#I wish I had the energy to do something like this again I’m quite fond of it

[gnawdraw]

digital painting I did of my boyfriend and I a while back. he is my world

[moonstonejpg]

support (k.bakugou x reader)

cw: pure fluff, kiri and denki being the best wingmen in the world, oh also ua is a college not a high school bc i said so

bakugo is my comfort character i love him sm and want to protect him at all costs ♡

If he didn’t know any better, he would think the sudden pounding of his heart meant it was acting up again like it did occasionally after Edgeshot revived him, because Katsuki Bakugo didn’t have crushes. And despite it being a natural part of life, it freaks him out a lot more than he’d care to admit. Because Bakugo has always had the same plan, get into UA College and become a top ranked hero; nowhere in his plan did he account for the girl with a heart of gold in the support course.

“Katsuki!” You call, arms full of some unknown material as you jogged towards him. You had a bright smile on your face, and your eyes were lit up with excitement. He couldn’t help the fond smile spreading across his lips as he gazed down at where you skidded to a stop in front of him.

“I did it! Here—hold this please.” You shove the item in your arms towards him, hands animatedly waving towards the different places on as you explain. It took a few moments for Bakugo’s mind to catch up to what was happening in front of him, but once it did his gaze snapped up to meet your eyes in shock.

“—and so, basically, you put this on under your hero suit and it absorbs the shockwaves from your blasts, turning it back into itself to heat your muscles.”

He blinks, his thoughts spinning to the conversation from last week when you had caught him sitting on the rooftop of the college. Instead of leaving, you plopped down next to him, starting a conversation after a few hesitant moments.

“I know you love your quirk, and honestly I do too!” you giggle, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “But if there was something you could change—or well, something to help, what would it be?”

He cocks his head to the side, mulling over your question; he wants to give you a good answer, an honest answer. So, he dips into the vat of his insecurities, unearthing a small secret he’s never shared with anyone.

“I—when I use it too much my arms and shoulders start to ache, and even if I pause to conserve my energy it seems to just leak out and then…eventually both body parts end up going numb. It’s been happening more frequently now that we are training longer, and it—it sucks to be quite honest.”

You pull your knees up to your chest, eyes fixed on a distance point on the horizon. He glances sideways at you, noticing the indent between your eyebrows. Your tongue pokes out, and he realizes this is your thinking face. He’s amazed that he can see the wheels turning, and wonders what’s going on in your brain.

It’s silent for a few moments, before you jump up, an excited gleam in your eye. You start to leave, pausing to turn back to him, your face now serious. “I won’t tell anyone; your secret is safe with me.”

He nods once, and the seriousness evaporates as you smile at him, then disappear down the stairs.

“Was…is this okay?” You ask suddenly, the excitement in your eyes dimming slightly as he stared dumbly at you, not a single word leaving his lips since you handed over the gadget. “I—I just thought that—I can take it back!”

“No, I—"

“It’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I had just thought…well, either way it doesn’t matter.” You reach your hands out to take the thin fabric back, but he holds it above your head, forcing you to stop and look at him in surprise.

“I love it, you just—you surprised me is all.” He mumbles, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “I wish I could do something to thank you, something other than just standing here looking like a fool.”

“I don’t need anything from you, really! It’s, well, it’s a gift.” You reply quietly, twisting your hands together then shoving them back behind your back. There’s a light pink stain on the apples of your cheeks, and Bakugo gets the alarming urge to kiss you. Instead, he fists the cloth in his hands and lowers his arms, cradling the material to his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, still in shock that someone would do something like this for him.

You nod once, a soft smile on your face as you turn and leave the hallway, his eyes not leaving your back until you’re just a speck at the end of the corridor.   

Hours later he’s still thinking of the exchange; feeling incredibly stupid for not asking for your number at the very least. He’s supposed to be helping Kirishima and Kaminari study for their exam in the library, but how could he possibly do that when all he wants to do is replay your smile over again on a never-ending loop.  

“Bakugo? Hey, Katsuki!”

Fingers are suddenly snapping in front of his face, effectively ripping him from his thoughts. “What?” He grumbles out, smacking Kirishima’s hand away from his face.

“What’s up with you lately, dude?” Kaminari asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugo doesn’t respond, distracted by the familiar girl at the far end of the rows of books.  

Kirishima throws his elbow into Kaminari’s side, rolling his eyes at the huff of indignation the blonde lets out. He tilts his chin up to the other end of the room, and that’s when they notice Bakugo’s eyes locked on to where you’re seated, book in hand.  

They watch, transfixed as a slow smile stretches across the blonde’s face, his chin nearly dropping in his upturned hand to watch you.

“Oh. Oh my god.” And suddenly everything makes sense to the pair. Kirishima and Denki lock eyes, secretive smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“She’s really pretty.” Kaminari muses, shutting his textbook and leaning back in his chair.

“Mm.” Katsuki grunts, only half paying attention.

“And way smarter than you.” Kirishima says, eyes locked on his friend.  

“Wait, what?” Bakugo asks, attention snapping back to his friends.

“So the day has finally come…our blasty boy has officially grown up.” Kirishima pretends to wipe non-existent tears, sniffing a little.

“What are you two idiots talking about?” Bakugo asks gruffly, flipping a page in his textbook.

“Oh nothing, just—"

“When’s the wedding?” Kaminari asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Again, what are you even talking about?”

“You have a crush!” Kaminari coos.

“I mean, I would like to crush your heads together.” Bakugo mumbles, but they can’t miss the way his cheeks turn pink. He avoids all eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to read the page in front of him. “She ah.” He clears his throat, “She made me this material to go under my hero suit, something about the shockwaves from my explosions being fed back into the material to…well, anyway, she brought it for me today. And I should have asked for her number, but…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging in the air.  

I’m scared.

Kirishima puts a steady hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, knowing the fear his friend feels is more than warranted. Bakugo is silent for a few moments. And then, “I have all of these hard edges, and I don’t know how to be soft.”

“You don’t need to be soft; you need to be yourself.” Kaminari whispers, smiling at him. “And something tells me she probably feels the same way about you.”

Kirishima and Kaminari lock eyes again before standing and calling your name. Bakugo watches in abject horror as they approach you, his knee bouncing faster as they speak, the distance too great to listen to what exactly was being said. His eyes flit across the trio, panicking slightly.

He knew deep down that his friends just wanted him to be happy, but at this moment he wanted nothing more than to leap across the room and strangle them both. Bakugo briefly considers blowing the entire room up but decided against it at the thought of another bill being sent to his parents.

He watches as you put your book face down, eyes moving between his friends. They say something, then you frown before responding. The exchange feels like hours but is only a few minutes before you stand. You look over, locking eyes with Bakugo, then begin to make your way over to him.

He catches both Kaminari and Kirishima shooting him a thumbs up, before scuttling out of the library, leaving their books and backpacks behind where Bakugo sits. He scrambles out of his chair, choosing instead to lean a hip against the edge of the table as you approach.

“Hi.” He whispers, reaching a hand back to scratch his neck.

“Hi.” You reply, pressing your hands together before twisting them together again. He recognizes the movement from hours before, cataloguing the nervous habit in the file in his brain under your name. “They said you had something to tell me?”

“I—you make my chest feel weird.”

“Um, what?” You squeak out.

“No! No, I mean—god, I’m fucking this all up.” He heaves out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling before locking eyes with you. “I appreciate your gift, more than you know. And I like how smart you are, and that I can see the wheels turning in your head when you’re thinking really hard. I like how you aren’t afraid to talk to me, and I haven’t…I’ve never felt like this about another person before. You haven’t left my mind since the day I met you, and I-I like you, a lot.”

Your jaw drops slightly, eyes flickering back and forth across his face. He swallows, taking a step towards you before hesitantly reaching to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Can I take you on a date?” He asks quietly, swallowing nervously.

You blink before a smile splits your face, and you nod. He smiles back, and before you lose courage, you push up on the tips of your toes to press a soft kiss on his cheek, giggling when you pull away and see the now bright red color flooding his cheeks.

“I like you too, Blasty.”  

[tklpilled]

iris

“i went to windrise to paint today,” albedo muses. he thinks back to earlier that day, trying to recall the details. “that big tree with a statue in front of it. it’s really quite beautiful, and you get an amazing view of mondstadt from there. i’m not sure how to explain it, but something about it feels almost spiritual.”

albedo has traveled across mondstadt, and other parts of teyvat as well, and he’s never found an area that feels quite like windrise. not only is the view unmatched, but he always feels as if someone is watching him—not to threaten him, but rather, to protect him.

“the bard was there—venti, I believe? he kept me company. his songs are incredible, and i noticed many more crystalflies than usual. i think they were drawn to his music.”

he glances over to his stand, where a painting of the area sits. while sitting under the tree would be relaxing, he wanted to capture it in the painting. so, instead, he sat facing mondstadt, and painted the tree on the side with its branches stretching across the canvas, almost blocking the sky entirely. the walls of mondstadt are in the distance, across the lake sparkling in the sun. If albedo had to judge it, he’d say that the painting is rather accurate; but of course, it can never compare to the real thing.

“i do wish you had been there, though,” he says, continuing on with his one-sided conversation. “i could use some practice painting people, but then again, i don't think i could do you justice. not even a kamera captures your beauty.”

he looks down at his lap, unable to hide his fond tone. “what do you think?”

a wail is the only response he gets.

albedo sighs, drumming his fingers impatiently. “it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, you know.”

scaramouche lets out another squeal, his head thrown back in helpless laughter. “i c-cahahan’t!”

albedo swirls his fingertip around the center of scaramouche’s stomach, just circling the rim of his navel. it’s sending the poor puppet into hysterics—but as long as he still has the energy to kick his legs so frantically, albedo is sure he can last a little longer.

“but you’re talking to me now, aren’t you?” albedo asks, tilting his head. “i’m just trying to tell you how pretty you are, and you won’t even listen. i’m hurt.”

scaramouche bats weakly at albedo’s hand, though he’s clearly not trying hard. “shuhuhut uhup!” he squeaks, arching his back, and although his face is already red with laughter, albedo swears it gets worse.

he wishes he had his art materials with him. he’d love to paint scaramouche’s laughing face, capturing it in time for him to look at whenever. he can already imagine the colours he’d use, the pink hues contrasting so sharply with the cool, earthy background, the freckles scattered across his face, the way his eyes squint shut. the one problem is that sounds can’t be transferred to visuals—if he could, albedo would gladly paint scaramouche’s laughter onto a canvas forever. or maybe he could use scaramouche’s body itself as a surface; it’s a work of art on its own, after all. albedo often imagines himself drawing on it, creating constellations with his scars.

he’s abruptly yanked from his thoughts by a sudden loud whine. he glances down, realising the problem. his finger has dipped into scaramouche’s navel, a spot he hadn’t even known was so sensitive.

he chuckles. “i always discover new spots every time. i’m convinced you’re ticklish everywhere.”

scaramouche snorts, grabbing albedo’s wrist and holding on tightly. “sh-shuhut the fuhuhuck uhup! i swehehear, i’ll…!” whatever else he was going to say is lost to frantic giggling.

ah, well. albedo knows it wouldn’t have been a genuine threat anyway.

[tanith-rhea]

That I may be weak with you

"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test." - Alain de Botton Dorothea Delilah Darcy is a woman in her mid to late twenties, struggling to find her place in the world. A recent job opportunity as a guidance counsellor at Nevermore Academy seems like a godsend, and she could not miss it for the life of her. Still, perhaps more problems will arise than she expected. Between bubbly, extroverted students and an uncharacteristically reactive principal, she'll be forced to overcome the limitations of her abilities or separate herself entirely from the place she'll grow to call home.

Chapter Two

"... the witchery of beautiful eyes." — Odysseus Elytis

“Anyway, then I told her she could brood all she liked because, at the end of the day, she’s just pretending to be tough and will come to me asking for forgiveness,” the girl, Enid, took another bite of the red cake you finally got right this afternoon.

It had to be good because she was at her third serving and you wondered if all that energy was what made her hungry. It did quite a number on you and baking always managed to soothe your nerves.

“From what you told me it’s not the first time that happened and, honestly? I don’t think it’s the last-“

“I just wish she’d get over herself and admit I’m her friend,” Enid pouted, and her eyes shone in a strange way that reminded you of a sad puppy.

You couldn’t help a fond chuckle, “Giving what happened to all of you last semester I’m not surprised some might put up a few barriers, dear.”

Enid’s face twisted into adorable confusion. That girl could have anything she wished with that face; her earnest optimism and goodness made you want to protect her from all harm in the world.

“What do you mean? We were all attacked, I wolfed out to help her, we should be more united than ever!”

“Enid, you are very special. You’re emotionally open to others and that can be a blessing and a curse. Wednesday, on the other hand, might be on the other side of the spectrum and instead of feeling connected, she may be processing the betrayal of someone close as a sign other people she cares about can do the same.

“Perhaps it isn’t about not wanting to admit you’re her friend, but being afraid that if she accepts it, you’ll be fit to hurt her.”

That seemed to give her pause. You could almost see the gears turning on her brain, and when she came to a conclusion her furrowed brow smoothed into solemn understanding.

“It might be something else as well,” you conceded, “You’ll only truly know by talking to her, making her comfortable instead of confronting her outright. At least in the beginning.”

Enid nodded, picking at the remnants of her piece of cake, “That makes sense. When she came we could barely talk without her giving a smart-ass answer to everything I said. Even the quad was “a pentagon”,” she rolled her eyes.

It is a pentagon, you thought but didn’t voice it.

The soft sound of windchimes radiated through the office, marking the end of your forty minutes appointment. You got up with an inhale and started to gather the china to clean.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Enid,” you placed her teacup beside yours on your desk tray, “Will you be coming ‘round again next week?”

Enid stood up confidently and held her hand out for you to take. She smiled brightly as you took it reluctantly, her happiness making its way up your arm even through the glove and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Of course, Miss Darcy! You’re much better than our last therapist,” she said before realizing something and hastily amending, “Not that she was bad! Rest her soul, she was a very good therapist,” her eyes were the size of saucers.

“I’m not a therapist, dear,” you laughed a bit at the blip of terror that came and went just as easily off her face.

“Well, you’re very nice to talk to,” she shrugged.

“That I do try to be,” you smiled kindly, practised but not at all untruthful, “Until next Thursday, then.”

Enid followed her cue and left with a small nod, smiling back with that earnestness of hers. You could already feel your muscles straining to dissipate the excitement and happiness and that little bit of panic Enid shot through you.

Breathing deeply, you walked back to the chair, hoping that updating your student files would bore you enough to consume some of the bubbling energy. It didn’t; taking notes on Enid and her roommate only filled you with fondness, which nourished the restlessness and rendered you ecstatic.

You ended up stuffing it all in your second drawer and going for a run. It was about time you explored the surrounding forest; maybe you’d find good picnic spots.

Running in cold weather was one of the best things to do. Of course, you had found lots of “best things to do” in your almost thirty years of age; it’s practically all a person can do to fill the void of companionship: finding things that bring you pleasure to do alone.

Pine trees didn’t provide the lovely path of yellowed leaves you’d hoped for, but the mossy stones every twenty meters along the path supplied you with more of that fairy-tale feeling — as if in your next turn you might find yourself upon Pan’s Labyrinth or some other fantastical place.

You didn’t, though. In the next turn, you found yourself in a clearing, partly covered in leaves from where the pine forest behind the school met some of the trees that lead to the city nearby. You could see now how they were interspersed sparsely before and grew slowly more plentiful the farther away you ran. The two forests tentatively meeting — boreal and deciduous — much like the two worlds they represented.

You were sure the roles would be reversed a few yards down the path and the pine trees would be the odd ones out. The thought made you just sad enough that the last remnants of excitement died down, untightening your muscles and leaving you exhausted.

You sat down on the cold leaves, cold finally catching up to you. While you ran, the lack of sunlight wasn’t much of a problem, but now you had to untie the woollen cardigan around your shoulders and put it on.

The tiredness was catching up to you fast. The cold felt colder than it really was as your body wasn’t up to functioning exactly as it should. You knew you had to rest for a few minutes but, if you stayed there, you’d pass out and wake up blue.

You started walking up the trail, trying to be silent in case a car passed. With any luck, you could follow the sound and walk along the road until another one came by.

You mourned not being able to stay a bit longer at the clearing. It was rather charming, and you could picture building a small wooden gazebo for tea parties or quiet reading sessions. You thought Ser Barnabas would enjoy exploring the forest around, hunting small animals while you enjoyed the peace and quiet.

After a few minutes, you didn’t hear a sound as much as you saw light moving through the forest, coming from east of you. You hurried in the direction just in time to see the back of a yellow bug turning a corner sixty yards from you.

“At least I found the road,” you picked up a faster pace, hope renewed. “I’d be happier if it wasn’t barely dusk, thou– oh no, stop talking to yourself.”

You shook your head and kept walking. Soon you’d start running again.

I’ll be late for dinner, you thought, just starting to jog. I hope Ser Barnabas doesn’t hold it against me.

When you could finally see the tip of some towers behind trees, a light, accompanied by the soft buzzing of the academy’s van created long shadows on the road.

You stopped to breathe, hands on your knees, and your shadow reminded you of a tall Quasimodo or a very strange candy cane.

The van slowed to a stop just beside you. Inside, the familiar figure of a stunning blonde. If you weren’t so tired you might have spared a few seconds to take in the silk headscarf and vibrant red lipstick more carefully, but you were too eager to get anywhere warmer than the mist-covered road, getting colder by the minute as the forest sucked in all the heat.

“Miss Darcy, what are you doing out here in the cold?” her honey-tinged voice sounded almost chastising, “You must be chilled to the bone!”

Your body visibly deflated as you entered the warm space of the van, the leather seat almost hugging your tired frame.

“I lost track of time while running,” it wasn’t entirely true, but saying I severely overestimated my capability of helping your students and might be more of a liability than anything else wasn’t an option. The entire point of accepting the position at Nevermore was to get a better hold of your abilities; that you had more work to do than you thought was just as well.

The woman’s lips twisted into the smallest of smiles, although her eyes were trained on the road.

“Nevermore and its surroundings are easy to get lost into. And sometimes that makes it even more appealing.”

You had the sense she more about you than you told her. It was thrilling and scary.

“I thought I wouldn’t mind getting lost,” you started, getting a quick side glance and amused huff from the principal, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Maybe all you need is someone to keep you on track,” the warmth in Larissa’s voice did more to assuage the cold than the van’s heater, and her arched brow and sly smile set your face downright ablaze.

Suddenly her eyes didn't look icy blue, but bright and lively as the lucky few clear skies in spring.

The divider is a cropped version of one of the lovely orange-themed dividers by star-struck-wonderland. Since you asked, @alder-saan, I hope you enjoy this :)

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Three

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, More Mind Fuckery.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.6k

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Dinner that night had been wonderful. You got to catch up with Paul on everything he and Alex had been up to as of late that he couldn’t add to his letters. Your conversation had gone the entire length of the dinner and then even though dessert which the Burgess cook was excited to make since you used to devour his confections at a far from healthy rate. Everything was as delicious as your vague memories would allow you to remember and as you and Paul continued to talk over after-dinner tea, Alex retired upstairs complaining of aching bones. 

“Grandpapa, I’m really worried about him,” You spoke over the rim of your teacup. Your eyes trailed in the direction Alex had disappeared. “In fact, you both are worrying me. Grandpapa Alex... he seems so tormented. Whatever is going on?” 

Paul sighed as he set his teacup back on its saucer. Then he reached for your hand and took it in his grasp, giving you a soft yet strained smile. 

“Oh Darling, I wish I could tell you. I really do, but I’m afraid this is something Alex has been dealing with since he was a boy. Only he can end what bothers him, and only he can tell you.” Paul answered, his face full of strain and regret. Your eyebrows pinched together at Paul’s reaction. He seemed just as worried as you, if not more. But then again, he had been living with Alex nearly his entire life. He had been suffering from worry the most. 

“I only hope he’ll tell me, it worries me so.” You murmured, sipping from your tea cup once more. Paul squeezed your hand once more and you sat through the rest of your tea in silence, both of you worrying about the same man. When Paul ultimately departed from the table to turn in for bed, you remained, having asked Herman for another pot of tea. You weren’t ready to sleep, far from it actually. You felt like you were wired with energy. After a long day of travel, you would have figured that you would be exhausted. But no, you felt like you had drunk a Red Bull. The very blood in your veins hummed.

“Are you alright Miss?” Herman questioned after you had been sitting quietly for a good while. You looked up at him and smiled faintly. 

“Perfectly fine, Herman. I’ll be down here for a while, no need to stay up.” You told him.

“Are you sure, Miss? I’d hate to leave you by yourself at such a time.” You lightly waved off his concern. 

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I think I’ve just had one too many cups of coffee this morning trying to stay awake for my trains.” You told him with a slight chuckle. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Very well,” You watched as Herman lumbered off and then turned your attention back to the large window. Nightfall had long since turned the outside dark and it was hard to see out, but the low lighting in the room gave you just enough of a view to see the trees and fountain. The manor was quite beautiful at dusk when the sun just barely showed over the horizon. But when it descended and nightfall turned to reality, the manor was, well, scary. Paul and Alex had kept the antique decorations, Roderick, your great-grandfather was fond of, and in the dark, they weren’t the nicest of things to look at. Their shadows looked like monsters and shrouded in black, you flinched at every corner you turned. 

Entirely pathetic on your part, monsters didn’t exist and you should very well not jump at every shadow you came across. You weren’t a child anymore and there was no reason to fear the dark, let alone your nightmares. You looked at your nearly empty tea cup. It did you no good trying to fight your fears with words. You pushed back from the table and rose to your feet. Spite filled your heart and gathering your teacup and saucer, you placed it on the tea tray and marched it to the butlers' pantry before heading for the servants' entrance at the back of the kitchen. Exiting the manor, you strode forwards with purpose, briskly walking along the worn stone trail that carved a path around the pond. The solar lanterns softly glowed, giving just enough light for you to see where you were stepping as you walked. 

You had walked this path many a time as a child, so much that you could probably walk it with your eyes closed. But now it seemed foreign, dark, and unnerving. It was hard to believe that your mind had been so desperate to get away from that psychiatric hospital as a child that it had shut out so many memories of this place. Memories you had loved. Or at least you were fairly sure your child self loved. There were still a lot of blanks you needed to fill in your memories. 

“Oh bollocks, what am I doing with my life?” You sighed, coming to a stop on the path. You pushed a hand through your hair and settled your eyes on the lit fountain. The sound of the water bubbling and splashing was pleasant and relaxing. Of course, your nerves still felt quite frayed, but maybe if you took a brief moment to just sit and have your brain realize that it was freaking out for absolutely no reason, perhaps you would feel better. Your eyes glanced around until you spotted the gazebo at the far end of the pond. That will do. 

Your feet carried you over to the flower-framed gazebo and you took a seat on the bench, folding your hands in your lap neatly. A few pheasants were poking around the grounds, their dark forms slowly moving through the even-cut grass methodically. The night was cool and a fine layer of mist was slowly developing across the lawn, it made the solemn grounds a little more eery than they already were. How had child you been enamored with this place when it was so spooky? You were an odd child, clearly, whatever you had been up to here had captured your attention to the point where you must have ignored the frightful aspects. Eyes flittering over the dark water, your vision blurred for a moment. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blur. When you did, you stiffened in your seat and abruptly jerked yourself to your feet. 

The grounds of Fawny Rig were gone, replaced by an endless world of swirling grey and black, completely devoid of life and color. The cloudy, smokey sky was dotted with an abundance of stars, but they seemed to be robbed of their brightness. Dull and lackluster. The pond, with its gurgling fountain, was replaced with an endless, vast ocean of black water that ever so gently moved. A nearly silent sea. Your eyes dropped to your feet. You were standing on an old wooden dock, and glancing behind you, it disappeared into the smog of black in a curve. Where the bloody hell were you?

Your head snapped back around and you stepped forwards, walking further down the dock. The water was dark and unyielding to what lay beneath and crouching down, you peered closer to try and see through the opaque water. Nothing. It was as black as eternal night and would give nothing to your wants and wishes. Venturing forwards to the end of the dock, you stared at your reflection and wondered if you were hallucinating again. No, not a hallucination. This was a place, a place you knew from your childhood… and yet it felt so foreign, so cold. How could something be so familiar yet entirely foreign and new? It didn’t use to look like this. Why had you thought that? You didn’t know. 

Curiosity nipped at your heels and bending down, you looked at your reflection. Or what least what should have been your reflection. Your heart leaped in your chest and your blood hummed. Glowing silver eyes stared back at you of your dark-haired, silver-blue-eyed devil. His reflection boring into yours far more intense than ever. Reflections never lied, so why were you seeing him and not yourself? Or did these waters reflect the demons your mind had locked away? You reached out with a hand and watched in fascination as the reflection did the same. Your fingers drew near to each other, and while yours trembled, his stayed constant and strong. But before your fingertips made contact, you paused. Hesitated. Warnings were echoing in the back of your head that you should dare not test these waters, that they were dangerous and uncontrollable. You resisted the temptation and pulled back. 

Even as you rose back to your feet, you held that glowing silver gaze, trying not to shiver and show the trembles running up your spine to your limbs. Once more your gaze blurred, but this time you were stumbling backward and nearly falling on your arse. You were standing in the pond!  Somehow in that hallucination, you had walked yourself straight into the water, not feeling the chill of your jeans soaking through. You quickly backtracked, sloshing your way out of the pond and scrambling up the bank until you stood on the worn stone path once more. You felt slightly breathless, looking down at your body. From mid-thigh down you were soaked, your shoes covered in mud and pond scum. How long had you been standing in that pond, staring off into space while caught up in a hallucination?

Rubbing your palms against your unsoaked thighs, you turned towards the path that led back to the manor and started walking at a brisk pace. The chill from the water was quickly setting into your legs and traveling up the rest of your body. You’d better not catch a cold or you would have to explain how you had caught it. Rushing across the grass, you stumbled into the kitchen and locked the heavy door behind you before leaning against the cabinets and removing your soaked shoes and socks. Where were you going to put them so no one asked questions? You made a noise under your breath, realizing that you would probably have to explain it at some point, and decided to put them next to the stove where they would dry out from the morning cooking. 

Skittering across the cold floor, you hurriedly strode through the manor, heading in the direction of the servants' staircase which was closest to your old room. Despite not having visited in so long, your feet carried you through the old building on muscle memory. Just as you passed a heavy, sturdy-looking door your steps faltered and paused. It was drop-dead quiet in the manor, your breathing the only thing your ears picked up. But something had caught your attention. Drawing back a step, you looked at the door and placed your hand on it. The door to the basement. You had passed it hundreds if not thousands of times in your life so far, never once stopping to investigate it. So why had it caught your attention this time? Your fingers curled against the old grainy wood, feeling its curves and ridges. Not original but it certainly looked the part. There was a keypad next to it, showing a red light indicating it was locked. 

Even now, after all these years, the basement was still a guarded secret under lock, key, and guard. What was down there? Your body shivered once more, this time from the cold leeching into your bones. You turned away from the door and hurried on, wanting to change out of your pond-water-laden clothing and into nice warm, dry clothing as soon as possible. You slipped up the stairs and shuffled your way through the servants' door to the lavish upper level. From there you only had to go a few doors down to your old room where Herman had placed your luggage and your moving boxes waiting for you. Closing the door behind you, you wiggled yourself out of your jeans and tossed them aside before reaching for your shirt. As you changed into your pajamas, you took your hair down and ran your fingers through the strands. At least you hadn’t dived into the pond and tracked water all over the manor trying to get back to your room. Since you were still feeling a bit wired, you grabbed a book from your luggage and started reading on the bed, trying to take your mind off that black ocean. 

Deep within the bowels of Fawny Rig, through the basement door and down the steps. Past the iron bars that separated a room from the rest of the house, sat two guards at a heavy metal desk, a clock ticking slowly and methodically. The female guard held a book in hand, reading the lines in boredom while the male absentmindedly read the morning's paper. The clock’s ticking was a white noise both had grown accustomed to hearing. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was a never-ending sound that faded into the cold, damp basement never to be given a second thought. Its only purpose was to signal when the guard change would occur, an event that both guards looked forwards to. Their mindless and boring task of guarding a being that never really moved or spoke was menial and inattentive. The being hardly ever moved and never spoke. 

The man changed the page to his newspaper, letting out a heavy sigh as he flared the new page and shifted in his seat. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. One month, that’s all he had to wait before flying off for his vacation in Majorca, Spain. Sun, a nice beach, beautiful woman. A far cry from this dismal dungeon where nothing ever happened. Sighing again, his eyes searched for some article to read to take his mind off his job. Tick. Tick. Tick Tick. Tick Tick— It went dead quiet, the repetitive ticking disappearing into the silence like a crash of thunder. Violently. Both guards straightened up in their seats, peering at the clock. It was stuck at midnight exactly, all three hands perfectly aligned and rigid in movement. 

“Oh don’t tell me the bloody things gone out,” The woman complained, thumping her book down on the metal tabletop and peering closer at the frozen clock. She flickered her nail against the glass, trying to see if it would start ticking again. Nothing. 

“Probably out of battery, just like everything else here,” The man grunted, hardly sparing a glance at the clock. 

“Should we tell Mr. Burgess?”

“Why bother, he said he ain’t comin’ down ‘ere anymore. No point in seein’ to it…” 

While the two argued about what to do about the broken clock and questioned each other on whether or not to tell their employers, the being in the glass sphere, limbs elegantly draped across its prison, listened intently, hearing every word and syllable they spoke. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted, hadn’t even twitched an eyebrow in years, always remaining silent to Alex Burgess’s questions and pleas, bargains, and offers. He hadn’t spoken a word in over a century, not to anyone that came to see him in his glass prison. He was an inhumanely beautiful statue confined by glass and steel, guarded by a magic circle. 

His eyes flickered open.

Date Published: 8/22/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 112

(1992.)

This church isn’t like the one back home, but it’s just as run-down. Mid-afternoon on a Thursday means there’s barely anyone here, but I can see a few people gathering in the pews. These doors are always open...something I found out when I had to drag Gen somewhere after his 3rd class celebratory bender.

There’s a confessional booth, but it doesn’t look like it’s being manned. I don’t care. I shut the door behind me and sit with a sigh.

“Sorry, I...” I start. “It’s okay. I don’t care if no one hears it, I just...”

I stare at the scuffed wood in front of me, wonder how many others have sat where I have. Confessed any amount of...well, anything.

I clear my throat again. “My best friend and I, we’ve been together like glue since we were in high school. We’ve been through a lot of sh--I mean, crap together...” Better not swear in front of the priest. Or God. Or whoever. “And like...he’s one of the only friends I’ve got.

“Now though...well, we’re both, er, we’re both in SOLDIER, and he’s got someone new he’s really...really fond of. It’s not like a girlfriend or something. He doesn’t date girls.” My heart stops. “F-forget I said that. He’s just eccentric. And there’s someone new in his life, and they spend all their time together now. They’re on missions together, they hang out together...”

I sigh. “I just wish we could hang out like we used to again.”

The truth is, I’m jealous. I know Gen was obsessed with me too, in a way that wasn’t healthy at all. Especially when he kept trying to make a move on me when I told him no. So him having someone else to put that...energy towards should be a good thing in theory.

But we’re still friends. He’s still my best friend. So why--

“Wow, that’s sad--”

“Ahh!” I yelp, jerking back and shaking the booth. It’s a young girl’s voice from the other side of the wooden mesh. What the hell?! Someone was actually listening?!

She pulls it open with her chin in both hands. “Sorry Mister SOLDIER, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.

She has bushy brown hair with huge green eyes. She can’t be more than...well, she’s probably older than she looks. At least in high school herself.

“Sure, well...” I didn’t really want to put a face to this, let alone some random girl... “I’m gonna get going then...”

“Hey, wait! Maybe I can help!” she says, waving one hand. “Like, uh...what did you guys used to do together in school? To hang out?”

“Well, we were in jazz band together...”

“Maybe you can start doing that again!” She becomes animated. “Ooh, what instrument do you play?”

I don’t think she’s trying to come onto me. It’s happened to me before--especially with teenage girls. No, I think she’s genuinely excited. “I play drums. My friend plays bass.”

“See! Easy. You just start a band!” She is quite proud of herself. “Problem solved!”

I can’t help but laugh...what a strange kid. Still, it isn’t a bad idea. Gen always talked about getting a band together. Didn’t he say Seph played guitar? Wonder if he would be willing...

That way the three of us could hang out, without it being a work thing. I’ll never forget our tour with the three of us...but who knows when that’ll happen again.

I turn toward her with a nod. “You know what? You might be right,” I say. “If anyone asks for me, I wasn’t here.”

“Sure thing! But I don’t even know your name.”

“All the better.”

I step out, stretching a bit--those booths are so cramped. They’re not made for Banora men. To my surprise, the girl comes out too, running over. She’s wearing overalls and a pink t-shirt, her transparent pink jelly sandals squeaking with every step.

“Hey, one more thing,” she says. “Do you know those guys in the suits?”

“You mean the Turks?”

“Yeah. There’s a guy with red hair I keep seeing hanging around. Can you tell him to leave me alone? I can take care of myself!”

Oh God, is this girl under Turk surveillance? I don’t need to get wrapped up in that. Time to go. I’m 99% sure she’s talking about Reno, though, so... “I’ll pass on the message,” I say.

(A.H.)

epilogue:

(1997.)

He’s eating today, so that’s good. Zack is still out of the loop, but Genesis is over every evening. I feel like I need to keep an eye on him for Zack’s sake...in exchange for keeping him in the dark.

“Hey, you know something,” Angeal says suddenly, his voice croaking. He clears his throat before he continues. “I just remembered...you and I had a run in before, a few years ago, before you and Zack got together.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You were here at the church, and I was...” He smiles and shakes his head. “I was getting some shit off my chest about Gen. My mom had died, so I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. So I came here. And there you were.”

I roll through my memory. Here at the church...so it would’ve had to have been after Mom disappeared, after I was on the street...I snap my fingers. “Oh! Oh yeah! Mister SOLDIER!”

His smile is warm. “Thanks for that, by the way. Your little idea was pretty brilliant. It brought us together.”

“God, I barely remember that. I was going through a lot myself,” I reply. It was after I started living at the church, and only just getting used to three meals a day again.

“We all were,” he says. “Everyone is, all the time.”

His smile fades, and mine does too. Strange how these things work out.

(A.G.)

[zerolostwalks]

Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force for Peterpatter?

(AO3)

It was a joke. Reggie knew it had been a joke…right? He played it off like it was a joke. So Luke wasn’t entirely sure why it kept bothering him the way it did, and at the most random of times. 

Never when Luke thought it should have happened upon later contemplation.

Like while sharing a microphone would make sense. However, that felt as tense as it always had. A moment shared feeding off the energy of performing and cementing Luke’s “chemistry” argument more than anything. But no different than any time before.

No, it was while they all sat around doing their own things and sharing the same space; Luke would look up to see Reggie softly smiling as he strummed out a tune on his bass. Or when Reggie had casually stolen a sip from Alex’s milkshake. Luke’s eyes were constantly being drawn to Reggie’s mouth, remembering how soft his lips were against his fingertips, wishing he could be that goddamned straw just to feel them again.

And everytime he’d think that maybe he should bring it up or say something Reggie’s voice would always echo around his head. “Girl’s am I right?” accompanied by a tense shallow laugh and Luke’s insides would twist as something painfully tried to crawl its way up his throat. 

Beyond that brief moment where Reggie had been very obviously flustered the other boy didn’t seem as affected by the whole thing as Luke. 

Which, just, that proved it right? Luke was overthinking it. 

After all if Reggie didn’t find it a big deal and clearly wasn’t lingering on it then neither should he. 

Right?

“I’m off.” Alex announced from where he was standing by the studio doors, one late afternoon.

Luke glanced up from his notebook and guitar towards the drummer. From the corner of his eye he caught Reggie smile and wiggle those dark expressive brows of his, “off to go hang with a particular skater?”

Alex rolled his eyes, but the movement didn’t hide the way his lips awkwardly twitched trying to hide his fond smile. “You two behave,” he groaned before sharply turning on his heel and leaving. 

Leaving Luke and Reggie alone. The only two on the couch, in the studio. Alone.

Which shouldn’t have mattered.

Except…

Except it’s the first time since the joke that Luke can recall the two of them being alone like this. Just another coincidence, surely. 

He has to be imagining the way the air seems to grow tense and heavier with the revelation. The way Reggie doesn’t seem quite as relaxed as before. 

“So?” Luke drawls out, holding back on his urge to wince when no other winds spill out of his mouth. He didn’t need to say anything at all but he always felt compelled to fill tense silences. Imagined or not. 

The way Reggie turned to look at him didn’t help matters. Brows furrowed, plush lips pouting at him.  Green eyes not quite catching his when Luke forced his eyes from those lips. Almost as if Reggie had been staring at his nose…or his lips.

Luke mentally shook that idea from his mind. His imagination was getting far too carried away. 

Only when Reggie’s eyes darted back up, his eyes locking back onto Luke’s, a rosy tint began to bloom across his cheeks. He bit at his bottom lip. A subtle movement Luke shouldn’t have caught if not for the fact that his traitorous eyes had returned to looking at Reggie’s lips again while Reggie was definitely watching him. 

This time when Luke looked back up the distance between him and Reggie had closed the smallest bit. And it felt like the most natural thing to finish closing it off. 

Reggie’s nose brushed up against his wide eyes fluttering close when his warm breath ghosted across Luke’s lips. A hum rumbled through Luke's chest and throat, as his fingers tangled into Reggie’s silky hair-although he couldn’t clearly tell if it came from him or Reggie. 

Luke’s heart stuttered in his chest as he felt Reggie’s tongue trail along his bottom lip. He happily obliged the other boy tilting his head and reveling in the deepening kiss. 

Reggie desperately clung to Luke’s shirt and he was seriously considering losing the damn thing. The creak of the studio door hinge reminded Luke where they were. He and Reggie startled apart just before Flynn and Julie entered.

He knew he and Reggie both looked guilty as hell, on top of all the other visual clues they had clearly been in the middle of making out. The two girl’s exchanged knowing looks after barely glimpsing. Julie attempted to bite back a smirk, Flynn made no such effort, “are we interupting something?”

Luke exchanged a look with Reggie. Or he would have if the bassist hadn’t ducked his head down in a clear attempt to hide his fire engine blush. 

“Uh, nope.” Luke declared, then grabbed Reggie’s hand before he could deflate too far. “Actually Reg and I were just about to head out.”

“We were?” Reggie squeaked over Flynn and Julie’s barely stifled giggles.

“Yep,” Luke pulled the bassist up, guiding him toward the door, never letting go of the others hand. Whispered in his ear as they went, “you and I have some things to discuss, and possibly some more kisses to exchange.”

“Have fun.” Flynn called out after them overlapping Julie’s, “be safe.”

[blueskrugs]

closure | Sidney Crosby

happy (belated) birthday sid, sorry your present is an angsty fic. 

I started this one a year and a half ago, picked it back up a few weeks ago to try and get it done by 8/7, wrote 2000 words, decided to change half of it, went to summer camp for a week, got writer’s block for one last scene, and now we’re here. finally.

length: 4.5k words

It’s been a long time And seeing the shape of your name Still spells out pain

Margaret Thomas didn’t hate Sidney Crosby. No, that required too much energy. Margaret would just rather not think about him, which was easier said than done. He was no longer “Sid the Kid,” but he was still a force to be reckoned with on the ice. Sometimes he seemed inescapable—there were commercials featuring him running on ESPN, and it seemed like at least once a week he pulled off some ridiculous feat that only Sidney Crosby could do that was in all the highlight reels for days. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part, though; Margaret didn’t watch much hockey these days, and her ties with the hockey world had been severed as abruptly as their relationship. Margaret hadn’t quite moved on, but she was okay again. 

Margaret wondered sometimes who knew all of the details of their breakup all those years ago. Her relationship with Sid had been as quiet as Sid could keep it, but she had been there for the Cups, for the gold medals. Those memories, those pictures, would go down in history alongside his name, engraved in silver and gold. It had been a cute story once, the boy who saved the Penguins falls in love with a girl from Pittsburgh, settles down and sticks around. That’s how it was supposed to go, at least.

Margaret is surprised when she gets a letter in the mail, mixed in amongst junk and bills. Who sends letters anymore? The return address is unfamiliar, but the careful, spidery handwriting spelling out her name and the little “SPC” in the corner is as familiar as her own.

Of course Sid would send a letter, after all these years, after cutting off all contact after the break-up, stubbornly old-fashioned person that he was. She was annoyed that that thought was still laced with fondness underneath the bitterness. Margaret wondered, too, how he’d gotten her address; Margaret had moved since the breakup, and she didn’t keep in contact with anyone on the team or their wives enough to warrant ever sending a Christmas card. 

Margaret carefully slides her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. It, too, was handwritten, because of course it was. Margaret takes a deep breath and begins to read.

I’m sure you’re surprised to be hearing from me after all these years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about reaching out, but I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear from me. I’ve even started writing this a few times, but I could never get the words right.

Margaret scoffs, more than a little bitter. She wonders what was so important to finally make him reach out after all these years. She briefly thinks of crumpling up the letter and tossing it in the trash, but her curiosity got the better of her. Margaret keeps reading.

I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way things ended between us. It wasn’t fair to you. I wish I could’ve done it differently, or not done it at all, but there’s no way to change the past, is there? I didn’t realize it at the time, but I probably really hurt you. I should’ve apologized a long time ago.

Sid’s words were uncovering a hurt Margaret thought she’d buried deep long ago. He was right, though, there was no changing the past. She brushes away a tear before it can land on the sheet of paper in her hand. There was more to the letter.

I’ll be playing in my 1250th game soon. They’re treating it like a big milestone. Jen’s been talking about rounding up some people for interviews or something. I saw your name on a list and wanted to give you a head’s up before she called. 

Margaret remembered the videos from Sid’s 1000th game. No one had reached out to her to make a video for Sid that time. She doesn’t know what she would’ve said, anyway.

I don’t know what she’ll ask you to do, but I want you to know that you’re not obligated to do anything. You certainly don’t owe me anything. 

He had that right. He hadn’t even offered Margaret a proper explanation for why he ended a years-long relationship, or a proper goodbye.  

It happened the day of Sid’s Cup party in 2017. Sid pulled Margaret aside as the party was wrapping up, nothing more than a few drunken stragglers and friends and family sticking around to clean up. Sid looked nervous as she followed him into a quiet room. 

“What’s up?” Margaret asked.

Sid didn’t make any move to sit and neither did Margaret. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I think this needs to stop,” he said. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What?” Margaret asked. Drunk on summer sun and champagne, she wasn't following. 

“I-” Sid looked uncertain for a moment. “I think we need to break up.”

“What?” she said again. Margaret didn’t know what she was expecting when Sid asked her to come with him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I want to break up,” Sid said firmly. “I need some space.”

Margaret had lied. She knew exactly what she’d been expecting. A ring, a future and a life together. They’d talked about it, even. Margaret felt like Sid had punched her in the gut. She almost wished he had, actually. That would hurt less than this.

“I don’t understand, Sid,” Margaret said. She thought they were happy. She thought Sid loved her. She had been wrong about both, apparently.

“I’m sorry,” was all Sid said as he brushed past Margaret and went back outside. She faintly heard a cheer go up as he reemerged. Margaret slipped upstairs. Despite all the people milling around, Sid still valued his privacy, and he didn’t have anyone staying in any of the guest bedrooms. It was easy to move her things into one down the hall while the party wrapped up outside. 

Margaret flew out from Halifax the next morning. Her things were cleaned out of Sid’s house and into a new apartment of her own before Sid was back in Pittsburgh for training camp in September. She deleted his phone number in October. She never saw him again. It was probably for the best that way.

Margaret’s hands shake. Frustrated, she throws the piece of paper, but it simply flutters to the ground at her feet. She isn’t sure who she’s more upset with—Sid, for still holding a piece of her heart, or herself, for still allowing Sid to break her heart after all these years. Margaret steps over the paper and wanders into her kitchen. She pulls open the fridge and stares aimlessly into it for a long moment. On the floor behind her, Sid’s letter sits, only half read, taunting her. Margaret slams the fridge shut. The rattling of the things on the door is only satisfying for a moment. 

She walks back over and picks up the letter again. She slides to the floor to read the last few lines.

I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s too much to ask that you could forgive me one day, but I do hope that we can talk about it sometime. But I guess you don’t really owe me that either. 

There was no closing, no autograph signature either, just “Sid” scrawled in messy cursive at the bottom of the page. 

Margaret crumples up the letter and throws it again. It lands somewhere behind her couch. It, too, doesn’t feel as satisfying as she’d like. 

Margaret carefully puts it out of her mind. Or tries to, at least. The letter stays crumpled on the floor of her living room, but it doesn’t matter because it feels like she's committed Sid’s careful words to memory, echoing in her head when her guard was down. 

Margaret’s phone rings a week after the letter arrives. It’s a Pittsburgh area code, a number she doesn’t have saved to her contacts, and she answers it warily. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Maggie,  this is Jen with the Penguins communications department, do you remember me?”

Of course Margaret remembers Jen. Jen was solely responsible for keeping the team from making fools of themselves most of the time. 

“Of course,” Margaret tells her. She knows why Jen is calling. 

“Well, I’m sure you know that Sid’s coming up on a new milestone soon, and we’ve been tracking down some friends from over the years for some more videos like we had for his 1000th game, and maybe to get some stories about Sid when he was younger,” Jen says, as businesslike as ever. She doesn’t mention the fact that Margaret had been left off the list of friends for Sid’s 1000th game, and neither does she.

“Yeah, uh, Sid gave me a heads up that you might be calling,” Margaret says without thinking.

Jen pauses. “I didn’t realize you two were still in touch.”

“Something like that,” she says wryly.

Jen continues. “We’d love to have you come out to PPG one day soon to get some footage, whenever it works for you.”

Margaret hesitates. Even with Sid’s heads up, she somehow wasn't prepared to be asked for an in-person interview. She had thought Jen would just have her record something in her apartment and send it back to Jen. It would give Margaret unlimited takes to cuss out her ex in the privacy of her own home before she could string together enough warm and complimentary words. Driving down to PPG came with the risk of running into Sid, and Margaret wasn't sure there was ever enough time to prepare herself for that.

“Can I think about it? It’s been a long time,” Margaret hears herself say. 

She hears Jen’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but when she speaks again, she sounds unbothered. “Sure! I’ll leave you be for now, but get back to me in a few days, alright?” Margaret wonders briefly what Sid told Jen about their breakup. He had to have some explanation, some warning, for her, in case she’d taken the “crazy jilted ex” route and exposed him on social media or something. Lucky for him, that had never been Margaret’s style. 

In the end, Margaret agrees. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel so much contempt for Sid to not do this small thing. She wished she could. She hated that she couldn’t make herself hate him. 

Margaret drove downtown to PPG Paints Arena on a Saturday afternoon. Jen had assured her that the players would be cleared out after film review and an optional skate, and that she had no risk of running into anyone. Margaret  wanted to avoid Sid most of all, but she wasn’t sure she could handle having to make small talk with Tanger or Geno, or meeting some young player who didn’t even know who she was, after she and Sid had carefully erased each other from their histories. 

Jen meets Margaret at the door and quickly ushers her into a small, dimly lit room. It isn’t crowded, just a couple of cameras, a camera operator, and Margaret and Jen. Jen shuts the door behind her and takes a seat across from Margaret. She spares a second to be thankful that she was staying, a familiar face. Brighter flights flick on, and Jen smiles as Margaret blinks a few times to adjust.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around, how have you been?” Jen asks.

Margaret isn’t sure if the cameras are rolling yet. She forces a smile. “Things have been good,” she says. It’s not a lie. Things were better before she found herself back in the story of Sid’s life.

“We’ll start easy,” Jen says. “What’s a story about Sid most people don’t know? You two were so close when he was younger.”

That’s also definitely not a lie. Margaret had tried to prepare herself for anything Jen might ask her, but Margaret still takes a moment to answer, wracking her memory for something to say.

Margaret and Sid had met in a bar, just before the 2009-2010 season started. That wasn’t a cute or wholesome story to tell. Margaret takes a deep breath.

“There was this time I dragged Sid to the animal shelter because I wanted a dog.”

“Maggie, I don’t need a dog,” Sid is saying, gamely allowing himself to be dragged towards the doors of Humane Animal Rescue.

Maggie stops and turns to face Sid, hands on her hips. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve still got Sam back home, I know. But I want a dog, so we’re here.” 

She pulls open the door and lets Sid walk ahead of her inside. He nervously touches the brim of his hat and looks around. A smiling volunteer makes her way over to them.

“Hey guys, what can I help you with today?” she asks. 

Maggie smiles back at her and takes Sid’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog,” she says.

“Perfect, we have plenty of those, hopefully one will be your perfect new friend,” the volunteer says, already turning and heading towards the kennels. She asks Maggie questions as they walk—what exactly she’s looking for, what her apartment is like, if she has any other pets— and Maggie is suddenly overwhelmed. Sid trails a few steps behind, only half listening. Maggie can hear the barking dogs before the volunteer even opens the door to their part of the shelter. 

Maggie glances over her shoulder at Sid. “You sure you don’t want to adopt one, too?” she teases, noticing Sid’s soft smile, always a sucker for a cute face. “I’m sure we could find you a good match.” Sid just shakes his head at her.

The next hour is a blur of meeting dogs and Maggie trying not to fall in love with all of them. Sid ends up on the floor with her, happily cuddling and playing with each new dog that’s brought out to Maggie. In the end, she falls for a sweet Pit mix named Biscuit. Even Sid seems enthralled by her when she licks his face. 

Maggie’s got Biscuit on a leash, and she’s following the volunteer back to the front desk to fill out all the paperwork for adoption when Sid stops short. Maggie stops, too. Sid’s standing next to a glass door labeled Kitten Room, watching a little boy play with a kitten. The little boy notices Sid watching and looks up. Margaret can tell the moment he recognizes Sid as Sidney Crosby by the way his face splits into a grin. He carefully sets the kitten down and runs to open the door.

“Do you wanna play with the kitties, too?” Maggie hears him ask. Sid glances at her. Biscuit, eager to make a new friend, whines and tugs on her leash. The kitten the boy had been playing with is attempting to make an escape.

Sid scoops the kitten up and edges carefully into the Kitten Room. “Of course, bud,” Maggie hears him say. To Maggie, he adds, “I’ll catch up with you, yeah?” The door shuts behind him before she can answer.

By the time Maggie’s finished with the pages and pages of adoption paperwork, Sid still hasn’t caught back up with her. She and Biscuit make their way back towards the Kitten Room to find him. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the little boy, and there’s a kitten climbing on his shoulder, trying to eat his hat, another one curled up in his hands. Maggie stands next to the glass door and watches them, a smile on her face. Next to her, Biscuit wags her tail at them. The little boy notices them and waves. Sid carefully hands the kitten in his hands to the little boy and disentangles the claws of the other one from his hat. 

He’s grinning as he makes his way back to Maggie, easy and relaxed. He drapes his arm across her shoulders for a moment when comes through the door, and Maggie leans into his side.

“Have fun making some new friends?” she asks. 

“He asked me if I could score a goal for him tomorrow night,” Sid says, laughing a little.

“Y’know, a cat would probably be a better pet for you, with all the travel and stuff,” Maggie says.

Sid digs his elbow into her ribs, but he kisses Maggie quickly against the car before opening the back door for Biscuit. 

Margaret’s eyes were wet when she finished telling her story. She twists around in her seat to dry them before facing Jen again. It’s not even a sad story. She’d almost forgotten the memory altogether. It’s been a few years since Biscuit had passed now, but that sweet little dog had been Margaret’s anchor during the aftermath of their breakup. She should look into adopting another dog, Margaret thinks absently. Jen seems unfazed by, but not unsympathetic to, Margaret’s crying. 

“And what do you want to say to Sid?” she asked. 

Margaret had thought about this part, too. She remembered someone saying that Nathan MacKinnon’s message for Sid’s 100th game was too personal to show on the broadcast. She’d considered saying something vindictive, something petty. Her relationship with Sid had always been personal, and a part of Margaret wanted this last message to be just between them, too. But she worried that Jen would just scrap the footage if she said anything too cruel. 

So Margaret settled for sincere, or as sincere as she could muster.

“Hi, Sid,” she starts awkwardly. “It was such a privilege to be by your side over the years, to be able to watch you grow into an amazing leader. To be there for the Olympics and for the Cups…it’s not something anyone is going to forget. I know it wasn’t easy to get this far, but you did it and you’re still going. I’m proud of you, Sid,” Margaret says. She takes a deep breath. 

There is silence in the room when Margaret finishes speaking. She clears her throat. “Right, is that all, then?” she asks, already standing up. The small room they were in suddenly feels claustrophobic, and Margaret needs out.

Jen stands with her. “It’s perfect, thanks so much for coming in. I’m sure it wasn’t easy…” she says. Margaret wonders, again, how many details of their breakup Jen actually knows. 

Margaret was already opening the door and rushing back into the hallway. She didn’t stop to check if the hallway was clear first, which is how she bumps straight into someone walking down the hall.

“Oof,” she hears, from a voice that was once as familiar as her own. A hand reaches out to steady her elbow. Sid hasn’t seen Margaret’s face yet. 

“No, it’s okay, it was my fault,” she says, carefully not looking up at Sid. She pulls her purse strap back up and tries to edge around Sid before he recognizes her.

“Maggie?” Sid asks 

Margaret freezes. Sid’s still gripping her elbow tightly. “Margaret,” she says.

“What?” “It’s Margaret. No one really calls me Maggie any more,” she tells him. Sid’s grip tightens even more for a moment before he drops his hand back to his side.

Margaret stops peering down the hall behind him and chances a look at his face. Sid’s jaw is tight, and he’s looking at Margaret like he can’t believe he’s actually seeing her. A member of team staff walks past behind Sid— Tags, Margaret is pretty sure— and pats Sid on the back as he goes past. Sid startles a little.

Sid takes Margaret’s arm again, and she lets herself be led into an empty room a few steps down the hall. Sid pushes the door mostly shut behind them.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come out,” Sid admits.

“I was told there wouldn’t be any players here,” Margaret counters. Sid winces, and it’s satisfying to see, briefly. 

“Maggie,” Sid starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s still staring at Margaret like he doesn’t believe she’s real. 

“Stop calling me that,” Margaret says. She’s drained after sitting in front of that camera for Sid, and she doesn’t have the patience, suddenly, for whatever Sid’s about to say next. “Look, I should just go,” she says. “I should’ve never even come in the first place.” She finally wrenches her arm free from Sid’s grip. 

Sid blinks at Margaret, confused. “I just thought-” he says, but, again, he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Sid says, taking a step back. “It means a lot, I know it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Margaret says. “Yeah, well, I guess now we can go back to pretending the other of us doesn’t exist.” She moves to brush past Sid and out the door. 

“Wait,” Sid says. He reaches to grab Margaret again, but thinks better of it. He shuts the door all the way. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? You made it very clear you didn’t want anything to do with me when you broke up with me. We went our separate ways, and I did my best to forget I was ever in love with you,” Margaret says. She makes a move to push past Sid again, but Sid stops her with an arm around her waist. Margaret spins back to face Sid, now boxed in against the closed door. 

“Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t know what to do,” Sid tries, talking fast like he can keep Margaret from leaving by sheer force of will.

“So fast? Sid, we’d been together for almost seven years, when all of a sudden you broke up with me instead of giving me a ring!”

“Exactly! You wanted a ring, and I wasn’t ready for that,” Sid argues. “It was just-”

“Just so overwhelming you couldn’t even talk about it? Fuck, all I got was a ‘I want to breakup,’ and then we never spoke again.” Margaret didn’t think she had it in her to be angry about this after so many years, but Sid standing so close to her was bringing out all sorts of emotions. Fury, longing, heartbreak.

Sid makes a frustrated noise. “You’re the one who cut me out of your life!”

Margaret feels like she could scream. “You broke up with me, what the hell else was I supposed to do?” she says, trying to keep her voice level. She isn’t sure if she’s going to scream or break down crying. 

“I just needed space! I needed time to figure out where we were headed,” Sid says. 

Margaret opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Sid’s mouth is on hers, kissing her fiercely. She lets herself melt into it for a second—the way Sid’s lips slide against hers, once so familiar, her back pressed against the door, Sid’s hands on her body, one clutching her hip and the other resting on her cheek—before she comes to her senses and pushes Sid away. Sid goes, breathing raggedly and looking stunned. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Margaret asks. Her hand is on the doorknob. 

“I- I don’t know,” Sid says honestly. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Margaret should leave. She knows she should leave. She can’t help but ask, “Which part?”

Sid makes a face at her. Margaret hates the fondness she feels for that damn nose scrunch. “All of it. Everything. I’m sorry,” he says again. 

They’re both quiet for a long time. There’s footsteps down the hall. “I should go,” Margaret finally says. 

This time, Sid doesn’t stop her.  Margaret pulls the door open and steps back into the hall. She looks back over her shoulder. Sid hasn’t moved. 

“Goodbye, Sid,” she says softly. 

She doesn’t pass anyone else as she makes her way back to her car. She drives home in silence. She doesn’t ever hear from Sid again. It’s probably for the best that way. 

 A few weeks later, Margaret gets a text from Jen. The game’s tonight, it reads. Margaret still hasn’t decided if she’s going to watch the game or not. She hasn’t seen a Penguins game since they won the Cup in 2017, hasn’t watched one on TV in even longer.

She turns on her TV.

1250 games isn’t nearly as big of a milestone as 1000 games was, but they’ll still be showing some of the pre-recorded clips throughout the game, mixed in with highlights of Sid over the years, or so Potash is saying when Margaret finds the right channel. There’s no pregame ceremony, just Sid blushing when the PA acknowledges the milestone before puck drop. It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of watching hockey, though Margaret has to keep the roster pulled up on her phone to keep track of who’s who. The team is very different than she remembers, only a handful of players left who’d remember her. 

They play Margaret’s video clip just before the end of the second period. The words underneath her name simply describe her as “friend of Sid’s” which is a bit of a stretch. “Sid’s ex-girlfriend” would certainly have been funnier. She mutes the TV; she already knows what she said, doesn’t need to hear it again. They’ve interspersed the clip with pictures of Margaret and Sid, some she’d even forgotten existed— Margaret and Biscuit and Sid with his dog Sam one summer, one a teammate had taken of them in a rare moment of PDA with Sid’s hips pressing Margaret into a wall in a hall at PPG, Margaret’s arms wound tightly around his neck, and the last one is one from Sid’s day with the Cup in 2017. She remembers that picture being taken, poking fun at Sid’s sunburn to get him to give the camera a real smile. The memory is bittersweet now. Margaret wonders which poor intern had to dig those up, or if Sid had offered them up himself. 

“I’m proud of you,” on-screen Margaret is saying. 

Margaret clicks the TV off. She stands up, stretches. Sid’s letter hasn’t moved from its place of honor on the floor behind the couch. Margaret fishes it out before heading into the kitchen. She smooths it out on the counter. The words are familiar, imprinted on Margaret’s memory. She rereads it anyway, then again. She misses Sid fiercely, all of a sudden, something in her chest aching at the thought. She stares at the letter without really seeing it, Sid’s thin, careful handwriting blurring together until the letters are indistinguishable.

 With a sigh, Margaret crumples the letter back up and throws it in the trash. 

She pours a glass of red wine and starts over on putting Sidney Crosby out of her mind forever.

[rickmandowneyjr]

Cuts to Cope

Angst, fluff Pairing: Severus Snape and Student!Reader (platonic) Warning: talk of self-harm, mentions of character's death Word Count: 2348 A/N: This is a little piece I wrote a while ago but didn't know if I should post or not. After re-doing certain bits, I decided to upload it. Hope it's not too difficult to read. As always, the ending is a little abrupt and not too detailed, leaving it sort of up to y'all as well :) Sorry if there are any typos (I only ever get the time to write when it's quite late nowadays)

Yet another day at Hogwarts - waking up at 6:30 am, showering, getting dressed in your robes, and heading to breakfast. Wishing everyone you passed a good morning, wearing your signature smile as you did.

You were a 7th year, one of the few returning ones after last year's incident with Cedric Diggory. He'd been your best friend, or at least that's what people thought. Cedric Diggory and you had been dating for the last 7 months before his death. You didn't want anyone knowing because being star students meant eyes prying into every aspect of your relationship.

People praised you, a model student and now, prefect, who set an example. An example of how to be strong and cope no matter what life threw at you. Little did they know, you harboured a little secret. A dark, horrifying, and disturbing secret that would never let anyone look at you the same way if they ever found out.

Your first class for the day was Potions. You were a brilliant student, especially at Potions, yet Snape still had something against you. You didn't take it personally, though; he wasn't really fond of anyone. You walked into class, taking your regular seat at the front. Snape walked into class a little while later, slamming the door behind him, commanding everyone's attention.

"Turn to page 420," he drawled. You opened the book to find the recipe for Amortentia. Your heart felt a tug at the name of the love potion, never having been able to find out the answers with Cedric.

Snape's deep voice brought your focus back to class as he said, "Since it takes a week to brew, I've already completed most of the process. All you need to do is the last day's work," making the class sigh with relief. "However," he continued, "The last day of brewing is crucial and not easy. So, I expect your attention to be fully on the task at hand."

You began brewing the potion, following the steps perfectly. Snape sat down to grade papers as the class worked. He looked at you and said, "Ms. [L/N], roll up your sleeves while you work. I'd hate for there to be mishaps in my class because of one student's carelessness."

You hesitated, but then did as asked. You weren't the best at wandless magic but had made sure to perfect this spell solely for such instances. As you rolled your sleeves, you subtly waved your hand over your forearms, mumbling, "Illusiont," and casting the disillusionment charm.

You saw Snape narrow his eyes at you and panicked for a second before you saw him shake his head and return to grading. Breathing a sigh of relief, you returned to the task at hand and continued brewing.

After a while, you'd finished, and were the first one to have done so. Snape walked over to your desk and took a whiff of the potion, raising an eyebrow before giving you a single nod of approval, letting you know that it was perfect. Once everyone was done, he walked around, starting at the back, and asked everyone to announce what they smelled. You hadn't smelled your Amortentia yet and hadn't planned on doing so either, feeling quite relieved when Snape hadn't asked that question earlier.

Your heart rate quickened as you began to worry about how your body and mind would react to smelling it. You couldn't do it last year, since the Triwizard tournament had led to a bunch of classes being cancelled. As you thought about how excited you had been at the prospect of sharing the experience with Cedric, Snape's voice pulled you back to your potions class.

"Ms. [L/N]."

"Yes, sir?"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What. Do. You. Smell," he spoke, irritation evident in every word.

You swallowed hard as you leaned forward to inhale the scent. Your pupils dilated, your heartbeat quickened and your knees threatened to give out at the all-too-familiar fragrance. Your throat went dry as you stopped the tears from forming.

"Well? We haven't got all day, class is to be dismissed soon." He raised an eyebrow at you, asking you to hurry up since you were the last one.

With every ounce of energy, you calmed yourself and stopped your voice from wavering. "Old books, butterscotch and... vanilla," you sighed. Your breathing was erratic and you knew you needed to get out of class and get to the abandoned girls' washroom.

As if on cue, the bell rang, dismissing the class. Snape gave you an odd look and was about to ask you what was wrong but you had already gathered your belongings and were marching out the door. He decided to follow you since he'd never seen you act like that before and was wondering what had happened to you all of a sudden.

You made your way up the stairs, hurrying before you had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. As you reached the washroom, you started rummaging through your bag since the hallway was empty. You took the small blade that you carried around out, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Snape's POV

I followed her out of the classroom. Though not my favourite, [Y/N] was an incredible witch and this wasn't normal behaviour for her. She'd marched out before I had even dismissed class which concerned me even more, given her usually 'perfect' behaviour. She paced through the hallways and up the stairs so fast that I could've sworn she was moving around faster than I did on a normal basis. There was an urgency in her stride and I don't know why, but it concerned me.

She finally turned into the hallway leading to the girls' washroom on the third floor, which was odd. No one used this, as far as I was aware. I was a little embarrassed, considering I'd just followed a young girl to a washroom. In an isolated area, at that. I swear I never would've imagined myself going even further and following her in, but what I'd seen had shocked and concerned me enough to do just that.

End of Snape's POV

As you entered the bathroom, you had missed Snape, whose eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. [Y/N] [L/N], the golden girl of Hogwarts, had just walked into an abandoned washroom after pulling out a blade from her bag. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he rushed in, wanting to confirm what his eyes had just seen.

As you were about to enter a stall, the door to the bathroom, swung open, making you jump. You hid the blade by making a fist, unintentionally cutting into your palm. You winced at the unexpected pain but didn't let it show.

You turned to face Professor Snape, and he was eyeing your hand. 'There's no way he saw it, is there?' you thought.

"Ms. [L/N], care to show me your hands?"

You panicked. He knew. You tried to divert his attention. "Sir, this is the girls' washroom."

"I'm aware," he stated. "Now... Hands," he said as he glared at you, letting you know that he wouldn't fall for any attempts to change the subject.

You sighed and opened your hands, and saw his gaze soften. He walked to you taking your hand in his as he gently pulled the razor out. You winced as it came out, knowing this would impair you for the rest of your classes.

"What were you thinking?!" He scolded, startling you. He reached for your arm, rolling up your sleeves once again and muttered, "Finite."

The scars on your arms started showing up and you couldn't do anything but look away, your eyes resting anywhere but his gaze.

"So that was the Disillusionment Charm I heard you use, earlier."

You stayed silent, still refusing to meet his eyes. Of all the professors, it had to be him. Sure, he wasn't fond of you, but you had immense respect for the man, and to let him see you in this light... it took every bit of you to not lose your composure.

"Look at me," he said.

You turned to face him. His usually cold eyes showed too much concern and the uncharacteristic response from the potions master was proving to be a lot to handle. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you.

"Why?" He asked, his voice so genuine that you couldn't help but let your emotions spill, creating a mess that you couldn't be bothered to care about anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you sniffled. "I don't want to. He was everything to me and it just hurts so much."

"Who?"

"Cedric."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware you and Mr. Diggory were best friends. I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

"No," you said, finally being able to talk to someone about it. "He was my boyfriend. And... I never got to tell him I loved him... because I wasn't sure. Today just made it worse when I smelled him in my Amortentia. It confirmed that I did and I never got to say it." You were sobbing now, not caring what you looked like, what a mess you probably were, or what Snape was thinking of you and your confession.

You felt him awkwardly wrap his arms around you as he pulled your head to his chest. Your cries got louder and your wails of agony echoed in the empty washroom as your hands clutched the fabric of his robes. The feeling of someone comforting you was overwhelming. You'd always had to keep up this image of a perfect student, reliable friend, someone who could never have such horrifying tendencies.

Even then, as you cried out loud, your instinct made you bury your face in his chest, muffling the 'ugly' sobs. Snape's heart broke as your thoughts flooded his mind. As you struggled to breathe, he turned your head slightly, making you audible again. He didn't hush you; just stroked your hair as your tears soaked his robes.

It took a while, but you finally calmed down, your sobs reducing to soft whimpers before they died out entirely. Your throat was sore, and lips, chapped from all the crying. Your eyes were red and puffy, and the reality of the situation finally came crashing down on you.

Your secret was out. More than one, at that. One of the professors knew, and the strictest one too. You had just spent Merlin knows how long crying into his chest, which was now soaked with your tears.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your voice, hoarse. "Your robes are all wet now," you said, trying to move away.

"That's the least of my worries right now," he said, keeping your head in place as he continued, "I understand what you're going through. Better than you'd know." It sounded like it was painful for him to talk about it, the tone of his voice giving the vulnerability away. "But this is not the way to deal with it," he said as rubbed your back.

"Does it go away?"

"I'll be honest," he sighed. "It does get lesser with time if you allow yourself to heal. However, it never goes away entirely. A part of you will always love and miss him. I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm glad. I don't want to forget him. Or my love for him. Cedric Diggory was and will always be - my first love."

You finally pulled away from his chest and looked him in the eyes as he gave you a gentle smile. You managed to muster a somber one and sighed.

"Do any of your friends know?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Why not? They're your friends. They could-"

"I can't have this getting out. Everyone will-"

"Who cares what people think?" He raised his voice. It was silent for a while before he sighed and spoke again.

"[Y/N], I want you to promise me something."

You knew what was coming. You gulped and nodded softly.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop this. Cedric wouldn't want this for you."

"I know, and I've tried before. It's not that simple-"

"I know," he said, cutting you off. "Which is why, the next time you get the urge to do this, you'll come to me. No matter what the situation might be."

You were surprised at his words. It was incredibly nice of him to offer this to you, and you nodded, accepting his generosity.

"Also," he continued, "Please stop going to such great lengths to please others and worrying about what others think. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"But nothing. Your health is suffering and you can't even bring yourself to tell anyone because you're so busy keeping up this little charade of 'everything is fine'."

You stayed silent. There was truth in his words and you couldn't refute his accusations. You just looked up at him, once again, finding the uncharacteristic concerned look meeting your gaze. Nodding softly, you agreed. How could you not when someone had shown you such consideration and compassion?

A small smile graced his usually stoic face as he helped you up, and you both made your way out of the bathroom. He escorted you back to your dormitories, ensuring you were alright before the two of you parted ways.

The rest of the school year passed and Snape stayed true to his word, and you to yours. Every time you felt the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the pain, you'd find Snape. He was patient and helped you every step of the way. Slowly, but surely, you were able to overcome your urges and also found yourself living for yourself, rather than up to others' expectations.

By the time you graduated, you had overcome the habit and thanked Snape in your graduation speech, never giving away the details as to why. A lot of people had assumed there was something between the two of you, especially since you went to meet him all through the school year, but you didn't let it bother you, because... Who cares what people think, right?

-

P.S. - Sorry I've been a little slow with the writing. My college assignments have started rolling in and I'm currently swamped. Also, I'm working on a little something (announcing it in 2-3 days so make sure to check in lol). Rest assured, I'm slowly and steadily making my way through requests. Thank you for understanding <3

[maraudersftw]

Hi Claudia, sending so much love to you right now, I'm so sorry you and your family are going through this! Holding you in light. If you're looking for prompts, I'm happy to supply one of my long-time favs, which is, "What are you grinning at?" (always a good Marauder reason, one would think).

Either way, I am sending you quick recovery energy and I hope you and your fam can rest up! Sending love!! xx

Clareeee 🧡 sorry for getting to this, like, a decade later, and thank you for your lovely wishes xx This was a super fun prompt to work with, because there were so many possibilities! Anyway, hope you like the end result!

Gratitude and love go out to @thequibblah for the music suggestion <3

Of Drinks and Dances

Tears streamed down the corners of her eyes, throat aching with the force of the laughter that wracked through her body, skin warm and red and happy. All around her, raucous cheers and music pounded against the walls of the Gryffindor common room. The Firewhiskey coursing through her blood made the edges of her vision strangely tinted, but it did little to take her focus off the messy-haired boy standing in the middle of the room, school tie looped around his head, glasses askew on his brightly laughing face.

To the backdrop of Why Did It Have to Be Me’s rhythmic beat, and with Sirius’s arm slung across his shoulders, James took another swig from the bottle dangling between his fingers and continued to twirl his hips enthusiastically. The sight of such terrible, carefree dancing was truly befitting of a Quidditch victory party, and Lily soon had her arms pressed against her stomach, wheezing, breathless with joy.

And though she’d done nothing out of the ordinary, her laughter entirely drowned out by the hollering surrounding them, in fact, for some reason, James’s gaze was suddenly latched onto her, the grin on his face stretching impossibly wide.

She was immediately shaking her head, smiling slowly, pulse fluttering. “No—”

“Evans!” He cried, and then proceeded to shimmy over to her. Up close, the flush on his face was even darker, the glint in his eyes evidence enough that he was sloshed six ways to Sunday. But the grin he flashed her as he tugged on her hand was warm, familiar—just very James, no matter drunk or sober. “Dance with me!”

“No!” she shrieked again, but it didn’t matter, because her feet were already disobeying; following behind him happily. It was quite unsurprising.

And then, she was somehow sandwiched between James and Sirius, their hips knocking against hers, and it was all Lily could do to not topple to the floor from the force of her laughter. Around them, her house had gone wild at the performance, wolf-whistling and snorting drinks out their noses.

Merlin, she loved being a Gryffindor.

Once the song came to an end, Sirius ruffled her hair in farewell. “So glad you’re not a bore, Evans.” And with a wink thrown at James—which, all things considered, the boy probably couldn’t even decipher, if his dopey smile was anything to go by—he sauntered away to flop into one of the plush armchairs.

“Another cup?” James yelled abruptly, even though the noise had quietened enough that he didn't need to.

Lily laughed. “I think we’ve had enough for the night, don’t you?”

“No such thing! Come on, Evans, give me company.”

She rolled her eyes, pretended like she didn’t want to immediately agree to everything he said. “Oh, alright.”

He beamed again, like she’d done something great just by saying yes. “You’re the best. Be back in half a mo.”

“Okay.”

She was watching him cross the room with an amused, fond smile on her face when Mary hopped into view. “Lily,” she slurred, glassy-eyed. “What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay,” she giggled, apparently satisfied. “I’m really drunk.”

“Yes, you are, love.” Lily snorted.

“Did I snog anyone?”

“Not that I saw.”

“At least I was—discreet, then.” Mary nodded, proud. The next moment, however, she was grabbing Lily’s hands. “Merlin, don’t let me snog someone gross, Lil.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

She pressed her lips together to stop herself from smiling. “Yes, Mare. Do you want to go to bed?”

“Hmm, that sounds nice.”

And that was how Lily found herself in the middle of the common room again several minutes later, Mary Macdonald having been successfully deposited on her bed in the seventh year girls’ dormitory. The crowd had noticeably thinned in the time she’d been gone, music soft, and apart from Remus, who was busy clearing up the aftermath of the party, she couldn’t spot any of the remaining Marauders in the area.

The pang of disappointment was a bit too strong in her chest for her liking, and in an effort to fight it, she caught Remus’s eye and waved energetically.

Perhaps she was drunker than she’d thought.

In response, Remus arched his brows, cocked his head to the left. A pretty strange greeting, she thought, until she moved closer and got a look at what he’d nodded towards. Or rather, who he’d nodded towards.

With a quiet smile offered to Remus—and ignoring his highly knowing look—Lily moved to carefully sit next to the figure lounging on the third step of the boys’ staircase.

“Hello, you.”

James’s head jerked away from the wall it’d been lolling against, droopy eyes snapping open. He stared at her, blinked rapidly. “You didn’t leave.”

“Promised you some company, didn’t I?” She smiled, feeling warm and giddy as she nodded towards the two cups of punch floating around his head. With his half-asleep state, it was a wonder the drinks hadn’t dropped right over him.

“Thought you might’ve forgotten,” James said softly.

Lily bit her lip, watched him; he was still evidently drunk, but the redness in his cheeks had dulled to a pink now, his words coming out clearer. Corralling a bit of her bravery, she reached out, placed her hand on his arm. She felt him tense under the touch, felt his gaze dig into her, but he didn’t pull away.

“I couldn’t ever forget about you, James.”

Hazel eyes ran over her face, his lips parting. They looked soft. “Really?”

Her fingertips slipped higher, climbing to the crook of his elbow. “Of course, not. I—I kind of—I mean, I—” Fuck, she was blushing all over. “I’m more than a little fond of you.”

He was still and silent, looking at her with a strange light in his eyes. Finally, he asked, "How drunk are you?"

Her heart trilled. "Less than you, probably. Why?"

"Just wondering how forcefully you'll punch me tomorrow morning if I kiss you now."

Oh.

Oh, wow.

A swoop slipped down her stomach, nerves beating at the base of her throat. "Well," Lily murmured, voice breathy, eyes inevitably falling to his mouth again. "Only one way to find out, yeah?"

"Yeah," James whispered, leaning forward to meet her halfway.

When their lips met, when his arm came around to encircle her waist, pull her closer, when her hand curved along the strong line of his jaw, Lily felt a sigh rise from deep within her and empty into him. His mouth was warm, gentle, unhurried over hers, invoking a buzz under her skin that even the Firewhiskey couldn't. She tangled her fingers into the mess of his hair, slanted her lips more firmly against his, swallowed the low groan rumbling through his chest—

And that's exactly when the drinks floating overhead decided to empty over them.

"Fuck!" Lily screamed, wrenching away at the sensation of the liquid slipping down her hair, and saw James do the same in her periphery.

Silence stretched between them for two long beats as they stared, wide-eyed, at each other.

And then, almost simultaneously, they burst into laughter, sopping wet and deliriously cheerful.

"Idiots," she heard Remus mutter from a few feet away, and that only made her drop her head onto James's shoulder and laugh harder.

[jaskiersvalley]

Cookie Cutter Boyfriends

The bakery wasn't new to the area but Jaskier was constantly surprised by the variety of people who came and went. There were a couple of regulars but fewer than he'd anticipated. Some people he wished would come back, others he was glad to see go. However, the two beefcakes that just walked in, Jaskier prayed to any listening deity that they would be back repeatedly.

"What can I get you gents?" Jaskier asked with his most winning smile.

Eyes like molten honey scanned the selection and Jaskier wanted to tuck the strands of white hair behind the man's ear to see his face better.

"Cookies. The personalised ones."

"A fine choice," Jaskier trilled and pulled the tray out. "I can put any name or message on there for you. Even a phone number, if you want to give it to a special someone."

So maybe Jaskier was flirting and hoping for a number from the man for himself. But it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Write Eskel on one," the man said, carefully spelling out the name while the other smiled at him indulgently. It had Jaskier's heart fluttering at the sweetness.

"And what shall I put on yours?"

"You should put a heart on either side of Geralt's name," Eskel piped up with a snicker. He got an elbow in the ribs for it but didn't seem to mind.

Obliging, Jaskier did as told, curling the most perfect hearts he could onto the cookie. Done, he popped them in a box and put them on the counter by the till. "Anything else I can do for you today? Does your, uh, friend want anything?"

Geralt's eyes widened before saying, "He's my boyfriend."

Of course he was, the two looked beautiful together and Jaskier sighed internally. However, he couldn't help but note the look horror on Eskel's face. Hopefully he hadn't accidentally helped Geralt out himself and his boyfriend when they were trying to keep things a secret.

"Well, good for you both!" Jaskier mustered up a smile and nodded at the small rainbow flags by the till. "I sometimes do flag cookies if the mood strikes. Usually on a Friday."

The transaction was processed in silence and at speeds. Jaskier could only watch as the two bundled out of his bakery and, as soon as the door closed behind them, Eskel was asking Geralt something, face torn between despair and entertainment. If Jaskier could trust his lip reading, he could have sworn Geralt had said something along the lines of "I panicked, okay?".

Somehow, Geralt and Eskel became semi-regulars. They didn't pop in on a specific day each week but they were bound to appear either independently or with each other. Each time they did, Jaskier watched them with heart eyes. Eskel was broad, almost apologetically large but kind and gentle. He was quite the sight to behold but Jaskier had an even softer spot for Geralt who really looked like he needed to relax. So, whenever he came by alone, Jaskier slipped an extra cookie in his bag or asked him to be a taster for a newer cupcake flavour.

It was all going well until Geralt came into the bakery with someone new. Another well-built, handsome man but with a sharp edge to his energy. He made a beeline for the display case by the till.

"Please don't knock on the glass, it scares the muffins," Jaskier said by way of greeting and got a bark of a laugh.

"I'll be careful, don't you worry. It's Geralt you need to keep an eye on."

Which Jaskier diligently was. Well, he was checking out Geralt's backside. Tearing his gaze away, he cleared his throat.

"I'm glad Geralt has brought a friend along today."

"Friend?" The man stood up straight with a hand over his heart. "Geralt, what have you been telling people? I'm his boyfriend!"

Which just didn't compute. Geralt had called Eskel his boyfriend. The mild panic of figuring it out was interrupted by a low growl of "Lambert" that was both a threat and fond exasperation.

"What might people think?" Lambert cried out dramatically. "Are you ashamed of our love?"

A hand clamped on the back of Lambert's neck and Geralt stood next to him, not letting go. "Jaskier, a couple of dark chocolate and ginger cookies please and a tray of lemon muffins."

Hastily putting everything in boxes, Jaskier tried not to let his imagination go too wild. Maybe Eskel was Geralt's boyfriend but so was Lambert. It wasn't unheard of really. It gave hope to Jaskier that they might take a liking to him and invite him home for a wild night. He could only watch as they walked out and the first thing Geralt did was cuff Lambert on the back of the head.

Things only got more weird. The next time Geralt was in, he was trailed by another man. Lithe, seemingly on the edge of bursting out giggling and he made a beeline for the counter.

"You're Jaskier, right?" The man held a hand out. "I've heard so much about you! I'm Aiden, Geralt's boyfriend."

Face schooled into something carefully blank, Jaskier nodded. "A pleasure to meet you."

"I think the pleasure is all mine." The wink was followed by a blatant once over and a low whistle. In the background Geralt closed his eyes, jaw twitching as he visibly counted backwards from ten. This time Aiden was the one who asked for a dozen cookies with an array of pride flags on them, two of each, pan, bi, ace, nonbinary, trans and demi. Oddly, the polyamory one Jaskier had started making since meeting Geralt and his boyfriends was left unrequested. The two left and Jaskier rubbed at his temple, trying to figure out just how four incredibly attractive men had found happiness with each other.

Only a week later Jaskier was waiting for a customer to make up his mind. He was the most silently intense man Jaskier had ever encountered and he really wished he'd hurry up and leave. Alas, he was taking so long, looking over everything in the display cases like the choice was of the utmost importance.

"I'll take two cherry and almond slices."

Cutting said cake, Jaskier was relieved and hoped that once the man had gone, he'd not be back again. The sound of the bell above the door had him looking up and Geralt stood there, alone for once. However, he eyed the man by the counter with a closed off expression which remained as the man took his slices and walked past Geralt, shoulders brushing.

"Geralt.

"Cahir."

It was awkward and Jaskier tried not to pry. But curiosity won out. "Another boyfriend."

From the door Cahir laughed. "He wishes."

For a moment Geralt stared at the ground before squaring his shoulders. "They're not my boyfriend. They're dating Eskel."

Immediately Jaskier adjusted his internal monologue to reflect the new pronouns. Though what Geralt just said made no difference.

"Are they a paramour to your polycule?"

"No." Geralt shook his head firmly. "Cahir and Eskel are a couple. So are Lambert and Aiden."

Not understanding, Jaskier wet his lips and cast a glance around. His eyes landed on a familiar group on the sidewalk outside the shop, making no attempt to disguise the fact they were all watching. Cahir and Eskel were leaning shoulder to shoulder as they munched on their cake. Meanwhile Lambert leered and Aiden sent him a thumbs up.

"I'm not sure I understand," Jaskier said. "I thought you said they were all your boyfriends."

Feet shuffling on the spot, Geralt cleared his throat. "Lambert and Eskel are my brothers." Which made even less sense and Jaaskier hummed, desperately trying to understand without asking whether Geralt really just admit to being in an incestuous relationship.

"I'm not dating any of them."

But you said-"

"I panicked." Geralt was watching Jaskier intently. "You were cute, flirty and I panicked. I wanted to ask you out."

A giggle bubbled out of Jaskier. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it but that wasn't a problem in the moment.

"Well then, how about a personalised cookie, on the house?" He grabbed Geralt's favourite and, with a flourish, wrote his own name and number on it, dotting the 'i' with a heart. Handing it over, he smiled. "I told you these cookies were great for phone numbers."

Outside a cheer went up as Geralt's family decided that the outing had been a success.

[chiliiscereal]

May I offer a prompt of how the turtles would be with a mom friendTM? you know the type I mean? like.... I think they might benefit from that kind of friend in the group lol (also I love your stories, your such a cool writer keep up the awesome work!)

Rottmnt headcanon: mom friend TM

And thanks so much!

Mom friends are severely underrated XD

——

-Okay these boys need a mom friend badly

-but that’s where you come in!

-as the mom friend you keep them safe in many ways

Donnie💜

-starting with this guy, he never really wanted a mom friend

-when April first brought you over he was cold

-didn’t even bother talking to you

-you were determined to befriend him, even though he left whenever you tried to talk to him

-you became comfortable with the turtles quickly and the others accepted your mom friend nature

-not Donnie though

-he didn’t hate you, sure, but you were too much

-you were too overbearing and too nervous for his safety!

-you’d make him wear a helmet when he used his jet pack 

-you made him put on SUNSCREEN whenever he went outside

-you told him to be careful when rewiring a project even!

-it’s like you wanted to ruin his bad boy image

-he hated it and wanted you to stop being so smothering

-…

-…until he realized that attention and moral support comes with the smothering

-the moment he realizes that he’s all for it

-he’s no longer hiding his inventions from you so you won’t bug him, but he’s seeking you out for your advice and praise

“Hey so I made this and… I don’t know…”

“Wow you built that? It’s awesome!” 

“Really? I mean, I know, I just wanted to show you that it was.”

-praise ain’t something this boy has

-have you SEEN how his brothers react to his ideas?

-he needs this

-with praise comes affection

-I’m talking homemade snacks and questions that his brothers never ask

-you’re there if he needs a cup of coffee or if he hasn’t eaten in a while or taken a nap

-“don, it’s been two days since you slept go to bed.”

-“*hissssss*”

-“I’ll make a cup of coffee for you after...?”

-“*hisses but less intense*”

-you may be good at making snacks and everything

-very good in facts

-but the questions are probably his favorite part

“Woah what’s that supposed to do?”

“Well it’s a device that’s meant to fix all the broken McDonald’s ice cream machines.”

“That’s amazing! What did you use to build it? How does it work?”

-you’re actually trying to learn about his work!

-you’re trying to learn about him!

-he loves it

-and he loves that you’re careful to

-it’s a nice change from his brothers

-you’re someone he can depend on

-doesn’t matter if it’s missions or just being a good friend

-and I mean it when I say depend

-you’re there when he needs help rewiring something or just to simply talk about his dumb dumb brothers

-honestly April isn’t even mad that Donnie stole one of her best friends

-she knows he needs this

-Donnie fully learned to trust you after the purple dragons mishap

-you told him they were untrustworthy but his heart was dead set on that satin jacket

-when he came back to the lair, late at night, with no satin jacket and a handful of his missing tech, he found you raising an eyebrow at him from where you had sat to wait for him

-he knew from then on to trust you and your opinions, even though his often got in the way

-you can often be found sitting on Donnies bed while he works, offering your company and comments

-Normally no one else is allowed in while he works but that’s just because they don’t have anything positive to provide

 Raph❤️ 

-Raph IS the mom friend

-your mom friend energy and his mom friend energy just work together so well together

-I’m talking planning missions together, figuring new ways to trick his brothers into being responsible, cleaning the dishes, and even making snacks together

-“so the mission is tomorrow right?”

-“yep! Should we bring apples with peanut butter or pretzels with hummus?”

-“well Donnie doesn’t like peanut butter, but Mikey does, so both?”

-“awesome! And you’ve got the water covered?”

-“dude I even have caprisuns packed so we’re ready!”

-the others find it to be too much with the two of you but Raph really appreciates the help

-especially during the pizza puff episode

-oh that part nearly set you on fire with worry

-Raph had never seen you that worked up

-you had a fan for Leo, a bowl for Mikey, and a bag of fruit snacks for Donnie

-Raph has to activate his supreme mom friend energy to get you to stop hovering over them

-that meant literally dragging you away from them so they could figure things out on their own

-he’s seen you be a mom friend to them all the time

-but never once for him

-you two were like... co mom friends working together to stop the younger irresponsible three

-until Raph got separated in the sewer

-oh man you were torn with worry

-you nearly destoryed the place looking for him

-and finding him all savage like that... ack that was enough to practically shatter your heart in two

-once he stopped trying to barbecue villains and destroy his brothers you took him to the lair and helped him calm down

-you even turned on a movie for the two of you so he could relax

-it was nice to have your best friend and partner in stopping crime back

-Raph of course was embarrassed because it’s HIS job to help everyone, not the other way around

-after much assurance you had him convinced that you didn’t mind

-he was grateful to have you and your help

-he just wished you didn’t worry quite so much

Leo 💙:

-this boy is soaking it all up from the start

-someone to compliment him?

-someone to help him out?

-someone to admire his achievements?

-oh he’s all for it

-he’s showing off skateboard stunts, he’s doing flips, and he’s randomly pulling you to him and creating a portal

-usually you end up somewhere sketchy but sometimes it works out

-you always have to be ready though

-one minute you’re walking to the projector room and the next you’re in New Jersey with a sheepish looking red slider

-his only problem is now he has to be more careful with skateboard tricks

-he’s fine with a helmet but when it comes to you hovering next to him while he’s going down the skate ramp...

-eh he’s not so fond of that

-praise?

-sure

-home made gifts and cards?

-always appreciated

-but you constantly trying to protect him from things he knew how to do?

-no

-just no

-now he only feels like he can skate if you’re not there or if he goes to a skate park without telling you

-you figure out quickly and still worry that he’ll mess up a flip

-doesn’t matter if you’re watching or not

-you’re the mom friend

-your job is to worry

-you promised that you’d stop worrying about him if he can back

-you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable in his own home!

-he agreed and you did your best to keep your promise

-...

-until he actually messed up a flip

-you don’t know WHAT he landed on but it must have been sharp because there was a LOT of blood

-maybe you thought there was a lot because you were so worried but still

-you hadn’t even been in the room but you heard his shout (and crash) and you came running

-oh he was lucky you carried gauze and everything in your bag because other wise they’d have to go buy some

-you chewed him out while patching him up, much to his displeasure

-you’re both sweet and sour about it

-“I’m fine! Look, nothing’s broken!”

-“I TOLD you that you could get hurt! I TOLD you it wasn’t safe! Why did you not listen- I’m sorry does that hurt? I’m sorry!”

-“yeah it does hurt-.”

-“than you should have listened to me!!”

-for a while he’s bitter that you were just waiting for him to mess up

-clearly you thought he was just a big clutz to you

-but after a while of him avoiding you and pouting you brought it up again

-“I’m not just waiting for you to fail you know. I just want you to be okay.”

-“that’s not what it feels like! You clearly don’t trust me!”

-“life happens, Leo! Doesn’t matter how skilled you are! You’re an amazing skater but sometimes mistakes are made!”

-ha that changed his tune quickly

-“you think I’m an amazing and skilled skater?

-you just rolled your eyes and left, not saying anything about his comment

-didn’t matter

-this boy is all smiles for the rest of the day

Mikey🧡:

-he was on board from the very start

-he’s got cuddles, piggy back rides, and his own art fan/critic

-lots of baking and cooking together

-maybe even drawing if he’s lucky

-only problem?

-you don’t trust him to go out on his own

-even if it’s just to grab a video game from the store or pick up pizza

-“I’m just going down the block!”

-“what if someone sees you?”

-“I’ll be careful!”

-“just let me go with you.”

-“no! I can do this on my own!”

-you’re always offering to give him a ride or tag along just because you don’t want anything to happen to him

-that means, of course, sneaking out

-not for a long time, just enough to get some air

-but that also means you’re staying up late waiting for him to come back

-he’s your buddy!

-you can’t let anything happen to him!

-he didn’t know about it until he found you cashed out on the couch with the lamp still on

-normally you gave him an excuse about why you were still up, such as a late night snack or a movie

-but your phone and the tv were both off

-he decided to think nothing of it until he noticed that you were grumpier in the mornings

-he didn’t want his actions to affect you so he started coming back earlier

-even texting you and telling you he was fine

-you two talked and set up a deal

-he could go out by himself and you wouldn’t stay up late waiting for him as long as you had his location on your phone

-it was easier for both you from then on

[mayaflowerxs]

hi there! can you do nsfw a-z for hendery? thank you! <3

NSFW Alphabet w/ Hendery

Warning: Smutty!

A/N: Thank u for the request hope you enjoy!

Aftercare:

He’s alllll for aftercare. Even if he’s not there with you and are doing phone sex he still does it. He’s asking you if you’re okay, to go get cleaned up, get some rest, eat and take a few minutes to yourself. If he went too hard on you he tends to stay with you whether it’s on the bed cuddling or just flat out following you to make sure you’re not having a hard time walking or doing any other activities that’s requiring you to move. Your safety means the world to him so even when you tell him you’re fine he won’t stop budging. At one point I can see him brushing you off and sending you to the couch or bed while he cleans and fixes the place up.

Body Part:

Not really a body part but he loves your hair. He loves tugging your hair just as much as he loves his being tugged.

Cum:

In any hole really. Hendery is just a sucker to see you full of him. He doesn’t like it splattered on you because he’s convinced it’s being wasteful and he may or may not have a breeding kink 😶

Dirty secret:

He has an oral fixation. Like the dude is literally in love with eating you out and sometimes it can get too much for you when you two get intimate. He can’t help it he loves it so much but won’t show it because he thinks you might get annoy of him constantly attacking your pussy :( so when you two do get handsy he seriously does not hold back at all. If he gets to a point where he has you practically sobbing then so be it but he’s not going to back off until he’s for sure done with you (if that’s what you’re into)

Experience:

I see him as experienced. Had a partner here and there and definitely went past making out. But oh boy they just didn’t hit the way you do. Everything he always wanted to try out was with you which is why it’s all the more special. Because you’re so accepting that he grows more and more confident in pleasuring you.

Favorite position:

Definitely doggy and cowgirl. He needs to be in charge. Now when you’re in cowgirl he never once has you think you’re in charge. I see him as one who’s very dominant behind all that goofiness. He’ll have you leaned down on his chest, an arm around your neck and the other around your waist as he relentlessly pounded into your fucked out cunt. Not holding back until every last drop is deeply stuffed in.

Goofy:

Okay he’s definitely goofy in the beginning. He’ll crack a hole here and there and overall just make it all the more comfortable. But as soon as the first moan leaves one of your guys mouth he’s inner dom comes out and no more Hendery now you’re face with Kunhang.

Hair:

Honestly it’s one or the other. No I’m between he’s a pretty confident man so he won’t worry whether he still keep it nice and trimmed to bare. If he wants to leave it as is he will and same goes for you. He literally does not mind what you do with your girl down there as long as he’s stilling tapping it it’s literally all that matters to him smh.

Intimacy:

The only time there’s real intimacy is if you two have been away for a long time. Missing you so much just as has him wrapped around you the entire time. And when you two are climaxing he’s pressing kisses to your shoulder, temple, lips anywhere silencing telling you, you did a good job and he loves you so so much.

Jerk off:

Oh yeah. He does it quite often. The boy literally is a puppy who grew attachment issues. He tends to miss your touch and presence and eventually that longing turns into sexual frustration that he just can’t tame. Kinda surprised how he still hasn’t been caught cuz of how often he does it especially since he shares his room. He loves to jerk off with you, so phone sex is a must.

Kink:

The biggest breeding kinker. Bondage. Those are his go to but he’s up for anything. Nothing is ever a routine when it comes to him he always has to try something new, nothing to big of a new but just something to spice things up. So things like choking, he grew fond of that as well. He also tried using ice but it only irritated him because the ice wouldn’t stop sliding down so that was a big turn off for him which only resulted in him taking out his frustration on you, annoyed that it didn’t work out to well but hey you didn’t mind. You got fucked by a frustrated Hendery that’s a pretty win win for you.

Location:

Okay hear me out, Hendery is literally in denial when it comes to this. But the man can literally do it ANYWHERE. Just with the right amount of edging and or sexual tension is why gets him to snap. Usually when his mind isn’t going fuzzy and he’s not in a lustful state he won’t even think to the idea of taking you in a public restroom. Or fucking you in the car in a parking lot filled with other cars. But as soon as you begin to tease him or whisper him how much you need him he slowly starts turning into the dommy man you oh so love just like his regular self and before you know it you’re coming back home with a slight limp.

Motivation:

How lost you get. You will be minding your own business but won’t notice how every move you’re making is a bit more seductive to Hendery’s eyes. He snaps as soon as you flash him that ‘innocent’ smile at him and that’s when he has you pinned. He also loves how confident you get, when you’re in the mood you don’t hold back. Already on a mission to tag Hendery’s whereabouts and pounce on him. Seriously ends up falling more in love with you when he’s all of a sudden gets dragged away from his activities and pushed onto a surface to lay or sit on. Biting his lip as you begin to attack him in kisses. Yeah he’s a goner right then and there.

No:

Honestly Hendery says no to anything he considers not that fun or interesting. Like the ice, won’t ever do that again what a waste of time and ice.

Oral:

My god YES. He loves you sucking him but usually he gets impatient because he’s the one who wants to eat you out. Might get a bit selfish because you like oral too so he might take up your time just so that he gets to work on you. The boy literally loves eating pussy he can go for hours and not get tired. Though eventually it gets too much your hands are pushing at his head and legs desperately trying to shut, hot tears running down your cheek by how sensitive you’re getting. Close to seeing spots.

Pace:

He has a good pace. Not too fast or slow, doesn’t stop often nor does he pound into you continuously without break. He knows exactly what pace to go which is right in the middle of it all which is what gets you to cum hard. His pace reflects on his thrusts and stamina and when all three come together he gets his baby happily pleasured which is all that matters to him.

Quickies:

Into it definitely. Hendery is overall a sex addict. That’s the truth. And the thing is he does good when you’re not around, for some time. But once your in view, in arms length or just the mention of your name is an instant click in his brain to desperately fuck you to tomorrow. Always before practice, after concerts, before grocery shopping. Hell he might even drag you to the bathroom and fuck you while you two were in the middle of shopping. He’s all for it and he’s not ashamed of it.

Risk:

Doesn’t give a fuck. Quite frankly he wishes someone catches you two in the act. Just the mere thought already has him climaxing so hard. Just seeing the shocked face of someone catching him fucking you balls deep is probably a deep desire of his. Like I said earlier this man can fuck you anywhere and won’t care who can see.

Stamina:

This boy has such a high sex drive he’s learned how to keep a high stamina. Hell even after you two are finished he still might have some energy he still needs to let off but never acts upon it because he sees how tired and worn out you are he just no longer has the heart to keep you going. You already did so much for him his needs can wait.

Toys:

Yes! I see Hendery as secretly kinky so using toys is a must for him. He’ll mostly use them to edge you on, yes he might like using them but he will never have a toy make you cum. If anything only he can, not even a toy shall do that to you. I also see him as the type to have lots of phone sex with you and have you use them but as soon as you’re close to cumming he’ll demand you to get rid of em and use your fingers to finish you off.

Unfair:

It’s a 50/50 for him. Usually he likes to tease you but not for long. He’s not the biggest fan of not giving you what you want.

Volume:

I feel like he’s one who’s kinda shy to show you his sounds of pleasure when you first go out but the more he gets comfortable and the more you reassure him he gets more vocal. Now that doesn’t mean he’s the loudest mf, I feel like he is only ever loud when he hits the spot to the point where his fingers are practically leaving a bruise on you by how good it feels. But other than that he’ll most likely grunt and have heavy breathing. Sweat running down his forehead which is what gets you going and have you get him to grunt louder when you either ride him faster or squeeze around him.

Wildcard:

When he plays video games with the boys he tends to have you on his lap throughout the game. Cock warming is his absolute favorite. He treats it like a challenge. How long can he have you on his lap without fucking you and usually it lasts around four rounds until he’s saying goodbye and fucking you from behind. Letting all his sexual needs on to you who is currently shaking his desk top like crazy.

X-ray:

Feel like he’s a bit over average. I feel like he’s more long than girthier but doesn’t mean it’s skinny as hell. Don’t get it twisted the boy be packing no doubt.

Yearning:

The man craves for you literally all the time. The only time he doesn’t yearn for you is if scheduling is kicking his ass and he’s too sleep deprived to even eat properly. Even then he might make it up by having lazy sex with you as soon as he wakes up. You guys have sex pretty regularly, if anything it’s a lot than regularly. You must have some nice working birth control because man with all these rounds and you’re still not knocked up. Only making it a challenge for Hendery to succeed in. And let me tell you once he challenges himself he most definitely succeeds.

Zzz:

Hendery is either or. It’s either he’s so worn out of his energy he falls asleep or he still has some energy left and uses that to clean up and yourselves. Usually because of how much he puts you through you’ll be the one knocked out so he’ll probably distract himself by playing the drums or doing what Hendery usually does.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Three (Worthy of Love Anyway) - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou’s got three little words. Three little words to span across all of the three years he’s known you. But you’re leaving soon, and now he’s only got one set of three left. Three days to figure out how to tell you- before it’s too late.

~5.7k

—/—

Day 3

“You’re doing it again, man.” Kirishima says, tone a little tired and fond. “Just make your move already. She’s not gonna say no.”

Bakugou hates it- the way his best friend can see right through him. You have gotten to be such a problem for Bakugou, that even denying it to Kirishima doesn’t work anymore. All the proof is there anyways- it’s never more clear than it is now, when Bakugou can’t tear his eyes off you. Not even for a second.

“You’re not her. You don’t know what the fuck she’s gonna say.” Bakugou bites out, a little too much venom lining his voice. “And I can’t. She’s the only good assistant I’ve ever had. Not gonna reward her by fuckin’ up her career like that.”

His best friend sighs in response- something put-upon and a little irritated, and Bakugou agrees.

Because skirting around you has been hell. The worst kind of hell imaginable. Especially since you’ve proven so good at your job that he can’t even yell his frustration out. No, he can’t say a damn thing because you’re nothing but incredibly punctual and alarmingly efficient- a perfect, pretty package of intelligence and drive that somehow landed in his lap. Well, maybe not exactly in his lap, yet, but that’s the entire problem isn’t it?

Because he can feel it in his chest; an itchy tether that pulls at his heart, makes him follow the red string with his own red eyes until he sees you. Even now he follows that pull and finds you at the other end of the ballroom, smiling and laughing, and decidedly not looking back at him. Bakugou thinks it might be better that way though, because he’s well aware of what he looks like when you smile at him: like a house of cards, bowled over by the softness in your eyes.

The tether he feels has been this constant thing, ever since you started working for him 3 years ago. It started off small, just a little tug at his chest, something he could ignore the second he found someone to punch. But it didn’t stay small. It evolved with every smile and laugh thrown his way, until it was a bursting thrum of energy, a sizzling livewire that leaves him connected to you wherever you wander. It makes him want to follow. To be a shadow for as long as you’ll allow him to.

It’s something he’s never felt before. Never even knew was possible. It’s the most disgusting, pervasive, saccharine, notion Bakugou has ever been struck by- and he can’t believe he willingly chases it down. Day after day like a drug he just can’t seem to quit.

“You’re not gonna mess up her career, man,” Kirishima tries again. He snaps in front of Bakugou’s face and only then does he tear his eyes away from you. “She’s moving on to another agency, right? You knew from the start she’d only be working for you temporarily-“

“Get to your fuckin’ point, Shitty Hair.”

“Dude, I wish you’d stop calling me that! I stopped dying my hair years ago-“ Kirishima whines for a moment, but straightens quickly at Bakugou’s glare. “Look, what I’m saying is, she’s not gonna be your employee after this week. So you either gotta get over whatever this is and be content after she’s gone, or ask her out now before somebody else does.”

Something flares in Bakugou’s chest then. Something warm and angry and unsettled at even the thought of you with someone else. It’s a dizzying thing, and he hates admitting that his friend has a point, but it’s undeniable now. The excuse he’s been making to himself for years isn’t going to be valid for much longer. And there’s only one other way to keep you as close as Bakugou has gotten accustomed to.

His eyes find you once more. You’re floating across the room, charming each investor and higher-up with all your easy charm and wit. It’s like the decision is made for him in that moment, fists clenching at his sides.

“Fine, I’ll fuckin’ do it-“ Bakugou’s voice is a rumble, indignant and low. “But not because of this shitty little heart-to heart, alright? You’re not fuckin’ right. You’re not.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Bakugou’s about to flare up, about to blast that stupid fuckin’ smile right off his smug fuckin’ face when-

You turn, dress fanning around you in arc that takes his breath away. Familiar eyes scan the crowd for a moment, latch onto him and then you smile something secretive, beckoning him over with a single curl of your finger. He knows he shouldn’t obey- he shouldn’t. Bakugou’s got a reputation, one that’s been taking a serious hit with every grin of yours, and there’s not much more damage it can take. As it stands now, he’s teetering on the precipice of something dangerous. He knows it. He knows it like the feel of an explosion in his palms, and yet Bakugou walks over to you anyways.

“Good talk!” He vaguely hears Kirishima yell behind him. “You got this, buddy!”

As he walks, the tether gets a little duller- less like a burning inferno, and more like a soft heat. It’s calming to be drawing close, and the feeling alone drags him forward. Like there was no other choice but to answer you call. At least, not when you look like that.

That is the current bane of his existence; a shimmering, emerald gown in a shade that reminds him a little too much of his gauntlets. He knows the color is a tactical choice, a way to subtly announce your position as his personal assistant, but something possessive in him has been growling all night regardless. Because gala or not, that night Bakugou thinks you look his- and that is far more than enough to be his undoing.

He grabs two flutes of champagne when he’s just a few feet away from you, offering one when he stops at your side. You raise your brows a little at that, something playful in your eyes, and suddenly he wants the ground to swallow him whole. When you take the glass from him, all he can see is how close your fingers are to his. How you’re not touching his skin and how he wishes you were.

“And here I thought you’d leave me hanging.” Your laugh is heavenly to him. Like liquified honey dripping slow and smooth. “But you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

What Bakugou really wants to say is I would never do that. Not to you, never to you. The words sit viscous on his tongue, and he tries to get them out, he does, but all he can manage is-

“I would, I just didn’t this time. ‘m in a good mood.”

Bakugou hates that the most. The way you make him a liar- force his hand until all that’s left is defensive words. Words that he clearly doesn’t mean. Words that always come out all wrong, tangled together in a mess he can’t possibly hope to undo.

Still, you take his rudeness in stride, just like you always do. You sweep his tension away with that easy half-smile, shifting your weight closer to him. Suddenly it feels like it’s just you and him, an unbreakable front against everyone else in the room. The notion is heady. It’s intoxicating and potent, and your proximity lends him to another dizzying discovery: when he looks down, all Bakugou can see are his green cufflinks, blending in next to a dress that’s practically the same shade.

That beast in him starts growling once more.

“Mhm, you’re charming as usual, huh?” There’s an elegance to the way you tuck your hair behind your ear then. An easy grace to the way you turn back to the older woman in front of you, smile brightening. “Well joking aside, Bakugou, this is-“

You’re introducing him to another professional, some woman who heads a tech company. You’re stressing her importance to him, how her company is responsible for some aspect of his new suit, but Bakugou can’t focus. All he can focus on is the way your dress glitters under the low lighting. The way it shifts with each breath you take.

He hates that too. The way you’ve sapped him of all his focus. Of all his unyielding concentration. Now he can hardly think when you’re around- at least, not about anything productive.

Some more small talk occurs, the type that makes his skin prickle, but you float through it just fine. When you nudge him with your elbow, he realizes his torture is finally over and all that’s left to do is thank the investor. With a small nod, and a terse but audible thanks, Bakugou is finally left alone with just you once more.

“You know, more people would give you their money if you tried smiling.” Your giggle is tinkling, hidden from him when you take a sip of the champagne. “Just saying.”

“Well don’t. I don’t need to go kissin’ everybody’s ass just to get support.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“I know.” There’s something sly in your smile, a mischievous curve he has the sudden urge to kiss away. Then you nod towards the back of the room, where cameras are still clicking endlessly like they have all night. “The press got a ton of good shots of you and Kiri- think it’ll be really good PR. Tell me, was that your idea or his?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Neither. ‘s not a fuckin’ ploy. He just wanted to talk.”

“Hmmm and here I hoped you had a legitimate reason to abandon me, all alone against your sea of endless investors..... guess not.”

He freezes at that, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Bakugou hates this too- the way he can never tell if you’re serious or not. He used to think your eyes were a tell, that he’d be able to sift through your gaze for meaning, but he quickly learned there was never any truth to that theory. When he looks at you, your eyes are always a little clouded over, intentionally hidden beneath hooded lids and thick eyelashes. Something hazy clouding them that could be amusement, or in his worst case scenario, genuine distress.

Then you crack a smile, and his world starts spinning once more.

“Lighten up, angry, c’mon.” You giggle, hand coming up to hide your smile from him. “You really think I can’t handle a few investors? That I need you to come swooping in to.... save me?”

And the answer is no- no, he doesn’t think you need to him to save you. He knows your capable and smart, gregarious and charming in a way he’ll never understand. Those are all things he knows about you, and yet he still finds himself selfishly wishing you were just a little bit... less. So you’d need him the same way he’s come to need you.

“Nah. You got it.” He settles on saying, taking a sip of his champagne- if only to give himself an excuse to blame the flush in his cheeks on. “Sides, if you let the fuckin’ oldies best you than you’re a lost cause anyways. Natural selection.”

“Yeah? Is that the line you’re gonna feed to your new PA too?” You smile coyly. “Gotta warn you, I’m not sure that’s a good place to start. Maybe try playing nice for at least a little bit- if you could even manage.”

“You tryin’ to fuckin’ say something?”

“Always.”

Bakugou knows he shouldn’t let it get to him; your little jibe was harmless really, and not even a little bit untrue. Still, you always seem to have him flaring red hot, so its no surprise when the heat rises in his cheeks.

“Oh calm down,” You smile, hand patting his chest, once, twice, and then retreating. “It was a joke. If I was really gonna insult you, don’t you think I’d spell it out more directly?”

There it is again- the searing challenge in your tone, the coy smile that leaves his skin blistered and angry all over. Bakugou thinks your grin alone causes sunburn; wonders if it’s some secret second quirk that only you possess.

“I’d hope you would,” He retorts, all sharp teeth out on display. “Gives me a better fuckin’ reason to flatten ya- I’ll even give you a head start.”

“Hmm, so generous aren’t you?”

Before he can respond, you’re straightening, setting the empty champagne flute onto the tray of a passing caterer. Your smiles brightens, and you gently wave at someone behind him.

When Bakugou looks over his shoulder, something in him outright seethes and dies all in the same moment- because in what world, on what planet, in whose messed up universe is he feeling jealous of fucking Kirishima of all people. Who he knows, without a doubt, isn’t competition right now.

Then you wave at somebody else and a deep, dark, sinking replaces the envy. Because Bakugou clearly has an issue with every moment he isn’t your sole focus, and you’re moving much farther than he can reach in only a few days. You might not be his employee for much longer, but he’s almost positive now that that’ll make things much, much, worse.

Because I love you, He thinks.

And those three little words are the most dangerous part of all.

—/—

Day 2

Monday morning rolls around- and greets him with a, quite frankly, offensive stack of paperwork.

The pile alone seems miles tall, and that’s not even considering all that’s still left within his desk’s drawers. The only saving grace is you, striding through the door and setting a mug of tea down on his desk.

“Good morning, hotshot,” You smile, humor crinkling your eyes at the edges. “I see you’ve found all the little goodies I’ve left for yo-“

“Little? Fuckin’ stack’s gonna take me years to get through!” He gripes, huffing while sipping at his tea. “Hell you trying to do, hah? Kill me before you leave?”

Even saying the words has a sour tang burning through his mouth. Almost has him hopping you would consider finishing him off- at least then he wouldn’t have to watch you leave.

“No, no, none of that. Although, now that you mention it-“

“Don’t fuckin’ push it, Y/N.”

“You got it, boss.” You mock salute, and all Bakugou can focus on is how you hair shifts when you do. “If you take a closer look, I promise it’ll be much easier than you think. All you’ve gotta do is sign. I’ve been typing up your after reports for weeks now- just confirm your version of events with a signature and you’re golden.”

Your smile then is righteous, cavalier, borderline arrogant. Its the sort of look he’d smack right off anyone else- but you’re not exactly anyone else to him. So all he does is grimace. Focuses on his tea, steadfastly ignores the way light reflects in your eyes when you think you’ve won.

He wonders if you know just how big a prize you’ve really won- his heart, of all silly, disgusting, embarrassing things. He wonders whether or not you’d still smile when you found out.

“Doesn’t really feel golden if I still gotta sit down and go through all the damn things.” He flips through the stack. Is horrified to find that there are actually more papers there than when he initially looked. “Waste of my fuckin’ time.”

“I’ve got a pretty good hand for forgery- maybe we split the stack in half? Work half as hard for twice as much pay off?”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs, but can’t help the smile edging at his mouth. “Not gonna let ya hang around here just because you don’t wanna do PR stuff. I can see right fuckin’ through you.”

“Oops, guess you got me.”

“Mhm. Easy. You’re predictable as hell.”

“It’s not my fault!” You fuss dramatically, a hand falling on your hip as you pop it out. “You wouldn’t enjoy it either. You’re the one starting all those fires I gotta put out, you know?

Bakugou’s fallen for this before- the way you’ll almost seem to pick fights, just so you can tap your nails on the desk in front of him with a Slow down there, Angry, I was only joking.

Its the sort of antagonism that’s just Bakugou’s brand, and he’s never come across anyone like you. Someone who’d choose him to square up with- day after day after day.

So he feeds into it. Leans forward on his arms, reveals sharp canines when he grins. “Oh yeah? Complainin’ so much, maybe you should quit then.”

This is another one of his favorite games. The one where he eggs you on to just quit already, and the one where you never do.

“Well if I quit now, that’d just be shame, wouldn’t it? I’m so close to the end.” Your eyes test him, dare him. “I told you the first day I got here- I’ll be the first and only PA to survive you. You’re not gonna run me out that easy.”

The air feels hot. Charged. Drags him up by the collar until he’s standing, splays his hands on the desk and leans forward to look you in the eye.

“Still got another two days, don’t go speakin’ too fuckin’ soon.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

“Try your best.” Hardly inches away, you lean in a little closer. Refuse to back down. He can feel your breath fan across his face. “And besides, isn’t sticking a foot in your mouth usually your thing?”

The tension breaks a little.

And not because he’s crushed it under his fists, but because you have. He thinks there’s something meaningful in that- how you’re the only adversary he’d ever be willing to lose too. It’s not his fault, he reasons, couldn’t be when you smile like that.

When you know you’ve won, and you stand a little taller. Lean back on your heels and flash him a smile bright enough to blind. Bright enough to sear your intelligence into him.

That’s a part of you Bakugou likes to keep for himself. The part that he takes comfort in- as he’s the only person who can seem to bring it forth.

“Oh, and don’t worry about filing it all away at the end-“ You change the subject breezily, and he’s grateful. But he doesn’t miss the way your smile somehow curves even prouder. “Just sign ‘em and I’ll take care of all the rest. I’ve developed a pretty organized system you know.”

“And you’re just fuckin’ tellin’ me about this system now? Hell am I supposed to tell the new idiot, then?”

He’s a magnet once more, drawn close with each word he speaks. Until he’s just as close as before. It always ends this way for you and him: just barely inches away.

“Oh he’ll figure it out. I hired him. Won’t be as good as me, surely, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ manage,” He says, scarred hand curling into a fist against the desk. “I just want-“

The word sits. Heavy and sullen and acrid on his tongue.

You.

It’s easy. It should be easy. It’s three little letters, one little word, all wrapped up in a package of all his best dreams and all his worst nightmares. And he’ll say it, he’ll just say it, Bakugou isn’t a coward, swears he isn’t, but there you go once again- making him a liar.

“What do you want?”

Your voice is a whisper. He can hear the way your breath shutters.

In your eyes, just inches away, he can see it. Another moment. Another opening. Another chance. He can say it, he knows he can, he just needs a second to breathe and-

“Bakugou. You have to tell me what you want.”

“I just want,” He breathes, screws his eyes shut. He can’t bear to see your face. “I just want things to be fuckin’ easy.”

At his words, your face drops a little. Something settles in the line of your brow and you straighten your shoulders, pulling them back until there’s a solid wall in front of him. He drops back into his seat.

“Well, if easy if what you want then I’m afraid I can’t give you that.” You try to joke, but the tone isn’t right. Neither are your eyes. “Can’t- I can’t guarantee that. Sorry.”

Then you’re gone, out the door before Bakugou can get another word in. The door shuts and the silence floods in. The air seeps back into his lungs. When he looks down, at the simplified paperwork on his desk, and the sticky note lying on top, Bakugou cringes.

You got this! You wrote. Drew a tiny little smiley face in upper right corner.

The irony isn’t lost on him. You seem to be able to say three little words just fine. Ink on a post-it note is all it takes for you.

I love you, He thinks.

And for some reason it makes Bakugou feel like the world is ending. You’ve rendered him so weak that a thought in his mind is all it takes for him.

—/—

Day 1

It’s a patrol day. Usually his favorite days. Or used to be anyways, before you showed up and started making office days enjoyable too.

Bakugou wonders what it’ll be like when you’re gone- when you’re not there waiting for him in the morning, walking at his side as you hand him a freshly laundered suit and a hot tea. The little details were always your forte, and for someone as particular as Bakugou, that was near irreplaceable.

So he tried to soak it up earlier. Tried to catalogue the details as best he could.

You walked in, greeted him with a smile that wasn’t as full as usual. That sat a little odd for a moment, but then you handed him a mug and all of his worries were swept away in the scent of matcha and vanilla. Then it was off to get changed, slip into his suit and fasten a gauntlet on each wrist. You followed him to the door on his way out- a tablet in hand as you read off patrol routes.

Bakugou can’t remember the words, but he remembers the way you spoke them to him. The way you always speak to him- like every syllable is important and invaluable. A secret just for the two of you.

Bakugou wonders what you’d think of his secret. If it’d send you even farther away or, miraculously, keep you close.

In all the best scenarios, the confession lands you in his arms. Pressed close to his chest and tucked up under his chin, in the space you painstakingly carved out for yourself. He never thought himself the gentle type, but if it meant that he could keep you, Bakugou figures he could learn. Would learn. Until you never dreamed of leaving his hold.

Or at least until you never dreamed of going very far.

Because there’s something thrilling about chasing you, some electric charge that he practically fiends for until he sees you again. If he thinks really hard, Bakugou could almost equate it to winning. Starts to think that maybe your lips would taste just like battlefield adrenaline. Like victory.

I love you, He’d say. And those three little words would make it all better. Would make you stay.

But that’s a ridiculous thought. A ridiculous wish. Something frivolous and dumb and impossible, he reminds himself. Because you have already proven to be so much more than just a PA, and would never think of chaining yourself to him while just on the brink of finally getting away.

His little fantasy world will stay in his head, stay in his heart where you’ve already made a home. Its better that way. Safer, he reasons. After all, Bakugou knows he’s greedy; knows that one kiss from you will never, ever, ever, be enough.

So he wipes the thought from his mind. Focuses on what can be enough.

A brutal victory against the first unlucky villain to cross his patrol path.

—/—

Day 0

This is it. The moment he’s been dreading for the past 3 days. If not longer.

“Hey, you busy?” You knock on the door frame, peek your head into his office with a wry smile. “I need your help.”

“Course you do- everybody always does.”

“C’mon, be a little nicer.” You chide, but there’s only indulgence and humor in your gaze. “It’s my last day.”

Bakugou feels a little sick. A little like the floor is wobbling beneath his feet, throwing him off as he walks toward you. Stopping just a few feet away, he tucks his hands into his pockets. The urge to touch you while he can almost makes him do something he’ll regret.

“What do you need?” He grumbles. “C’mon, out with it.”

“Help me move the last of my boxes into my car?”

Bakugou can’t think of anything he wants to do less. Not a single task on the entire planet could sound any worse than that right now. But he knows refusing is fruitless- because every second he carries a box is another second spent at your side.

A part of him hopes that you’re downplaying the issue. That what’s waiting for him isn’t just a few, but a sea of never-ending boxes.

“What, can’t carry ‘em yourself or something?” He brushes past you, knows that you’ll take his action as an answer. “Gettin’ weak on me?”

“No, I just- look.”

You grab his arm, spin him until he’s facing one of the hallway’s wide windows.

The sky is an endless grey, raining thick sheets onto the street outside. Everywhere Bakugou looks is a puddle. The entire street is flooded and running torrents of murky runoff into the gutters.

“Oh.”

“Yeah- oh.” You laugh a little. “Sky opened up literally the second I tried to take my stuff outside. Started pouring out of nowhere!”

“That’s shitty luck.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But that’s why I need you to carry a few things for me. So I can get it all done in one trip; avoid getting drenched as much as possible.”

Its on the tip of his tongue once more. Wait it out, he wants to say. Or maybe, Take it as a sign. Don’t leave me at all.

But that’s not fair. You’ve spent the last three weeks talking about your new position at another agency. How you’d be an Executive for the new agency, instead of just a personal assistant. It’s a better pay grade, a better employer, a step up.

So he keeps his mouth shut. Because Bakugou might be greedy, but he’s come a long way from the selfish boy of his past.

“Alright, alright. Whatever gets you outta my hair fastest.” He grumbles. “Gimme all the heaviest ones.”

“Why? Because you finally grew a heart and want to make my day easier?”

“No.” He shrinks back, borderline insulted. “I think I cut my workout short to see your annoying ass off. Need to make up for lost time.”

“Of course, of course, so,” You pause for a moment. “Pragmatic, aren’t you?”

The word stings a little. Pragmatic. It’s usually the sort of thing he’d take as a compliment, but he can’t now. Not when you look so resigned. So disappointed, when you start back down the hallway.

Bakugou follows you, all the way to his agency’s big glass doors. There’s 3 large boxes waiting there for him. And he sets aside the two largest easily, leaving the third smaller one for you. The rain keeps on outside, relentless and bruising just beyond the glass.

“It’s- this is kinda sad, isn’t it?” You ask, voice much smaller than he’s come to expect from you. “That I’m leaving, I mean. Three years is a long time.”

Bakugou watches you rub at your arms, your eyes trained to the floor. He wants to pull you in, draw you close until he can smooth out the crease between your eyebrows. Until he can convince himself that you’re not really going- because he agrees.

Three years is a long time.

His life, for as long as its been really, truly his, has been split up into three year increments. Three years of UA. Next was three years of being contracted into someone else’s agency. Then three years of having his own agency. And finally, three years of knowing you.

Its all in threes. Every little thing. And as he looks at the three boxes, Bakugou thinks that maybe this is fate. That his moment is here, now. That the rain was a gift he didn’t deserve but one he won’t squander. All he needs is just three more minutes. He’ll help you take the boxes out, and once you reach the car that’s when he’ll talk. He just needs a few more minutes. Three more minutes to love you the same way he has for the last three years.

3

“C’mon. Pick it up.” He nods toward the box. “Rain’s not lettin’ up, lets just get it over with.”

You face falls a little but you nod. Bakugou tries not to look, tries not to let his confidence shake the way his fingers have started to.

He follows you out, and you walk a little faster in the rain, but he can keep up. He can always keep up. Plans to follow at your heels for as long as you’ll allow him to.

I love you, He thinks.

2

The rain is drenching your sweater, leaving your hair clinging to your forehead. You look back, check to make sure he’s still following.

Bakugou can see the droplets caught in your eyelashes. Can see the rivulets running down your chin. There’s red in your cheeks from the chill and he’s not sure you’ve ever looked as beautiful as you are then.

It leaves him stunned, tunnel visioned as he follows. The boxes leave his arms aching but he won’t back down.

I love you, He thinks.

1

Your car is just a few feet ahead. You set your own box down, popping the trunk open with your other hand. There’s something strangely slow about the way you move- the way you’re holding out, dragging the moment on even as the rain soaks through your clothes.

You’ve just placed your box in, backing up to let Bakugou through. He can feel you behind him, a ghost hovering just inches away as he places his own boxes down and shuts the trunk.

This is it. He knows it. Can feel it in his bones, can feel it in the way they rattle beneath his skin in time to the rain. He’s had this last set of three, and he’s only going to ask for one tiny set more.

So, taking a deep breath, he closes his hand into a fist. Taps the trunk of your car with it, once, twice, three times.

I love you, He thinks, and Bakugou spins to face you.

0

“I- This isn’t fuckin’ right. You leavin’ like this.”

“What?”

You shrink back, and he can see the disbelief clear across your features. He’d never describe you as weak, never as vulnerable, but you stand there, hands clasped by your chest- and all he can think is defenseless. You’ve left yourself wide open for him, and Bakugou knows an opening when he sees it.

“I- I can’t let you leave like this.” He tries again, steps a little closer because there’s a chill creeping up his spine. Whether its the rain or the nerves doesn’t matter in the end, not with the way both are fixed by the warmth of proximity. “I have to-“

“Have to what?”

“I have to-“

The words are there, heavy once more, and he can’t get them out. Can’t utter them across a tongue that won’t listen, out of lips that feel so much unlike his own in that moment. So he skips the words, brings his hands up to cradle your chin. Brushes the damp hair back from your eyes. He looks at you, and wonders if he looks just as winded. If there’s as much hope in his eyes as there is in yours.

You nod, and the choice is practically made for him.

He’s kissing you, lips against yours, heat writhing in his skin like he’s possessed. There’s nothing but you and him and the rain and he never wants this to end. He doesn’t want to ever stop. Doesn’t think he ever can. Not now that he’s finally had a taste.

When you pull away, gasping for breath, he chases you. Can hardly help himself and doesn’t even begin trying to. He knows what he wants and its right there in front of him. You have always been right there in front of him. So he pulls you back in. Until he’s left only breathing the air you allow for him. Bakugou finds that there’s something so supremely satisfying about your lips against his. It’s like salve for all the blisters you’ve accidentally been giving him, all that yearning and craving soothed in a single moment.

“Slow down,” You finally manage to pull away, laughing and breathless. So happy in that moment. So sunny and blithe that it has his heart doing somersaults in his chest. “I’m not gonna disappear.”

And he can’t help it then, the way he pulls you forward again. Because your words made him ache, made him realize just how close he’d come to losing it all. To letting you walk away from him. He kisses you for every moment he’s been thinking those three little words. For every day of the last three years that he didn’t.

“You can- you can leave,” He heaves the words against you mouth, resting his forehead against yours. “But you have to- have to fuckin’ come back. ‘s an order.”

“And order, huh?” You laugh.

“Yes.” And he pulls you closer into his arms, presses you up against his chest and tucked under his chin. In the spot you painstakingly carved out for yourself. “It is.”

You laugh again, and he’s obsessed with the way he can feel it rumble through your chest. The way he can feel it expanding your ribcage against his, warming the both of you the whole way through. He realizes then, that more than anything, Bakugou wants to keep you laughing this close to him. Forever preferably, but he figures once more is a pretty good start. So he digs deep, for the best comedic material he can think of, and all he can come up with is-

“Alright. Now you can go. I don’t gotta do anything anymore, so get the hell outta my sight, dumbass.”

You roll your eyes then, but a tiny laugh does tumble out, and all Bakugou can taste is your lips and victory.

“You’re a dick. I’m never kissing you again.”

He just grins something wicked. “Lyin’s not a good habit to get into.”

You take the bait, he can see it in the set of your eyebrows. Then your leaning forward, fingers coming up to cradle his jaw as you tilt his head.

“Who says I’m lying?”

I love you, He thinks.

And the second he stops kissing you, Bakugou swears he’ll finally voice it out loud. After all, its just another set of three to add to his list; three little words to sum up three of his best years.

—/—

hi hi hi i hope u all enjoyed!! tysm for reading and pls pls pls consider listening to Three by Sleeping At Last !!! its what inspired this little fic :)))) its such a pretty song and gives me big bakugou vibes. n was a pretty fun excuse to write sum pining!bakugou bc i swear there will never ever be enough of that

also for those asking about I Melt With You,, dw im still writing it,, just took a break!! ill try to post the next chapter soon :)))

[fruitcoops]

hey! i love your work so much and i had an idea. what about the whole team going to pride? or maybe just the cubs or coops, but i would love to see the whole team supporting and maybe breaking out flags of their own. :)))

Happy Pride, everyone!!! It has been such a wild year, but I hope you all find comfort and joy during this month <3 I'm sending you all love and hugs (or high-fives, if you prefer), as well as positive vibes for the summer. SW credit belongs to @lumosinlove as always!

Credit to @queercanoe for the the rainbow bracelet idea <3

“This is…this is really nice,” Sirius said as they stood in line for popsicles. His face glowed with happiness and Remus squeezed his hand where it laid over his shoulder.

“Better than last year?”

He hummed in thought. “I like being here without the Cup and all the cameras. It’s just us.”

“And half the team,” Remus added.

“True,” Sirius laughed, bending down to kiss his forehead. Some of the glitter Lily had managed to sprinkle over his head and smear on his cheeks fell onto Remus’ shirt, and he brushed it off with a laugh. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. The kids are still arguing.”

Sirius glanced behind them and snorted; on the other end of the block, Leo hitched Logan higher on his back as he held Finn’s baseball cap out of reach. Talker and James had started an impromptu game of volleyball with a stray balloon, and the sight of Regulus playing peekaboo with Harry using his pride flag cape sent a burst of happy butterflies through Remus’ stomach.

“D’you think they’ve even noticed we’re gone?”

“Doubt it.”

They tapped their popsicles together in a toast and meandered back to the group—the afternoon heat toned down some of the manic energy of the morning parade, and Remus was content to just wander hand-in-hand with his fiancé for a while.

Not your fiancé for long, he reminded himself as the ice cooled his mouth. Just five more days, and then you’ll have a ring, too.

He stood on his toes, still a little sore from dancing earlier in the day, and kissed Sirius’ cheek. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Just ‘cause I love you.”

Sirius let out a slow breath and squeezed him a little tighter around the shoulders, catching a drip of syrupy red before it slid down to his elbow. “This is the perfect day.”

“It is, isn’t it? Ooo, blue raspberry.”

“Can I have a taste?”

“Of c—” Remus was cut off by warm lips against his own, shorting out every braincell in one fell swoop. You sly little shit, he thought, smiling into the kiss as Sirius dipped him back.

They straightened up after a moment and Sirius raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

“Your lips are purple.”

He licked his own half-melted popsicle before dragging Remus in for one more kiss, though both of them were almost laughing too hard for his plan to work. “There. Now we match.”

“Thanks, babes.”

“Hey!” Finn cupped his hands around his mouth, clearly giving up on retrieving his hat. “Are you done yet? I was promised popsicles!”

Remus flipped him off and pulled Sirius down by the collar of his shirt, suddenly uncaring of the stickiness making its chilly way down his forearm. It was their day to do that, after all; their day to be flamboyantly affectionate to anyone in sight, regardless of contracts and media and expectations. It was a day drenched in popsicle sugar where he could turn his soon-to-be-husband’s lips more purple than the dahlias he loved so much.

“You could’ve just said ‘no’,” Finn remarked as they rejoined the group, both a little flushed.

“As if you’ve kept your hands to yourself,” Remus teased, gesturing to the various smudges in Finn’s face paint.

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Good point.”

“I have them on occasion.” A burst of giggling caught both their attention and softness bloomed in Remus’ chest as Sirius tossed Harry a few inches into the air, making rocket ship noises. Next to him, Leo had set Logan down so he could lift Katie up and tickle her until she shrieked with joy.

“God, they’re cute,” Finn said around a mouthful of syrup-soaked ice. The look in his eyes was unmistakably fond, and Remus knew it was reflected on his own face.

“They are. The boyfriends aren’t bad, either.”

Finn snorted, then spluttered as he nearly spat out his popsicle, sending Remus into peals of laughter. “Stop it!” he complained, though the didn’t sound very upset at all. “I’m gonna get a brain freeze!”

“A brain freeze?” Sirius turned to Harry with exaggerated shock.

“Oh, no!” Harry gasped. Behind them, James stifled his smile in the side of Lily’s neck.

“It’s not lookin’ good, buddy,” Finn said with false gravity. “Popsicles are a dangerous food.”

Harry made grabby hands until Finn settled him on his hip, then took his face between two chubby hands and looked deep into his eyes. “Your lips are blue,” he proclaimed after a long moment.

“Are they?”

“Uh-huh. Tremzy’s got red lips, an’ Knutty’s got red lips, and Mama has pink lips, and Uncle Pads has purple lips.” Harry poked the side of his mouth. “You’ve gotta have purple lips, too.”

Finn raised his eyebrows at Remus over Harry’s shoulder. “Not a chance, Harzy.”

“We’re better kissers anyway,” Leo said with a grin as he sidled up and gave Finn a light peck. “Better, Pocket Pots?”

Harry stuck his tongue between his teeth in a comical imitation of Sirius’ concentration face; Remus shoulders shook as he held back his amusement. “Almonds.”

“What?”

“Almost,” Sirius corrected gently. “Not almonds. Close, though.”

“Tremzy!” Harry called. Logan looked up from Katie, who was quite happily upside down as he swung her like a clock pendulum. “You’ve gotta make Harzy’s lips purple!”

“Do I?” Logan glanced back down. “Can I set you down, ma princesse?”

“No!”

“Okay,” he laughed, hauling her over with careful steps. Finn leaned down to kiss him; over his shoulder, Leo and Harry made faces at each other.

“This is perfect,” Sirius murmured, resting his forehead against Remus’ (admittedly sweaty) hair. Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the stress of wedding planning roll off his back. He could be surrounded by their family in a sea of color for just a little longer—they could be there together.

“I’m proud to be with you,” he said as Regulus clambered onto Leo’s back for ‘a better view’.

It was a cheesy sentiment, but they had never shied away from romcom moments before. He felt Sirius’ soft huff of breath on his temple. “Re…”

I’ll never get tired of the way you say my name. “That’s me.”

The sigh turned to quiet laughter and a kiss. “We are such a cliché.”

“But you love it.”

“Damn right I do.” His lips were sweet and a little sticky, still; Remus wanted to drown in the feeling. “I will always be proud to be with you.”

“Uncle Pads!”

“Yes?” Sirius lifted him out of Finn’s arms with a dramatic groan. “You’re growing up too fast!”

Harry squished his cheeks, then poked the tip of his nose. “Why don’t you wear rainbows?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “I’m wearing rainbows right now.”

“But you only wear them now.”

“You want me to wear rainbows every day?” He cast a look at Remus, who half-shrugged.

“You do look good.”

“Everybody should wear rainbows all the time,” Harry declared. Down the street, a series of party poppers went off, followed by loud cheering from another group.

“Excuse me?” a timid voice asked. Remus startled slightly and turned around; a small group of teenagers was huddled by the massive balloon arch. One young man held his phone up. “Could we—uh, could we get a picture with you guys?”

“Do you want me to take it for you?” Leo offered as Finn took Harry again.

The kid’s eyes went wide, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, thanks!”

“Alright, on three!” Leo squinted in the sunshine as they gathered in a semicircle. “One, two, three, smile!”

“Could we get one with you, too?” one of the girls asked when he lowered the camera.

Sirius took the camera as they shuffled around and swapped positions, crowding close to the rainbow balloons while Harry played with Remus’ colorful suspenders. “Ready? Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” they chorused.

“I got a couple, just in case.” He handed the phone back to the first boy with a smile. “Are you guys having a good time?”

“Yeah, this is amazing,” he answered, a little breathless. “It’s—this is so cool. Thanks again.”

“Pas de problem.”

Remus glanced over just in time to see the girl bump her own rainbow bracelet with Leo’s; both of them were grinning broadly. “Have fun today, okay?” he said, giving the shortest of the group a high five. A jumble of goodbyes answered before they hurried back into the crowd, whispering among themselves while their pins flashed in the sun.

“They were cute,” Sirius said, watching them go with an indecipherable look. “Feels good to know it meant something, y’know?”

“It always does,” Remus agreed, snuggling against his side despite the heat. “I wish—”

Sirius looked down at him when he faltered; Harry yawned so wide his eyes closed. “What?”

“I wish we had this when we were kids.”

Regulus and Leo tumbled out of the rapidly-growing crowd, bickering over who got which part of the cotton candy, while Kasey stood as still as he could so Natalie could finish the small bi flag on his cheek. Sirius’ whole face lit up as he watched them. “It’s even better now.”

Remus watched the second wave of the parade build around them—people of every shape and size were decked out in a whole spectrum of colors, turning the street into a living rainbow in the afternoon sun. He tucked his hand into Sirius’ back pocket and laced their free hands together, listening to his heartbeat under his cheek. “This is the best thing we’ve ever done.”

“Coming to Pride?”

“No.” He held their hands up, and Sirius’ ring caught the light. “This.”

[thismaydestroyme]

Little Did I Know

Summary: In this short story Harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. I’m not sure if I’ll include some song lyrics, but if I do, I will take a piece of a lyric from a different song and pretend it’s his. 

Word Count: 2,272

“Sweetie, can you walk Cosmo?” Y/N hears her mom shouting from downstairs. 

“Yes, mom!” She says.  

Y/N is on her bed with her headphones on due to having a neighbor who’s living across her street who just moved in. For the past weeks there’s been a lot of moving trunks and ruckus because there’s a musician living among them. 

Y/N is a 21 year old girl who wants to be part of the music industry, but she doesn’t know shit. All she knows is that she loves music, and music is part of her. It was her dad that introduced her to music, like music that was before her time. Like Billie Holiday, Frank Sintra, The Rolling Stone, Queen, Otis Redding, Nirvana, The Knack, Elton John, The Doors, The Clash and so many more. That’s all she knew and all she wanted was to find a way to have that without having to know how to play the instruments, knowing how to sing. She simply just wants to go wherever the music takes her. 

She finally drags herself out of bed and starts putting on her sneaker and throwing on an oversized hoodie. She swaps her earbuds to her airpods and off to walk her dog. 

She walks down the stairs heavily which alerts her mother, and before she gets to the last step her mother hands her Cosmo’s leash. 

“Ugh. Couldn't you do - sorry mom.” She reaches for the leash that’s in her mom’s hand. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, darling.” She says giving her daughter a peck on her left cheek. 

Y/N bends over to put the leash on Cosmo’s neck, which Cosmo gives her a lick on her face. Y/N loves this dog of hers. He provides her safety and security, which she needs because let’s just say she has a breakdown every couple of days. 

Y/N stands back up and gives Cosmo a nice tug so he knows he’s ready for his next adventure. By adventure it means walking around the block she’s been doing for the past three years since Y/N got him. 

It’s around 3 o’clock which means the summer heat is hitting hard right about now. But it’s too hot to harm Cosmo in any way. Cosmo is the love of Y/N life. 

Cosmo and Y/N went on their typical route which they go past their new neighbor's house. Y/N realizes the new neighbor door is a jar, and she can smell bacon, which isn’t good for Cosmo because he’ll tend to escape and run towards the delicious smell he knows so much about. To Y/N not so surprise Cosmo started tugging on his leash that has Y/N being yanked and pulled. 

“Cosmo. Stop it right now!” Y/N shouts to Cosmo which she knows that wouldn’t help a damn thing. When he has something in mind there’s no stopping him. Cosmo has to be on something because it’s like he’s on some x game mode. Y/N starts tripping on her own feet and losing her own balance. 

They were running in the middle of streets when they received some honks and screams at fellow drivers on the road. Which Y/N give them a nice finger and simple “fuck off.” Y/N let’s go Cosmo leash because she isn’t in the mood to eat shit, so when she felt safe nothing could happen to Cosmo she let him go.

Cosmo went straight towards the slight jar front door, which I had to pick up my steps. Before Y/N could even be on the same street as the house, the new neighbor came out his house, holding Cosmo’s leash quite aggressively which had Y/N switch her mode to attack mode. 

“Hey, what the fuck? you didn’t have to pull him like that?” Y/N says aggressively while walking towards the house, when she gets in a hand reach, she pulls the leash so the neighbor doesn’t have his grubby hand on the leash. 

Oh you want to know Y/N neighbor? It happily to be Harry Styles. Forgot to include that in, sorry. 

“Are you getting mad at me? your dog happened to be in my house without any guardian. Your dog jumped on my couch, which I’m not too fond of. So anyone here who should be a little bit bitchy, it should be me.” Harry says hostile. He’s wearing a wife beater shirt that has his arms tattoos on display. For his lower part he’s wearing a nice black booty short which shows off that magnificent tiger tattoo. “Are you just going to stand there?” He snaps back. 

Y/N brought her eyes back to him which Y/N doesn’t approve of his tone. Y/N scuffs and rolls her eyes to the back of her head. “Sorry for your inconvenience. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Y/N plants a fake smile on her face. “C’mon Cosmo, let’s go, but this time I'm walking you.“ Y/N whispers to Cosmo while turning around to continue their walk with a small intermission they encountered. After a couple of steps Y/N turned her head around and when she did Harry was still standing there with annoyance on his face, which Y/N turned her head back around. 

“He’s going to be fun.” 

***

It took Y/N twenty minutes to walk her dog today. She wanted Cosmo to enjoy himself which he did because he saw a lot of squirrels today, and on top of that she didn’t want to ‘run’ into Harry again. Y/N should be excited to have a big celebrity living among them, and hopefully she could get reinspired about her future, but unfortunately that isn’t the case. Probably Harry is just having a bad day, and last year and the beginning of this year he had a lot of things going on. He’s officially a grammy winner, he filmed two movies, his latest album Fine Line has been doing phenomenally well, he was the first male to have appeared solo on Vogue magazine,  he was announced Hitmaker of the year, and so many more. So maybe he just needed to get his energy back, which Y/N understood. But man, it really had to be their first impression. 

When Y/N and Cosmo took a turn to walk to their front door, Y/N couldn’t help but to look across the street to see if Harry was there or not. Surprisingly he was, and he’s looking right at her. Y/N looked at his lips while he blew out a smoke. Fuck, he smokes?! 

Y/N doesn’t understand why he’s looking at her, but she doesn’t give a shit because the way he’s looking at her was his way of trying to figure her out. Whatever that fucking means. 

She broke eye contact and flipped her head around to her front door. She starts digging her hand in her pocket to fetch her keys out. Cosmo starts barking because the keys jiggles so he thought it was a new toy. “Oh you hash it.” She got the keys and shove it in the lock. Thank god, her mother didn’t lock the top of the door. 

The door finally releases and Cosmo immediately runs through, probably heading to his water bowl. “Thanks sweetie for walking Cosmo for me.” Y/N hears her mom in the kitchen probably smothering Cosmo. “Yep. I would say anytime, but I would be lying.” She says while walking up the stairs to head to her room. “Fuck off.” Her mother giggles. “I love you too.” That was the last thing Y/N said before she shut her door.

Y/N takes off her beat up vans and soon after plops on her unmade bed. Y/N stared at the few holes on the ceiling due to having a young Leonardo DiCaprio poster on her ceiling when she was younger. Young Leo hits different. 

Y/N couldn’t help it, but her brain went back to her small and rough interaction with Harry. She wished she met him on a  better note, but fuck it. But how could she move on from him? She’s a fan of his music and his viewpoint on the world. He’s a man of few word, but when he does talk, it’s fucking loud and impactful. He’s the main reason she took a few steps back off of social media. She’s barely on it, but when she does go on it, she isn’t on there for long like she used to. 

An hour went by and her mother started knocking on her door and then she came in. “You know mother, the purpose of knocking is to see if you're welcome to enter the space.” Y/N says nonchalantly sitting up to see her mother, but at the same time trying to hold in her laugh. 

“Well, if you want to contribute to paying the bills, I’ll happily reconsider waiting to be called on.” Her mother threw back. “Nope. You’re good.” Y/N says shaking her head. 

“Mmmmhh. Well, I’m going to hang out with the girls from work. Do you want me to make you something before I go?” That’s one thing Y/N loves about her mother, she is so selfless and she always makes sure I’m good before she wants to do something for herself. 

“I’m good. Enjoy your night.” Y/N gave her mom a smile to know she’ll be alright. “If you’re sure, then I’m off,” Her mom says all happily. “If you need anything just text me. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Y/N got up to give her mom a nice, strong hug. “love you.” Y/N whispers. “Love you more beautiful.” We pull back and she’s off to the race. 

Y/N walks to her window to pull the blind. She sometimes likes looking out her window and just stares off into space. Something about watching people live their life comforts her. She loves people watching. 

Y/N found herself mumbling some words, while people watching, but she couldn’t help but stop her little rampage. Y/N feels heavy and she’s unable to even grasp the concept, so when she starts feeling that way she tends to start saying random things. It could be something she could use in the future. To make sure she doesn’t forget she whip out her phone to go to the notes app where she has a folder filled with random words and sentences. There are things in there that could potentially be useful like, “More or less a painful experience. Only ever real if you're delirious. the summer before you,” “I think you're gonna be my biggest fan.” So on and so forth. That’s what the folder is filled with fragments and potentially some song lyrics. 

Y/N tossed her phone to her bed, and left her phone to bother Cosmo downstairs. Y/N loves that sucker. Before Y/N could even smother him with love, he’s currently sleeping on his bed in the corner of the living room. 

Fucking great. 

Y/N just wanted something to do, and her damn dog couldn’t give her that. She looks at the clock on the wall in the living room and it’s currently 6 almost to be seven. Y/N could go upstairs and ask one of her friends to hangout, but she doesn’t want that. The best alternative could be taking a walk and seeing where her feet take her. She likes that option better, so she quietly went upstairs so she doesn’t wake up Cosmo.

Y/N changes her attire to ripped oversized mom jeans, an oversized graphic tee she bought on Depop and once again her infamous black and white vans. She grabs her airpods, and her keys. She’s finally ready for the evening. 

Y/N went back downstairs to check on Cosmo and make sure he has food and water ready for him just in case he wakes up while she’s still gone. When she felt everything was in order she ended straight to the door. 

The weather feels astronomically better than before which had Y/N feel much better with her decision. Y/N isn’t sure if she should take the right or left. If she decides on taking a right she’ll pass Harry’s house, but if she does decide to take a left she wouldn’t. Y/N starts going back and forth, but she decides on going left. 

There was a nice breeze in the summer air, and she’s listening to “I’m a Slave 4 U” by the one and only Britney fucking Spears. “What's practical is logical. What the hell who cares. All I know is I'm so happy. When you're dancing there. I'm a slave 4 U.” Y/N finds herself singing to herself. She’s been walking around aimlessly and rocking out to her songs for about thirty minutes. She’s aware she’s probably creating attention to herself, but she couldn’t find herself to care. Y/N is enjoying herself. 

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out with her eyes pinch shut, when she finally opens them she finds herself in front of Harry’s house. The worst part wasn't that she was walking in a circle. It wasn’t that she belted out to her songs. It wasn’t she was flinging her body around like she was the balloon thingy at the cars dealership shop. Nope. None of those. 

The worst fucking part is, Harry Fucking Styles is currently outside watching her. Fucking watching her. Once again fucking smoking. Again.