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judeswhore · 8 months

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trick or treat

summary: jude just has to give the pretty trick or treater his number

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

notes: you can find my masterlist here. i don’t like this :( but oh well

"i wanna go to this house." elena stated, tugging lightly on your hand to turn you towards a house with a red door, her gaze fixated on the pumpkins set on either side of the entrance. she'd chosen that house, you knew, because of the great big "welcome" sign stuck to the front, each word dripping fake blood. whoever owned the house had done a better job at decorating than anyone else on the street and it immediately had the little girl thinking of the sweets she could get from inside.

before you could argue against it she was pulling you along with her, her bucket, already half full, swinging happily at her side. elena was a family friends daughter, a feisty seven year old who you'd been babysitting for years at this point and trick or treating on halloween was a tradition for the two of you. like every year she'd gotten you to dress up and this years costume was a simple fairy, a pretty green dress with fake wings that kept snagging on fences as you walked past. elena was a witch.

"hurry up!" a very bossy witch.

with a huff you let her drag you up the path, your eyes trailing along the windows of the house which seemed so dark you wondered if anyone was even home. elena was quick to knock on the door, bucket held in front of her as she flashed her biggest, brightest smile. her missing front tooth made her sickeningly adorable to most people and had definitely played a hand in why she'd gotten so many sweets.

there was a few moments of complete silence and you watched the little girls smile falter a slightly, her head turning so she could frown up at you. "where are-" her words were cut short when the front door finally swung inwards, her smile returning immediately. "trick or treat!"

the smell of pizza and tinkle of laughter hit your senses immediately, multiple voices overlapping each other to the point you couldn't make out the loud conversation happening just inside the house. the doorway had been taken up by an overly large body, all long legs and broad shoulders, cutting through the light that was spilling out from the hallway. something caught in the back of your throat, a noise halfway between a gasp and a cough when you lifted your eyes and met his gaze.

he was stupidly good looking. the kind of good looking that only ever brought trouble and heartbreak and your tummy was a riot of flutters over the crooked smile he was throwing your way. definitely your way. elena was too small to even be in his eye line. there was a spark of mischief in his dark eyes despite the sleepy look about them, all heavy lids and pretty lashes and you wondered just how many girls had gotten in trouble over those eyes.

you must have been staring in silence for more than a few moments because elena suddenly let out an impatient huff, her elbow digging harshly into your leg. she was glaring at you. “say it.”

the boy in the doorway cocked an eyebrow, presumably about the attitude and glanced between you and the girl at your side, curiosity sparking his gaze. with a roll of your eyes, you attempted a smile, one that seemed a little wobbly under the attention of someone so hot and raised the little pumpkin bucket you’d been carrying.

“trick or treat.” if possible, the boy’s smile grew even bigger, a full toothy grin that did something to your heart that surely wasn’t healthy. he leant a little against the doorframe, hands tucked into the front pockets of his grey joggers. the movement made his shirt stretch out a little over his chest and you cursed elena for choosing this house. why would she choose this guys house when you’re dressed as a knock off tinkerbell in a dress two sizes too small?

“depends,” there was a playful lilt to his voice and your body burnt as he shamelessly ran his eyes over the length of you. he lingered a little on your thighs, over exposed in your stupid dress, and again on your boobs, straining just a little beneath the green material. if your heart jumped anymore it was going to give out. “are you my treat?”

oh.

“i-uh- i’m not-“ you stumbled through a few potential answers, none of which would fully come out because your brain had stopped short and left you unable to form a coherent sentence. he was flirting. you were certain that was flirting and you were floundering like an idiot because no one this hot should be flirting with a girl in a stupid tinkerbell costume. the glint in his eyes seemed a little brighter at your response, his smile more a teasing smirk and he was standing a little straighter, almost looking proud of the effect he was having on you verbal abilities.

“excuse me, sir, you’re supposed to give us treats.” elena’s voice cut through your momentary daze and had you snorting a laugh, your finger knocking her witches hat askew.

“elena, don’t be rude.” you tried to sound firm but her glare at the lack of sweets was overly amusing. the little girl was about as scary as a kitten.

“no, she’s right. gimme a second.” the boy disappeared back into the house and elena turned her gaze up to you, catching you red handed with your eyes glued to his ass. she was grinning manically, hopping from foot to foot.

“he likes you.” she singsonged, rattling the sweets in her bucket until you pressed a hand over hers in hopes of getting her to stop. it didn’t stop the next words from tumbling out of her. “he was looking at you the way my dad looks at my mum before they start kissing.” she grimaced at that, clearly not happy about her parents public affection.

“he was not. stop being a gossip and fix your hat.” the hat was still sitting awkwardly on her head and she fumbled with it for a few seconds while trying to set it straight. she opened her mouth, no doubt to say something else ridiculous, but the pretty boy had reappeared in the doorway, a tub of sweets and chocolate bars held in his hands.

he dropped to a crouch in front of elena and shook the tub. “pick whatever you want.”

“do i just get one?”

“elena.” you muttered her name through a sigh but the boy was shaking his head, that grin curling his lips again. for a second you were distracted by his thighs, the thickness of them as he balanced in front of the little girl and only tugged your gaze up when he spoke again.

“no, it’s okay. y’can take as many as you want, don’t want you casting a spell on me to make my ears fall off.” he teased and elena giggled, seemingly just as charmed as you by his smile. she dug around in the box, brows furrowed as she searched for what she wanted.

“i wouldn’t make your ears fall off.”

“no?”

“no. i’d turn you into a frog.” she dropped a mars bar into her bucket before rifling through the treats again. the boy gave a thoughtful hum as he watched her knock a bag of haribos to the side.

“forever? or will you turn me back if i’m good?” he asked, shaking the tub just a little so she could see the sweets tucked at the bottom. you watched his jaw work as he chewed the inside of his cheek, your attention snagging on the stubble growing over the sharp line and across his chin. you were surprised by how badly you wanted to feel the roughness of it against your palm.

“nope. you have to kiss a princess or you’ll be a frog forever.”

“what about your friend? if i kiss her will i be saved?”

“yn’s not a princess. she’s a fairy.” elena gave him a “duh” sort of look that had him huffing a laugh but you were too busy trying not to think about kissing him. it was ridiculous to be so worked up about a stranger.

“well i don’t think i know any princesses.”

“then you’re going to have to live as a frog.” elena had absolutely no sympathy for the situation, completely unbothered as she dropped her final chocolate into her bucket with a grin. she shook the pumpkin. “chocolate is my favourite.”

“you’re also not allowed it past 6pm.” you pointed out, peering into the bucket with a grimace because her parents were going to kill you for all the chocolate bars. you’d promised light trick or treating but elena was taking home a whole chocolate factory.

“you’ll have to eat it in secret.” the boy told her as he straightened up, his gaze darting from you to the little girl. “i’m sure you could ignore one sugar rush for the sake of halloween.”

“you wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one who had to lure her into bed when she refuses to come out of the tree house.” that earned you a snort and a smile pulled at your lips. at your side elena started to tug on the bottom of your skirt, clearly eager to try a few more houses before her bedtime. you knocked your bucket against hers. “say thank you.”

“thank you for the chocolate, mister!” she beamed up at him and his laugh was full this time, a musical sound that made your tummy dip dangerously.

“don’t eat it all at once.”

“i won’t.”

“she will.” you mumbled and elena glared, pulled a little harsher on your skirt. you turned a smile towards the boy in the doorway. “thanks for the chocolate. you should’ve just given her a mini mars bar and told her to shove off.”

“and risk turning into a frog? nah.” he dipped his hand into his joggers and pulled out a slip of paper, held it out to you with a smile. you took it with a curious frown, felt your heart leap at the scrawl of numbers, JUDE and TEXT ME, written underneath.

“what’s this?”

“your treat.”

#hey jude :)#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut

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unboundprompts · 1 month

Note

prompts for spring, summer, autumn, winter eyes! (The characters literally stand for each season!! They have eyes that hold the seasons)

Different Ways to Describe Seasonal Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Spring

He had eyes like the fields of the pastures, green grass nearly up to your knees.

Her eyes were the flower beds that his mother used to prepare when spring finally arrived after a cold winter. Flowers would bloom and blossom in every color imaginable.

Their eyes were like the honey from the honeybees that arrived with the promise of spring.

Summer

Her eyes were a babbling brook, like crisp water on a warm day.

He had eyes that blazed like a hot summer sun.

Their eyes were warm rays and beach days, filled with laughter and freedom.

Autumn

She had eyes the color of the dying leaves, painted red, yellow, and brown.

His eyes were a winding road on a foggy morning, dying branches scratching at the edge.

Their eyes were of burnt out candles, pumpkins placed on doorsteps, and footsteps splashed in puddles on an old street.

Winter

His eyes were snowflakes, irises decorated with a delicate design.

She had eyes like icy mountains and falling snow.

Their eyes were a crisp breeze in the dead of winter, a frozen pond on a stagnant afternoon.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #story prompt #ask box prompts #dialogue prompt #otp prompts #soft prompts #prompt list #rp prompts #writing prompt #romance prompts #dialogue ideas #writing ideas #love prompts #character description

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stylesloveclub · 8 months

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Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

#harry #harry fic #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #professor!harry #TA!harry #professorry

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cameronspecial · 1 month

Note

Hiii, love your writing 🩷

I was thinking about Single!Dad Rafe x reader. Like, how would they meet, how would his child react to reader and so on.

The Gymnastics Coach

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

It smells like feet. That’s the only thing Rafe can focus on as he stands with only his socks on whilst his daughter patiently stands on his feet to wait. He holds her small hands in his and he wonders how he let Sarah convince him to sign Sloane up. Although, he knows it was quite easy for his sister to do because he would do anything for Sloane, except for maybe family gymnastics. Not only does the feet smell turn him off, but the stares from the older women are off-putting to him. Since Sloane was born, his playboy days are past him and he definitely isn’t going to start an affair. “Daddy, time for gymnastics?” the small blonde wonders, her big blue eyes blinking up at him. Rafe is glad there is no trace of his ex on his baby girl’s face. That woman doesn’t deserve any ownership of his girl. He checks his golden watch which is out of place to see there are still two minutes until they are called in. He smiles at her, “Almost, Little Warrior.” Her head flicks up and down and she goes back to looking forward. It was a mistake choosing the class that is during the work day. His tie causes him even more discomfort and he decides that he won’t be coming back. He’ll just sign her up for ballet instead or Sarah could take Sloane to the other classes. Rafe does prefer taking Sloane to her classes though because he wants to be there for his daughter.

Right at eleven o’clock, the door to his right opens and his breath is taken away by the beautiful woman who walks out of it. She may be wearing nothing special, her red work t-shirt and yoga pants, but she somehow makes it look like she is wearing a dress made for the red carpet. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun with strands framing her face. All he wants to do is twirl those strands around his finger. “Welcome my little gymnasts and their parents! I am Y/N and I am so excited to lead you in Family Gymnastics,” a melodic voice greets and Rafe swears he has never heard anything so sweet. Hmm, so this is Sloane’s coach. He might have to keep her in the class after all.

———

Y/N doesn’t know why she is so nervous. She is Sloane’s gymnastics coach, so she has met and interacted with the young girl before. However, this time is different because she is going to be talking to the girl as her boyfriend’s daughter. She takes a deep breath as she knocks on the large door. A soft giggle falls past her lips when she hears the loud swears coming from Rafe’s lips and can see his panic through the glass door. Sloane comes running to her father’s side with a wide grin on her face. He takes her hand in his and they both walk to open the front door. “Hey,” he salutes with a stressed smile on his face. Seeing the state that he is in causes Y/N’s nerves to completely disappear. The only thought she has is how to remove his distress. She steps through the doorway and gives him a peck, “Hi, what’s wrong?” Before the fellow adult can answer, a tiny tug on Y/N’s dress causes her to look down. Sloane looks up at her coach with big eyes and her arms are out, demanding to be acknowledged.

The older woman smiles and picks the two-year-old up into her arms, “Hello, Sloane. How are you today, Pumpkin?” The girl grins at the kiss placed on her cheek and wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck. “Good! Daddy and I are making dinner for his girlfriend, Coach Y/N. But Daddy isn’t doing a very good job,” she tattles, causing her father to grimace. Y/N chuckles at the revelation, “Is that so? Well, maybe I can help him with that.” She carries Sloane to where she assumes the kitchen is in because it is the direction Rafe came from with him following behind her. The sight in front of her truly is a show. The pot is overboiling and there is a slight burnt smell wafting through the air. This causes Rafe to begin cursing again as he runs to the oven to pull out charcoal disaster. He gives his girls a sheepish look, “This was supposed to be chicken parmesan.” Her heart flips at his attempt to make her favourite meal for dinner. “It’s okay. If you have the ingredients still, then I can help you this time,” she offers, placing the girl on the counter.

After an hour, the trio are able to whip up something edible and eat at the dining room table. “Daddy, where is your girlfriend?” Sloane questions. Pasta sauce is smeared across her face and Rafe knows he’ll be finding it in odd places during bathtime. Y/N takes it upon herself to answer, “Well, Pumpkin, I’m your daddy’s girlfriend.” Silence falls over them and this causes her breath to hitch. Sloane looks between her dad and her gymnastics coach, trying to process what was said. The tension is cut when a massive grin slashes across the toddler’s face and she throws herself into Y/N’s arms. “Yayy! I love you,” Sloane exclaims.

———

The approach of pitter patters causes Y/N to stir. She has been living at Tannyhill for two months now; however, she hasn’t gotten used to having so many people around her. Her eyes flick toward the window to see the moon is still out, so curiosity fills her. The footsteps finally reach her bedside and she feels the poke of a small finger. “Mommy, I had a nightmare,” the three-year-old whispers. Y/N will never tire of hearing Sloane’s new name for her. The mother turns over to see her daughter, “It’s okay, Pumpkin. You can sleep with me and Daddy.” She helps the girl into the bed and nestles the young one between her two parents. The both of them try to go to sleep, yet it doesn’t befall them. “I’m still scared, Mommy,” Sloane informs, cuddling into Y/N’s side. The adult sighs and looks at a bedside table to see a pen. This forms an idea in her mind. She checks to see if her boyfriend is sleeping and he still is. How he can sleep with their movements is beyond her. She reaches for a pen and turns them both toward Rafe’s bare back. He is facing away from them, so his back is a perfect canvas for the two of them.

The two of them spent the night drawing on his back and giggling. Y/N had no idea how he didn’t wake up throughout the night. However, what the two of them didn’t know was that he had been awake the whole time. He stayed silent because he loved that the two people he loved the most in the world were bonding. So, when he woke up the next morning with new tattoos on his back, he pretended to be surprised and secretly grinned at the quiet laughter the two let out.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

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theostrophywife · 7 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter seven.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift.

author's note: more fluff, more banter. this chapter is just self indulgent cuteness.

Being friends with Theodore Nott was strange.

Though you still bickered and bantered, the undertone of your interactions were less hostile and more suggestive in nature. Theo had always been a flirt, but you never realized how good he was at it until your usual response of irritation sharpened into something else. It didn’t help that his presence around you had become more constant now that Luna and Pansy made things official.

“They’re sickeningly adorable,” Theo said as he slid into the bench next to you. “I’m fighting the urge to retch.”

You glanced up to find Pansy and Luna huddled close together, whispering and giggling at one another. “Oh, absolutely vile. No one should be subjected to their shameless canoodling this early in the morning.”

Theo poked your thermos with a piece of french toast. “Just like you shouldn’t subject yourself to that sorry excuse of a coffee flavor.”

You took an exaggerated swig and smiled. “The pumpkin spice is here to stay. You’re free to leave if you don’t like it, Theo.”

His eyes glittered with mischief. “Hmm, maybe I didn’t get a good enough taste last time. I think I’ll try again.”

“Don’t you dare, Theodore,” you warned, cradling your thermos protectively.

“Is it Theodore now?” He asked, raising a brow. “And here I thought I’d earned first name privileges out of that pretty mouth. Amongst other things.”

“Yeah, well, you seem to like abusing the privilege so maybe I should start cutting back on my generosity.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m equally as generous, if not more.” His smirk grew when he noticed you growing flustered. “I’d be happy to demonstrate, Y/N. In a broom closet. In an empty classroom. In either one of our dorms. Hell, even in the middle of this damned hall if you asked.”

“Tempting,” you said sarcastically as you attempted to hide the tinge of red that had crept up your neck behind a curtain of hair. “Sadly, getting expelled for exhibitionism isn’t really on my to do list.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Suit yourself. Just know that I have no qualms on getting on my knees for you, diavolina.”

You nearly choked on your coffee while Theo smiled innocently.

“Oi! Am I losing it or is this bacon burnt to a crisp?” Mattheo exclaimed as he obnoxiously plopped down next to you.

Enzo sat across from him and took a bite out of his toast. “You did ask for it to be extra fried.”

“I asked for it to be fried, not charred.”

Theo sighed. “What are you two tossers on about now?”

Malfoy appeared out of nowhere and took the spot beside his cousin. “Riddle’s convinced that the house elves are out to get him.”

“They are out to get me! Look at this monstrosity.”

“Yes, I’m sure Winky’s actively planning your demise,” responded Blaise with an eye roll. “You’ve officially lost the plot, mate.”

You blinked, utterly bewildered at how and when you’d adopted the four Slytherins into your circle. Across the table, Pansy frowned in disapproval. Her little bubble of bliss had been abruptly popped by the presence of the boys.

“You lot are scaring our poor Ravenclaw friends.”

Berkshire gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, girls. We’re sort of a package deal. When you date one of us, you date the whole lot.”

“Oh, joy,” you deadpanned. “I’ve always wanted to be in a polyamorous relationship.”

Mattheo smirked. “We are quite good at sharing. Aren’t we, boys?”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “On second thought, I think I’d prefer dying alone.”

“For Salazar’s sake, you’re even meaner than Pansy,” he muttered at his blackened bacon.

You smiled sweetly. “Aw, is someone a little grumpy because they got served ash for breakfast? Poor little Riddle.”

Malfoy snorted. “I wouldn’t mess with her, Mattheo. You know she almost pushed Vane off the bleachers the other day.”

“I did not!”

Theo chuckled. “Yeah, but you wanted to.”

You bit back a smile. “Maybe a little.”

“Everyone is talking about the dressing down you gave her,” Enzo said. “You’re kind of a badass, Y/N.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “More badass than you boys will ever be. Now stop pestering the poor girl and let her eat breakfast in peace.”

Despite the rough start, the rest of the meal was actually quite enjoyable. The Slytherins fought and argued like siblings, but you could tell that they all cared deeply for one another. No matter how much they teased and taunted each other, the boys were like rowdy brothers and Pansy, their elder sister and glue of the family. They all seemed to defer to the fearsome witch and you couldn’t blame them.

Parkinson was terrifying, but in the most amusing way.

As you wrapped up the morning, Pansy turned and the boys immediately fell silent. “Don’t forget our trip to Hogsmeade at the end of the week. You’re invited too, Y/N.”

“I have to stu—”

Pansy held her palm up. “Don’t bother. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Mattheo snickered. “What’s the matter, Y/N? Are you and Notty boy too busy eating each other’s gel—”

“Finish that sentence and I will impale you with my fork.”

Malfoy smirked. “Please do, Y/N. I’d like front row tickets to the show.”

“In that case, it’ll be a hundred galleons. A bargain, considering how deep those pockets are, Malfoy.”

“Violence and extortion?” Blaise asked with a sly smile. “I can see why young Theodore is enamored with you, Y/N.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Zabini.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You’re all honestly giving me a migraine. Parkinson, seeing as you’ve given me no choice, count me in for Hogsmeade. Loons, I’ll see you back at our dorm. To the rest of you, please do consider a refresher on manners. Except for you, Berkshire. You’re a sweetheart. No idea why you’re friends with this lot.”

Enzo blushed to the tips of his ears. The rest of the boys protested, but you were already halfway through the Great Hall to entertain their complaints.

“Enzo’s a sweetheart, is he?” Theo asked, smoothly matching your stride as you walked across the sunny courtyard.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Nott.”

He gasped, clutching his heart. “First Theodore, now Nott? You wound me, Y/N.”

The crisp autumn air filled your lungs as you and Theo sauntered through the castle grounds. “Following me now? Zabini was right. You are enamored with me.”

“Oh, absolutely enthralled, darling. You have bewitched me—mind, body, and soul.”

“You did not just quote Jane Austen to me.”

“I saw your tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice,” Theo said with a smirk. “I imagine quoting Mr. Darcy is a bit like foreplay to you.”

“Foreplay implies that you’re going to get lucky, which you’re not.”

“Is that why you’re leading me into a secluded forest?”

“I’m not leading you anywhere. You’re choosing to follow me. Stalking is the more accurate descriptor.”

“Maybe I’m curious as to why you’re going into the Forbidden Forest by yourself. Don’t tell me you’re meeting a handsome Mr. Darcy type out here.”

“Close. I’m here to meet Henry.”

Theo paused, furrowing his brows. “Who in the bloody hell is Henry?”

“You’ll see.”

The forest thickened and the unmistakable crunch of the freshly fallen leaves echoed in the clearing as you trotted on them with your boots. You stood underneath a towering oak tree whose gnarled roots choked the damp earth underneath your feet. As loud as you could manage, you placed two fingers in your mouth and whistled.

Beyond the tree line, a soft rustling emerged. You turned and found Henry galloping towards you. The thestral was barely a few weeks old, small and spindly with milky eyes and a sharp snout. He flapped his bat-like wings shyly as you knelt to the earth. You patted between his horns and smiled at the baby thestral.

“Theo, meet Henry.”

Theo crouched beside you. “Hello, Henry.”

The foal peered curiously at Theo. Henry glanced up as you gave him a reassuring nod.

“You can pet him, if you’d like. He’s fond of ear scratches and belly rubs.”

Theo looked unsure for a moment before gently scratching behind Henry’s ear. The baby thestral cooed and melted into his touch.

“Here, you can help me feed him too.”

You pulled out a sack of treats and handed some to Theo. “Henry’s quite young, so he’s not able to hunt for himself yet. Hagrid said that these treats will keep him healthy and fed until he gets his bearings.”

“I didn’t know that they could be this small. I just always assumed that all thestrals emerged as full adults.”

“Most of them are. The birth of a thestral is actually quite rare. This one here is the first baby born in over a decade.”

Theo nodded as Henry happily devoured the treats. There was a small smile on his face as the small horse nuzzled its snout into his palm. “I didn’t realize that you could see them too.”

“Yeah, after the war I’m able to see them as clear as day.” You scratched underneath Henry’s chin. “I suppose most of the school can, too. I think they look at the thestrals and see the loss of innocence. The price of war. The death and carnage. But when I see this little guy, I’m reminded of all the sacrifices that others have made so that I could be here. Henry symbolizes a new beginning. It’s not always pretty, but it’s real.”

The foal cooed as he basked in attention and affection. You and Theo played with him for a few minutes, giving him scratches after he diligently finished the last of his food. The thestral whinied in thanks before heading beyond the trees again. Henry flapped his wings happily, stirring the autumn leaves below him as he skittered off.

“Will he be alright?” Theo asked.

“He’s got his mum. She’ll look after him.”

Theo smiled a bit. “I suppose she will.”

The two of you walked back towards the castle in comfortable silence. In the past few weeks, Hogwarts had been suspended between autumn and winter. The air was tinged with chill and frost, but the first snowfall of the season was late in its arrival and you couldn’t wait for the day when snow covered the castle grounds again.

You had always adored snow. One of your earliest memories was waking up on Christmas morning to find London covered in a glittering blanket of white. You always considered that moment as your first real glimpse of magic. Especially after you and your mum spent the entire day making snow angels in the front yard while your father snapped pictures.

“What was your mum like, Theo?” you asked, your breath forming a cloud in front of you.

Theo slipped his hands in his pockets. “Beautiful. Smart. Funny. That’s what I remember most about her. She had a wicked sense of humor. We used to pull all sorts of pranks on each other when I was little.” He grinned as he recalled a memory. “She rigged my very first broom to make farting sounds every time I flew. Malfoy laughed so hard he tumbled into a bush.”

“That must have been fun growing up.”

“It was. Mum was a lot of fun, but she could be strict too. I swear I knew all of the basic spells and wand movements before I even stepped foot in school. She said I had to ace my studies at Hogwarts if I wanted to get into Cambridge.”

You smiled. “What was her favorite subject?”

“Most would guess potions, but it was actually a close tie with transfiguration. Mum once turned Goyle’s dad’s sock into a snake after he made fun of her haircut in fifth year. Professor McGonagall still brings it up to this day. Says mum was one of her best students.”

“I bet,” you said with a chuckle. “Now I know where you get all your mischievousness from.”

“My nonna always said that raising me was like raising her all over again. I swear, the old bat holds herself back from calling me Vittoria half of the time.”

“Is that your mum’s name? Vittoria?” Theo nodded. “It’s very pretty.”

“It means victory. My family is very intentional with names.”

“What does Theodore mean?”

“Divine gift.”

“It seems fitting for someone who generally acts like they’re a gift from above.”

Theo rolled his eyes fondly. His expression turned serious as you rounded through the Black Lake. “For years, mum tried and failed to get pregnant. Her health was already precarious to begin with and the healers told her that having children would be difficult. When she discovered that she was pregnant with me, mum called me her little miracle.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“I’m not sure how much of a miracle I turned out to be though. After she had me, mum’s health declined. She was bedridden a lot of the time until she passed. My father always said that she might’ve lived longer had I not been born.”

His jaw clenched. You were aware that Theo didn't have the best relationship with his father. The elder Nott had always seemed cold and standoffish the few times you'd glimpsed him on the platform with Theo. By their stiff interactions, it was easy to surmise that they weren't very close. Whatever obligatory ties they might've had was swiftly severed after Theo testified against his father after the war.

Despite the fact that he was locked far away in Azkaban, you hated that Mr. Nott still had the power to hurt his son. Even if it was just cruel words from the past.

"I'm glad you were." You bumped him with your hip. “What a dreary world it would’ve been without you, Theodore Nott.”

Theo bumped you back, catching you around the waist. “What about you? What are your mum and dad like?”

“My dad’s a conductor for the philharmonic, but he was a musician years before that. He can play pretty much every instrument. My mum’s a barrister. I used to put on her wig and robes and pretend that I was defending a case like I’d seen her do at court.”

“That explains a lot,” Theo mused thoughtfully. “The angry piano playing. The constant arguing. I feel like I’m truly getting a full picture of you, Y/N.” You stuck your tongue out rather petulantly, which only made Theo chuckle. “What about siblings?”

You shook your head. “I’m an only child.”

“So am I,” he said. “Though I never truly felt like it. I have an exorbitant amount of cousins. The Marchesis reproduce like rabbits, but it made for a fun childhood. Plus, there’s Pansy and the boys who are pretty much my family at this point. We’ve all known each other since birth.”

“That must’ve been nice. All my cousins were significantly older, so I was never really around children my age until I came here. All the other muggle kids thought I was too serious and grown up and I thought they were all childish and quite stupid.”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.” Theo draped his arm over your shoulder, ruffling your hair. “Did you ever get lonely?”

“No. My parents were my best friends, as lame as that sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds lame at all.”

You grinned. “Besides them, Luna was the first friend I ever made. Now, she’s more like a sister to me and I feel rather protective of her.”

“Pansy told me you interrogated her about her intentions.”

You shrugged. “Just covering my bases.”

“You know, Pansy’s mum and my mum were friends back then. She was overprotective of her friends too.”

“Sounds like my kind of witch.”

A faint smile bloomed on Theo’s face. “It’s nice to be able to talk about her.”

“That’s what friends are for, Theo.”

He stopped at the edge of the lake. Theo towered over you, nearly covering your small frame from view. He brushed his knuckles against your jaw, studying you thoughtfully. “Is that what we are, amorina? Friends?”

You tilted your chin up and met his gaze head on. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I’ll be whatever you want, Y/N,” Theo said as he traced your bottom lip with his thumb. “As long as I get to do this.”

Theo closed the gap between you and your breath stalled as his arm snaked around your waist. He pulled you flush against him, his mouth inches away from your own. Theo studied you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils before pressing his lips against yours. A tingling sensation set your body alight as he kissed you with a burning devotion reserved for the most ardent zealot.

The kiss was a prayer, an alm, a petition to the divine, but the words were in a language that you couldn’t understand.

His eyes burned like a funeral pyre and you felt the heat of it brush against your very core. Theo brushed his thumb against your cheek, his voice as rough and calloused as his touch.

“Sono pazzo di te.”

“I’m afraid that’s beyond my grasp of the Italian language. What did you say, Theo?”

Theo smiled. “I said I’ll race you to Charms!”

Before he even finished the sentence, Theo took off running. You yelled after him, cheeks red and hair streaming behind you as you chased him up the steps. You were out of breath and panting and very aware of how ridiculous you looked, but it was also the hardest you’ve ever laughed in your life.

The formal invitation to Professor Slughorn’s dinner came on the same day of the Hogsmeade trip. Up until then, you had successfully put the whole thing out of your mind, but the letter in your hand pushed it back to the forefront. By the time the last class rolled around, it was all you could think about.

Luna could tell that you were distracted as you walked through the castle halls. “Are you still thinking about the dinner?” she asked.

You sighed. “Honestly, I’ve put it out of my mind for this long, but I know I can’t keep avoiding it.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“A year ago, it wouldn’t have even been a choice. I would’ve jumped at the chance to attend, but now…”

“Things have changed,” Luna said.

“It isn’t fair, Loons. After the war, I thought things would get better, but there’s still so much shit to dredge through.”

“There’s always going to be shit to dredge through, Y/N. The good news is that you have people to tackle it with.”

“I think the people make it harder.”

“Because you care,” she said with a smile. “You don’t have to lead with your head all the time, you know. Sometimes it’s okay to let your heart call the shots.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I feel like I’m in one of these cheesy muggle soap operas. What choice will Y/N make today?”

“Whatever you choose, I will support you. I already spoke with Harry and told him to keep an eye on you should you choose to go.”

“Did Theo put you up to this?”

She shook her head. “We’ve had…conversations about it. I’m perfectly aware that Theo has strong opinions on the matter, but Pans and I would be glad to give him a stern talking to on your behalf.”

“I appreciate it, Loons. You know, I wasn’t sure about Parkinson at first, but I think she’s quite good for you. Terrifying, but good.”

You truly meant it. Over the past few weeks, you had gotten to know Pansy and the rest of the Slytherin gang quite well. Mostly because they seemed to follow Parkinson around like lost puppies, which was amusing in and of itself. Regardless, you had grown fond of the little terrors.

“My girlfriend in a nutshell.” Luna’s serene smile turned serious as she touched your arm. “I know I’ve been busy with Pans lately, but I want you to know that I’m always here for you, Y/N. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

You smiled and squeezed her hand. “I know, Loons. You’re a great friend. Even though you adopted five bumbling idiots without my consent.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I only brought four into the fold. One of them was already yours to begin with.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Speaking of which, what is the situation between you and Theodore? Pans will not stop pestering me about it.”

“We’re…friends.”

“Friends who sneak into each other’s dorms at all hours of the night, take strolls together in the Forbidden Forest, and stargaze at the Astronomy Tower. That kind of friend?”

You flushed. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m not judging,” Luna declared. “I happen to think that you two are adorable together.”

“Who’s adorable together?” asked the obnoxious voice of none other than Mattheo Riddle.

The boys were huddled by the castle entrance, dressed in comfortable layers. The last week of October had brought chill and frost, but snow had yet to make an appearance.

“You and the sound of silence,” you retorted with a smile.

Theo, Blaise, and Draco tried and failed to suppress their laughter. Enzo bit back a smile, which fooled absolutely no one. Pansy just sighed exasperatedly.

“Do you see?” Mattheo cried. “She’s always so mean to me.”

Theo draped an arm over your shoulder. He was dressed in a green and silver striped sweater with a pair of casual jeans and slightly scuffed trainers. The ensemble resembled something that the boys back home might’ve worn, but for some reason it looked a thousand times better on Theo.

“Don’t worry, mate. She’s mean to everyone.”

“Not to me,” Enzo said proudly.

You grinned. Out of all the boys, you admittedly had a soft spot for Berkshire. He always had a stash of treats from Honeydukes to share during your study sessions and was just genuinely nice to everyone no matter what house they were in.

“Obviously Enzo’s my favorite.”

“That’s not fair,” Draco complained. “He bribes you with fudge.”

“Better step it up then, Malfoy.”

“Honestly, I’m offended,” Blaise said rather dramatically. “I shared my expensive face creams with you, Y/N. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“And it was a very special night, Zabini. But you can’t beat chocolate.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Let’s go before you lot derail this whole trip with your madness.”

“Coming, mum,” you said brightly.

Parkinson glared at you, but it was short-lived given Luna’s giggle. The blonde took Pansy by the hand and your comment was all but forgotten.

As always, the charming village of Hogsmeade was littered with your fellow students. High Street was decorated for All Hallow’s Eve, complete with enchanted pumpkins, floating cauldrons, and charmed skeletons that popped up to frighten the witches and wizards strolling through the busy shops.

The group entered Gladrags first. The boys, with the exception of Draco and Blaise, immediately occupied the benches towards the front of the clothing store. You took advantage of the peace and quiet and perused the rows and rows of rich robes, quirky hats, and crazy patterned socks. Though you preferred the simplicity of muggle clothing, you had to admit that the wizarding world offered some interesting choices in attire.

After half an hour, your group walked out with nearly half the store. The Slytherins took the phrase ‘shop until you drop’ into a whole other level. The purchases that Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were so heavy that it had to be carted off back to the castle.

You visited Dervish and Banges in which the boys spent an exorbitant amount of galleons on quidditch equipment. The group then made its way to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes where Mattheo almost lost a finger faffing around with a nose-biting teacup. Draco and Blaise stayed behind to wait for Mattheo and Enzo to ensure that they made it to dinner with all of their appendages intact, while Pansy and Luna popped into Madam Puddifoot’s for some chamomile tea, leaving you and Theo to explore Scrivenshaft’s on your own.

“You didn’t have to come with,” you said as you examined the new stock of stationary. “I’m sure watching the Weasley twins hustle Riddle out of his money is much more entertaining than looking at boring old quills.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. Besides, Mattheo’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

You snorted as you picked up a quick writing quill. “Oh, I don’t know. Riddle might need his knight in shining armor to rescue him from those villainous redheads.”

Theo smirked. “You think I’m a knight in shining armor?”

“Hmmm…” you cocked your head and examined him. “You’re more like the sarcastic sidekick, I think.”

“I’ll remember that, Y/N.”

“Add it to the list,” you said with a sly smile. “I’m sure you’ve got a running tally on the countless times I’ve bruised your fragile ego.”

Theo clutched his heart. “Mattheo’s right. You are mean.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

His lips curved up into a dangerous smirk. Theo leaned over you, bracing one arm against the shelf behind you to cage you in. “Oh, I do, but I enjoy fucking the attitude right out of you even more.” You swallowed thickly, backing into the bookshelf. Theo’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Not so feisty now, are we?”

You rolled your eyes and smacked him against his chest. “You’re an absolute pest, do you know that?”

“Add it to the list,” he responded cheekily.

The flirting and banter followed you all the way out of the stationary shop. You and Theo argued for ten minutes after he took the shopping bag out of your hands and carried it for you.

“I’m perfectly capable of toting my own things around, thank you very much.”

He shrugged. “A gentleman never lets a lady carry her own bags.”

“I wasn’t aware you were a gentleman.”

“Only when I want to be,” Theo said. “You should take advantage of it. You never know when it’ll happen again.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at the bag in his hands. “Give me back my bag, Theodore.”

“Drop it or I’ll haul you over my shoulder and carry you around the village instead.”

“Fine, you win this round.”

Theo smiled triumphantly. “Y/N admitting defeat? This calls for a celebration. Honeydukes it is.”

The candy shop smelled as magnificent as it always did. Rows and rows of rainbow colored treats greeted you in every direction. You felt as giddy as you had in first year when the trolley of succulent-looking sweets passed through the aisles of the Hogwarts Express. You picked out your favorites—cauldron cakes, nougat chunks, and pumpkin pasties.

Though the shop was packed to the brim, you moved easily among the aisles as Theo cleared the way. He quirked a brow at the mountain of sweets cradled in your arms, but said nothing as you marched up to the register.

“Will that be all, miss?” asked the kindly shopkeeper.

“And a batch of your freshly made fudge,” Theo requested. “Put it on my tab, Mrs. Flume.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Theodore.”

The shopkeeper disappeared at the back of the shop to fetch the fudge. You nudged Theo with your elbow.

“I can’t let you pay for all of this,” you hissed sharply.

“Of course you can. I’m disgustingly rich, remember?”

“I know, but it wouldn’t be right.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve put up with my friends for weeks on end. Consider this as payment.”

“This more than makes up for the debt. It’s not even equal at this point.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Half of this is for my benefit. Can’t have Berkshire beating me for that number one spot, can I?”

You chuckled. “Are you trying to bribe me, Theo?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

The mouth-watering scent of freshly made fudge hit you as Mrs. Flume handed Theo a large pink bag. Bribe or not, Theo was definitely on his way to dethrone Enzo as your favorite.

“You’ll spoil your dinner,” Theo said as you popped a square of fudge into your mouth. The chocolate dissolved on your tongue as you released a sigh of satisfaction.

“What are you, the chocolate police?”

“What’s a police?”

“They’re like aurors, but without wands.”

“Well, one could argue that the amount of sweets you’re about to consume is a threat to public safety.”

“Would you rather I be a threat to your safety instead?”

“I’d say you’re already doing a rather excellent job of that.”

You stuck your tongue out, but Theo didn’t seem to notice as he looked behind you. The bell chimed softly as you exited Honeydukes only to walk right into a winter wonderland. The cobblestone streets were as crowded as ever, but many stalled in their path to look up at the flecks of white falling from the sky. A gentle breeze sent a scatter of snowflakes to pile up in the storefronts, decorating High Street with glitter and wonder.

The first snowfall of the season certainly did not disappoint. You ran out into the street, catching snowflakes on your tongue while laughing giddily. Theo watched with a small smile as you twirled around, your blue and gold scarf blurring while you spun and spun underneath the clear, blue sky.

“Easy there,” he said, catching you around the waist before you could slip on a patch of ice. “I’ve never seen anyone get this excited over a bit of snow.”

“It’s the first snowfall of the season!” you exclaimed. Theo chuckled as you dragged him out of the busy streets, weaving through shoppers and villagers alike. You didn’t stop until you reached the end of the village. “Come on, you have to see the view.”

At the edge of the small, sleepy village, you could see the blanket of snow covering Hogsmeade. It made everything glitter as the sun disappeared over the horizon. You felt so happy that your heart could burst.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Snow dotted his mop of curly brown hair, the glittering flakes catching in his long lashes as he stared down at you. “Yeah,” he murmured, releasing a cloudy breath. “The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

Theo’s gaze softened. He reached out and brushed the snowflakes off your bottom lip with his thumb. The nervous bob of his throat was so uncharacteristically earnest that you nearly did a double take.

“I want you to go to that dinner tomorrow night, Y/N.” His voice was soft and carried none of the argumentative tone that it usually did when you discussed Slughorn’s dinner. “I understand why you don’t want to and believe me, I wholeheartedly agree. But I’d never forgive myself if I stood in the way of the one thing you’ve been working for since first year.”

You sighed. “It’s not just you, Theo. It’s Pansy. Draco. Blaise. Enzo. Even Mattheo. I don’t want to support anything that alienates my—my…friends.”

Until this moment, you hadn’t realized how fond and protective you’ve grown for the Slytherins. Somewhere between quiet mornings sipping freshly brewed coffee with Pansy, game nights in Malfoy’s ridiculously huge dorm, studying with Enzo in the Great Hall, comparing skincare products and exchanging tips with Blaise, and even riling up Mattheo with your ridiculous arguments, the little group had stolen their way into your heart.

They were your friends and you would do anything for your friends.

“All of us think that you should go. After all, there’s nothing more Slytherin than turning something terrible into a golden opportunity. If you get that recommendation, you’d be the first muggleborn member of the M.E.S.P., so you have to go. Go and make your favorite serpents proud, Y/N.”

Warmth spread through your chest. You could tell that Theo felt strongly about this. That he truly and genuinely cared about what an opportunity like this meant for a muggleborn witch like yourself.

You found yourself nodding after a moment. “Fine, I’ll go but you have to let me eat another piece of fudge.”

Theo smiled and those charming dimples peeked out of each cheek. “Not a chance in hell, dolcezza.”

You groaned dramatically. “Is that all or are you going to start lecturing me on my irresponsible consumption of sweets again?”

Watercolor eyes flickered over you. “There is something else,” he said softly. “There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you, Y/N. I think you’ve already guessed by now but I—I think I’m—”

Before Theo could finish his sentence, a snowball hit him square in the chest. You yelped as a barrage of snow came raining down upon you. High up on the hill, Mattheo and Enzo skittered between the trees. Your would-be attackers laughed as they continued to hurl snowballs in your direction.

“You’re dead, mate!” Theo bellowed as he dragged you behind him. “You two are absolutely and positively dead.”

The two of you crouched behind a large rock. You peeked around the corner, trying to calculate your next steps. Pushing past whatever moment the boys had interrupted between you and Theo, you turned to your curly headed companion with a smile.

“I know that look,” Theo accused. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

“You still have those dung bombs from the twins?”

He nodded and handed over the array of goodies he purchased from the Weasleys. The plan came to fruition a few minutes later. Mattheo and Enzo were safe up on their high hill, but you and Theo were not about to let that deter you. He followed as you crept up the fortress, keeping guard as you palmed a snowball in your hand.

Mattheo spotted you first. He hurled snow at you, but you easily dodged his attack. When he left himself exposed, you flung the snowball with all your might. It hit him in the leg before exploding and drenching him with the stench of dung. Riddle nearly retched at the foul smell while Enzo doubled over in laughter.

Theo took advantage of the situation and hurled his own snowball at Enzo’s stomach. Within seconds, the stench worsened. The two boys threw their remaining snowballs on the ground and signaled their surrender.

“Dung bombs?” Riddle exclaimed as you came closer. “Nice touch, Notty boy.”

“Don’t look at me, mate. It was all Y/N.”

Mattheo’s eyes widened. Enzo burst into laughter. “Told you not to mess with her,” Berkshire said as he cast a scouring charm over the both of them.

“I’ve got to give it to you, Y/N.” Mattheo said with an impressed tone. “You’re more devious than I gave you credit for.”

“You have no idea what you just started, Riddle,” you declared with a triumphant smirk. “If i were you, I’d sleep with one eye open tonight.”

You flashed him the most evil smile you could muster before dusting yourself off and heading down the hill. The boys stared after you before following.

“I am genuinely afraid of her,” Mattheo murmured.

You didn’t have to turn around to know that Theo was smirking. “Now you know how I feel, mate.”

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#mattheo has such baby of the family energy and i love him for it #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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michiviv · 7 months

Text

comfortember, prompt: sweater weather

synopsis: katsuki has his own tradition with you.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

warning: reader has a little sibling (mentioned), reader and katsuki are married, katsuki towers over the reader, reader is referred to as wife

notes: i hate this one ughh, it’s cute though 🥹🥹but it’s also so short 😭

word count: 581

before you katsuki hated traditions. he refused to partake in them with his family. Mitsuki wants to go to a pumpkin patch? you best believe he would rather stay home and do chores than do such corny and cheesy things.

now, when the two of you started dating, he didn't think this would be any different. he’ll let you do your own thing while he does his… but how could he say no to you? you were so cute, so reluctantly… he agreed.

he agreed to do matching costumes with you for Halloween and hell, he even went trick-or-treating with your little sibling. He agreed to go to the pumpkin patch with you, his lover. he went apple picking, carved jack-o-lanterns, and went to the corn maze with his group of friends for the first time.

it wasn’t just fall traditions too, he started celebrating Valentine's Day, started having movie nights with you, and went to the music festival with you. any tradition you wanted to create with him he would be more than happy to have with you.

eventually, he felt the need to create his own unnamed tradition. something that didn't come from you and solely from him. which is how he began to make any excuse to give you his sweater when the weather cooled..

he's made sure to do this since your second year dating even to now when you're three years married.

“oi,” he starts, sauntering over to you. the sweater he wore barely concealing his muscles. “’yer not appropriately dressed for this weather.”

you look up from the pumpkins you were currently inspecting and raised an eyebrow at him. you have noticed how during October and November he always tries to give you his sweater. not that you’d ever complain about that. you get to show the world that you’re wearing your husband’s sweater, it smells like him and you get to watch his muscles flex as he undresses. it seems like a win all around.

“how am i not appropriately dressed, katsuki?” you asked chuckling softly, standing up to “meet his height”, but your darn husband towered over you. practically craning your neck to look up at him.

“you have no sweater,” he said rather smugly, crossing his arms with a smirk, “you can catch a cold.”

“i think ill be alright, babe. i have long sleeves and it’s not that—“

“the weather is cooling. you don’t know if the weather can drop,” he argued, uncrossing his arms as he began to take off his sweater. careful to not flip it inside out before handing— no, forcing it into your hands. “i don’t want my beloved wife to get sick.”

you gave katsuki a look, raising your brow at him. “and what if my husband got sick instead, hm? what is japan going to do without their best hero?” you asked, heeding his request however and putting on his sweater.

his sweater completely enveloped you, his musky scent immediately enveloping your senses. it was nice, he smelled faintly like caramel, burnt caramel, but caramel nonetheless.

“they’ll have to survive; my wife is more important.” he replied smugly, crossing his arms.

“you’re so lame, katsuki. i don’t think your sidekick will like that” you laughed,

“he can survive a week.”

rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to one of the pumpkins in front of you, “what do you think about this pumpkin?”

“it’s too small, i want our pumpkin to be terryfing this year.”

#fluff #soft bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #mha bakugou #mha fluff #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #comfortember #wife reader #x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki fluff

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beyondthesefourwalls · 9 months

Text

And You Will Find Me

Summary: The last thing Bradley expected when he was assigned to the unofficial “singles without a plus one” table at an old friend’s wedding was to meet who he thinks might just be the love of his life. But that’s exactly what happened.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n) (can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Language, fluff, love at first sight.

Notes: Written for @roosterforme's ‘80s Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge, and as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. Song selection is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper.

The Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin first meeting one shot that I’ve been wanting to write since I referenced it in part three of RYEWID. The fact that I could do it for a challenge for one of my favorite people makes it even more exciting for me.

----

Bradley Bradshaw: Table Four

He grabbed the gold trimmed cardstock with his name on it, sipping on a glass of bourbon as he made his way into the reception hall. It didn’t take long to find his placement with the elaborate centerpieces displaying calligraphic numbers.

There were only two open seats left at the table, which was occupied by a group of people who were all staring down at their phones. He glanced around the rest of the venue, seeing all of the other tables bustling with conversation and laughter. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the awkward silence that seemed to hang over this one in particular. No one seemed to know each other, and it didn’t look like they planned to make any effort to change that.

He groaned to himself and wondered, not for the first time, why he had thought attending this wedding was a good idea.

He hadn’t seen Sean in years, and had never even met Lucy. The two had been roommates for two years at UVA and had somewhat kept up with each other over the years, if only barely. They had always joked about how on the off chance either of them got married, they’d make each other's guest list. Bradley had laughed when he got the invite in the mail. He had waited until the last minute to send in the RSVP, but had ultimately decided why not? He wouldn’t know anyone there, and hadn’t managed to find a date in time, but he hadn’t been to Philly in way too long. He’d make a quick weekend out of it and see an old friend.

He hadn’t realized until he got into town how awkward going to a wedding on his own would be.

He sat in one of the empty seats, nodding to the guy on his right who forced a smile that looked just as awkward as it felt before turning his attention back to his phone.

Bradley was glad he had thought to refill his drink before cocktail hour ended.

He was scrolling through his phone when he saw a flash of orange out of the corner of his eye at the same time the seat next to him was pulled back.

He glanced up briefly to offer a quick smile to the new arrival and looked back down at his emails, only to do the quickest double take of his life. His breath caught in his throat and he swore his heart stopped, only to start again three times faster.

Holy hell.

“Is anyone sitting here?” you asked, and Bradley had to blink a few times before he realized you were talking to him, because your voice was mesmerizing.

“All yours,” he managed to say. He would have winced at how his voice cracked if he wasn’t trying to remember how to breathe. You offered a warm smile as you gracefully sat down. You were a vision in a long sleeve, burnt orange dress that looked like it would be silky to the touch. When he glanced down, he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop from groaning when he saw the slit going up the side and the nude heels on your feet. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you were sitting beside him fiddling awkwardly with your place card as he stared at you.

“I’m Bradley,” he finally managed to introduce himself, extending a hand out. You looked at him in surprise.

“Oh! Hi.” You took his hand with a soft, gentle grip, your eyes locking onto his as a spark went through his whole body. Your eyes widened a fraction and he wondered if you felt it, too. He almost didn’t catch your name when you said it because he was so distracted by the feeling. “So, bride or groom?”

“What?”

You laughed softly, and he worried about going into cardiac arrest at the sound. “Are you here for the bride, or for the groom? I assume since you’re at this table it’s either one or the other and not both.”

“This table?”

You glanced around at your other tablemates, still busy with doing everything they could not to make eye contact with anyone else. Then you leaned closer to him, and he couldn’t help but do the same. You whispered to him like you were sharing something salacious. “The singles table. The ones who came alone and who wouldn’t know anyone else, and who they’re kind of surprised RSVP’d ‘yes’ to begin with.”

Bradley let out a loud laugh, and you giggled right along with him. The sound was like music. It earned you both curious and maybe even annoyed looks from all those at your table. He hadn’t considered that before, but now that he thought about it, you were absolutely right.

“Groom,” He replied, “College roommates. You?”

“Bride,” you told him. “Ironically, also college roommates.”

“Well would you look at that,” Bradley smirked, and he knew the amusement that sparkled in your eye was mirrored in his.

He was interrupted from saying anything else from the DJ tapping on the microphone to formally start the reception. As the bridal party danced their way into the room to Celine Dion, he kept stealing glances at you. To his pleasure, you were stealing them right back. By the time Sean and Lucy were seated at the front table and the DJ announced that dinner would be served momentarily, Bradley could barely look away. There was a smile on your face that indicated you didn’t mind at all.

It continued that way through the meal that was eventually placed on the table. You didn’t speak much as you ate, both of you feeling like you were disrupting the other six people spread out on either side. But you kept catching each other’s eyes and smiling before you looked away, and his cheeks were nearly hurting at how big his smile was.

Fuck.

Bradley barely even knew your name, and he was already down bad.

You leaned over to him during the speeches that started immediately after dinner, and he caught another whiff of your perfume. He tried his best not to noticeably take a deep breath of the scent. “Do we think the best man is already drunk?”

“Oh, he absolutely is,” he confirmed. The man in question was laughing hysterically at a joke he just told, already swaying on his feet. “I saw him throwing back an entire flask right before the ceremony.”

Your nose scrunched up in the most adorable cringe he had ever seen. “Yikes. I don’t really blame him though. The maid of honor is his ex-fiance. I’m pretty sure she left him for groomsman number three, but I can’t confirm.”

He looked at you with wide, curious eyes. “Did Lucy tell you that?”

“No,” you laughed, mindful of keeping your voice down to not draw any attention to yourselves as the slurred speeches continued. “I drove up last night and then was bored before the ceremony today. Social media is very informative, you know.”

Bradley choked out a laugh, absolutely amazed at you. “Are you a private investigator or something?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You picked up your wine glass with a smirk, and you winked at him before you took a sip. “A journalist, actually. But close enough.”

A journalist. Bradley filed that information away in a new folder in his brain that had your name on it.

Clapping drew his gaze away from you, and he realized he had completely shut out the rest of the speech. He cleared his throat and joined in, and the two of you watched as the bride and groom did their first dance. It felt like it lasted forever, but that was probably because he was itching for it all to be over so that he could talk to you again. He wanted to know more about you. In fact, he found that he wanted to know everything about you.

Everyone clapped again when the dance came to an end, and Bradley was turning to you before the DJ even finished announcing the beginning of the party.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, and he thought the look you gave him was a mix between delighted and amused. Your eyes cut to your mostly empty wine glass where he could very much see exactly what you had been sipping on. He felt heat creep up his cheeks in embarrassment.

“White wine,” you said anyway. “What are you drinking?”

He fought the grin that was threatening to take over his face. You were keeping him on his toes, and he found he quite liked it. “Bourbon.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m about due for a refill.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You glanced around the table where the other occupants were back to scrolling through their phones or focusing on anything that wasn’t another human being. He almost laughed at the look on your face when you turned back to him. You grabbed your clutch from the table and the two of you rose out of your seats at the same time without even having to say anything.

“After you,” he grinned, and your smile made him dizzy. He ordered another whiskey while you got Pinot Grigio. He laughed when you told him you weren’t allowed another glass, because too much white wine apparently made for a very interesting night. He filed that little tidbit away, too.

With fresh drinks in hand, you turned to walk back to your assigned seating. The lights had dimmed and the music had turned to something upbeat and very cliche, and the majority of the attendees had converged on the dancefloor. You navigated around them carefully. His hand hovered over your lower back, not quite touching, but wanting to. You drew to a stop when you were only a few feet from the table, your head tilted to the side.

“I hate being seated at these tables,” you muttered. “Always makes me feel like maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

Bradley had been thinking the same thing until you had sat down beside him and shook his hand. He couldn’t help but flex his fingers as he remembered how his skin had buzzed at your touch. He glanced around the whole venue again, not quite knowing what he was looking for until he caught sight of the patio through the large windows.

“Do you want to ditch and go outside with me?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself. He held his breath when your eyes snapped to his, slightly wide in surprise. But they softened quickly, and you nodded, tucking some of your hair behind your ear with your free hand.

He held out an arm, and after only a moment of hesitation, you slipped yours into it. He almost felt like he was floating as he guided the two of you toward the open doors.

The patio was decorated beautifully. It stretched almost the entire length of the building, and twinkle lights lined the ceiling and the pillars holding it up. Smaller tables and furniture were spread out amongst the concrete and the two of you settled into the soft cushions of one of the outdoor coaches.

It was a mild night, even for early February in Philadelphia, and the heat coming from the fire pit in the middle of the table in front of you was enough for it to be comfortable. You sat in silence for a beat, but it wasn’t awkward. Your fingers danced over the rim of your wine glass and Bradley’s gaze followed as you brought it to your lips. You caught his eye as you swallowed, and he felt the heat creep onto his cheeks at being caught staring at you again.

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his own drink to gather himself. “So. A journalist. What do you write about?”

“The hypocrisy of old men, mostly,” you shrugged, and Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You laughed at his expression. “I cover politics,” you explained. Your joke registered with the context and he chuckled.

“So just how hypocritical are the old men of Philadelphia?” he asked, and you seemed delighted that he was going along with it.

“Eh,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Very, I’m sure. But I cover Washington, which is definitely worse. I live in DC.”

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat. Excited disbelief had his eyes widening. There was no way. In the back of his mind he had admittedly already been thinking of how often he could feasibly make the drive from Andrews to Philly, because he knew he had to see you again. Tonight couldn’t be the only time, not with how he was feeling and how he was pretty sure you were, too.

“Small world,” he finally managed, trying to keep his voice steady despite his racing heart, and now your eyes were widening back. The happiness in them was hard to miss, and, holy shit, you were excited about this. He felt the urge to pinch himself.

“You live in DC?”

“I’m at Naval Air Facility Washington doing extended training at Joint Base Andrews,” he told you, still in a bit of disbelief, but feeling giddy.

“Ah. Navy man, huh?”

It took a moment for Bradley to realize his cheeks were red again. He doesn’t think anyone has ever made him blush before, or at least not as many times as you had tonight already.

“Naval Aviator,” he elaborated.

You smiled, and it felt like the whole world disappeared except for the two of you as you held out your glass. He raised his to tap against it in cheers. “Here’s to small worlds, then.”

“And to college roommates,” he added, and your laugh took his breath away.

The two of you sat there with your drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, talking about everything and anything. He found himself hanging onto your every word. He couldn't help but be drawn in by every single thing about you. He learned that you grew up here in Philadelphia and, like him, you were an only child. You got your undergrad in journalism and then a masters in political science and moved to DC before the ink was even dry. You were a little bit addicted to coffee and true crime podcasts, and you were a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan. He told you about growing up in Virginia and being in the Navy, and about his love of the 80s and playing piano.

But you talked about more than just the surface level stuff, too. As the occasional sound of laughter drifted outside from the dancefloor and the fire pit glowed in front of you, you told him how sometimes, you wondered if you were really cut out for your career, because the nature of what you had to cover drove you absolutely crazy, and you felt like people focused on the wrong things. You tended to have a self-imposed terrible work/life balance and your anxiety crept up on you because you’d ignore it for too long. You weren’t close with your parents, and your bucket list was full of things you were scared you’d never be able to do.

In return, he let you in on the reason he wanted to join the Navy in the first place, and growing up with a single mother and what it was like when she got sick. He confided how he had a bad habit of hesitating both in and out of the air, and how he didn’t really have any connections or relationships outside of the Navy that went more than just skin deep or a memory of what used to be.

He shared more with you than he had with anyone else, and somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was like he had always known you, or at least like he was meant to now.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you realized just how much time had passed. Before you knew it, the music from inside was starting to soften and the lights were turned back on, and the servers came outside to start collecting empty glasses and trash.

“Oh wow,” you breathed in surprise, “We missed the whole reception.”

You stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then at the same time, you burst into laughter.

“Can I walk you back to your hotel?” he asked you once you had calmed down. You had mentioned how you were staying just a few blocks away, and the thought of you walking alone or getting a car this late at night didn’t sit right with him. It was strange, how he already felt the urge to protect and care for you.

Plus, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, much to his relief.

The bride and groom were inside wishing everyone goodbye, and you both took a moment to speak to your respective reasonings for being there. Neither of you lingered for long, and the balmy night air greeted you again when you exited the building after collecting your coats.

You didn’t hesitate to link your arm with his when he held it out this time. He felt warm all over with you this close to him. Despite the late hour, the city was still alive with people out and about and laughter and conversation spilling out onto the sidewalk from every business you passed. He held onto you a little tighter when you walked by some decidedly way too drunk people, but you didn’t seem to mind. You kept the conversation going just as easily as it was when you were sitting on the patio, swapping embarrassing stories from your college days. You were walking through the park, nearly at your hotel, and it was when you mentioned something about dancing on a table at a frat party after too many shots of Fireball that he came to an alarming realization. He stopped so abruptly that you were slightly yanked back into his body, and you looked at him in concern. Before you could ask what was wrong, he was blurting the words out.

“I never asked you to dance.”

You gave him a confused look and then snorted in amusement. “I suppose you didn’t.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, tilting his head back and slapping his palm to his forehead. “I had the perfect opportunity to dance with you and I never asked.”

You were still laughing, your feelings clearly not hurt at his lack of consideration. But he was already digging his phone out of his pocket and swiping open his music app. He held it out in your direction. “Pick a song,” he told you.

“What?” you laughed. “Bradley!”

“I’m serious! Pick a song.”

He pushed his phone a little closer, and with an amused look, you finally took it. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before you started typing, and then the soft sounds of Time After Time were floating in the air.

“You said you loved the 80s,” you said almost shyly. But Bradley smiled, taking the phone back and slipping it into his jacket pocket. The music was muffled now, but you could both still hear it.

“It’s perfect,” he told you. He held out a hand for you to take, and once you slipped your palm into his, he pulled you close. You rested your head on his shoulder as you began to sway. The night was quiet and serene as you danced, and he didn’t know what he did for his night to turn out this way, but he was so glad that it did.

When the song came to an end, you stopped moving, but didn’t separate. You picked your head up and looked at him, your eyes locking together. You didn’t say anything at first, but eventually, you sighed and a soft, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

“I should probably get back,” you whispered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, desperate to stay in your presence for as long as possible. You had entered his life so unexpectedly, and he was wishing with everything in him that you wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. “You aren’t going to turn into a pumpkin once the clock strikes midnight, right?”

You shook your head at his joke, giving him a playful wink in return. “I don’t know. This does feel a bit like a fairytale.”

Your words made him grow a little more serious, and he swallowed thickly as a charged energy seemed to settle over both of you. You bit your lip as you stared, your gaze wide and saying a million things at once. You had the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. He wanted to look at them forever.

"You know," he said, his voice lower now, like he was afraid to disrupt the moment by being too loud. He brought a hand up to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “This is not how I anticipated my night going.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken words, his hand still lingering near your cheek. Then, in a move that felt natural and inevitable, he leaned in, and you met him halfway. Your lips touched softly, a spark of electricity passing between you. It was a kiss filled with promise, a taste of what could be. It was as if time stood still, the world around you fading away until it was just the two of you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless. Bradley looked at you with a mixture of desire and genuine affection that should have scared him, but it didn’t.

"Wow," you whispered, your lips curving into a shy smile. He knew exactly what you were feeling with that one word, because he felt it too.

He brushed his nose against yours, breathing you in. “Tell me I can see you again when we get back to DC,” he begged.

You let your hand rest against his chest, and he was sure you could feel the pounding of his heart. “I was hoping so,” you said, and he breathed out a happy laugh of relief before kissing you again.

Standing there under the soft glow of the lampposts, Bradley thought he might love you already.

-----------

Masterlist

Notes: I hope y'all loved this one as much as I did! I miss these two so much.

Special thanks to Mak and Em for all of their help, and to Mak for the banner!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl @greatszu

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

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spiderfunkz · 10 days

Note

can you make a Peter parker fic where they’re baking together? 😇😇

─── 𐙚 smashing pumpkins

pairings. tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings. fluff, pet names, established relationship, teasing, mentions of insects lolz.

word count. 0,3k

a/n ; i can't cook or bake so i have no clue what i'm doing but i hope you like this little blurb! my requests for peter are open by the way, go ask something <3

"peter, i don't think it's supposed to look like that."

you laugh. peter's hands were tinted orange from scooping and cutting up the pumpkin, making it into pumpkin puree for the pie. he wanted to help, but it seemed like he was the puree in this situation.

'it's puree?" peter shrugged, wiping his hands on his apron. "you left the seeds in it. here," you scoop them up from the bowl. peter disagrees, "well... it smells nice, so, i think it'll be okay.." he smiles, mockingly.

"it does smell nice." — "i'm a professional chef. baker. what can i say?" he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. "ok professional chef, baker. can you make the rest of the pie, pretty please?"

he nods, "yes. absolutely, if you want the kitchen to burn down, yes. absolutely."

you smile. you love baking with peter. you loved the flour fights, the strawberry tinted kisses, and the soft scent of cake and sweets.

oh, and that one time you two almost burnt down the kitchen because you both completely forgot about the brownies in the oven, too busy dancing around to the song in the background.

after a while, a few distractions, surprise kisses, and a little fight with the dough. the pumpkin pie was finally done!

"smells so good, bub." peter takes the hot pie out of the oven.

"bet it tastes as good. we gotta let it cool down a bit." you say, taking off your apron, peter does the same. "can i add sprinkles onto it?" he asks, you nod, "and whipped cream?" you nod, "and chocolate icing?" you kept nodding to everything he was saying.

"alright i'll find the spiders in the backyard."

you furrowed your brows, "what?"

"you nodded.. to me.. asking if i could put insects in it.."

"peter that's disgusting."

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker #tasm #tasm fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm spiderman #andrew garfield!peter parker

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catsburgers · 6 months

Text

i cant believe mumbo was brought back to life and proceeded to carry the mounders to victory....... wow...

full bodies under the cut, will break down their designs for fun too

bee double oh one hundred!!

moss on shoulders from his moss skin

compass became a lives count

dinnerbone nametag in pocket is a reference to his upside down house, and the red is specifically referring to what life hes on. if he was green it would be green etc

earth keychain referring to his house

2 zombie bites referring to how he died to a zombie twice LMAO

shovel for the mounders BAYBEEE!!

mister mumbo jumbo

i already posted this design but didn't include any info so

im obsessed w/ the robot hcs iv seen so i decided fuck it why not. redstone powered cyborg. he had his parts replaced during lastlife after all the time he tinkered w/ end crystals

the knot of his tie is a heart, and his tie is burnt after he died in the lava

heart cufflinks. idk man i loved sneaking in hearts wherever i could on the designs

sewn on patches on his book bag. redstone, a book and an apple (god i WISH i remembered why i put an apple on that??)

heart bookmark!! like bdubs, it shows what life he's on :3. his tie would also change colors

monster shoes stolen from a pin on my pinterest feed. idk hes a vampire he'd have funny shoes.. like its in the contract did u not read it

ANVIL. comedic anvil squash sfx. yeah

shovel!!! mounders!!

umbrella looks like the deep dark :^)

pearl pearlescentmoon my aus bff

fanny pack. like a true aussie.

keeps her book in there!!

AND THONGS (flipflops). she'd wear them i just know it

moth wings too ykyk

SHOVEL BABYY!!!!!

enchanted flame bow!!

wearing tilly's collar too

joel small beans

listen bro didnt give us anything to go off so i just went basic

heart on shoes, red streak and red eyes yk how it goes

pumpkin patch for lizzie... ough..

diamond shovel!! the only mf to have a damn diamond one in this whole group...

dumb lil antenna i FORGOT TO COLOR but im too lazy to fix.. srry

he keeps his book in his pocket bc i was too lazy to draw another book

yeah thats all rlly :P

#secret life #trafficblr #life series #secret life smp #life series fanart #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #bdubs fanart #bdoubleo fanart #secret life fanart #mumbo jumbo #mumbo fanart #mumbojumbo fanart #mumbojumbo #pearlescentmoon #pearlesentmoon fanart #smallishbeans #smallishbeans fanart #joel smallishbeans

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ptersparkers · 2 years

Note

hiii can you write something w Aaron where maybe he has a soft spot for Reader?

hi hi! i hope you enjoy this one and thank you for the request! x

***

The small town in Kansas is colder than you’d anticipated.

The precinct isn’t helping either. It’s cold inside the building, which surprises you because it’s nearly the same temperature outside. You’re already off to a bad start in your day because your favorite jacket to bring on work trips is hanging in the motel closet.

Half of the team is gathered around the white board that has the names and photos of victims and possible suspects. Aaron, Dave, and Emily are already inside when you approach and you waste no time in formalities before diving into the conversation while the rest of the team are in the field.

An hour goes by and your best efforts aren’t enough to keep you warm. The burnt coffee isn’t helping your shivers and neither is constantly pacing around the room. Emily and Dave step out for a momentary break when Aaron sees you rub your arms as you look at reports from where you’re seated.

“Cold?” Aaron asks.

“A little,” you confess with a shrug. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Where’s your jacket?”

“I left it in the motel because I was running late,” you sigh, flipping through a multitude of reports.

He doesn’t hesitate when taking off his quarter zip pullover and you’re more than shocked when he hands it to you.

“Sir, I can’t take your sweater.”

“You’re freezing,” Aaron says, his voice laced with concern.

“You’ll be cold, though,” you say with a frown. Aaron chuckles and gestures at the pullover in his hands. He watches as your nimble fingers grasp the fabric.

“I’ll be fine. You look like you need it more than I do.”

You try not to blush as you tug the sweater over your head. The fabric is warm and you nearly melt when you think about how it smells exactly like Aaron. He gives you a once over, a smile adorning his face when he sees that you’re much warmer than you were when you walked into the precinct.

Emily and Dave come back a few minutes later with coffee for the entire room. Both of them look between the two of you, and you’ve made yourself busy with looking through police reports to notice Aaron trying his best to divert their attention from you and back to the case at hand.

Hours later, the team has regrouped at the latest crime scene to examine a lead that you had caught during your examination of police reports. Spencer’s the first to ask you if you’re wearing Aaron’s sweater and you’re bashful enough to answer. Derek hides a laugh that Aaron isn’t all too appreciative of.

“Jesus, my hands are so cold,” you mutter to yourself. Aaron’s ears perk up and when he looks at you, you look as though you might fall from exhaustion. “I’m not built for this type of weather.”

“Why don’t we wrap up and get some coffee,” JJ suggests. “I saw a place up the road I wanted to try.”

“We should probably get back to the precinct to finish the profile,” Aaron says.

“Please?” you ask, rubbing your hands together. “We could use the break and the extra energy.”

Aaron looks at you and relents.

“Let’s finish up and get some coffee.”

There’s a collective hum of agreement from the rest of the team and it urges all of you to finish the task at hand as quickly as possible. Derek nudges your arm with his elbow and you shoot him a quizzical look, but he just laughs.

JJ leads all of you to the quaint coffee shop that smells like pumpkin spice and feels like a warm embrace. Everyone takes turns ordering and paying for their coffee, and you can’t help but salivate at the thought of sipping on a quality latte when all you’ve had is burnt coffee from the precinct. You’re about to pay for your latte when Aaron hands his credit card to the barista and orders a black coffee.

Emily and JJ are giggling like schoolgirls and Dave doesn’t hide his amusement. You’re somewhat in awe of this kind gesture and tell Aaron that you’ll pay him back, but he brushes you off and he tells you that it’s not a problem.

“Aaron,” you say pointedly, “seriously. Let me at least return the favor.”

He looks at you fondly and doesn’t correct you when you forego the formal names everyone’s been calling him. Instead, he looks at you with what almost seems like adoration when you say his name.

“When we get back.” The barista hands Aaron his coffee and he breaks his gaze. Emily snorts and Aaron pretends like his coworkers hadn’t caught him paying for your coffee. Your name is called last and you walk to the pick-up counter while Aaron rejoins the group.

“What, can’t afford to buy a coffee for all of us?” Dave muses.

“No,” is all he says because you’re walking back towards the group and Aaron feels like his cheeks might be a little too red.

When the case ends, it’s eleven in the morning and all of you elect to fly back to Quantico the moment the jet is ready. You thank your lucky stars and text your cousin that you’re, for once, available to meet for dinner that night while he’s in town.

You keep yourself busy with an extra book you’ve packed. The chatter on the jet is muffled by the sound of the aircraft and when Aaron walks to the kitchenette to make himself a cup of coffee, he asks you if you want anything.

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” Emily asks from in front of you.

“You know where the tea bags are,” Aaron says before turning around to get you a bottle of water that you’d asked for.

“Aaron whipped for you,” she says when he’s out of earshot.

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “He’s my boss.”

“Your boss who’s whipped,” Derek interjects. “Come on, sweetness. Giving you his jacket and buying you coffee? You don’t see him doing that for any of us, do you?”

“Look, this pathetic little crush I have on him will die down soon and you guys don’t have to tease me for it,” you whisper, afraid that Aaron might be standing behind you. “Besides, it’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, honey, we aren’t teasing,” Emily relents. “We’re stating the facts.”

“You of all people know that Aaron can bend a few rules,” Derek says. “I mean, look at Rossi.”

You sneak a glance at the man who sits adjacent to you and he winks.

“Not you too,” you groan.

Aaron returns momentarily and you thank him for the water. You’re grateful that neither Derek nor Emily have decided to tease the two of you as Aaron takes a seat beside you, and you do your best to focus on the book in front of you.

The jet lands mid-afternoon and your go-bag is tucked away in a drawer in your desk when Penelope greets you with a bone crushing embrace. She smells of vanilla and sweet flowers, and you realize that you’ve missed her bubbly presence after being stuck in a small town for a week and a half.

“God, I missed you guys,” Penelope says, moving from you to Emily, who walked in after you did. “Are you still going out with Adam tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a pleasant smile. “He’s picking me up in a few hours so I’m gonna try my best to not look like a zombie that came back to life.”

“Are you guys still going to that Italian place near your apartment?” Emily chimes in, leaning against your desk. “God, I’ve wanted to eat there for ages.”

“Hell yes,” you say with vigor. “He offered to pay so who am I to say no to free dinner?”

“I miss Adam,” Penelope says while dramatically fanning her face. “I will never forget when he took us to a cocktail bar and paid the bill like it was nothing. That is a man.”

“Who’s Adam?” Aaron says from behind you.

“A hunk of a man,” Penelope responds, almost as if she’s stuck in a daydream.

He remains quiet for a moment.

“I hope you enjoy dinner,” Aaron says before beelining for his office.

“Uh-oh,” JJ speaks. “I think Hotch might be a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” you ask. “Of my cousin?”

“I get the feeling that he doesn’t know Adam’s your cousin,” says Emily. “You should probably go in there.”

“And do what, Em? I’m gonna embarrass myself by explaining that Adam’s my cousin because Hotch probably doesn’t care that I’m going out with someone.”

“Girl, you are absolutely delusional,” Penelope chides. She gives your shoulder a nudge with her own. “He practically threw a fit just now. Hotch likes you and the only person who doesn’t know that is you.”

You sputter. “No he doesn’t.”

“Tell that to the man who’s brooding in his office because you’re going on a date tonight,” JJ points out.

“It’s not a date.”

“Again, Hotch doesn’t know that.”

You’re so wrapped up in the thought that Aaron might feel the same that you don’t register your feet carrying you into his office. You knock once with your heart thumping in your chest and his voice beckons you inside.

“Y/N,” he says. “Can I help you?”

“Do you want to get coffee with me this weekend?” you blurt out. “I still owe you a cup.”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Aaron says. Your heart sinks and you’re wondering if you still have a job tomorrow.

“Oh.”

Your voice is small and you hide behind the false confidence you had from when you walked into his room. Aaron’s standing by his cabinets, filing away reports, when he turns to look at you.

“I just mean,” he begins. Aaron stops himself and you watch him shift his balance on either leg. “It would be inappropriate to take you up on coffee when you have a date tonight.”

“I’m not going on a date, Aaron.”

He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re not?”

“No,” you say quietly, taking a step towards him. “Adam’s my cousin. He moved to the west coast a few months ago and I don’t get to see him as often as we used to, but he’s in town this week.”

“And you’re meeting up with him,” Aaron remarks slowly as if he’s piecing what you’re saying together.

“Exactly,” you say. “Besides, I’d really like to get coffee with you.”

Aaron’s gaze is fixed on you.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting your lip out of habit.

“Yeah. How does Saturday morning sound?”

“I can do Saturday morning,” Aaron replies.

“It’s a date.”

You leave his office with a lovesick grin on your face that Derek’s the first one to call you out for and from what you can see through his half-closed blinds, Aaron’s wearing the same look on his face.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner blurbs #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds blurbs #aaron hotchner onehsot #aaron hotchner oneshots #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x oc #my writing

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starbabyg · 6 months

Text

Swiss Pastries and Friendship Renewals | Nico Hischier

For Demi from your Hockey girlies discord fic exchange bb 💞💞 @wyattjohnston I’m actually making you a mini series bc I love this idea so muchhh and I have this whole plot in place I hope you don’t mind!!

Plus as a bonus here’s a whole playlist for youuu!! 💗💗

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘

2019

It was autumn in New Jersey, the weather had gone cold and the leaves were starting to turn auburn. Nico watched people through the shop windows as he walked home. Families shopping for the holidays. Couples laughing as they bonded over fondue and pumpkin spiced cocktails. He thought it was sweet seeing people happily living their lives. He came upon a small coffee shop, looking through the window and seeing someone he knew looked familiar. He could only see her side profile, but in his bones he knew he had seen the girl before. The oh so familiar girl leaned a bit over to grab something out of a bag perched on her shoulder, and Nico knew that it was who he thought it was. Nico made his way into the shop, a new sense of excitement flurrying through him.

“No freakin’ way, Demi?” He came up behind her, a large smile plastered on his face. It had been a while since he had seen anybody from up north, he had only spent a short while there but the memories were still fresh in his mind.

“Oh my god, Nico!” Demi immediately brought him in for a hug, remembering that soft face of his, that smile that he had always adorned. “I haven’t seen you since you left for the states!”

“It’s been a couple years now huh, this is the first time I’m seeing anybody from Halifax. God that group was wild. How is everybody?” Memories of that small Canadian town started to flood his senses. The little bits of nostalgia giving him a sense of glee.

“Yeah, our little group really was something, huh. Everybody is doing their own thing. Stacy and Jonah have a kid now. Yeah, they’re still together. Miles moved to Toronto. You know, everyone just in different places doing different things. I haven’t been that in touch with them either. The old times were good though,” she smiled as she reminisced.

Nico saw the look on Demi’s face, a tad bit somber as she was deep in thought. He felt a bit bad. “How bout we catch up over some coffee and pastries? It’s been a while and you were always my favorite.” Smelling the scent of coffee and what smelled of sweetly burnt sugar, Nico could not resist the temptation of a warm drink on that chilly day. The pastries encased in the display window were no help either.

“That is such a lie Hischier, we were not as close as you were with Evan. Or even Julia. Which, by the way, was that all about? I never got the full story,” she joked, scanning the menu although she already knew what she was going to order.

“Oh? Julia? She was a nice girl, she just used to come off very strong. I didn’t really know how to let her down easy,” Nico scratched the back of his neck as he thought about each awkward encounter after the other.

“That’s Julia, always going after what she wants. I’m a little surprised you didn’t date her though, she was one of the prettiest girls in town.”

“I just liked another girl, that’s all. Julia wasn’t my type,” he shrugged as he walked up to the front counter, “what do you get from here? I’m not much of a coffee guy.”

“I got you,” Demi placed her hand on Nico’s shoulder as she turned towards the barista, “Can I get two caramel brûlée macchiato’s and two apple caramel strudels?” Demi began shuffling through her bag again, pulling out her card, as she attempted to hand it to the barista Nico swiftly snatched it out of her hand. Instead placing his card in the barista’s hand.

“Still fast as ever, huh Hischier,” Demi shook her head as she led Nico to a table in the corner. The coffee shop was tranquil, a good handful of customers murmers living up the joint as some soft holiday music played in the background. The lights were warm and cozy, a bright shade of copper that lit the couple’s faces up. Overall just a nice and homely vibe that Nico could get used to.

“You know me,” he chuckled, pulling her seat out for her to sit, “So what brought you to Jersey out of every state?”

Demi shrugged, “Just more opportunities. Close to New York City. Close to my folks who never left Halifax. I really don’t know if I’m going to be honest.” The question came as a bit of a shocker. Demi herself had never really asked herself why she came to Jersey. It had just happened.

“And how’s it going for you out here?”

Demi thought for a second. Career wise, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She wanted to fib just a bit, just to make the situation sound a bit better for her, but it was Nico and she felt no reason to lie. “Honestly less than satisfactory. I’ve been doing freelance gigs for this company but I’m not passionate about my work. It’s just being an errand girl for people who aren’t the nicest. The pay is measly compared to cost of living. Lately it’s just work, eat, like thirty minutes of actually doing what I want to do, then sleep.”

“So what do you really want to do?”

Demi was taken aback just a bit, “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that. I’ve always liked writing. Something in journalism perhaps. Maybe write a book or two. I just want the freedom to be creative with my work.”

“Makes sense, I remember you used to work on the school paper! I used to read your little opinion column!” Nico remembered and pointed his finger excitedly. He could still remember the little pieces, always marked by the ‘written by senior editor Demi’ in little letters under the title.

“No way you used to read my writing Hischier,” Demi felt a bit bashful, covering up her blushing cheeks. “I used to try to hide the paper from the group because I was too embarrassed for them to read it. You know how they got with teasing.”

“Don’t know why you were embarrassed. Your writing was really good, funny too.” Nico was a bit surprised by her reaction. Demi had never been one to be shy or even embarrassed. Always holding up a headstrong attitude even when the group was in major trouble.

“Awe, why thank you Hischier. I appreciate that. I wish I could write more now, but juggling these gigs and trying to solidify an actual career out here, it’s just impossible I wish there was something—”

“Order for Demi,” interrupted by the barista, Demi got up for their order. Nico watched as she got up and interacted with the barista, the two of them having a small conversation that ended with laughter. Somehow she was glowing underneath the tungsten lighting. Turning around with tray in her hand, Demi carefully made her way back, cautious as to not spill the two piping hot drinks.

“Okay, this spot has the best fall drinks and the most authentic Swiss pastries in Jersey. I remember you always came to school with a homemade apple strudel, so I had to see you try this one. It’s like fall in a pastry. Apple, caramel, with powdered sugar on top. It’s to dieeee for.”

Nico smiled as he listened to Demi describe the order. It was very thoughtful of her to remember his old favorite school snack all these years later. Watching her place the order down, an idea sparked in his head.

“So first you gotta try the strudel, savor it. Then after try it again and take a sip of your macchiato after.” Demi rested her chin in her hands, just a little too excited to see how her old friend would like the goods from her favorite coffee shop.

Nico did exactly as he was told, lifting the strudel up and taking an ample bite. His senses were then filled with the sweet tang of baked apples, his tongue coated with the spice of cinnamon. Demi nodded, gauging his reaction that she knew he would most definitely have. Nico couldn’t believe that a strudel this good could actually come from a small shop in Jersey. It had tasted just like home. He then grabbed his Macchiato, about to sip it before Demi’s hand jerked it away.

“Oh my gosh, be careful. That thing is piping hot,” she chuckled as she saw Nico’s eyes bulge up. He set the coffee cup down and leaned over to blow it gently. “I know it smells good but you gotta wait a couple minutes so it doesn’t leave your tongue burnt for the rest of the day.”

“You just saved me. I was being a bit hasty huh,” Nico shook his head as he felt a bit bashful. He watched as the cream swirled in the coffee every time he blew into it.

“I’m literally your savior Hischier,” Demi gave him a cheeky wink.

“That means you haven’t changed much from school. You saved everyone’s asses. Always got us out of trouble. Always saved us right before we coulda died. That’s why you were my favorite, you were always the coolest of the group,” he laughed. Now thinking of all the high school shenanigans, all of the times they were yelled at by adults. Caught trespassing. With every time Demi having to mediate and bargain with authority.

“Mmm, makes one of you,” Demi pursed her lips. Her mood shifted a bit as she took a long sip of her macchiato.

“Huh, what d’you mean?” Nico sat there clueless.

“You know everyone else in the group had their closer bonds. Everyone grew up with each other. And I had just moved from Australia the year before you came. They liked me cause I was different and it was a small town, but they didn’t bother to get close to me like they were with each other. And they were all kind of assholes if I’m being real,” Demi shrugged. “Which is why I’m working my ass off out here cause I refuse to go back. I don’t even care if I have to work all day as long as I don’t have to go back there.”

Nico got quiet, only murmuring a little ‘oh’ under his breath. He truly did not know what to say. Just watching Nico sit there in his thoughts, Demi placed her hands on the table. She hated an awkward moment. Couldn’t stand them.

“So how ‘bout some Brunsli cookies? They actually import chocolate from Switzerland and they taste sooo decadent. Just like the chocolate your mother brought you to school that one day. Speaking of your mother, how is she?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Moved back home so I don’t get to see her much except for the off season. She sends me stuff from back home all the time. Especially those chocolates. I can bring you some if you’d like.”

Demi’s eyes lit up, “Really? Those are literally the best chocolates I have ever tasted. You would be a godsend giving me some.” Her mouth started to water at the thought of those chocolates, how they just melt in your mouth. The rich flavor that was better than any American chocolate.

“Of course. You don’t know how many boxes I have in my apartment. My kitchen counter is covered with them. I barely have time to eat them let alone put them away,” Nico jokingly sighed as he pictured his kitchen counter that was literally covered in Läderach and mom- and - pop shop made chocolates.

“Ohhh let me come over to your place and those chocolates will be goneeee. But really, I can help you organize those chocolates and put them away— if you need some assistance.”

“I could use a lotttt of assistance. My life has been hectic for a while now and having those stacks of chocolates out of sight is one less thing to worry about. I’ll even give you all the chocolate from my stockpile that you want.” Nico just

“I mean, I’ll take the chocolates. But I would have done it anyway. You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I help you out any way I can?” She smiled and took a bite of her pastry, crumbs falling down the sides of her mouth which Nico thought was adorable.

Nico couldn’t help but look at Demi with the admiration he used to look at her back when they were in secondary school. “Honestly people like you are very hard to come across. You surely are a rare breed out here Demi. Nobody is selfless like that anymore. Always asking what’s in it for them.” Demi was like a breath of fresh air to Nico.

“Well duh. It’s Jersey. Everybody out here has a bad attitude,” she rolled her eyes in a joking manner. Although she hoped no native New Jersians heard that because they would surely give her an earful.

“You aren’t wrong,” Nico chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t help but think about the endless encounters he had faced with rude fans, people in public, and especially people in the industry. It had honestly started to take a toll on him.

“Well you sure are lucky to have found me again huh. The sweetest, kindest, most nicest person in the world,” Demi teased in a sing songy manner. She batted her eyes in the most obvious way. Nico thought she looked like a Disney princess.

Nico just looked at her with admiration, “Why don’t you be my assistant,” he absentmindedly said. “Er— only if you want to. It’s not like you need to—”

“Hischier, Hischier. Calm down. Let me hear you out before you get all anxious on me,” she placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder.

“I’m just saying. It could be beneficial for the both of us. My last assistant was crap. Didn’t help me out in any way but was getting paid handsomely by the Devils. You need a better job. And more time to do what you actually want to. We can help each other out!”

Demi just sat there thinking. ‘It would be a better job than my shithole job. I don’t know about the pay yet but more time to do what I actually want to will help out with my career moves. And it’s just Nico. He’s not that bad. He’d be a better boss than my current one.’

“Okay. I’ll take the job.” She took the leap. Maybe this would be good for her. The change in pace might be just what she needed to get to the next step in her life. Any change in scenery would be better than Demi’s current situation.

“I knew it. It’s fine. I was just suggesting–” Again Nico started with his anxious rambling. If Demi didn’t stop him he would have went on until the coffee shop closed.

“Um, Hischier. Did you not just hear me? I said I’ll take it,” Demi knew Nico wasn’t the best listener but sheesh. How much in his head was he at the moment?

Nico formed a smile, “Oh? I made an offer you couldn’t refuse huh,” he poked at her, speaking in his best east coast accent. It was terrible, but Demi could never tell him that.

“Honestly I could’ve heard a better job pitch from a child. But you’re my friend and you’re cooler than my current boss so why not. I think we could benefit from each other as well. As friends.” But she could tease him still.

“Friends with benefits??”

“Ew, gross. Don’t be gross like that Hischier.”

#hockey girlies discord fic exchange #hockey girlies discord #nico hischier #Nico Hischier fic #starbabyg #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nico hischer x reader #Nico Hischier imagine #New Jersey devils #Hischier #starbabyg masterlist #Nico Hischier fluff

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codfanficedits · 9 months

Text

Believe.

CW: ANGST. A lot of angst </3 no proofreading because i cried while writing it

Fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

“Do you believe in alternative universes, lieutenant?” You ask Ghost, while the both of you lay in the grass, his large hand holding yours.

“What?”

“I was watching this movie the other day, and there were like an infinite amount of universes. So an universe where I would be your lieutenant.” You say with a slight chuckle.

A light squeeze in your hand. “That would be quite the sight.” Ghost answers, and while you can’t see his face, as your gaze is on the moon, the tone of his voice tells you he has a smirk on his face.

“Alternative universes, huh?” Ghost repeats.

“Yeah. What universe would you want to live in?”

“Depends, what would my options be?”

You let out a groan, you just explained that there could be an infinite amount of universes out there. “Think big.” You urge him. “You know, an universe where you’d work at Starbucks.”

That remarks rewards you with a laugh from Ghost. Not a polite, fake laugh, but one of those laughs that comes from his stomach. “Can you imagine?” He snickers. “I’d be fired on the first day for killing a customer.”

The image pops up in your head. Your lieutenant not wearing his usual army uniform but a Starbucks apron, an annoyed look on his face as some woman goes off ranting about some sort of discount. Him trying to get a straight face when he tries to explain that a military discount does in fact not apply when you’re dating a marine, but he keeps his temper in check with the first customer, only to completely lose it when a man comes up when he calls out a drink for Debra. The male customer going off about how he didn’t order a Venti pumpkin spiced latte, about how stupid the barista’s at Starbucks are. It is in that moment, in that universe that Ghost decided he didn’t need that goddamn job. The thought of it alone is enough to make you snicker too. “Shit you’d make the headlines.”

Ghost stays quiet for a brief moment. “Would that mean there’s an universe where my father..” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know what he means. Your heart aches for him, an empty sensation in your chest. During one drunken night Ghost confessed all that had happened in his childhood. The words spilling out of his like a drunken waterfall. Word after word flowing out of his mouth, leaving him a drunken, crying mess. When you tried to bring it up the next day he waved your worries away. The fact that he brings it up right now.. It hurts.

“Yeah.” You mutter as you fixate your gaze on the moon. “That universe does exist.”

“Huh.” Ghost lets out a soft sound. “I hope that version of me is happy.”

Your hand squeezes his tighter, as if you want to never let go, as if you want to heal his inner child with every ounce of love you have in you.

His voice breaks the silence. “What do you think the version of us who didn’t join the military would have as a job?”

You need to think for a moment before you can answer his question. The army had been your life the moment you had joined, all your friends were in the army, some of them being close enough to you to be considered family, Ghost being one of those people.

“I think I’d be a teacher.” You eventually say. “You know, I’ve always enjoyed teaching people, and I have a lot of patience.”

Ghost laughs at your answer. “You? A lot of patience? I’ve heard you yell at Soap for fucking up a recipe.”

“In my defence.” You start your protest. “He was frying a goddamn egg and burnt the whole thing to a crisp. You have to be a complete moron to do so.”

“And you think kids won’t be complete morons?” Ghost questions.

“That’s different.” You try to save your skin. “But maybe not a teacher. Maybe I’d be more fit to be an artist, or a florist or something.” A soft sigh follows your words.

“Ya know. I could see you be a florist.” Ghost answers you. “I could see you tend to flowers, make bouquets. Coming home smelling like a thousand and one different flowers.”

The idea alone brings a smile on your lips, maybe that would’ve been a life you would have enjoyed. “What about you?” You ask Ghost.

“A mechanic.” A sense of pride in his voice. “I might not be the best driver there is.”

“That’s an understatement.” You chime in.

“Shut up.” Ghost mumbles. “As I was saying. I’m not the best driver, so I’d have to learn to fix my car myself, and you know, one thing leading to another, and before you know it, I’d be a mechanic.”

You can’t deny that the idea of Ghost being a mechanic does seem right to you, he’s smart enough to learn things like that, not afraid to get his hands dirty. But of course you can’t let the opportunity to bully your lieutenant slide.

“Even if there are an infinite amount of universes, I don’t think there is a single one where you’d be a good driver.”

“Oh I swear to God.” Ghost groans. “I wreck three cars and all of the sudden I’m a bad driver.”

You close your eyes as warm, wet droplets fall on your face, the rain feels refreshing and you’re in no mood to leave the grass, being too comfortable on your back, Ghost laying next to you, your fingers intertwined.

“This would mean that there is an universe where I would be a dad.” Ghost mentions. You want to turn your face, look at him, but the rain would make it uncomfortable, so you decide against it.

“I think you’d make a wonderful dad.” You say with a soft voice. The image of Ghost being a father filling your mind. The big, scary, buff lieutenant being a dad to a little girl, trying to get her ponytails as neatly as possible. The big, scary Ghost sitting at a pink table that is way too small, pretending to drink tea, holding up is pinky as he does so. Ghost going to a fair with his little girl on his shoulders, winning a big stuffed unicorn for her at a shooting game. Softie Ghost who has to first back the tears when his little girl leaves for the first day of preschool. Big dad Ghost holding his girl tight after her first break up, wanting to break a neck someone breaking her heart.

The big, scary, buff lieutenant holding his baby boy for the first time. A tiny baby being held by those large hands. The big, scare Ghost roughhousing with his boy, letting the kid win. Loud groans filling the living room as he admits defeat. Ghost going to a fair, his little boy holding his hand before he tries to teach his son how to shoot. Softie Ghost, clenching his jaw and trying to hold back the tears when he prepares his sons lunchbox for his first day of preschool. Big dad Ghost, silently cheering on his son as he musters up the courage to ask his crush to prom.

“Yeah. You’d make a wonderful dad.” You repeat yourself. You can tell by the way Ghost squeezes your hand again that your words mean a lot to him, and you can’t blame him, given his own childhood.

“You’ve never answered my first question, Simon.” You say, as the reality of the situation starts to settle in. “If you could choose any universe, which one would you like to live in?”

It stays quiet for a moment, before you open your eyes, turning your head to look at him, blood splatters painting your face red, as your mind tries to convince you that it is just the rain, and you know that if you close your eyes again, you’d believe it. You can tell by his raspy breath that it is getting harder for Ghost to cling on to life.

“I think.” He starts, as the bullets fly around you, the bullet wounds in your lower abdomen and chest are starting to hurt more and more, and you can no longer ignore the burning sensation they bring. No matter how much you try to focus on your conversation. His head turns to face yours. “I think I would like to live in the universe where I would take you out for dinner after this mission.”

A soft, sad smile forms on his lips. “Or I would like to live in the universe where you would come home from your florist job, and I would be at home waiting for you, our little boy and girl being ecstatic that you’re home again.”

He squeezes your hand one more time, it takes him all the strength that he has left. “I’d like that.” You whisper. “I think I would love to live in that universe too.”

You’re lucky enough that he can hear those words before the light leaves his eyes. If only you’d both be living in another universe. If only this universe would give you both another chance. Your eyes shift to your hand, your fingers still intertwined with Ghost’s as you wait for your death to come.

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look-at-the-soul · 7 months

Text

Trick or treat 👻

Robert Fischer x reader (blurb)

Summary: Robert meets the cutest little bad b*tch witch

“Okay what do we say when they open the door?” You looked down at the small witch holding your hand.

“Good evening, trick or treat?” Your daughter answered in a singy-song tone.

“Now go and knock on that door.” You encouraged her.

Piper, your yorkie flanquead by her side wearing a pumpkin harness with matching leash.

“Oh! Grab your cauldron.” You stammered nervous, this was her first time trick or treat in the city after moving out from your parents house and Alix had been excited since the beginning of October for this moment.

After a one night stand with the wrong person, you got the biggest blessing of your life, and your parents were over the moon with their only granddaughter, they were already considering moving closer just to see you and her more often.

As she was about to knock again you decided to try on another apartment, perhaps no one was inside.

“How can I help you?” A male voice asked from behind.

Turning around your jaw almost dropped to the ground at the man in front of you; he was wearing an immaculate blue suit wit hug a purple tie. A briefcase hanging from his hand.

“Good evening! I’m Alix… trick or treat?” Your daughter announced ceremoniously.

The man took in from her, to the tiny dog wagging her tail in excitement and then to you, ever so slowly until his blue eyes met yours.

“Sorry we don’t wanna disturb you.” You added, moving the hair back from your face.

“Not at all,” he smiled and then looking at your daughter he asked; “are you a good witch?”

“I’m a bad bitch.” Alix answered at the top of her lungs.

He laughed really loud while you shook your head embarrassed.

“Alix…”

“I want to be a bad bitch!” She repeated.

Once he stopped laughing, he wiped the corner of his eyes, he opened the door to his apartment. “Want to come inside? I think I’ve something.” But then he realized of one small detail. “I’m Robert by the way.” He extended his hand towards you.

“Y/N the bad witch’s mom… sorry about that.” You blushed.

“Don’t worry I got it,” he laughed again, your daughter entered the apartment before you had time to react. “After you.”

“Do you’ve chocolate?” Alix asked him, struggling with her hat.

“Alix.” You warned her but Robert seemed to be smitten by her.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

��What’s a matter?”

Mentally you groaned.

“It’s hmm when you’re sure.” Then he looked at your left hand, holding the yorkie up. “How’s the candy hunting going?”

“This is the first door we knock. We don’t know anyone here, still unpacking things, we live two floors up.”

“I don’t know anyone to be honest.” Robert admitted from the pantry.

“You don’t have to, really.”

“I know I’ve chocolate somewhere…” he trialed off. “So what brought you here?”

“My work I got a great offer at a firm and it was best for my daughter and me.” You pointed out empathizing it was just the two of you.

“Lawyer interesting,” he nodded. “Do you like it here Alix?”

“Yesh!” She twirled making her skirt float.

“So you could get me out of trouble then?” He opened a couple of cabinets.

“Depends of what kind of trouble you get in.”

Robert gave you a double look with a smirk.

“What?” You asked shyly suddenly.

“You sounded just like her, she gets it from her mama.” Robert replied taking off the jacket of his suit and folding the sleeves of his shirt. A moment later he shouted excited. “Here!”

Alix stormed towards the pantry before you could stop her, following her you were shocked to see it was the size of three kitchens like yours.

“Look mommy!” She emerged with a box wrapped in a fancy bow, you knew the brand, those were bloody expensive.

“We can’t accept that.”

Robert gave you a confused look while your daughter frowned.

“Of course you can.” He nodded and looked at the little witch struggling with the box. “There’s white chocolate, burnt caramel, dark truffles…”

“Robert.”

“Mommy pwweeease.”

“How can you have the heart to say no to that face?” He pushed with a huge grin.

“Fine, but you only get one.”

“Can we go now? I want more candies!”

Robert was biting his lower lip as he pondered into the idea that got in his mind.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful but I was thinking why don’t you continue the trick or treat route in the building then come back here, there’ll be a hot dinner waiting with a glass of wine if you want of course.” He offered.

Your eyes sparkled. “Do you’ve Rosé?”

“Whatever you want.” He rested one of hands on his hips, a rebel curl messed onto his forehead.

“I’ll bring tiramisu as dessert.”

“Right then, don’t let her get a sugar comma.” He winked. “See you in a bit bad witch.”

****

A/N I just had to write this really quick! 🥰🤭 make sure to look at the link 👇🏻 thank you for reading! xx

Video inspiration: bad bitch 🤭😂🤣

Master list

Blurbs

Tag list @lyarr24 @ttzamara @gretelshelby @camilahpg03 @acillianproblem @chishiyasan @allyly @fastfan @thomashelbyswife @lespendy @onlydeadcells @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @cloudofdisney @heidimoreton @esposadomd @stevie75 @raincoffeeandfandoms @elenavampire21 @mrkdvidal1989 @thenattitude @adaydreamaway08 @darleneslane @sloanexx @shaddixlife @forbidden-forest-witch @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @ange-thoughts @babaohhhriley @kmc1989 @allie131313 @everythingelseisextra @nela-cutie

#that’s what Cill said #robert fischer inception #robert fischer blurb #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer imagine #robert fischer fanfic #robert fischer x you #cillian murphy characters #Cillian Murphy robert Fischer #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 6 months

Note

what do you think the chains favorite breakfast foods are (if they eat breakfast)

I WAS HALFWAY THROUGH ANSWERING THIS AND MY PHONE DIED AND DELETED EVERYTHING I HAD WRITTEN, DEATH AND SORROW AND DESPAIR.

Okay I'm good now.

ANYWAYS, I split you ask into two sections: first, their favorite food ever if they can get their hands on it, the second what they like to eat on the road. And then a final unhinged rant at the bottom about the one thing about teenage boys/young men and their food that I'll never understand: Bacon.

Legend--I have a feeling that he likes sweets. Specifically, waffles with whipped cream and berries. They're a little burnt, but Ravio made them for him, so he'll pretend he doesn't notice (and grows to like them better that way). On the road, he'll go for coffee/tea (he's not picky) if one of the others make it, or nothing at all.

Hyrule--does he have a favorite breakfast food? Food isn't very stable where he comes from--Legend and Wild would spoil him so much in regard of expanding his palate. But I imagine that something like a fried mixture of beef/sausage, vegetables, and a starch (perhaps an even poorer version of an already poor person food Shepherd's Pie, perhaps? it could be a breakfast food) would be a sort of filling, tasty, and easy to procure/make/preserve food that he'd like. On that note, I would say something simple, easy to get and preserve, and hardy would be his go to breakfast on the road--maybe meat jerky.

Wild--Also a sweets person. Fruit cake, cinnamon rolls, frosted cupcakes, basically all the little delicacies he could get at a dumb party 100 years ago, he ain't picky, it's for breakfast and it's fueling a day long sugar high. On the road he, unlike the other Links, can be pretty creative with his breakfasts, and he likes his spice as well. So, I think he'd like Meaty rice balls.

Four--direct this question to someone else please. He has four voices in his head fighting to answer right now, and none of them agree. I surely dont know if he doesn't.

Time--Pancakes and farm-fresh scrambled eggs and toast with jam. Malon makes it for him. What can I say. On the road he is a habitual coffee drinker, he wouldn't be functioning in the mornings without it. But he'll also take a poached egg if he has the time (heh).

Warrior--unlike Time who is a habitual coffee drinker, he is a coffee connoisseur. He likes the breakfasts they serve at the castle--a lot of meats and fruits, expensive, and on top of it all, well plated. Not to say that he can't eat simply--he was in a war, mind you--just that he prefers not to. On the road, he strikes me as the kind that would drink those tasteless quick oats (y'know you just add water, shake and go?) and also be very vocal about much time (heh) it's saving him (being none). I don't know what the Hyrule equivalent of those are.

Twilight--our favorite country boy. I think he likes a true southern breakfast. Ham and pan-fried potatoes and eggs over-easy, with a side of cheesy grits and sausage biscuits and gravy like Uli used to make for him (I HC this man has a black hole of a stomach, out of all the Links). On the road he'll inhale a boiled egg or two (salted and peppered if he's feeling fancy) that Wild made for him. I also head canon that Twilight likes tea with an intensity. And not only sweet tea, but like, ALL of the teas. He gets obsessive. I literally have in my detail/subplot tracking documents for BDOR the following entry underneath chapter 8--Tea: "Twilight’s cure to Wild’s voice is tea. His cure to life’s woes is tea."

Wind--whatever his grandma is making, probably with seafood involved. I've had a crab-spinach-egg casserole for breakfast before, it was good, so I'll give him that. On the road, I can see him packing a lot of bread and some meat (dried fish if he can get it).

Sky--This guy honestly has me stumped. Do those on Skyloft eat Loftwing eggs, or are they considered taboo? They have a lot of pumpkins around--do they incorporate them into their meals?@needfantasticstories you know a lot of Skyward Sword lore, bequeath me your wisdom. Anyways on the road he's a meat and bread person like Wind. Practical.

Now, for my rant about young men and their food quirks:

Bacon. Bacon, as I have witnessed, drives the most reasonable of men insane.

I just a few things to say about this. I have younger brothers, and I born witness to many male sleepover parties. I--as the resident nasty fe-male XD--have been (forced) to cook for them in the mornings. Set a pile of bacon in front of them (or really any meat, but I have found that bacon has the strongest affect) and they turn into WOLVES. They start to crowd around and stare as soon as they begin to smell it (which hey, give me space in the kitchen, please!), snatch it up before the grease even cools, and then retreat into their separate corners of the living room/kitchen and scarf it down, all while avoiding eye contact and projecting just how much they don't care about the bacon they're eating (perhaps so one of the others don't take notice and try to steal it). There's an odd little ritual/rules to the thing, too: for example, it's frowned upon to take more than three or four pieces at a time, there has to be enough for everyone, obviously; but if you finish a second and third serving before some poor sod stumbles in and gets himself a piece--why that is acceptable, even encouraged. But at all times, you could feel them watching each other, judging whether each person had taken acceptable amounts. 6 at once, I have determined, is veritably considered too much, as I have watched an entire group of mid-late teenage boys chase another through the house and outside for this crime of greed. Another thing was the presence of literally any other edible food. If there was anything else--eggs, fruit, even something like a few slices of unbuttered toast or coffee or juice sitting out, this reaction was largely tempered--even if none of the boys took the other foods, they would take a meager one or two pieces of bacon and be satisfied, perhaps reassured that other food was present and their hope of a filling breakfast was not in vain. Most, at that point they would restrain themselves from eating anything (other than their bacon tax) and wait so that everyone could eat together. But the mad scramble that occurs when there is bacon and only bacon in the kitchen (even if other things are cooking, nearly done, and visible to them) is otherworldly.

I never saw it with anything else, not eggs, not fruit, not even sausage or any other breakfast food. And it must be noted that I was exempt from their little ritual of judgement--perhaps as the only woman, or perhaps as the cook, I was allowed to take as much bacon as I liked from the pile, once the initial wave had attacked and retreated with their bounty (and the strips of bacon had cooled enough that mortal human hands such as my own could pick them up). And while they behaved like beasts, I was always very politely thanked for making breakfast once it was over and the frenzy had abated.

Anyways, your ask got me thinking about Malon making a pile of bacon for the boys, activating the beforehand undiscovered "PANIC! BACON!" mode in their brains, and just being utterly confused as they turn into animals. Just the boys descend, and then a few shouts of "Thanks, Malon!" drift in on the wind as they scatter like racoons with treasure, leaving an empty plate spinning behind them.

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