#I need him reading his magazine in the corner during the break up too

[maydaydiaz]

Eddie is really just gonna be there in every scene chilling with them huh

[pebblysand]

Heyyyy Pebbles! Just read your latest chapter and believe me it's just so so so well written! You're a legend really. So i also had a few questions, about Dean. How do you think he felt once ginny and harry got together? Are there some underlying feelings for her still? Also I thought it was a bit rude on Dean's end to just asked harry if he's sleeping with her. Does he think Harry's just messing with her? Also how do you imagine the Weasley's to react to these two getting back together? I'm not sure they'd be a hundred percent pleased with this development since they don't know how how hinny was at hogwarts and have only got a glimpse of post war hinny.

I understand if these are a lotttt of questions, but uk I think you'll always be the best source for post war hinny metas ans headcannons. I love your works so much and as a non native English speaker I'm sooo in awe with your writing. It's of another level altogether. Amd yeah, I hope everything else is great, it's so amazing how you take time out of your busy schedule to write for us. Thanks so much for that!

hello!! thank you! that is so sweet! 🥹

.

okay, so to answer your questions, regarding Dean: yeah, he totally is being a bit of an arsehole there. i don't think he has feelings for ginny, necessarily. i think he likes her, as a person, and he is worried about her. you might not remember this but there's a scene in chapter 11 where this happens:

[Harry] keeps his thoughts to himself because he already got into a near-altercation with a couple of blokes at the Auror office the other day, and doesn’t need to get into arguments with her, too. They were walking down a corridor, bent over and laughing coarsely at a magazine held between each other - ‘Well, yeah she’s fit but wouldn’t fuck that you know, don’t know where she’s been -’ From behind them, Harry raised his arm without even thinking about it - Dean was quick, grabbed his wrist and held it down before he could aim. Thank Merlin, Ron was off work, that day.  ‘Leave it,’ Dean said. ‘Not worth your job.’  Harry set his jaw and bit his tongue and almost screamed that yes it was worth his bloody job, as a matter of fact, but by the time Dean finally loosened his grip, the two idiots had already turned the corner.  Harry didn’t ask, but he did wonder, later, what Dean thought of it all.

i think Dean feels about Ginny a little bit like Harry feels about Mia. the kind of relationship that didn't work out and it's probably for the best, but that doesn't mean he doesn't respect her or get angry when people disrespect her. the way he holds harry's wrist down in this scene, in my opinion, sort of shows that he's considered hexing them too, you know? and, i think he doesn't know what's happened to ginny during DH (obviously) but he's probably heard from seamus that it all wasn't butterflies and roses, so he feels protective. he doesn't like that people are saying shit about her, and he thinks she's clearly hurting through something. he likely reckons that harry and she being together the summer of 98 and subsequently breaking up didn't help so i think he's a bit hostile towards harry.

also, like, and this is more the fault in faulty manufacturing intertextuality so i appreciate this might not be something everyone on here has read, but harry and dean&seamus aren't, like, friends. they're acquaintances and their relationships sort of go back and forth throughout the years but they don't always get on (for various reasons, not all of them to do with ginny, obviously). and also, if you think of the timeline of both fics and where they overlap, this is happening just as seamus has basically told dean to date other people because he's not ready for a relationship, post-war. dean is obviously very much in love with seamus and so that sucks. and so he's protective of ginny and generally annoyed at life, and so i think that's what comes out in him "confronting" harry in chapter 16. he's being a bit of a dick, but it's sort of calming his nerves, you know?

.

regarding the weasleys, it's funny. it's one of those things where, when i was writing this chapter and decided to take h&g away from everyone the way i did, i knew people were going to come to me and ask lol. what do her parents think? what do her brothers think? etc. it's addressed in the chapter a little bit (what they've told her parents about their relationship, molly's reaction to them going to the US, etc.) but not that much, i agree.

i think there's two reasons for that. first, i already had 22,000 words on this monster of a chapter without addressing the question of the weasleys, and so frankly, there was no space. but second, i also think i'm not a massive family fluff/family angst person. there are people who write this kind of thing much better than i do.

there are personal reasons for this: i'm the only child of a single mother who basically has no family to speak of - writing about family drama and inter-familial relationships requires a certain amount of research and guesswork on my end which, whilst lovely, i don't always have much time for. the "found family" trope also isn't really my cup of tea. i love that harry has found the weasleys and i love that he gets on with them and finds a sense of peace in his relationship with them after the dursleys, but i don't think it's something that fascinates me in the way that i want to write about it all the time. i love harry and ron's relationship. i love harry and hermione's relationship. i obviously love harry and ginny's. but writing about the weasleys as a whole is a fun exercise, sometimes, and i do do it, but it's not something i want to spend most of my time on.

i think (and this obviously shows in the fic), my favourite weasley relationship to explore is ginny and molly. this interest actually stems from a quote from dirgewithoutmusic's the kids who chose themselves, which reads:

This Ginny had never met a diary. But she had still died once, though in a flaming home and not a cold, damp castle basement. She had still been reborn into something her mother would always love and never fully understand. 

this is obviously an AU where the diary doesn't exist, but this quote (and particularly the last sentence) has been engrained into my psyche for years since i first read that fic, and it's given me a lot of thoughts. tbh, i used not to really have a headcanon for ginny and molly's relationship before reading this, and that quote has now sort of become the foundation and the guiding principle of how i see them. i always gravitate back towards it when it comes to ginny and her mother (and, to a certain extent, the whole family). i think there's so much love between ginny and her mother, (and between all of the weasleys in general) but sometimes a lack of true understanding of each other. the love is somewhat unconditional (see how percy was welcomed back) but it's also imperfect. i think ginny's family have values with which, in light of her own personal experiences, she doesn't necessarily adhere to. as such, this creates a level of misunderstanding which doesn't eliminate the love itself, but makes the day to day harder to deal with.

having said all of the above (sorry for the long preamble lol), i think when it comes to harry and ginny's relationship, the truth of how the weasleys feel is also complicated (and diverse). i don't think there's a "how the weasleys feel", there's a "how each individual weasley feels". i think bill, imo, is the most adult of them all. he looks at harry and ginny with caution, but isn't necessarily opposed to it. i don't think he's keen on them going on the trip itself (for similar reasons as his parents - he's quite conservative) but i think he's generally alright with it. i think charlie is cool with everything, cause charlie is just cool and clearly also loves traveling. percy, i think, feels so guilty and conflicted about his own decisions that he wouldn't express any judgment. he might pass judgment in his head but he doesn't express it.

i think when it comes to george, he's actually the one who understands ginny best. the level of grief he's experienced personally has made him a lot more attuned to other people's experiences. i think george is the only one who, whilst not knowing the specifics, kind of has an inkling that "yeah, something happened in hogwarts that year." he doesn't know what that something is, exactly, but he can tell it exists. a little bit like dean above, he can tell ginny is working through something (because he knows what it looks like). so, when she gets together (again) with harry, it's like: please don't get hurt. i think he's, as such, probably quite cold towards harry at the beginning of their relationship, not because he doesn't like harry, or doesn't like harry with ginny, but more like he doesn't want her to get hurt. lastly, as we do see in the chapter, i think ron has been following this train for long enough, by then, that when they get back together it's not really a surprise. he knows why they broke up (sort of) and why they're getting back together (sort of). i think he very much doesn't like the thought of them having sex together, but yeah it's his best friend and his sister, i do agree with him that it's a bit weird lol.

regarding her parents, it's complicated. i think mr weasley sees himself and molly in harry and ginny's relationship a lot. he sees the fun they have together, how much they love each other, how much harry respects her (and obviously he likes harry as a person) so i don't think he really has a problem with it. he understands what it's like to be young and in love. you can kind of see that early on when he gives them the sex talk. i think his view would have been different if ginny has been like "harry was a dick to me and broke up with me," because he obviously wouldn't stand for his daughter being mistreated, but here ginny was the one who broke up with harry and she very much told the family it wasn't his fault. harry was clearly heartbroken, so i think mr weasley doesn't blame him for anything. i also think he has a very good relationship with ginny and trusts her to make her own decisions, knows that they "raised her well", you know? and, i think he's a bit like "well, they're adults." unlike molly, i reckon arthur understands a lot more what it's like to have adult relationships with your adult children. even when harry is a teenager, he never infantilises him. always treats him with respect and indulges his concerns and understands his eagerness to be involved. so, i think generally, he's quite happy harry and ginny got back together, because he can see they love and respect each other and hopes it'll last in the long run. he also understands that young people sometimes make mistakes, and that's okay.

molly... molly adores harry. she thinks he's a great boy who has been through terribly difficult stuff and she just loves him so much. she obviously sees herself as his mother, too. so, i don't think she sees him as a bad "option" for ginny, necessarily. but, by the time they get together, her relationship with ginny has become so difficult and strained, i think she just doesn't know what to do. if she expresses any sort of opinion (about them living together, about them going away together, ect.) she knows ginny is going to go off at her. ginny and molly have very different values when it comes to sex and relationships, and ginny obviously feels very insecure about her past, and feels judged by her mother, which doesn't help much. i think molly interpreted ginny's breaking up with harry and her partying streak as misbehaviour, rather than the sort of cry for help it was, and that caused a lot of tension. and, i think, even if she could tell something was wrong underneath the surface, she didn't quite know how to handle it. her only response was to tell ginny to "just stop," and send howlers, which wasn't much help. she is frustrated, doesn't know why ginny also quit school, doesn't approve of her decision to pursue quidditch, etc. i think what ginny needed, back then, was for her mother to pull her into a hug and rock her to sleep but molly didn't know that, and so she didn't do it. it's a whole misunderstanding.

so, i think molly has a lot of thoughts about harry and ginny, i actually think most of them are positive-though-cautious but she is walking on eggshells and so doesn't really say anything.

.

pfew, sorry this was so long, lol! hope it makes sense.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Harley Quinn

Summery: The batfamily hears three stories about batmom and Harley. How they met, how they started dating, and how they ended.

Warning: fluff, angst.

A/N: This bish is 4847 words. I did not mean to write that much.

Man, the amount of love I got from Stories...I'm so happy people enjoyed it. So, I hope you enjoy this one just as much.

Feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

-------

There were only two weeks left of summer, and she wanted to move onto campus as soon as possible. But her friend, Selina, had made it a little difficult for her. On the first day the campus was allowing their students to come, Selina had come over and stopped her from packing. And they spent the day together shopping, seeing a movie and eating. Selina ended up crashing at her place after they had binged a show.

When she started packing the next day, Selina did the same. But after a promise of hanging out when she was settled in her dorms, Selina conceded and helped with the packing. And after some whining and pizza, Selina came with her to campus to help as well.

Struggling to keep the heavy box in her hands, she made her way towards her dorm. “You can help me, you know,” she grunted, shifting the box as it was slipping out of her arms.

“I am,” Selina said, holding up a couple of garbage bags full of clothes. “My hands are just full to help you carry your box.”

“You’re funny,” she deadpanned. Selina flashed her a smile, to which she returned one of her own.

“And that’s why you love me.”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it,” she mused, looking at each dorm number. “I think I love your cat more. And that’s why we’re friends.”

Selina gasped mockingly, and bumped her shoulder. “I knew it!” She laughed just as she found her dorm room.

Fishing out her key from her pocket, she handed it to Selina and waited until Selina opened the door. The minute she walked through the door, she was eloped in a hug. It caught her by surprise that she dropped the box she was holding.

“Hiya! I’m your new roommate!”

“And they were roommates,” Dick gasped out, interrupting the story.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Tim finished, and three out of the four boys burst out laughing.

“You two are hilarious,” she said, slumping into her chair. They had just finished dinner when the boys started bombarding her with questions about her and Harley. And after teasing them a little about which story. She started with how she met her ex-fiancé.

“Are you two done?” Bruce asked, and the laughter slowly downed a little. Until they caught each other’s eyes, and it started again.

Damian rolled his eyes, and turned to his mother. “I didn’t know you and Selina were in a relationship,” he said, and that had caused Dick, Jason and Tim to stop and look at her.

“No, no we weren’t dating,” she answered, shaking her head. “I didn’t know my sexuatilty until I started dating Harley.”

“And how long did that take?” Jason asked, rolling his cup on the table.

She blew out a puff of air and sighed. “When we were twenty-one. Even then I needed help.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Bruce said with a smile. She flushed in embarrassment and looked away before recalling the story.

——

“Pumpkin,” her roommate sang from the other side of the room. She hummed, blinking at her homework trying to keep awake. She was currently laying on her stomach with her chin sitting on her hand. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at it for hours.”

“Pft, I’m fine,” she answered, though the words were starting to blur together. “Hey!” she said, as Harley yanked the book from her. “I need that.”

“And you need a break,” she pressed, closing the book with a snap. “Come on Pumpkin, let’s get something to eat.”

She pouted trying to grab her textbook. Harley giggled and held it out of her reach. “Harley,” she whined, “the test I'm studying for is supposed to cost half of my grade.”

“You should know that taking care of your body is more important than school, doctor,” Harley teased. She stuck her tongue out, causing Harley to poke it. “Come on, we’ll go to your favourite café.”

She lit up and quickly got out of bed, almost tripping on her feet doing so. Harley laughed and tossed the book onto the bed. “You gotta be more careful, pumpkin.” She made a face, and grabbed her stuff before the two of them left their apartment.

She looped her arm through Harley’s as they walked. Talking about everything and nothing that came to mind. On occasion, she would check her phone, hoping for any messages from Bruce. But there were none.

She hasn’t spoken to Bruce since the last time they hung out, and she wondered if it was something that she did. Though the thought was ridiculous. They’ve only met up a handful of times since he’d been back. And even then, she couldn’t think of a reason why he was avoiding her.

The only thing she could think of was their first conversation they had together. But that was back when he first arrived in Gotham.

Bruce had found the apartment she was sharing with Harley, and decided to pay her a visit before the tabloids caught wind of him being back.

It had caught her by surprise when Harley called, saying there was a billionaire holding pizza. Confused on what she meant, she rounded the corner to find Bruce Wayne standing in her hallway.

After giving him a hug, and a little catch up, the three of you spent the night hanging out. And it felt like nothing had changed between the two of you.

It wasn’t until Harley had gone to bed, that Bruce told you everything that happened since leaving Gotham when he was fourteen. He told you how his training had gone, and all the people he’s met.

It was one thing reading about them through Bruce’s letters. But it was a different experience hearing them from Bruce. When he had finished, he told her it was time to start fixing Gotham his way.

With a sigh, she had hoped that he had changed his mind. Instead of talking him out of it, she suggested waiting a little bit before doing so. Make Bruce Wayne into a public figure, or more then he already is. And then have his second persona make an appearance. Only so people didn’t connect that the two were related.

That had been two months ago. And sure, she’s been busy with school and midterms were just around the corner, and Bruce was busy running a company and….well, being a playboy from what she’s read in magazines. She didn’t read the articles, it hurt a little reading them.

And he was also busy with being Batman. She laughed at the name the media had dubbed him, it almost made her call him up just to tease him about it. But she refrained from doing so. She was unsure where she fit in his new life, and at this point she was too afraid of the answer to ask.

When they arrived at the café, she found a table for them while Harley ordered.

Harley looked over the rim of the coffee cup in her hand when her friend sighed again. “You’re in love with Bruce!” Harley accused.

She dropped her bagel on her plate and stared at Harley in shock. “I am not!”

“You totally are! You keep checking your phone like your love sick, waiting for someone to call you.”

“I am not in love with Bruce,” she stuttered out, “why would I be? He left to go to school abroad, and shows up eight years later! And so what if I thought about him during those years, and was worried about him. That’s what friends do, they worry about them. It’s not like I noticed how much he’s changed or dream about holding his hand or...or kissing him or…or...” she trailed off as she thought back to all the times her heart hammered in her chest when he smiled at her.

Or all the times Bruce made her blush. She thought back to how she smiled when she saw Bruce’s letter in the mail, or how happy she felt as she read them. Or how relieved she felt when she saw Bruce in her apartment or how hurt she was when she saw him with different girls every night.

Then she thought about all that when she was with Harley. Could she be in love with Harley too? But she quickly dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t possible.

She slumped into her chair as Harley set her mug down, and smirked at her in satisfaction. “Holy hell, I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.”

“There it is,” Harley said, giggling as she received a glare. “You’ve known Bruce since you guys were little, how is it only now that you're realizing this?”

“I don’t…” she trailed off, hands picking up her cup. She twirled it around the table as she tried to come up with the right words, “I’m not...when I can’t pick up the cues when it comes to stuff like that.”

“So someone has to tell you that they love you. Like your parents loving you,” Harley mused, she shrugged.

“I know they do and I can see that they love me. But for whatever reason, when it comes to romantic feelings, I have a blind eye,” she explained, letting the cup go in favour of pulling apart her muffin. She huffed out a laugh. “It’s funny. Back in high school there was this guy who asked me out on a date. But he didn’t use those words, he used ‘wanna hang out?’

“I said yes. It wasn’t until he kissed me that it was starting to click. Even then I didn’t fully understand. Selina told me what it was that I knew. I was so embarrassed I couldn‘t face him. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

Harley leaned over and took her hands, she stilled her hands and her eyes flitted up to Harley. And her heart stuttered as Harley looked at her. “Nothing’s wrong with you pumpkin. People process things differently, you just happen to need someone to tell you.”

Relief washed over her and she smiled. “Thanks, Hars.” Harley hummed and leaned back, letting go of her hand. She missed the warmth of Haley’s hands, but didn’t think anything of it, especially when she noticed a twinkle in Harley's eyes.

“So, are you going to tell Brucie?” Harley teased, she made a face and shook her head.

“No, I will not,” she said.

“But he might love you back!” Harley exclaimed, “pumpkin, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks at you like you hung the moon every night.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think it’ll work. At least not right now,” she mumbled, and quickly added when Haley gave her a confused look, “he’s not interested in anything serious right now.”

Harley nodded in understanding, and she looked away when she saw pity in Harley's eyes.

That weekend, she found herself in the school library with Harley and Jonathan doing homework. Harley had just left for drinks, leaving the two of them alone.

Jonathan looked up from his homework and studied his friend. She hunched over her books and tapped her pencil on her head as she was going over a question.

“Are you and Harley dating?” Jonathan blurted out. She froze and lifted her head to look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, and stifled a laugh. “I think you heard me.”

“Oh I heard. But what made you come to that conclusion?” she clarified, squinting her eyes at him.

“The way you two act around each other,” he explained, “you're all in love and shit. It’s a wonder you haven’t kissed yet.”

“I don’t….but I can’t….” she trailed off. The words weren’t coming and she wasn’t quite sure if she did or not. “Friends can act like that platonically!”

“That’s true. But with you two, it’s hard to tell. You both have heart eyes every time you either talk about each other, or just being in the same room.”

She stayed quiet, she didn’t have anything to say.

“You know, when Harley told me you process feelings differently than most people, I thought she was joking,” he mused, this time chuckling.

“It’s great to know you talk about me,” she deadpanned, setting down her pencil.

“But I’m serious, do you like her or not?” he asked, and she let her head drop on her textbook and groaned.

“I don’t know. The other day, Harley helped me discover I’m in love with my childhood best friend. And now you're making me question my feelings for Harley.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender, though she wasn’t paying attention. “Wasn’t my intent, I just figured you needed to know.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly, and lifted her hand and flipped him off. He laughed and gently patted her head.

“I’ll ask a question or two, maybe it’ll help.”

She nodded but kept her head on the table. Jonathan's smile grew wider, enjoying this a little bit too much.

“When you see her, what do you do?”

She took a moment to ponder the question. “My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but think how pretty she is. And I get all flustered when she gets really close or she gives me a compliment. And when she’s happy and smiling and laughing, and my butterflies explode in my stomach when that happens because I did that. And sometimes, when she’s pouting or just sad, I just want to pull her into a kiss.”

Jonathan raised an eye at her statement, and had no doubt that she was blushing. “What about Bruce?”

“The same thing! He winks my way and the next thing I know I’m a blushing mess. And when he gives me a certain look, it’s like I gave him everything and I melt and just want to kiss his stupid face! And I hate him for that, but not really and….hhhhh!”

“Damn,” Jonathan huffed out, staring at her. “You have it bad for both of them.”

“But I can’t love two people at once!” she exclaimed, getting shushed by other students. She paid them no mind, head racing on what she should do.

“Who says?” Jonathan asked, and she paused to think about it. “There's no rule saying you have to like one person at the time,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “Now the question is who are you going to pick? Bruce or Harley?”

“What if they both don’t love me?” she whispered, lifting her head up slightly. “What if it’s all in my head and they laugh if I tell them?”

“I don’t know about Bruce, but Harley won’t,” he answered, going back to his homework, “trust me.”

She spent the next week pondering over her conversations with Harley and Jonathan. And there were a few things she’s discovered.

She’s bisexual.

She’s really bad at feelings and seeing them for what they are. Though this wasn’t anything new, still she hated that she needed help when it comes to emotions.

If she did choose Bruce over Harley, it wouldn’t have worked out. Not only because of him being Batman, but because she didn’t see it as a long term relationship. And she didn’t want that.

And if she chose Harley over Bruce, she didn’t want to make Harley feel like she was second pick. She didn’t want that either.

By the weekend, she still doesn’t know what to do.

Sighing, she fell on her bed. She stared at the ceilings and groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. “Why is this hard?”

“I don’t know pumpkin, maybe I can help?” Harley suggested, startling her. She sat up quickly and turned to see Harley leaning against the doorframe.

“Help me with what?” she asked, nervously laughing. Harley smiled and walked further in the room.

“Whatever you’re having trouble with,” Harley answered.

She sighed and fell onto the bed again, she took a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I don’t think this is something you can help with,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

She felt the bed dip, and felt Harley shift around until she stopped. “I could listen to you rant about it?”

She hummed, but shook her head. “It’s something I need to figure out.”

Silence fell around them as she thought. Harley brought her hand over her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She tensed at the sudden touch, but soon relaxed into it.

“Does it have something to do with what you and Jonathan were talking about last week?” Harley asked after a moment.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at Harley, panicking a little. If Harley knew, there’s nothing she could say that wouldn’t be a lie.

“But I…did he tell you?” she asked, Harley nodded. She groaned and stuffed her face into the mattress. “Damnit.”

Harley giggled and slowly moved her face so they could look at each other. “If it helps any, I love you too.”

She flushed, and looked anywhere but Harley. “But I don’t want to make you feel like a second choice. I don’t want you to resent me because you know I love Bruce too.”

“Hey I won’t,” Harley reassured. Biting her lip, she shook her head. Harley sighed, and moved to press her forehead against hers. “Can I tell you a secret? I loved you before I knew you loved Bruce, and I still love you knowing that. I just hope you can give me a chance.”

She studied Harley for a moment before closing the distance and kissed her.

——

“Ew! Mom! Gross! We don’t need to hear about that!” Dick interrupted. She looked up to see her boys looking at her in disgust. Jason and Tim gagged mockingly as Dick shuddered.

“What? It was just a kiss,” she answered, amused.

“Yeah but you kissed Harley. And that means you’ve done more than kissing,” Jason said.

“You knew this when your father told you I was engaged to her.”

“It’s one thing thinking about it, it’s a whole different thing to hear it from you, Mom,” Tim said, leaning back into his chair.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Shrugging, she picked up her glass and took a sip.

“So Harley figured out you loved me before you did? And this after meeting me once,” Bruce asked, amused. She felt her cheeks burn and looked away.

“Wasn’t my proudest moment, but yes she did,” she said with a shrug.

“And she was okay with it?”

She nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Yeah. She didn’t seem to mind too much about it. But I didn’t spend too much time being hung up on Bruce. I was too busy with Har-”

“Ma!” Jason exclaimed, stopping her from finishing the sentence.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything bad!” she defended.

“You went to school with Crane?” Damian asked. She turned her attention to the youngest and nodded.

“We had a few classes together, and Harley just sort of adopted him into the friend group,” she mused.

“What I can’t get over, is the fact that Crane had to tell you about your feelings for Harley,” Dick put out.

“Like I said, I have a hard time deciphering emotions. Especially when it comes to romantic feelings. But once I know, then I’m okay.”

“How long were you together before getting engaged?” Damian asked, though it was still hard to believe his mother had someone before Bruce.

“And who popped the question?”

She looked at the clock and back to the boys. “Doesn't the patrol start soon?” she asked. The boys looked at Bruce with their best puppy eyes. Well, Dick, Jason and Tim did, Damian seemed indifferent but Bruce could tell he wanted to hear the story as well.

“If it’s okay with your mother, we can listen to one more story,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at her husband. “What?”

“And I thought I couldn’t say no,” she said with a mumble.

“Shut up,” he said, but smiled slightly.

“So Ma, what’s the story?”

Her hand went up to her necklace and started playing with it as she thought back. “We’ve been together for almost eight years before I asked her.”

——

She fell on the couch once she got home from the hospital. It had been a taxing day, and all she wanted to do was curl up with Harley and sleep until the morning. But they had dinner plans they needed to get to, and if everything turned out as planned, she and Harley would be engaged.

Over the years of dating, conversation of marriage would come up. Whether it be just then asking about it, or their friends. They both wanted it, but they silently agreed that they wouldn’t take it seriously until they both finished school.

Harley had already finished her last year of residency, and she was one you last year. Granted, she still had a month left, but she figured it would still count.

“Pumpkin, I’m home,” Harley called as she walked in.

“Living room,” she answered back. A moment later, Harley walked in the room and plopped beside her. Harley laid her head on her lap and sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Tiring day?”

Harley nodded and closed her eyes. “I know we had plans to go out, but can we stay in? Arkham really took me out.”

She scrunched her nose, her hands stopped moving. “I thought you didn’t start there until next week?”

“I did, but something happened with the inmates,” Harley answered.

“And they needed a psychiatrist?”

“Apparently some of the inmates needed help and they couldn’t wait until next week,” Harley said, and sighed happily when she resumed playing with Harley’s hair. “So can we stay in?”

“Yeah, we can. We can order take out and watch a movie or something,” she mused, trying to think of a new plan. “What do you want?”

“Chinese.”

She smiled and reached over, grabbing her phone and ordering food. Once finished, she set the phone before turning back to Harley. She stared at her loving, watching as Harley was slowly falling asleep.

“You’re staring,” Harley mumbled with a smile.

“I can’t help, you’re just too gorgeous to look at anything else,” she teased. Harley blushed and snuggled into her legs.

“Shut up.”

Thinking it’s the perfect time, she went for it. “Marry me?” Harley’s eyes flew open, and she quickly sat down and looked at her.

“What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated, smiling at the bewildered look Harley was giving her. “I know we talked about it a few times. And since I have a month left of residency, I figured why not. So, marry me?”

Harley looked at her for a minute before smiling widely, and threw her arms around her, laughing. “Of course I will, pumpkin!” Harley said, kissing her all over her face.

And just like that they were engaged.

As the months went by, they planned a wedding. They had decided who was going to be in the wedding party, where the venue would be, and who was going to cater for them. They just needed to book everything, but they weren’t going to do so until they picked out the wedding day.

And for a while everything was perfect. Up until Harley started seeing Joker as a patient. She didn’t see it, not a first. She took it as Harley having bad days or long tiring days at Arkham. And with doctor patient confidentiality, Harley couldn’t talk about their problems.

But Harley could tell her how the day went. If it was bad, she’d drop it and offer to make Harley's favourite foods.

Then Harley started to become distant. She would come home later than normal, and would snap for no reason. She had tried to get Harley to talk to her, but she wouldn’t. She kept saying she was fine and it had been a long day. It was worrying.

All at once, it stopped. Harley stopped talking to her, and stopped coming home.

She was out of her mind, worrying for Harley. She hoped her fiancée would come home. It was to the point that she went out and looked for Harley.

But Bruce had stopped her before she could leave the apartment.

She had found him waiting in her living room after a long shift at the hospital. It had startled her seeing Bruce dressed as Batman standing there, he cowl down.

She was about to greet him, but the sad, pitied expression Bruce had stopped her. “No, don’t…don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, she stepped back. “But something happened to Harley.”

She shook her head frantically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Nononono, she can’t have…please,” she begged, as Bruce wrapped her into a hug when he was close enough.

“I’m sorry, but Joker got into her head,” he started, tightening his grip as she choked back a sob. “Convinced her that they were meant for each other. Made her fall in the chemicals he fell into. She’s alive, but she isn’t Harley anymore. Not the one you knew anyways.”

She broke down crying before Bruce finished his sentence. She clung to him like a lifeline as the words sunk in.

She expected to hear that Harley died, that someone had killed her. Not this. But this? This was so much worse.

——

A heavy silence fell once she finished. She was clutching the ring that was threaded on a chain. It helped keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry, not now, not after so many years.

“The next day, Bruce told me the full story,” she whispered, and grimaced as the fight flashed before her. “We fought. Okay, I yelled and he just took him. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I avoided him for a while.”

“I remember that,” Dick said, leaning onto the table. “Bruce looked heartbroken during that time. And every time I tried to ask what happened, he shut me down. Even at gala’s when you were there, he looked like he wanted to go and talk to you.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise. Dick was only eight when that happened, he didn’t think he was paying attention.

On the other hand, she felt guilt crawling in her stomach, and slouched into her chair. She hid her face in her hands when Dick continued.

“That falling out thing happened for a few years, didn’t it?” he asked. She opted to stay quiet, letting Bruce answer the question.

“Three or four years, yeah.”

Tim was about to ask what had happened, but Jason nudged him and shook his head. Tim gave him a look, and Jason gestured to their mom, practically saying I don’t think she wants to talk about it.

“Sorry for bringing up the past Ummi,” Damian said softly. “We didn’t know.”

Rubbing her face to get rid of stray tears, she dropped her hands onto the table. “That’s okay sweetie. I wouldn’t have told you anything if it still hurts.”

“So, how’d you fix your friendship with Bruce?” Jason asked. She shook her head and stood.

“Bruce can tell you,” she said, stretching, “I have the night shift tonight. And I need to get ready.”

With that she left her boys staring at Bruce, waiting.

“It’s time for patrol,” he gruffed out and followed his wife. The boys groaned, saying that wasn’t fair.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her quickly change and grabbed her stuff before pausing. She clutched her keys and sighed.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she sighed, dropping her shoulders. “After ten years, it still hurts. Not as much as it did, but still.”

Bruce nodded, and pushed off the frame and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close. “I’m sorry again for everything.”

“You know I don’t blame you anymore, you don’t need to apologize for it.”

“Feels like I have too. You don’t deserve to have gone through that.”

“No one does but life sucks that way,” she said, giving him a smile. “I have to go.”

Bruce frowned, tightening his hold a little. “I wish you didn’t.”

“I’m a doctor Bruce, but I’ll be careful,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. “You be careful too tonight.” He nodded and dropped his arms and watched as she left the room.

“I love you,” he called. She popped her head back in and smiled.

“I love you too.”

Running out of the manor and to her car, she didn’t notice a figure standing in the distance. Harley signed as she watched, glad that her ex-lover found happiness again. And promised she’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

[strawb3rryw00]

Late Night ♡ woo wonjae x female reader

warnings -> swearing

synopsis -> y/n works hard in her studio day and night and begins to worry her boyfriend who works right next door.

fluff and some suggestive shit.

also there’s a little bit of jay park x reader in here too

~♡~

4:25 am.

You let out a long sigh, slamming your computer shut after listening to your track. You had recently joined AOMG as their youngest member. You were a prodigy, having only been rapping for a year when Jay saw you performing at a small show just two years ago. No one in the company had a doubt in your skill, all of them praising you highly on the single you released after joining.

But you were a perfectionist. And you were determined to prove to everyone that your talent was undeniable. You were labeled as the hidden ace of AOMG by a magazine company after a special performance at one of Simon D’s concerts.

Your lyrical abilities and flow were unmatched by most artists in the game. You had a unique musical and physical style which caused you to have a large fan base, doubling in size when AOMG confirmed your relationship with Woo Wonjae, another artist under the label.

You were featured on his album, his fans becoming yours after hearing your talent paired with his.

But that only made you put more pressure on yourself.

You’ve locked yourself in your studio for days on end. Wanting to get your first full length album utterly perfect for your fans, the company, and yourself. You’ve gone days without sleeping or eating, earning the worry of your label mates.

Just three hours ago Jay was in your space lecturing you. He made sure to take care of every artist under him, checking up on them despite his busy schedule. While having two companies and multiple rappers and vocalists under his labels, you were the one he was always most worried about.

“Y/N man,” He spoke to you casually in english. “I love your drive and effort, but you need to go home sometime tonight.”

You frowned, pausing your song you had played. “But Jay,” You rolled up your sleeves and exposed your tattooed arms. “I’m just trying-“

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Jay cut you off, his tone a little harsh. He hated talking to you like that, but it’s what you needed. “Your friends? They snitch on you. Especially your little boy next door,” He referred to Wonjae, who was probably working away in his studio as well.

Since your boyfriend was also an artist, he understood your mindset and left you alone due to your request. Of course you guys still talked and spent time together, yet it was minimal during this time.

“I should not have to hear that you’re in here day and night. I gave you the full fucking luxury studio as a gift, thinking you’d take care of yourself. But youre basically living here. The shower is for occasional late nights y/n,” Jay furrowed his eyebrows at you, standing up and sighing. “I’ll force you to move to a smaller one, don’t think I wont.”

Jay opened his arms for you to stand up and hug him, which you did. He held you tightly, resting his head on yours and sighing again. “You stress me out. I better hear that you’ve gone home by tomorrow afternoon.” He says sternly, pulling away and looking at you.

“And you better fucking eat babe,” He always spoke to you in a friendly manner but it was never flirty. He genuinely cared for you and the other artists. And it was normal for you both to use babe in a casual manner. Despite his lecturing and the wide age gap, you both were very good friends.

“I will,” You smiled at him, pulling your phone out to find something to order.

He exits your studio and you sigh, sitting down on the couch you added. Your studio felt more like home than your apartment. You decorated it as such, even adding a cat tower for when you have your feline roomie with you, which is usually always because you don’t like leaving the ginger cat alone all the time.

After he left you went back to working diligently. You had finished three songs in the five months you’ve been working on the album. You didn’t have an actual deadline but you knew your fans were waiting. You had several features you wanted on this album as well. Hoody has been waiting for you to finish your part of this song so she can add her magical vocals to it. But you hadn’t quite found what you were missing from it.

Your phone lit up, a message from Jay on it. ‘I have your location ma’am’ The message read, earning a laugh from you.

‘lol’ you respond, setting your phone back down. You look at your lock screen and smile. It’s a picture of you and Woo that a fan took of you both performing on stage together. It was the first time you performed with him after it being confirmed you both were dating. In the picture you’re rapping to the crowd, squatted down a little and Wonjae is looking at you with the happiest look plastered on his face.

At the thought of your lover you decide it’s time to take a break. You get up and stretch, hearing your back pop, slipping back on your slides. You tend to stay in your socks while working, it’s more comfortable to you.

You walk out the studio and next door, smiling as you read your boyfriends name on the door. You walk in without knocking, knowing he never minds.

He’s in the booth, rapping his verse to Kunst, who looks at you with tired eyes. You stand behind his chair, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze while listening to your boyfriend.

You could listen to him rap all day. His deep voice was so beautiful in your ears. “Are you about to leave?” Kunst asks you. “Jay told us to make sure you leave.”

You shake your head. “Not yet.” You say, earning a sigh from the taller male.

Wonjae exits the booth, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. “Ahh finally taking a break mm?” His arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you close. You inhale his scent, closing your eyes in comfort. He doesn’t let you go, and holds you while talking to his friend.

“Imma head out, you did good.” Kunst gets his things together and pats you on the head before wishing you both farewell and leaving.

Wonjae kisses the top of your head and yawns. “Let’s eat baby,” He says softly. You nod and slide your hands under his shirt and run your fingers along his back, his favorite thing.

“I missed you,” You say into his chest, still with your eyes closed. He chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your neck while his fingers play with the few pieces of hair that fall from your bun.

“I missed you too, you been busy huh?” He pulls away slightly to look down at you. You meet his eyes and give him a tired smile which he returns.

“Yea you could say that.” He laughs at your answer which is music to your ears.

Now having been in his arms you don’t want to return to your studio for the day. You really did miss him but work is very important to you.

Wonjae sits down in the chair his friend was occupying previously and pulls you into his lap. Your legs hang over one arm while your back rests against the other. You lean into him, his arms sliding around you once more and pulling you closer. You tuck your head into his neck and relax to the sound of his deep breaths.

“It’s almost 6 am,” Wonjae hums, his fingers tracing the outlines of the tattoos on your exposed arm. “I’m tired.” He sighs. You know he’s hinting that you guys should leave, especially after Jay having said something.

“Me too,” You admit, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw and yawning. “Let’s go.” You add, reluctantly leaving his lap.

He stares at you a little shocked. “You’re finally listening huh? I’m impressed.” He stands up as well, laughing when you hit his arm.

“Go get your things jagi,” He waves you off.

After getting your things and your kitty, you lock up your studio and meet by his while he locks up as well. He smiles at you, sliding his bag on his shoulders and wrapping his arm around your shoulders while you both make your way to the parking garage.

“Let’s go get some early food and then go to my place yea?” Wonjae offers, guiding you to his car. “Ron can come with us and play with my babies,” He refers to your cat that you named after the ginger wizard.

You nod, getting in the passenger seat in his car and setting Ron on your lap. You inhale the comforting smell of his car, not having been in his car nor outside for a week now.

Wonjae drives down the empty road to a restaurant near his apartment that’s open early on weekdays. His hand rests just above your knee, his index finger reaching out to pet the cat on your lap. “No work talk today.” He says, looking at you as he parks. “You’re taking a break.” You smile, loving how he already knows how you are.

After you fill your stomachs, you’re on the way to his home. Even more tired now that you’ve ate. Once parked, he grabs his bag as well as yours and leads you into the building and up to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he rests his hand on your back to usher you in where you set Ron down while slipping your feet out of your shoes.

Ron immediately mingles with Wonjae’s three cats who make their way over to the two of you, the four of them following you to Wonjae’s room.

“Do you want to shower with me?” Wonjae asks softly, cupping your cheek into his hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb along the bone. You lean into his touch, kissing his palm. “Yes please.”

“Okay, I’ll go start it.” He rushes to the bathroom and you hear the water being started. You undress yourself, throwing the clothes in the basket he has in the corner of his room. Once you’re completely stripped you push open the bathroom door where you see Wonjae beginning to take off his clothes as well.

After sliding off his shirt he looks at you and smirks. “Mmm,” He hums, pulling you closer to him by your hips. “I missed looking at this.” He leans down and places a kiss on your neck, licking a stripe to your ear and flicking your lobe with the tip of his tongue. It sends a shiver down your spine, your eyes closing in bliss.

He knows your body like the back of his hand, he cherishes every piece of you. He looks at you, smiling. “I’ll fuck you later,” He kisses your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

He finishes undressing and you both get into the shower. He hugs you under the warm water much like he did while you were in his studio but this time it’s much more intimate due to the skin to skin contact. Your breasts press against him, head tucked into his neck. The warm water cascades down your body, causing you to grow tired.

After you both wash up, you find yourself clad in his hoodie and sweats that are just a little big. Wonjae waits for you on the bed, the four cats finding their way to join him. He lays on his back, scrolling through his phone.

You crawl into the bed, snuggling into his side with your head resting on his shoulder. He immediately puts his phone down and rolls over on his side to wrap his arms around you too pull you closer. You feel him breathing in your scent, his legs pushing to get in between yours.

“Jay isn’t letting you back into the studio until tomorrow and I’m forcing you to lay with me all day .” Wonjae mumbles.

You laugh a little, feeling grateful to have such caring people in your life. “Your album can wait for a day. I’ve missed you.” He adds, pulling you even closer to him.

You both fall silent, your eyes closing. You’ve never felt more content and comfortable than how you do now. You feel one of the cats snuggle into your back and purr against you.

“Wonjae,” You began, earning a hum from the half asleep man. “I love you,”

His hand slides under your shirt and gently scratches your back. “I love you.” He says, resting his hand on the small of your back.

You find yourself slowly falling asleep. You know you’re going to be asleep for the whole day and you’re honestly looking forward to it. Especially with Wonjae and the cats.

He’s right, your album can wait.

~♡~

lol i had to write another for wonjae. it’s so hard for me to find fics for him so i jus been writing my own.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

[nationalharryleague]

One Day

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Drunk!Harry Fluff!

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi all! This is some drunk boyfriend harry fluff that I just love sm. It’s based off of “One Day” by Catie Turner (I highly recommend listening to it!!) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think in my ask! Thank you so much for reading! 

***

Harry was the life of the party when he wanted to be. He knew how to let loose, with a tequila on the rocks in one hand and a beer in the other, ready to party until he (literally) dropped. He always ended up on some sort of elevated surface like a teenage girl, usually a kitchen island or an absurdly expensive coffee table, singing along to whatever music was playing, magically knowing every word to whatever came over the speakers. Sometimes he would get lost in the winding corridors of the massive mansions his friends lived in, taking a wrong turn in his enhibrated state and ending up somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. There was also one time he jumped off a (thankfully low) roof into the swimming pool below.

But usually, he was calm, cool, and collected; gently sipping on a single drink he would nurse for most of the night. The two of you liked to sit and watch during these parties, his hand settling securely on your waist, keeping you close to him and away from the chaos that unfolded before you. You would curl up on a couch somewhere and just watch it all play out like it was an observational study, often giving commentary and ranking people and their drunk dancing out of 10.

“I feel like we're the mean girls in the corner of the cafeteria who just sit and silently judge everyone around them,” you would giggle, nuzzling yourself further into his side.

“That’s because we are the mean girls in the corner judging everyone around them, sweetheart” he would reply, in a slightly buzzed drawl.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And Harry had ended up standing on top of the dining room table scream-singing ABBA at the top of his lungs.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic and messy performance. His limbs flailed freely as he wiggled his hips along to the beat of Dancing Queen, singing into a small statue of a naked woman he had picked up off an end table that you assumed to be very, very expensive, like it was a microphone. He wore a pair of high rise denim flares that swayed along with his movements to the music and his white “Women are Smarter'' shirt was now stuck to his body with sweat, just see through enough for his butterfly to make an appearance.

He only came down after a green malaise began to settle over his features, skin slightly clammy and a bit pale. You extended a hand, helping his loopy body down off the table and letting him settle into your side for support once he was on solid ground again. “Let’s head to the bathroom, H,” you said gently, trying to settle the panic that was beginning to crawl into his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Once he got to the beautifully large and extravagant bathroom, he crawled into a small, or as small as the large man could make himself, ball and rested his hot clammy cheeks against the cool marble of the floor. “May have overdone it,” he grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as you were sure the room was spinning for him.

“Ya think?” you teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when you were met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” You carefully dug through the cabinets, knowing there had to be washcloths somewhere in the lavish room, and once you found one you dampened it with cold water. Settling down on the tile next to him, you pulled him and his sweaty curls on to your lap, wiping the layer of sweat delicately from his skin and then resting the cold cloth on his forehead.

You two stayed in this position for a while, carefully rubbing his back in an effort to sooth the large man and trying to ignore the loud music that was still shaking the house around you. He looked small like this, no longer your giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. You were happy to be that person, as he always was for you.

This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end. He had been working like a dog, constantly in and out of the studio, frustrated that none of the songs he was writing were up to his astronomically high standards for himself. It wasn’t too shocking that he was trying to escape that stress.

Gradually, as he laid on the floor and you held him close, the color came back into his cheeks and he stopped holding onto your legs like the room was about to take flight. When you sat him up against the wall, he was still a bit wobbly, but no longer looked like he was about to unload his stomach contents all over the room.

“How are you feeling now, H?” you asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress as you dabbed the washcloth over his skin.

“’m okay,” he hiccuped back, “jus’ needed a cuddle.” He got exceptionally British when he got this drunk, his accent coming out in a barely distinguishable garble of tall vowels and dropped consonants, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at you, his light green eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off too one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

You should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. His behavior and subsequent need for you to take care of him should have gotten under your skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into your chest. But it didn’t. You were just taking care of your man.

“Do you still feel nauseous?”

“‘m a-ok, babay” he said, making himself giggle with his rhyme. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “OK” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the tile beneath him.

“Okay, funny man,” you began sarcastically, planning on instructing to drink the glass of water you had retrieved on your way up to the bathroom, when he cut you off.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the loud belly laugh that fell past your lips. He took the glass from you and began to sip, a proud smirk never leaving his lips as he looked at you.

“You were a comedian in a past life.”

“I agree.”

You two were quiet for a bit, Harry drinking something other than tequila for the first time the entire night, and you just admiring him in silence. You let your hand crawl into his, interlocking your fingers together before bringing it up to your lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. It wasn’t long before his glass of water was finished and he crawled back into your arms, his back pressing to your chest with your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Your fingers ran through his still damp curls, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when you heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“Ya take such good care of me,” he said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence you two had created together.

“I always will.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the hard wall behind you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign, to both of you. But you meant it when you said it, you loved him, and your body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved you too.

You had met through work when you interviewed him for the magazine you worked at. From the moment you saw those dimples in real life, you were weak in the knees and enamored with him. You hadn’t been trying to flirt, it just happened. And before he left the office, you had a date planned for that Friday. That was 6 months ago now and they had been some of the happiest of your life.

“Will you marry me?”

The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took you a moment to process what he said, but when you did your heart stopped.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him, because you did, but not now.

It was too soon. There was still too much for you to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about you. You hadn’t even had a serious fight yet; you didn’t know how he dealt with conflict or how you would react to it. You didn’t live together; you didn’t know how your living habits would match up or if they would drive each other insane. You didn’t know how you would deal with him touring being away for so long.

There was just too much you didn't know.

“I will someday.” You spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. You were now holding his face tenderly, like if you held him steady and close, you could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” he looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch you in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Jus’ wanna be with you forever,” he said softly and your heart began to melt. He was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and you loved him for it. You pulled him closer to your chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be,” you breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like tequila and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as you tried to pour all your love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow,” you watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about you both being grown already. “We have to grow together,” you finished.

“I guess so,” he mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, ya know?” he smirked up at you, his smile and joking tone signalling that you hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” you sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to your own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, ya know?” you teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, I’ll make an honest woman outta ya when you let me.”

“One day.”

Thank you reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!! 

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good. 

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience. 

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door. 

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”

[hyungieyoongi]

Found: “Run Away to You” Part 1

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff + Angst 

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You 

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

// Part 2

---

Looking at the calendar on your wall, the date glared back at you, red marker encircling the number as if you could forget it.

One year. It had been one whole year since you ran away from your old life.

Happy anniversary to me, you thought bitterly.

It hadn’t been easy–no, it had been tactful, strategic. Your best friend-turned-publicist, Marianne, had programmed your social media accounts to simultaneously deactivate. The phone you used for “celebrity” contacts and business-related matters was permanently turned off, stashed away in the back of a drawer. You had already moved all your belongings to a new apartment on the other side of the city, address undisclosed to everyone except Marianne and your parents on the other side of the world. Everything had been in place for you to completely disappear.

You were instructed to lay low for at least one entire month, groceries delivered to your door under a fake name with Marianne’s credit card. You had cut your hair, once long and flowing, to your collarbone. It was often hidden under a baseball hat when you went to your favorite café for a coffee or took your elderly neighbor’s dog for walks around the park. You were completely off the radar, just as intended.

That didn’t stop the world from trying to track you down for a while. Fan blogs speculated where you could have gone, and tabloids splashed old pictures of you on their covers with speculative headlines. Your parents even had to install a state-of-the-art security system in your hometown in the States after a magazine found out where you grew up and tried to break into their backyard. But you weren’t naïve enough to go back home; that was the first place people would expect you to go. Instead, you were hidden in plain sight in Seoul, just sans the flashes of the cameras following you. Without the designer clothes or big sunglasses hiding your features, you looked just like anyone else. Undetectable.  

You had grown up in America, studying acting and Korean during your time at university with Marianne. Upon graduation, you landed a major role in a K-drama, uprooting your entire life to move to Seoul. For five years, you lived in the spotlight under the industry’s microscope. People said you were living the dream, but it started to feel more like a nightmare. It became overwhelming, suffocating.

When the show wrapped after three seasons, you knew it was time. You decided to run. You just wish you didn’t have to hurt anyone else in the process. Especially him.

You had instructed Marianne to give him a letter explaining why you had to go away, but she never heard back from him.

Let me go, Yoongi. Don’t look for me. This is for the best. I will always care about you. – Y/N

The words were emblazoned in your memory, your eyes tearing up at the thought of him reading the words you wrote to him.

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.  

Your cell phone rang, distracting you from the memories that plagued your thoughts today.

“Good afternoon, dearie!” Marianne chirped on the other end of the phone. “It’s a big day for you. The first half of your manuscript came back from the publisher, so get excited to do some editing!” Hiding away from the world for a year gave you a lot of time to think. For you, that meant time to write. Marianne seamlessly transitioned from being your publicist for your acting career to managing your budding career as an author, even helping you pick out a pseudonym.  

“That’s great news,” you mumbled in reply, taking a long sip of your coffee, the bitterness blooming on your tongue.

“Are you alright? You sound, I don’t know, a little off,” Marianne questioned, concern lacing her normally peppy tone.

“It’s been one year, Marianne,” you replied, knowing she’d understand.

“Oh my,” Marianne said after a beat of silence. “It completely slipped my mind. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright just a little…weird, I guess? I’m so relieved to have my own life again. But I’m also just kind of mourning my old life today.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Do you want me to come over after work–we can order takeout and watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” Marianne offered.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m just going to spend the day doing some self-care. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss the manuscript timeline, right?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be at the café at 11:00 a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay today?” Marianne asked, clearly not convinced that you were telling the truth about being alright.

“I’ll call you if I need you, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Night or day, Y/N, you know I’m here.”

After you both said your goodbyes and ended the call, you started to feel restless, needing something to take your mind off the date and the competing emotions swirling in your brain. You decided fresh air and comfort food were the solution.  

Grabbing your keys off the table by the front door, you slipped on your shoes, heading for the local corner store in your neighborhood, mindlessly forgetting your hat on the hook on the wall.

---

Mask pulled over the lower half of his face to conceal his appearance, Yoongi slipped into a nearby corner store, saving himself from the prying eyes that seemed to be examining him a little too closely from across the street.

He had snuck out of the studio without security, wanting to just take a moment to breathe all to himself. He had driven around Seoul with no destination in mind, eventually stopping in a neighborhood he found with a quiet park for a walk. His thoughts betrayed him as they kept going back to you and the letter he received one year ago, now crumpled in the top righthand drawer of his desk. He didn’t need to pull it out today to remember exactly what it said.

Let me go.

Once he read those words, he had stopped reading, smashing the paper together between his fists in frustration, shoving it in the drawer. It had stayed unopened since last year.

Yoongi aimlessly wandered through the aisles of the store, his mind continuously returning to that drawer. He had worked so hard to stop thinking about it–about you–over the past year. Today was a harsh reminder that you were still on his mind. He had stopped calling a long time ago, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up or return his calls. Sometimes though, if he had a little too much to drink with the boys, he’d call your number just to hear your voice on the voicemail recording. He didn’t tell anyone about those late-night calls.

Rounding the aisle corner, he collided with someone, knocking the snacks they had bundled in their arms to the ground. They immediately knelt down, trying to collect them.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” Yoongi offered, starting to lean over.

“Oh, no that’s okay I’ve got it.” Yoongi froze, his body going rigid. That voice. Your voice. He hadn’t heard it in-person in over a year. The sweetness of it rang through his ears, reminiscent of the voicemail he knew by heart.

It was you. After all this time.

---

Standing up with your snacks back safely in your grasp, you looked at the man in front of you who seemed to be barely breathing.

You were about to ask if he was alright, but then you recognized it. The black hat–the one with two rings on the edge that he would often wear when he went out. His mask had slipped below his nose, his pale cheeks slightly squished under the pressure of the fabric. Black hair poked out from underneath the hat, falling onto his forehead and into his dark brown eyes. They were wide with shock.  

You felt the color rush from your face, hands beginning to shake because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were safe. Safe in your self-made bubble away from the world.

Until he found you. And it burst.

You contemplated turning around, pretending you hadn’t recognized him. Leave him again. But you knew that wasn’t an option now. You had to face the thing you were most scared of–him.

“Yoongi, I-” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Your hair,” Yoongi remarked, cutting you off, tone flat and quiet. “You cut your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “Just...wanted a change, I guess.”

Hide. You wanted to hide.

“You seem to have gone through a lot of changes,” Yoongi said, bitterness seeping into his voice.

You winced at the implication of his words. You took a deep breath to try and collect yourself before replying.

“Can we...can we not do this here?”

“Fine.”

“I live around the corner. Maybe we could just...talk?” you asked, averting your eyes to the ground. When you didn’t hear a reply, you looked back up to Yoongi, who nodded at you once in agreement.

Abandoning your would-be purchases, you walked out the front door of the store, Yoongi silently following behind you. You felt his eyes burning into your back.

Just put one foot in front of the other, you thought to yourself.

As you and Yoongi silently walked to your apartment, neither of you noticed the camera pointed at the two of you, snapping the photo that would change everything.

// Part 2

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles​ @agustd-2020​ @delacyrose224​ @crispychanniee​ @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️ 

[after-witch]

Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title:  Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Your captor  lover surprises you with something you’ve been dreaming about. Are dreams ever as good as you wish they’d be?

For request: 

Fic continuation to white picket fence but in the future when darling is "ready"? I wanna see if our yandere is actually gonna stay true to his word

Word Count: 2800ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, written in bed this past week while i’ve been dealing with blood pressure issues

You keep your eyes closed and grip Kai's gloved hand firmly. He leads you gingerly along, having told you to keep your eyes closed no matter what. And you listen, you do, because a surprise this big must be truly important. A car ride and a keep-your-eyes-closed surprise all in one day? You feel giddy--and it's almost overwhelming to your senses.

It feels like an occasion, like Christmas, a candy coated ribbon-wrapped Christmas, and you're the child flying down the stairs in the morning to see what gifts Santa left under the tree. But you're not a child, you remind yourself, you're a grown adult with responsibilities. Keeping Kai happy. Making lunches and sometimes dinner, unless Kai says otherwise. Bathing. Keeping yourself occupied while Kai is busy with his work and his goals and his dreams. Ensuring that you're presentable.

"Open them."

You do, practically breathless and--it's... a room. No, not just a room. It's a living room. With an open floor plan. Beyond, you can see a dining room with a kitchen, a real one, with appliances and cabinets and counter space. Not the hot plate and mini fridge you've been (not to brag) doing wonders with over the past year and a half that Kai’s granted you cooking privileges.

You can feel your breath hitching in your chest. It's just... so much. It's so much bigger than anything you've seen in years, actually, you realize; but you don't dwell on this, because you've learned to live in the present. Yet you feel a grin tugging at your lips because you know what this actually means: you're ready, for life and more responsibilities and a future that spans out far beyond those little rooms, office, bedroom, bathroom, clinic.

Kai clears his throat and oh, oops. In your reverie, in your giddy once-over of this glorious space, you practically forgot about Kai. You pivot on your foot, almost running into his arms as you squeeze him tightly in true-blue excitement. He usually likes a warning before you do this (not that you do running hugs often) but you know he'll forgive you, because he's already wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick, tight squeeze.

You pull back and survey the room again and it's just as wonderful the second time. Your mind seems to run a thousand miles a minute as you imagine the place all filled out, all decorated and pretty and filled with signs of use and maybe--maybe something more.

"Do you like it?"

You turn back to Kai and his expression is concerned and ah, you realize that you're crying. When did that start? You can't remember the last time you cried--well, okay, you absolutely lost it during movie night a few weeks ago, but that was Coco for heaven's sake. You chuckle, and the tears keep coming down, and then you laugh.

Kai stares at you, but his expression has become unreadable. You stop your laughter mid-syllable, because the sight makes your stomach twist. You don't like it when you can't tell how he's feeling, because you've taken it upon yourself to understand every glance and gesture and sigh. You want to lighten his load. He has such stressful days and nights, lately, and isn't it the least you can do to keep him relaxed?

"I'm okay," you say, wiping away your tears with your thumb. You make a mental note to wash your hands as soon as you can. "It's--I love it. It's just overwhelming, I think."

He nods, and sighs--and you do, too. He's okay. You're okay. No, no, actually, you're better than okay because just look at this place! You grin, lopsided and giddy, and hold out your hand. Kai--gloved, thank goodness, you wouldn't want your tear germs to bother him--and you tug playfully.  "Let's go see the rest!"

You pull him along the soft carpeting, making a beeline for the open kitchen. It's a nice kitchen, really nice, lots of space to cook. You wonder how Kai will handle seeing flour on the counter tops. You wonder if you still remember how to cook on a real stove without looking up recipes. 

You tug on his hand again, but stop for a moment to marvel at the window over the sink; you imagine throwing open those dark, closed curtains to let the daylight in. Flowers would like nice on the windowsill. And in the spring, when it was warm enough to open it up, it would let in such a pretty, warm, scent-filled breeze. The thought propels you forward happily and you continue your exploration.

Little things are big things now, you realize. Would you have ever cared about a linen closet before? Yet the little closer for towels and sheets and who-knows-what-else makes your heart thud. There's a spare bedroom, but Kai's already worked on turning it into an office; there's a desk and some papers and his familiar office chair. The empty room next door is an open possibility, one that Kai suggests filling with your crafts, your scraps, the odds-and-ends of hobbies you've collected over time. It's a good idea. 

There's even a staircase, but you don't ascend; Kai says it's two empty bedrooms and a bathroom, you can both check it out after you’ve settled in. You don't say anything, but your heart does a little pitterpatter all the same. Kidskidskidskids.

All the rooms are bare-bones furnished, which is fine for now. You can add your own touches later on--well, as long as Kai approves. But you don't imagine he cares all that much about interior decorating and besides, isn't taking the burden of decorating just what a good partner--you brush a wooden door frame with your knuckle and give them a rap--maybe even fiancé?--would do?

You round the corner to what appears to be a bedroom and glance back at Kai. He hasn't said much, but he doesn't need to: he's looking at you so proudly and it makes your heart flutter. You push open the last door and oh, oh, oh. It's a big, beautiful bedroom--a master bedroom--with a large bed and an attached bathroom and the bed is made for two and the fluttering has dropped from your heart to your stomach and down below. You almost feel bold enough to ask Kai to cuddle right now.

His eyes crinkle and you imagine he’s smiling under the mask. Maybe he’s thinking about that, too. And more. 

You turn to leave, ready to explore the last few rooms--dare you hope for a laundry room so you can wash your own clothes?--and make a note to ask Kai for new curtains in the bedroom. Maybe sheer ones to go over the thick, light-blocking ones currently tightly shut together? Those can be shoved aside, opened during the day and some pretty sheer ones will provide a little privacy while letting in the daylight.

But something tugs at you. Something catches up with your eye. The bedroom curtains are shut tight. Just like the curtains in the kitchen. And the office. And the other rooms. Maybe for privacy. After all, you weren’t exactly moved in yet and you can’t imagine Kai wants anyone seeing inside your precious home.

You feel your stomach twist. What if, what if... No, that would be silly. Kai is staring and you give a flat smile. “Sorry, I was just wondering…” thinkthinkthink. “Is there somewhere we can put our books?”

“The living room is big enough for shelves.”

You bite your lip. Should you ask about the curtains…? He can sense you want to say something, you can see it in his eyes, that knowing look that says “(Y/N) is worried.” In a moment he’ll ask about the curtains, of course, and you can express your concerns and he’ll relieve them like he always does.

“Don’t worry,” he says, a chuckling lilt in his voice. Curtains-curtains-curtains. “I’ll have a chair in the office so you can still read with me while I work.”

Ah. Well.

You nod, slightly shaken. If he didn’t ask bout the curtains, okay, clearly there’s nothing wrong. You’re being silly. You’re silly, sometimes, about things like this.

You find yourself daydreaming while you walk, and you have to remind yourself to stay alert for Kai’s sake. You don’t want him to feel like you’re drifting again (even though you are--it’s a habit, one that’s hard to break). You imagine stocking bookshelves in the living room, curling up on a sofa in Kai’s office (old habits, again); organizing your own hobby room so it looks magazine perfect.

You think about making meals on the counter, wiping up oopsie-spills; there is a laundry room and the thought of washing your own clothes for the first time in years makes you forget about little details you don’t like, a meh shade of carpet, more too-dark curtains, a truly outdated wallpaper in the bathroom so ugly that even Kai laughs when you immediately ask if you’re allowed to paint. (You are. Just ask. And you’re wearing protective gear when you do it.) 

Your heart thuds when you walk by the staircase again on your way back to the beautiful open kitchen-dining-living room. One day one day one day.

When you make it back into the kitchen, Kai stops you. 

“What do you think?” He wants to know your opinion. He doesn't ask your opinion unless he actually wants it, since most of the time he knows what’s best for your needs, so you take this for what it is: an actual invitation to express yourself.

You take a breath and sigh and collect your thoughts before smiling. You’re almost beaming. “I really love it. It’s so…” You look around, as if you can’t believe it still, and part of you can’t. “Big. There’s so many rooms! And things to decorate,” you glance at him, and add, “I mean, if that’s okay. I was just thinking little things. Like the curtains. And decorations.”

Kai chuckles, short and low. “I don’t mind. I would rather you decorate. It’s not my thing.”

You pull on your bottom lip with your teeth because you’re so damn happy and what used to be a nervous gesture is now something you do when you get something you want.

“So,” you say, feeling giddy, words coming out quickly and with little thought, “the open space is so nice and pretty, so I want to get lots of light. I was thinking lighter curtains, well not just here but in the bedroom too.” You gesture towards the dark blue kitchen curtains. “Like these, maybe we can get light.. gauzy white ones, instead?”

“We could even put flowers in this window!” Without stopping, you quickly pace over to the kitchen window; out of the corner of your eye you see Kai start to move, see him look at you funny, but you are too lost in your thoughts of curtains and vases and light that you ignore it and throw open the dark curtains to let in the--

Concrete wall.

And that’s what you feel like. Like you’ve hit a concrete wall. Like someone has punched you in the stomach with concrete. Like you’ve swallowed it and suddenly it’s hard to breathe and things spin out and you hear Kai saying your name through cotton in your ears and it’s dark--

When you come out of your faint, you’re in his arms.

He's saying your name, you think. He's mouthing something and you can't quite hear, there's a steady roar that makes you dizzy and you almost close your eyes to go back to sleep when his hand taps your cheek.

"Wake up. Wake up now, there we are."

Tap tap tap.

The sensation is enough to forcibly drag you out of the clouds, out of the thick air your mind has been resting in. You blink and everything is confusing. What happened?

"You fainted when you opened the curtains," Kai says. And it all comes flooding back, too fast and too painful. The curtains. The window. No, the not-window. The concrete wall. You're not in a house, not a regular one. Are you even above ground? The thought of being underneath the Earth makes you feel heavy and stale and terrified.

"Why..." Your throat is tight and you clear it and lick your lips, then cringe. Kai hates it when you do that. But you're not as concerned about that right now, considering... the window. "Why can't I see outside?" Tell me, don't tell me, tell me, don't tell me. What if the answer is worse than the concrete wall, you think.

Kai's eyes narrow, just a little, and you know you said something silly. But he doesn't sound annoyed when he answers you, which is, at least, something.

"To keep you safe. It's not safe for you to live in some... ordinary house, (Y/N)."

You swallow, your throat hard and thick and prickling with emotion that wants to spring out. "But I want to live in an ordinary house." Your words are tight, practically a whisper. Thoughts of previous conversations spring to mind, promises, whispers, kisses. Where was your white picket fence and dog and neighbors and children and--

"(Y/N)." Ah, you were thinking too long again. Kai doesn't continue until your eyes are clear and you're looking at him. "You fainted when you opened the curtains. Do you really think you're ready to live out there, with the rest of the filthy world?"

It's... offensive. It hurts. You don't like to think about it, but you do hate it when he treats you like you're helpless. Weak. Pathetic. You feel your shoulders tighten defensively. "I can handle living in real house, Kai. You said we could, you said--"

"You get overwhelmed so easily, dearest.” He interrupts you, and you don't have the strength to interrupt him back. "What would happen if we did have neighbors?" I'd ask them over for dinner. "What if they didn't like something you did, and they yelled at you?" I'd uninvite them from our Christmas party. "What if they had some... large, nasty dog who tried to attack you or our children?"

"They wouldn't have--" you say, out loud, finally annoyed enough to spit out an interruption. But his last words freeze your tongue. Children? Our children? Does that mean, does he mean--

"We can--we're going to..." You can't finish, thoughts and images and emotions swirling around making it difficult to focus. Children, family. You and Kai. The king-sized bedroom. The empty upstairs, waiting to be filled.

Kai reaches out and begins to stroke your cheek. "Not... yet. Not until I've made more progress on my work."

You feel yourself instantly shrinking, deflating like a balloon stuck in the corner of a bedroom, forgotten after a party. Tears prick at your eyes and you don’t care if they come down or not. You focus on the feeling of his finger strokes and realize that he's taken off his gloves. Oh. He must have really been worried about you, then. The finger finally tucks itself under your chin and lifts up your sad, sad face.

"Do you think I moved you into a home with empty rooms for no reason?"

You bite your lip--nervous?--and shake your head. "No, Kai." He isn't wasteful like that.

"Do you think I am a good judge of what you can--and can't--handle?"

You nod your head. "Yes, Kai." He is--he is, he is. He's proven that enough. You shouldn't doubt him. What is wrong with you? He gives you a beautiful home, one that considers your needs, and you freak out because of a window not-window. You really are ungrateful, sometimes. You’re glad Kai never says it out loud, because it would hurt too much to hear it from his lips. 

He releases your chin and you maintain his gaze, but for once, he is the first one to look away. He takes on an odd expression that you can't place, but it makes you confused rather than nervous. It's new.

"(Y/N)... sometimes, even I doubt my capabilities. Will you be able to handle living here? With this--" he gestures towards the window, but you can't imagine looking at the grey slab in between the cheery white window frame and the dark curtains--"... limitation?" Your heart is hammering in your chest and his voice seems low and slow and imposing. "Should we go back to our old place?"

The feeling of concrete, hard and heavy and unforgiving, returns.

"No!" You reach forward, clasping Kai's ungloved hand with a tight squeeze. Your voice is breathless, shrieky. "I can--I can handle it!" And you look at it now, at the hateful concrete and everything it represents. "It's, it's okay. I can wait for the real house. I can wait. Let's wait."

He says nothing, and your stomach twists, but then he pulls you up to your feet in a quick, strong gesture. He puts his arms around you and squeezes and you sigh in relief. You won't lose your rooms and empty spaces and your staircase with its promises.

"You're my brave little thing, you know that, don't you?" You nod, sheepish now, and smile. Your stomach still has an edge of sourness, an edge of curdle, and you push it down down down where it belongs. You stare at the concrete and think about asking if you can paint it. Anything but grey is fine. Anything. And other things, too, might help it feel less... imposing.

"Kai?"

"Mm?"

“Can we still… get pretty curtains for the window?”

“Of course.”

[creativeashproductions]

Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife​ 

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

 We come to life when we’re

 In perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds  @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl​ @all-in-fangirl​ @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @badwolf00593​ @blowakissbabe​ @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @writerinlearning​ @aiofheavenandhell​ @sageellsworth05

[pretty-face-breaker]

Need to Ruin Him

c.w. aftermath of torture, cleaning up wounds, bad caretaking, intimidation, manhandling, torture by rubbing brine solution into welts, sadism, begging

—

The spring mattress creaked as Emir clattered on top of it. 

“Take off-...” Pavel stopped, shooting a second look at his bare back, and audibly snorted. “Never mind, just… lie down and I’ll get things to make you look better.” 

Emir whined as he tried to curl in on himself although the loosely tucked bedsheet stopped his arms from getting far. Breathing deep, he took in a whiff of wool and the smell of decay from the old sheets. He could see the almost invisible black speckling against the green, this close up and through his tears. 

He wasn’t certain whether the shock of the whip-marks had worn off. He had only the vague understanding that his back hurt. There was dampness in his hair, the crooks of his body, and on his face but those quickly dried in salty tracks. Hardly there anymore.  

“Bet that’s the last time you’ll do that,” Pavel mumbled. He could see the residue of his crying, the swollen eyes when he turned his head. 

The General had spared no part of the exposed skin, it seemed.

Emir didn’t respond for a few moments as the quiet clutters of Pavel grouping equipment together filled the silence. Then, he lifted his head and the shift in breathing got the man’s attention. But all the abused boy was doing was pulling the corner of a pillow under his chin before he collapsed again. 

Pavel raked his eyes up and down the body, once. Inhaled slowly before turning to stack the peroxide next to the rubber bandage seal. He remembered this one had been produced with a rubber cover so it wouldn’t disintegrate as easily as the paper ones had and recalled how the camp had looked on as the supply trucks had filled in with the equipment during daily drills.

He had jokingly saluted one of the drivers who had turned and smiled. A bright row of pearly whites had peaked beneath the moustache before he had gone ahead and returned the gesture. The image of the ideal worker had been complete. 

Pavel had thought about that man for the rest of the week, inspired by the strength in the smile. 

Spinning on his heel, he returned to where Emir lay half-conscious. “Hey, Suleiman. Look at me.” 

There was a groan and shift. “Don’ call me that,” Emir protested weakly, although his voice was strained with pain and struggle to recognize where the two were. The view didn’t look like the flat one out of his bed with only an iron window and darkness. 

The mattress dipped as he sat. “I’ll call you Edward, if I really want to.” Pavel encouragingly drove the heel of his hand into the boy’s lower back so he jerked and cried out feebly. The faded softness of that pretty little cry made Pavel’s heart race a little and he grinned against his better control. “Sit up or I do that again.”  

Seeing no way out of moving, Emir sighed and winced his way to sitting, facing away from the blond man and his amalgamation of terrible-smelling instruments. Whatever chemicals those were, antiseptic, sterile bandages, they hardly smelled anything close to home. The word home and ‘стерильный’ met his mind at the same time when he threw a glance down to Pavel’s medical tray.

“Sterile,” he read. His throat scratched and the word broke in two. 

Pavel had been tearing open the rubberized protector of the bandages when he stopped with a little smirk. “Yeah. Although, you don’t usually need reading abilities here unless someone sneaks in one of those raunchy magazines.” 

Emir returned a mechanical smile as the rubber tore open until Pavel winked at him and it was then that he raised his eyebrows and broke into a heartier chuckle. Realizing that he had paid the cheap joke with laughter made him clench his jaw in annoyance. 

It was never his intention to get amicable with the enemy but he supposed this one was patching him up which made it easier.  

The bandages were out of the sleeve now - a roll of brown gauze, pin, and two sterile cotton pads. He did notice another thing though, and that was the unsealed opaque jar sitting next to all the bottles. Being close enough, he could almost catch a salty scent sharp in the air. 

A hand quickly covered the top when Emir glanced up. Only slightly taller than him, Pavel’s cheeky smile had transformed into something crooked and cornering. “No peeking now,” he teased. Then, the tone quickly dropped to threatening, traced with amusement. 

“Turn around and don’t make so much noise that people have to come up from an early lunch.”

Emir’s fingers were tightening around the sheets nervously but he didn’t want to give Pavel another reason to make him feel wave upon wave of the same agony he’d gone through minutes before. He exhaled softly and turned to lock eyes with the window, hoping he’d come across as ignorant enough of the jar. 

But what did he care whether he knew? All the better for that sadistic fuck. 

Emir didn’t expect the initial sting as Pavel dipped the cloth into the murky solution and lathered it across his back without warning. Fingers digging hard into the sheets, he squeaked and darkened instantly after, the noise being involuntary. A rumbling laugh made him shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Pavel eased him with his usual mockery of lightness. “This’ll do the trick for all those nasty welts, trust me.” Then, pressed the cloth deeper into one particular stripe that had sliced through him and rendered him speechless, killing the yell on his tongue as General Levkin had brought the leather down.   

The yell was alive now and ripped through his teeth. He was too fucking tired to try to choke them back and what harm was it really? Pavel seemed pleased with the pitch of his wrecked voice and he could alleviate the burning that was eating through his back each time the rag switched directions. 

He wasn’t cleaning, he was scrubbing him. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Argh-... Can you p-please go a bit easier?” He despised Pavel right now, for the pain before, the pain to come, and for rendering him to beg and refresh the dried tear tracks. Blinking quickly, Emir hoped he had caught the tears before they slipped. 

“How else am I supposed to disinfect you? You’re not the first to get whipped.” Pavel’s lilt coiled around his back and legs. 

“Just please-... a little- agh!” 

Emir dropped his chin into his collarbone and squeezed. The strain on his neck was awful. The brine's stench was awful and so sharp in his nose, he swore something would start bleeding soon. At one particularly brutal dig, he gasped and arched away. Pavel’s hand shot to his shoulder and yanked him back in an instant. 

“Stay still, you little shit,” he snarled. 

Emir feebly whispered back. “It hurts.”

Pavel wanted to break into a cackle and tell him that of course it hurt and call him a whole assortment of insults for not realising he was doing it on purpose. Though, amidst the torment, he saw the way his light brown shoulders shook from how hard he gripped the mattress. 

It was a satisfying sight, how hard he was trying to be quiet and then the next moment when he gave up and let his whimpers seep through teeth. A tug of war between his pride and just letting it happen. 

“Plea-... mercy,” Emir gasped at last. 

Pavel was mid-assault on another open welt when he stopped and let his wrist ease off, dropping finally. He choked out relief but the aftershocks of the salt still must have felt like fire. 

Not once during the whipping had he even given the impression that he would beg for it. Not once, and Pavel had been fully confident that the little soldier would wait it out like he did everything with a dormant tongue. Looking at Emir now, he knew that just a little more would have him sobbing and begging in that sweet, wrecked voice-

Mercy, mercy, mercy

“Have mercy, please, God, m-mercy,” Emir hissed again. His arms shook as he held back a ruined sob. “I don’t deserve this.” 

Pavel had stopped now. He was clouded with thoughts that weighed down his hands which were eager for another spin. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, whether for Emir to collect himself - if he could - or to have the thrill to hurt again, to push him over the edge. 

The need to ruin him never came while he was thinking. It left him with dull annoyance as he realized he wanted to leave Emir alone, no longer bloodthirsty. It wracked his brain, the longer he debated just continuing. 

He did deserve it and Pavel was entitled to do it. 

Besides, Emir would probably look beautiful. 

But he didn’t. He dropped the rag, saying nothing, and grabbed the alcohol bottle that was actually medically approved for use unlike his masterfully crafted brine solution. Dabbing some liquid onto a fresh cloth, he applied it gently to the welts but still got that thrill of joy when Emir flinched away. 

“Alcohol,” he corrected quietly. “Not brine.” 

Shivering from the cold and not the pain, Emir nodded weakly and straightened back into his spot. Another moment passed before Pavel was back to work and dabbing away at the redness until he felt the smell of antiseptic was strong enough and switched to the pads. Only two were available. One went on the worst laceration. 

The second, on the one he had created by accident. 

Emir was still shivering. 

He unrolled the gauze and began wrapping it around the boy’s ribcage until the width of all fifteen feet trickled away. The roll felt so much lighter in his hand when he was finished applying it and pulling the end tight. He flicked it to the end of the bed, liking the little thunk it made at the metal footboard.

“Done.” Pavel pushed the tray away from him and Emir gathered up the strength to move. 

“Thank-…” Then, a laboured swallow. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t respond. Emir looked beyond exhaustion. All he did was push his head gently down onto the pillow and let the rest of his limbs take their natural place for comfort. 

He sat there for a long time, watching Emir’s chest rise and fall in even breaths, the sharp stench of alcohol and brine lingering in his nose for almost an hour. 

-

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @heathenville @quirkykayleetam @yet-another-heathen  @undertheburrow​ @lektricfergus

 Ask if you’d like to be added/removed!

[captainbetonit]

Room for more. Chapter 11

~.~

The first week of having a baby was….interesting to say the least. The first night was amazing-and even if the nursery wasn’t going to be used, seeing as Zane insisted on bringing the bassinet to their room, not wanting to leave the baby alone for too long.

It was a rocky road after that.

The kids had learned quickly Lloyd liked to yell. Mostly when Cole or Zane weren’t in the room, and were left alone with the children.

Another thing they learned was that babies are gross.

Twice already they’ve seen the thing slobber all over his hands only to smash them into his special baby cereal that looked more like oatmeal than cereal. To say it was gross was an understatement-especially on an early morning.

The parents had learned that while adorable-babies were a lot of work, from hourly feeding with a bottle to muscle development time. (Zane had read that in one of those mothering magazines that early muscle development was important for babies under a year so they could get used to it all and perhaps walk quicker)

All in all-it was a stressful time for everyone but Zane and Cole wouldn’t trade it for anything. The kids however were very different.

Kai was in his room, messing with a puzzle a friend of his foster parents had gotten him. It was supposed to be a robot with a sword but Kai was stuck. On one hand he wanted to ask Zane or maybe Nya to help him but both were in the living room with Lloyd. The little devil who cried at night and yelled during the day.

There was a knock on the door, and Cole poked his head in. He’s been wearing bandannas more for the last few days to keep his hair out of his face. “Hey kiddo-whatcha working on?” he asked, leaning a bit on the door frame.

“Puzzle.” he murmured in reply-showing the progress he had made. Before it was stuck together with corner edges and part of the sword but now there was more of the robot itself.

“We love a good puzzle-but maybe-and this is a suggestion-you should work on those math sheets Zane gave you?” Cole suggested, walking more into the room. “If you need help I'm pretty good at math you know.”

The brown haired boy gave him a deadpanned look with raised eyebrows, “Really?”

“Well I mean….I wasn’t great when I was kid-but I got better.” Cole gave a reassuring smile with two awkward thumbs up. “What do you say kiddo?”

Kai considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Okay.” he carefully got off the bed-mindful of his puzzle and went over to the desk. Weeks ago they went to the furniture store and had gotten Kai a desk-Nya did her work in the kitchen or living room so she hadn't gotten one.

“Alright-what were you working on kiddo? Fractions?” Cole had joined him, kneeling next to the boy as he pulled out math sheets.

“Long division.” he murmured, watching the color drain from Cole’s face. “Would you want us to wait for Zane?” he asked sarcastically.

Cole was considering it before shaking his head. “If I can parallel park then I can help you with long division.”

“I thought Zane said you weren’t allowed to parallel park without him?”

“...that is besides the point.”

They worked on the math-they didn’t get far before Cole said they could take a break and he helped Kai on his puzzle. That’s how Zane found them, hovering over the puzzle box as they tried to figure out the pieces. He smiled at the scene and took a photo before knocking on the frame, “Dinners ready-if you’d put a pause on this for now.”

The two looked up and Kai got off the bed to walk past the adults and to the kitchen. Zane and Cole watched with minor concern-seeing as Kai simply brushed past the blonde man without a word. It was like a switch had gone off.

The husbands looked at each other before following the boy to the dinning room where Nya was-the two children were already dishing themselves some food as the baby was in his highchair drinking his bottle.

It was a wholesome moment but they really needed to talk to them...from the sudden coldness of Kai to the simple gazes that Nya would give to the baby. It was frustrating in a way, not knowing what your kids were thinking. It was frustrating for everyone..except the baby but that was to be expected.

Zane went over and fixed his plate before sitting down. “So, I know you don’t like peas but they’re very important.”

“How come we get peas and Lloyd gets milk?” Kai asked, almost glaring at the baby who started to slam his little hands on the small highchair table.

“He’s a baby hon-he can’t have peas yet.” Zane explained getting up, he dug through a clear jar on the counter before producing teething biscuits. “But when he can have them, he will.”

“That’s not fair though.” The boy argued, watching as Zane gave the baby a biscuit. “I thought we all get the same things, Nya eats peas, I eat them-you and Cole eat them. Why doesn’t he get blended peas?”

Cole chuckled awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Kai, I understand your frustration but it’s different. Lloyd is a baby-babies have a different…everything really.”

“And?”

“And it’s not always going to be fair.”

Kai huffed, crossing his arms and straight on glaring at the baby. “I don’t care. It’s not fair.”

The parents sighed and looked at each other, concerned. “Do you want to talk about it maybe?”

“No.” He started on his dinner, avidly avoiding his peas in favor of everything else.

They would talk about it later-perhaps before bedtime because it was nearly erouping in their kid and it wasn’t good.

[kumkaniudaku]

Understanding

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17

Recommended Listening: Understanding x Xscape, Purple Emoji (ft. J. Cole) x Ty Dolla $ign, My World x Asian

Word Count: 2,137 

If you were going to win an award that afternoon, it’d be for attire, not confidence. Your expertly crafted golf outfit was the only thing willing your feet forward once you parked your car in front of Senior’s golf course.

Black women and men dressed like modern Jet magazine ads waltzed in and out of the clubhouse while you scanned the area for your party. You’d been to your fair share of golf courses, but none as exquisite as The National. Marble accents complemented modern brass finishes and unbeatable views of the city. The desire to take photos for your father was almost too much to shake, but you managed to play it cool. Acting out of place was surely some type of faux pas for the wealthy.

Across the way, Senior sat at the bar sipping a glass of water while thumbing through a newspaper. His furrowed brow was identical to Yahya’s whenever he was knee-deep in work or a good book. The mental comparison made you smile before ushering in a tinge of sadness. For two people so undeniably similar, they were miles apart physically and mentally.

You navigated through groups of young and old alike on the way to the bar.

“You made it on time,” Senior spoke without looking up from a story on education budget cuts.

“I made it with time to spare.”

“You don’t get praise for doing what’s right.”

“Think of how much better things would be if we did.”

Senior paused his reading to take a deep breath and shake his head. You mentally berated yourself for overstepping so soon. Not even five minutes into the outing and you had already committed an avoidable infraction

Yahya I prolonged the unbearable silence as he continued to read through another article, reading each line painstakingly slow while you watched in agony.

“I apologize. That was unnecessary.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he spoke, finally looking away from the newspaper to study your face. “Let’s leave the character right here. We’re here for a purpose, so grab your clubs and follow me to the first hole. I hope your game is as good as you are at running your mouth.” Taking his retort in stride, you quickly grabbed your set of clubs and followed with no objections. “After you.”

Senior found himself immediately impressed though he wouldn’t verbalize his feelings. He watched you breeze through each hole with near expert precision, opening a series of questions at hole 5 during casual small talk.

“Where’d you say you were from again?”

“A tiny town in South Carolina that you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Try me,” he answered while taking stock of his position on the fairway.

“Anderson, South Carolina. Home of Larry Nance and the great Chadwick Boseman.”

“Can’t forget James Kennedy, Young Lady.”

You cocked your head back in surprise. “What you know about Radio? I mean outside of what the movie says?”

Senior remained quiet long enough to take a hard swing. The loud “whiff” of his driver slicing through crisp, clean air didn’t match the stroke’s output. Both of you watch the golf ball sail high into the air before making a landing well short of the intended destination. Senior shook his head at the miscalculation before turning to answer your question.

“Black folks from all over are connected, even without all that Snapgram and Facebook foolishness.”

“I could argue it’s helped, right? How else would you be able to share your granddaughter’s first steps with the whole family?”

“In photo albums. You might not remember those, but they did us just fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s instantaneous conversation and information. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Maybe instantaneous conversation is the problem. We aren’t making enough time to stop and really think about what we’re saying to each other.”

“Mm.” You let the conversation naturally taper before following Senior to his golf cart. The rolling hills provided enough scenery to keep you interested while you sorted the words in your head.

“I think we may have started off on the wrong foot.” You spoke once the cart came to a full stop. Senior trailed behind in silence, gathering a new club while watching you examine the other golfers in the area.

“You’re rather observant.”

You chuckled and plucked a club from your bag. “I’ve been told. Yahya calls me Eagle Eye when I catch something he’s already talked about ten minutes ago.”

“It’s what his Big Mama used to call his Pop-Pop for the same thing. That man was notoriously late to the punchline.” The nostalgia in Yahya I’s voice caught you off guard though he didn’t see your minor fumble. Something in his retelling appealed to your sense of compassion in a way that you considered long gone when it came to him.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You have an issue with my presence that we should discuss. Because I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bold,” Senior responded with a sarcastic laugh. He gestured to nothing in particular as you squared up to take a swing and nodded. “And direct. Continue.”

You took a moment to hit a line drive toward the green in the distance, using the movement as an outlet for the unexpected nerves churning your stomach. Both of you quietly watch the golf ball for its final resting place before you turned to speak.

“You are extremely hard to please, and it is literally ruining your family. Yahya does everything in his power, and, excuse my French, you don’t seem to give a fuck. Why is that?”

“What makes you think that my love isn’t what makes me push him to be the best that he can? It may not be the fluff and frills you’re used to in your home, but it’s what he needs to get him to his potential.”

“Did it help you?”

Senior mistakenly allowed a quick moment of confusion to take over his features. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You tell me. When’s the last time you enjoyed a laugh with your family or felt like you could just...be? You’re carrying a weight that is crushing the people around you, and you don’t even see it.”

“You don’t…” Senior caught his words and bottled them behind his lips. He took a deep breath as he approached his golf ball and took a half-hearted swing. Noticing his misstep, he shook his head. “I’m from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My father, Yahya’s Pop-Pop, moved my mother and me to a shotgun shack to find work when things weren’t quite shaking out back home. He was in and out of trouble and such. Couldn’t get right, but he had a natural knack for building and design.”

A nearby group of golfers erupted into laughter, helping to break up some tension.

“So architecture’s been in the family for a while,” you asked. Yahya I curled the corner of his lips into a far-off smile.

“A long, long time. It got us out of that shack when my siblings came along and into a house with our own rooms and a backyard. But, my father was a hard man. Hard to please, you know,” he laughed, making a reference to your earlier words. “He wanted the best from me, and he made damn sure he got it. I needed that to get my head out of the clouds.”

“You also needed some reassurance.”

“Perhaps. But, what’s done is done. I look at what I’ve built with no complaints, especially when it comes to my boys. I couldn’t be more proud of the men they’ve become.”

Senior’s proud smile almost looked foreign on his face. You’d never seen more than an indifferent expression or the slight twinge of anger smoldering behind his eyes.

Leaning on your club, you kept your eyes forward to gaze out over the course.

“Yahya would love to hear that. I don’t know if you know this, but he is desperately searching for your approval. There is not enough praise from me or anyone else that could replace knowing that you’re proud of him. Yet, as much as he would like to tell you these things himself, he’s afraid that you’ll think less of him for being vulnerable.”

“I could never think less of the boy. Tough love is still love.”

“Maybe for you,” you added, shrugging. “But, what good is continuing this cycle if it’s hurting the children you claim to love and the grandchildren after them?”

Senior dropped his head in thought before looking up with an unreadable expression. “Deuce will be fine. He’s all the best parts of his mother. I...I’m confident he’ll figure out fatherhood on his own despite my shortcomings. We raised him well.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping -”

“That has never stopped you before, young lady.” His light-hearted chuckle invited you to follow suit.

“Fair point,” you laughed. “So, let me cut to the chase. Allowing Yahya to just ‘figure things out’ is a passive existence. Yahya says you’re constantly reminding him to take things into his own hands. Sounds like you should take your own advice. Be the parts of your father that you needed at 33.”

Instead of acknowledging your advice, Senior twirled his club in his hand on the way to the golf cart. He maintained an impenetrable poker face that even the most skilled readers couldn’t interpret. You silently hoped that at least some of your words had made it through his thick skull, but you chose to let the discussion meet a natural end.

As he started the cart, Senior turned to you and smiled. “How the hell you learn to swing like that? I know it wasn’t in Anderson.”

“Hey, we play a little golf here and there!”

“Where? Out in the woods?”

“No, out in the Bayou like you did.”

A small smirk crept across your face as Yahya I chuckled at your joke. He sounded identical to Yahya, full of mirth and beautiful melodies.

“The ole Bayou,” he repeated in a thick accent. “You ain’t seen a place more beautiful in your life.”

“Maybe Yahya and I could visit one day.”

He quickly looked over and shrugged. “Maybe. For now, you focus on defending this lead. I think I’m getting back into my rhythm.”

Senior couldn’t make a convincing comeback, but he did show glimpses of a softer, more personable disposition. He cracked jokes on occasion and asked questions that turned the conversation from a therapy session to banter between associates. Your mind traveled to the possibility of civil family dinners or vacations during the ride home. Though it seemed silly to create imaginary scenarios after one conversation, you couldn’t help the urge to see a better future.

Your happiness helped you float into your shared apartment, making Yahya smile when he caught a glimpse of your wide grin and short skirt.

“Damn, girl,” he hollered from the couch with Leche cradled in his arms. “If Tiger was out there cheeked up like that, I might’ve paid a little more attention to the golf network.”

“Oh, really?”

Your raised eyebrow made Yahya kiss his teeth once he caught on to the joke. “You know what I meant. Where you been anyway?”

“Oh, I was just out doing a little golfing...with your dad.”

“Right. That was today, huh?”

Even Yahya’s best attempt at feigning interest, his question came out in a flat drone typically used on annoying coworkers. You dropped your purse and keys against a nearby barstool on the way to his spot on the couch.

“It was today. I think we had a good time,” you answered as you slid your arms around his neck from behind, placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. “He didn’t yell at me.”

“You must’ve kissed his ass the entire time.”

“No. We talked about how great I am at golf. I mean, I kicked his ass.”

“Good on you, baby girl. Bring honor to our house.” In a surprise maneuver, Yahya pulled you over the couch and into the space beside him. “Is that all?”

Silence blanketed the room, allowing the college basketball game in the background to have center stage. You considered your options carefully, weighing the pros of a potential argument against a peaceful Saturday indoors. Yahya turned his attention back to the television as he waited for a response.

“Did you hear me, baby? He didn’t say anything rude to you, did he?”

“No!” You blurted. Taking a deep breath, you slowly slid the remote off the coffee table and pressed the power button. Yahya blinked twice at his reflection on the black television screen before turning to you for answers. Your fingers danced across his thighs to interlock with his long digits.

“I think...I think we need to have a real talk about your dad.”

----

A/N: I hope this is better late than never. Only two more chapters left! Really striving to have those to y’all by the end of the month.

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@earthformelanin @mufasathatniggatho @hidden-treasures21@justanotherloveaffair @jozigrrl @essaysbyciara @chaneajoyyy@determinednot2fall @honey-lamb-k @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @walkrightuptothesun @ghostfacekill-monger @trillistb@shaekingshitup @purplehairgawdess @xo-goldengirl@steampunkprincess147 @twistedcharismaaa @fandomfavesss@bugngiz @lifelover4u @ljstraightnochaser @l-auteuse @itsjustyazz@energy-innerg @lahuttor @sagittariusroyalty@chrisgalore @grandadchadwick​ @blowmymbackout​@supersizemeplz​ @just-peachee​ @itskikilove​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @aanairb​ @blackburnbook​ @leahnicole1219​ @lovedersha​ @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @jasmindaughteroftheworld​

[mrs-dr-reid]

The Girl Behind the Desk

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins​; “Spencer goes to the same library whenever he can. In part because he likes to read the encyclopedias, but also because he’s in love with one of the girls who works there. Unfortunately, he’s also convinced she doesn’t know he exists.”

Genre: Super fluffy, doods

Warnings: Pining, I guess? (is that a thing that needs a warning? I dunno, maybe)

A/N: Okay, this was so fun to write? Oh my god. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Word Count: 1858

———————————————————————

Spencer didn’t know why he kept going there. Well, he takes that back. He kind of knows why he keeps going to a very particular library in the D.C. area: There’s a very robust collection of encyclopedias there that he can go and read whenever he has time off from the BAU. Therein lies the kicker: he’s already read the entire collection at least half a dozen times. So why does he keep going there if he’s already read the one thing there that interests him?

The answer is quite simple... the encyclopedia section is within viewing distance of the check-out desk, and whenever he goes in to read them, there’s always a beautiful young woman there with shiny Y/H/C hair and striking Y/E/C eyes checking out books, answering the questions of other library patrons, and taking the reshelving cart to some other section of the library. He’s never plucked up the courage to go over and talk to her, but he knew from overhearing the conversations she had with her coworkers that her first name was Y/N.

Spencer’s played out a thousand interactions with her in his mind, but he’s never gone over to the desk to actually play one of them out. So for the past month and a half, he’s just been sitting in the corner by himself pretending to read a book while staring at the beautiful librarian from across the room like a lovesick idiot. And he was a lovesick idiot, because he couldn’t recall a single time in his life where he was utterly captivated by a woman he’d never even spoken a word to before.

He noticed every little thing about her: the way she would smile at young children who would plunk a Magic Treehouse or Percy Jackson book on the counter and stand on their tiptoes to hand her their library card, then give them a small lollipop from the glass bowl on the desk before they left, the way she laughed when one of her coworkers told a really lame library joke, the way she could pull her hair into a neat bun while she was working without one of those hair donut things he’s seen JJ use a couple times, and the way there was always a skip in her step and a song in her head when she was pushing the reshelving cart to whatever section she needed to go to.

She never looked over at his lonely little table because she was busy focusing on the more busy sections of the library, like the magazines, the research computers, and the children’s books, so the logical half of Spencer’s brain managed to convince him that she had no idea he even existed and that he really had no business being in the building. Still, the other more fantastical half of his brain kept him rooted in his plush library chair on the very slim chance that one day she’d look over and at least give him a smile. He highly doubted that would ever happen, but a guy can hope.

—   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

Y/N could tell that the guy in a purple sweater vest with unruly brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes sitting at a table near the encyclopedias wasn’t really there to read all of them every time he came in, because she was pretty sure she saw him read every single one of them and put them all back in the right place in the span of a few hours the first day he came into her library.

Sometimes when she was refilling the candy bowl, she would steal a quick glance over at him and see him absentmindedly flipping through the pages of an encyclopedia she knows she’s seen him read in record breaking time with a furrowed brow, because she had to admit he was handsome in his own nerdy little way. And she’d always feel her stomach flip when he pushed his hair away from his eyes or adjusted his tie, because his hands look HUGE, even from far away, and she knows that if they ever shook hands, his would completely swallow hers.

She only knew his name because he answered his phone one time, and she heard him say, “Dr. Spencer Reid,” which made her raise her eyebrows in amazement, because he couldn’t have been much older than she was and he was a doctor. She could tell by the way he dressed that there was no way he was a medical doctor, so she assumed that he was a college professor with a proclivity for literature.

He came into her library sporadically over a month and a half period, and when he was gone for long lapses in time, Y/N assumed he was doing lectures either at the school he worked at or at nearby schools as a guest speaker. But whenever she looked over at the empty table where he usually made himself at home, she couldn’t help but miss him, which was utterly ridiculous because how could you miss someone you’ve never even spoken to? She then made a pact with herself: the next time she saw him come in, she was going to find some excuse or another to talk to him.

—   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

Spencer got back from a really rough case, and he figured that a trip to his favorite library might lift his spirits. He walked in through the doors, expecting it to be a normal session of “pretending to read so I can stare at the desk girl”, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice he’d only heard from a distance say, “We just got in a couple new ones about fungi and spores, in case you wanted to look at something new.”

He turned around to see the woman he’d been admiring from afar for nearly the last two months with her award-winning smile on her face. She pointed at his table and said, “I noticed you liked hanging out by the encyclopedias, so I thought I’d let you know if I caught you before you hunkered down over there,” making him struggle to find the right words to say. He finally settled on, “Ummm, okay. Cool. Thank you for letting me know,” and smiled before starting to walk away.

Y/N knew that was her last chance, so she said, “I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N L/N,” and held out her hand, so Spencer hesitated before grabbing it and saying, “Hi, Y/N. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Sorry, but, handshakes aren’t normally my thing. You see, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is outrageous. It’s actually...,” making Y/N say, “Safer to kiss, right? I’ve dealt with my fair share of germaphobes who whip out that fact,” before shooting him a wink.

Spencer didn’t know how to react to that, but he knows for a fact he went pink in the cheeks. Y/N continued, “And I already knew your name. I heard you answer your phone once. You’ve never checked out any books, so I just thought you were too busy with teaching to remember to return them and never went over to ask you about it,” while she started grabbing new books to stamp and stack.

Spencer didn’t really know how to respond to that, but he remembered how to speak English, and he said, “You think I’m a teacher?”, so she said, “Yeah. I mean, based on the way you dress and the fact that you’re slightly too germaphobic, there’s no way you’re a medical doctor. I figured you were a college professor, more specifically in the English department. How close am I?”, while sitting down in her swivel chair.

Spencer was impressed by her profiler-level deduction, so he said, “I’d say you were 70% accurate. I’m not a medical doctor, but I do have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, 2 BAs in Psychology and Sociology, and I’m working on a BA in Philosophy. I am a college professor, but I teach Criminology. I’m also a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” which made Y/N’s eyebrows fly up. She said, “Seriously?! All this time, I’ve been sneaking peeks at a super genius pretending to read an encyclopedia in the corner for the past two months?”, which made Spencer’s sly smile drop off his face.

He said, “You knew I was pretending?”, so Y/N grabbed her water bottle and said, “Yeah. You breezed through the entire collection in less than 3 hours the first day you came in, then you put every single one back in its rightful place. I even double checked after you left, and I didn’t have to swap a single book into the right place,” before taking a sip of water. Spencer said, “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute,” which nearly made Y/N choke on her water.

Spencer’s eyes widened in concern, and he said, “Oh my god, are you okay?”, but she waved him off and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting that,” before setting her water down. She checked her watch, then said, “Okay, my shift ends in a couple hours. And knowing you you’ll probably finish all those new encyclopedias by then, so how about when I clock out, you and I can go get coffee or something?”, which took Spencer completely by surprise. He said, “Uhhhhh, sure! Yeah, sure! That sounds great!”, his voice betraying him by cracking awkwardly.

Clearly Y/N thought it was cute, because she grabbed a pink sticky note and a clicker pen from the cup on the desk, jotted something down, then handed it to him before saying, “Be sure to think of some interesting fungus facts to tell me later, Dr. Brainiac,” winking, and heading off to reshelve some books. Spencer stood there awestruck for a solid minute before shaking himself and going to his usual spot. He finally looked down at what she had written, and he felt himself go completely red, because on the note was a series of numbers that could only be her cell phone number, an address that could only be hers, and the words “call me sometime, Boy Genius” written in a gorgeous looping scrawl.

Spencer looked up again to see her talking with one of her coworkers behind the desk, so he pulled out his phone and punched in her number before typing “Is texting okay, too?” and pressing send. He saw her pull out her phone, and she looked up and gave him a playful eye roll before typing something and putting her phone back in her pocket. His phone buzzed again, so he checked it to see that she had sent back “Of course it is, Dr. Reid ;)”, making him smile before going to grab those encyclopedias she was talking about.

———————————————————————

Tag List: @agenthotchner​, @hurricanejjareau​, @xgoldentigerlilyx​, @therestisconfettis​, @less-intelligent-spencerreid​, @aryaarathornson​, @thomasgibsonfan01​

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[sankyeom]

+.*☆ the boyz masterlist ☆*.+

special series

➪ an au a day (2k celebration au series) [ongoing]     ⤷ the boyz x reader  summary: a collection of 11 AUs, one for each active member of the boyz, to celebrate reaching 2k followers!! ➞ 2k celebration masterlist

multiple members

juyeon / changmin

➪ idolised (social media au) [completed]     ⤷ idol!reader x idol!juyeon/idol!changmin (idol au, love triangle) summary: in which you collaborate with the boyz in an effort to stop your company from disbanding your group ➞ series masterlist

sangyeon

➪ [07:22pm] (635 words)     ⤷ i missed you (exes to lovers, idol!sangyeon)

➪ tattle-tale (5.9k words)     ⤷ teacher au summary: in which teacher!sangyeon has a crush on teacher!you and anonymously leaves little gifts for you on your desk, only to one day be caught by your entire class ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

jacob

➪ letters (3.9k words)     ⤷ college au summary: in which jacob accidentally gives you a love letter meant for someone else

➪ lullaby (5.4k words)   ⤷ neighbour au summary: in which your new neighbour sings you to sleep every night since the walls in your building are so thin, and you fall in love with his voice ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

➪ and they were roommates! (social media au) [completed]     ⤷ introvert!jacob bae x female extrovert!reader (roommates to lovers, college au) summary: in which you desperately need a new roommate to cover your rent and your best friend kevin takes matters into his own hands, offering your place to his childhood friend jacob when he moves to town ➞ series masterlist

➪ [10:03pm] (361 words)    ⤷ you’re cute (strangers to lovers, college au)

younghoon

➪ [03:48pm] (186 words)     ⤷ coffee runs (established relationship, barista au)

➪ the c in ceo stands for cute (7.2k words)     ⤷ ceo au summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

➪ crazy rich evasions (social media au) [completed]     ⤷ rich kid!kim younghoon x female rich kid!reader (enemies to lovers, rich kids au, arranged marriage au) summary: in which your family arranges an engagement between you and your childhood nemesis kim younghoon, and the two of you swear to make the other break it off, no matter how many crazy schemes it takes. ➞ series masterlist

hyunjae

➪ [04:42pm] (264 words)    ⤷ cute wallpaper (online classes, college au)

➪ let’s play pretend (6.6k words)    ⤷ fake dating au summary: in which your sister’s wedding is right around the corner, and you don’t want to spend the day telling your relatives that your boyfriend cheated on you, so you ask hyunjae to accompany you ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

juyeon

➪ [11:14pm] (528 words)     ⤷ i spy with my little eye (spy au)

➪ i spy with my little eye (8.3k words)     ⤷ spy au summary: in which the company you work for is the main rival of juyeon’s company, and you’re known for always being one step ahead of him; even when it comes to realising his feelings for you (based on this timestamp by the same name) ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

➪ splash! (5.1k words)     ⤷ lifeguard au, summer love summary: in which you fall in love with the lifeguard at the hotel pool during your summer vacation and don’t want to have to say goodbye

kevin

➪ [02:42am] (266 words)     ⤷ phone call confessions (best friends to lovers)

➪ picture perfect (8.5k words)     ⤷ art student au summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner ➞ from my 2k followers celebration ‘an au a day’ series

new

➪ [08:02pm] (267 words)    ⤷ a date with destiny (blind date with a twist)

q

➪ [11:33pm] (458 words)     ⤷ horror-fying (established relationship, you hate horror films but you’re dating ji changmin so you deal lol)

➪ fortunes and misfortunes teaser (883 word teaser!)    ⤷ the boyz royal au series summary: in which you are required to find a royal suitor to finally be crowned queen of your kingdom, but find yourself falling in love with a nobleman – who may be titled, but is no royal – instead ➞ from my royal tbz series coming soon!

ju haknyeon

➪ [11:59pm] (349 words)     ⤷ my type (best friends to lovers)

sunwoo

➪ break your rules (social media au) [completed]     ⤷ brother’s best friend!sunwoo x reader (enemies to lovers, college au) summary: in which nobody knows why you don’t get along with your brother’s best friend sunwoo. or, alternately: you and sunwoo spend the night together and have to hide it from your brother eric. ➞ series masterlist

➪ [03:09pm] (382 words)   ⤷ completely clueless (best friends, sunwoo is a fool)

➪ pose (3.6k words)    ⤷ model au, enemies to lovers summary: in which you are forced to work with sunwoo, your attractive sworn enemy who never fails to get on your nerves, in order to shoot your dream magazine cover

eric

➪ [05:58pm] (606 words)     ⤷ first date (first date au lol that’s obvious by the title)

➪ batter up! (6.1k words)     ⤷ baseball player!eric sohn x reader summary: in which you are assigned to interview the unapproachable baseball team ace eric sohn, and things end up going sideways.

➪ make or break (social media au) [completed]    ⤷ [sequel to break your rules, can be read alone]    ⤷ ex boyfriend!eric x ex girlfriend!reader summary: in which you transfer to your ex boyfriend’s university and you find it hard not to fall for him all over again. (loosely based on the song make or break by the boyz) ➞ series masterlist

➪ do you believe in angels? (8.1k words)     ⤷ part of the otherworldly collab     ⤷ guardian angel!eric sohn x reader summary: in which your guardian angel eric accidentally reveals himself to you, and you get to know heaven’s secrets while teaching him about humans.

➪ kiss me if you can (4.8k words)    ⤷ eric sohn x female reader summary: in which you’ve given most of your friends a tipsy kiss except for eric, who has a massive crush on you that you’ve never noticed. when he points out this injustice, you’re happy to offer him a kiss too.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Fluffy Town

Day 27, Post #1 by @adenei

Title: Fluffy Town

Author: adenei

Pairing: Dean & Seamus BrOTP (and Gryffindor pals)

Prompt: A Friendship Like No Other

Rating: K

TW: None :)

A/N: Inspired by Troy and Abed’s BrOTP on the TV show, Community, where the boys are bored and decide to make a blanket fort during their sleepover!

**************

Now that the Yule Ball was over and Christmas had come and passed, all the hype and excitement had died down. The Hogwarts students were becoming bored and restless for the remainder of the holidays since there were only so many places to roam around the castle. And because they were in the full throes of winter, this made for an even greater limitation on activities to partake in, and most students weren’t interested in studying over break.

So, Dean and Seamus found themselves sprawled out on a couple of armchairs in the Gryffindor common room just after lunch, staring at the gold tiles on the ceiling. Their limbs hung off the cushioned furniture in unnatural forms, dangling in the air as small huffs and sighs became louder with every exhale.

“Will you two stop it with your moaning?” admonished Parvati from across the room.

“We’re just bored,” Seamus replied. “You don’t happen to have any ideas to keep us occupied this afternoon, do you?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, nonverbally suggesting a proposition that made both girls scoff in disgust.

“Gross, Shay,” Lavender rolled her eyes at his remark.

“That’s not what you were saying the other night,” Seamus smirked.

“Yes, when you were dressed in your finest robes and charming, acting like a true gentleman. Now, you’re just a frog again,” Lavender gave it right back to him.

“A frog?” Seamus wrinkled his nose, not fully understanding Lav’s reference, looking to Dean for clarification.

“It’s a muggle fairy tale that involves a princess and a frog and having to—”

“Yeah, alright, I’m bored again. What are we going to do?” 

Dean sat up in the chair and stared into the crackling flames of the fire, an idea forming in his mind.

“Oh, what if we go upstairs, change into our pajamas and build a blanket fort!”

Seamus moved to sit up a little too fast at Dean’s suggestion and landed on the floor. Despite falling, a wide smile erupted onto his face at the idea. 

“That’s brilliant, mate! How didn’t we think of that sooner?”

The boys scrambled to their feet to escape up the boy’s staircase when a derisive laugh stopped them.

“A blanket fort? What are you, seven?” Lavender insulted while Parvati giggled at her jab.

Dean and Seamus paid no mind to the negative comment, and instead, Dean invited them to join.

“You can come up in an hour or so and hang out if you want! You’ve gotta be dressed in your jammies, though, or we won’t permit entry.”

“I think we’re good. We’ll find something more suitable for teenagers to do,” Parvati dismissed the invitation.

“Well, have fun reading your old magazines and doing your nails, then,” Seamus shrugged as they disappeared up to the fourth-year’s dorm.

A few hours later, the boys were sitting inside an oasis surrounded by cotton and polyester blends. Their original attempt only spanned the area between their beds, but Seamus thought to ask the house-elves in the kitchens if they could borrow some extra blankets for their endeavours. The elves were more than happy to oblige, and by the time Dean and Seamus returned to their dorm, there were two large stacks of linens for them to hang. 

The original area then expanded to cover the entirety of the boy’s dorm. In order to conserve the number of blankets they had, Dean had the brilliant idea to unhook the curtains on the four-poster beds and utilize those first. An array of golds, crimsons, beiges and greys engulfed the open space as the colors reflected in the glow of the bell-jar lights the boys were using for more brightness.

With deep sighs of satisfaction, the pair sat back against their beds, admiring their hard work. The only downside to the fort was that the ceilings were a little too low. If they sat fully erect, their heads were only two inches shy of the blankets over them.

Dean turned to Seamus, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Seamus hung his head and nodded. “We’re too old for this, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…” Dean agreed.

But then a thought crossed his mind, and an imperceptible smile donned his face. “What if we used our brooms to help extend the ceiling, so it doesn’t drop so low where there isn’t a bedpost to keep it up? That would vault the ceiling a couple feet!”

“That’ll make it work for a teen—NO! A man!” Seamus added.

The boys looked at each other and broke out into a song to pump them up for the remodel.

“Ba-boo ga-boo, boo-chee. Ba-boo ja-boo, boo-boo tee!”

Seamus broke out into more beatboxing as Dean took over with a melody that featured a robotic voice.

Their efforts were successful, and the blanket fort became more spacious as a result. Now, they could enjoy the space until they had to go down for dinner. The two were in the middle of playing the muggle card game, War, when they heard the door open.

“Holy hippogriffs, what is this?!” Neville said upon returning to the dormitory.

Dean and Seamus both looked at each other. It was clear that both boys hadn’t thought about what would happen when their mates returned. Using two separate openings in the fort, they popped their heads through to acknowledge the newcomer.

“We made a blanket fort!” Dean explained as the shock on Neville’s face transitioned to glee.

“This is brilliant! Can I join?”

Dean and Seamus shared a look. In their excitement and haste, they’d forgotten about their three roommates. They couldn’t exactly tell Neville ‘no’ since he lived there too. Plus, it might be fun to have all the boys participate. More people would mean more options for card games. Seamus nodded, and Dean looked back to Neville.

“You may enter as long as you follow the rules: No magic, no farting, and no pillow fighting.”

“And only if you can get some hot chocolate from the kitchen, first!” Seamus requested, awarding him a side-eye from Dean.

“Y-yeah, sure! I’ll be back in a jiff!”

When Neville left, he must have spread the word to the other Gryffindors about the fort. Harry and Ron returned with Neville to join in on the fun, and Ron’s older brothers followed to scope it out. Dean and Seamus were fine with Harry and Ron inviting Hermione into the fort, and by that time, Lavender and Parvati’s interest got the better of them, and they joined in too. 

When it was time for dinner, it was evident that the blanket fort idea spread to the rest of Gryffindor, and they were popping their heads into the other dorm rooms to see what their peers had come up with. Professor McGonagall was beside herself when all of Gryffindor showed up to the Great Hall in their nightclothes, but the twinkle in Professor Dumbledore’s eye quelled her reprimanding. 

Chatter gradually spread to students in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and it was confirmed by Ernie and Padma the next morning that their houses had joined in on the fun. The inter-house blanket forts were enough to cause the holiday lull to subside, and the houses came together to offer different events and activities to join over the next two days.

On the third day, however, the news had spread that Slytherin began making their own blanket forts, and Dean and Seamus had to make a difficult decision.

“Surely, we can co-exist?” Dean asked with hope threaded in his voice.

Seamus shook his head and looked to the rest of his dorm-mates. “We know the ways of the world. The blanket forts have officially mainstreamed. What’s next? Will the professors  join, as well?”

Loud grumbles were heard among their peers at the horrifying thought.

“No, we can’t allow this to spread any further. We’ve had our fun, and the new term begins in two days. It is time.”

Dean nodded in solidarity. No one wanted this to be the end, but they all knew a good thing can’t last forever.

“Alright, team. You know what to do. Spread the word, but watch yourselves and be safe. We don’t need another sock war erupting for this act of sacrifice.”

Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Parvati and Lavender nodded at Dean’s words and dispersed throughout the castle to notify the others. Meanwhile, Dean and Seamus crawled to opposite corners of the fourth-year fort and reached up to latch onto the emergency release socks. On the count of three, both boys pulled, and the blankets came tumbling down around them.

The best friends lay there in the pile of sheets, mourning the loss of what will be remembered as the greatest Christmas hols that Hogwarts has ever seen. Ignoring the mess that would need to be taken care of eventually, they enjoyed each other’s company as the soft swish of blankets crumpling to the ground could be heard throughout the castle.