’ll have to accept that Y/n can handle herself,” he said, nudging James with a knowing smile. James, however, couldn’t shake off the concern he felt. “It’s not about her handling herself, Moony,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on you. “It’s about her getting hurt.”

Oblivious to James’s inner turmoil, you continued your tale. “So, I was minding my business when Dolohov suddenly appeared and was uttering how a muggle born like me shouldn’t be walking around and tainting the wizarding world.” You started, “His wand was pointed right at me, probably about to hex me. You know what I did?” You paused for dramatic effect; your eyes twinkling. The common room was silent, everyone hanging on your every word. “I grabbed the nearest ink pot and chucked it right at his nose. Got him square in the face!” You laughed, the sound rich and carefree. Sirius joined in, slapping his knee in amusement. “It looked like a squid inked him in the face!” he adds, “This sod charmed the ink, so it’ll stay for a week!” Sirius pointed at you.

"Sirius and I were laughing so hard, he managed to hit me in the face—can you believe he forgot to even use magic? I got him back; pretty sure my converse left a mark on the side of his face.” You couldn't help but grin, recounting the tale. Marlene shook her head, her earlier concern now replaced with admiration. "That's my Y/n right there!" she said proudly, "Never one to back down from a fight."

As the laughter died down, you caught James’s eye. He was trying to look stern, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving into a reluctant smile. “Just be careful, okay?” he said softly, a rare display of tenderness from him.

You nodded, your smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Always am, Potter.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, your maroon converse thudding against the wooden floor as you made your way to the dorms, leaving a trail of whispers and a certain besotted Marauder in your wake.

“Merlin, Prongs. You never told us to be careful, just to bugger off.” Peter complained, Eliciting a grin from Sirius. “Luck’s not on our side, wormy. James doesn’t fancy us.” James gave Sirius a look.

“Don’t even deny it, Prongsie. You thought I couldn’t see you practically hexing me when I was beside her?” Sirius snorts, sitting beside Remus and leaning onto the boy’s shoulder who wrapped an arm around him.

James couldn’t find it in himself to disagree, nor did he want to. It was the truth, and it was out there now. James realized that this was a turning point, not just in his relationship with you, but in his own life. He was in love, truly and deeply, and it was time to embrace that reality.

Stepping out into the field in your quidditch uniform, you can hear the screams and chants echoing in your ears, the noise never fails you to get riled up. The vibrant green of the grass seemed to pulse with the energy of the crowd, the sky was a clear blue, a perfect backdrop for the game ahead. Feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you gripped your broom tighter, an excited smile appearing on your face. You adjusted your goggles, the leather strap snug against your hair, and swung a leg over your broom.

James took in the sight of you, smiling softly. “Be safe, yeah?”

Shooting him a wink, you replied. “Aye aye, captain.”

The referee's whistle pierced the air, and with a powerful kick, you were airborne. The wind whipped past you, tangling your hair as you soared higher. Below, the field became a patchwork of colors, the players mere specks in a sea of movement. You were in your element, the broom an extension of your body as you weaved through the air seamlessly, air resistance got nothing on you.

The Quidditch match was in full swing, the stands filled with cheers and the sky a blur of players on brooms. You were a force to be reckoned with, dodging Bludgers and racing after the Quaffle with unmatched skill. But in a split second, everything changed. A rogue Bludger, charmed by Dolohov's dark magic, veered off course and struck you with a sickening crack that seemed to echo throughout the pitch.

The game halted as screams and shocked whispers echoed through the pitch. James, who saw the entire thing happen in front of him, stopped dead in his tracks. His heart plummeted and felt his body go cold as he watched you fall, your body limp and vulnerable. Without a second thought, he dove, catching you just before you hit the ground.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?! Gryffindor’s quidditch star L/n has just been knocked off her broom!” The announcer sputters, also shocked at the event.

In the aftermath of the rogue Bludger's strike, James's instincts took over. With Y/n cradled in his arms, he flew to the ground, the rest of the world a blur. The screams from the stands faded into the background as he focused solely on you. Nothing else mattered, you were his priority. Damn that stupid match, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" James's voice was steady, but his eyes were wide with pure unadulterated fear. He gently laid you on the grass, brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

Sirius landed next to James, “Prongs, what happened? How’s Y/n?” His voice was laced with worry, checking you for any possible injuries. Your other teammates shot each other worried glances; the match has been called off.

Madam Pomfrey rushed onto the field, her medical bag in hand. “Make way, students!” She yells, but James was hesitant to move away. "She’s going to be okay," the matron assured him, James looked in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes, trying but failing to know if she meant what she said. Other players and the audiences have been ushered out of the field.

James nodded, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/n's still face. "I've got you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I won't let anything happen to you." Sirius gently pulls him away. “C’mon Prongs, let’s leave Madam Pomfrey to do her magic, yeah?”

The fear that gripped him was real, and it brought a clarity he'd never felt before. He loves you, and he needs you to be okay because Merlin forbid- he wouldn’t know what he’ll do if you aren’t.

He stayed close to you, not letting you out of his sight. Miraculously, Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She was hurt, but she was alive- that was enough for James for now. “Alright, love. We’ll get you to the Hospital Wing, just hang on.”

Your mind was hazy, you could make out two forms of people whom you guessed was James and Sirius. You groaned, the events earlier somehow getting clearer. “Fucking… Dolohov… I’ll get him back…” You muttered, sleep and exhaustion got the best of you.

As consciousness slowly crept back, your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the blurry outlines of the hospital wing. The ceiling came into focus, and a wave of relief washed over you. Well, you were glad you can still get revenge on that Slytherin wanker.

Turning your head, your gaze fell upon James. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his glasses askew, and his hair more tousled than usual. It was clear he hadn't moved from that spot since you’d been brought in.

"James?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, making you cringe.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear. "Y/n? Oh, Merlin, you're awake," he breathed out, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. “That I am, have you been here this entire time?’ You asked, leaning to his direction to fix his glasses, effectively making him blush.

James' pursed his lips, trying hard not to show his hands that were slightly trembling as he clasped them together, trying to gather his thoughts. The sight of you lying there, injured, and vulnerable, had shaken him to the core. "I was terrified," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you fall during the game, my heart just... stopped."

You felt your heart fill with warmth, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It made me realize how fragile everything is, how quickly things can change," he continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "And it made me realize that I couldn't waste another moment hiding the truth from you.”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand. His gaze earnest and unwavering, "I fancy you, and not just in some passing way. You mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you, of not having the chance to tell you how I feel... it's unbearable."

He paused, searching your face for any sign of how you were taking his words. "I don't want to wait for another scare to be honest with you. I want to be there for you, to protect you, and to be someone you can rely on. If you'll let me."

The room was filled with a tense silence as James awaited your response, his confession hanging between you like a delicate thread, ready to weave a new beginning or unravel at the slightest touch.

“Is this your way of saying you’re in love with me, Potter?” You smiled, which prompted James to roll his eyes playfully.

“I’m being serious, darling.” His thumb softly caressed the back of your hand, "I love you too, pothead. You’re an idiot for not saying it sooner." You laughed, teasing the boy beside you but your fingers curled into his, holding on just as firmly.

“I am your idiot, darling.” he replied, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours.

Looking into his eyes, you can see the rawness of emotion he feels, you know everything he had said was genuine. It was a look that cannot be put into words. In that moment, everything that had happened on the Quidditch pitch, every fear and confession, seemed to solidify into something undeniable.

Neither of you needed to speak; your hands entwined with James speak volumes. You gave his hand a weak squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, you were with him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

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