#I’ve never really seen my resemblance to him before

[herawell]

.

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[hellfirenacht]

Candygram

Summary: It's Valentine's day and you shoot your shot with Eddie by sending him a Candygram.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fluff, sfw

4.8k Words Master List

“Just do it.”  Robin said, following your line of sight to the booth in the corner of the Hawkins cafeteria. It was a simple table with a red cloth thrown over it and a handmade banner that read ‘CANDYGRAMS $1’ and was decorated with tacky hearts. 

Every time you glanced over at the booth, your heart would start pounding and your stomach would twist in knots. You had never considered yourself to be shy before, when you first moved to Hawkins a few years ago, Robin had joked that you didn’t need a welcome wagon because you had thrown yourself into band and had introduced yourself to everyone with ease. 

You had masked your anxiety over being the new kid with an overinflated sense of confidence and it had worked out really well for you until you caught feelings for the freak who sat next to you in remedial science. 

“I think... I would rather chug formaldehyde.” you said slowly, staring so hard at the offensively pink and red booth that Robin was sure it was going to catch flames. 

“Either go up there and buy a candygram or I’m going to do it for you.” Robin said. “If I have to hear you waffle about this for one more day I’m gonna rip my hair out.” 

“But if I send him one, then he might actually acknowledge me and realize I might have something resembling a feeling for him, and that’s just not really cool, you know? Goes against my chill and mysterious personality.” you said, leaning back on your chair with a cocky grin. 

“Last night I saw you and Steve cry over Bambi.” Robin deadpans. 

“Okay, so we were drunk and also shut up.” you snorted, rubbing your face. 

“How are you going to know if there’s anything there if you don’t even take the chance?” Robin scolds. “Come one, I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m surprised the whole school doesn’t know-”

“Again, cool and mysterious personality.” you tried again. 

“Plus I know he’s just as weird as you.” Robin continued, ignoring you. “I mean, last week I saw him get Jason Carver to back off one of the freshmen by pretending to exercise a demon out of him!”

You stared at Robin for a beat before thunking your head on the lunch table. “I’m going to marry him. Holy shit, he actually tried to expel the demon lurking in Carver?” You were laughing at the thought. 

During your first senior year and his second, Eddie Munson had caught your eye when you had the same lunch period. He was loud and energetic and so fucking weird you couldn’t help but to be drawn to him. Had your parents not forced you to stick with band, you would have considered joining Hellfire. Unfortunately even with this last go-round as a super senior, they still made you stick with it despite your senioritis reaching terminal levels.

You never had a good opportunity to talk to him, and the more time passed the harder it became to justify just randomly approaching him. This semester you finally had your opportunity when you’d been put in the same class and sitting next to each other no less. Still, the most you’d been able to say was “yeah, sure” when he’d asked you for a pencil once. 

Four weeks sitting next to Eddie, and you had barely spoken to him while noticing every little thing about him. He read a lot in class when he could get away with it, and doodled in his notebooks constantly, especially dice and dragons seemed to be the biggest theme. His school notebook wasn’t nearly as filled in as his Hellfire notebook, and he was always fidgeting in class. He also didn’t talk much, and at least once a week he’d end up falling asleep in class with his head in his hand. 

“There’s not gonna be a wedding if you can’t even talk to the guy.” Robin said. “He’s not even scary! Dustin comes in to talk to Steve all the time about Hellfire. He’s just a dork.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” your voice was a strangled laugh mixed with a groan. 

“You showed up the first day of band and introduced yourself to everyone, even if they weren’t in your section. What is the hold up with you talking to Eddie?” Robin pried. 

“Because back then, it didn’t matter.” You looked over at Robin, poking at your mystery meat. “When I first got here it didn’t matter if anyone liked me or not. I was only supposed to be in this school for a few months and then graduate. Then I didn’t. I could handle it if someone didn’t like me. None of you were really supposed to matter to me. No offense.”

Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem offended. “You were just making nice with the inmates until parole.” she joked and you nodded. 

“Yup, and then when I realized that I was going to have to actually have a full other year of school, that meant that I was going to have to care if I was ever gonna graduate.” You continued. “Luckily you saw through all my bullshit bravado and started dragging me to movie nights with you and Steve.” 

“Yeah yeah, we love friendship. So what does any of this have to do with Eddie?” Robin said, not needing you to explain the backstory that she had been present for. 

“It means that with Mr. Munson, I unfortunately, care so fucking much what he thinks of me.” you relented. “He’s the biggest freak in school, and the dorkiest loser, and if I try and talk to him and he’s not interested in talking back I won’t be able to take it. Robin, I will simply lay down and be dead for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not how that works, you can’t be dead for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Because if you’re dead then... you’re not alive”

“Schrodinger's corpse then. Alive and dead at the same time.” 

“Look, just send him the stupid candygram. The worst he can do is say no.” She stood up from the table and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up at the booth, jotting down Eddie’s name on a piece of paper and shoving a few quarters in the till with Robin looking smug. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one anyway, if anything he should be thrilled that someone wanted to send him one.”

“If this kills me, Steve’s in charge of the music at my funeral.” you sighed. 

---

Candygrams were being handed out and delivered through the week. You weren’t paying attention to what period they were supposed to be handed out, and so when two students in obnoxious heart shirts and fake wings burst into your science class with Eddie right next to you, you were about ready to throw yourself out a window. 

No one was surprised when Janet and Charlie were tossed a few candygrams, but everyone’s head whipped around when the red heart shaped lollipop and card was set on Eddie Munson’s desk. Eddie himself seemed more surprised than anyone. 

He had the lollipop in his mouth before he even opened the note attached and you were seconds away from bolting out the door. With any luck, maybe he didn’t know your name even after weeks of sitting next to each other. 

“Who’s it from, freak?” asked Patrick, the basketball jock who sat a few rows ahead. That earned a few snickers from the class. 

“It’s from your mom.” Eddie said without missing a beat and taking out the lollipop. “Tell her I say thanks.”

More laughter from the class as Patrick stood up as if ready to fight, but the teacher quickly told him to sit down. 

Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You felt a bit guilty that your candygram had kicked up a fuss, but at least Eddie didn’t out you as the person who sent it to him. In fact he wasn’t looking over at you at all. 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he flipped the card around, as if looking for something. All that was written was his name and “YOU’RE SWEET!” written in cheesy font and his name scribbled in your handwriting. 

And nothing else. 

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry at your stupidity. You’d been so jumbled and nervous that you’d forgotten to sign the damn thing. Robin was gonna have a field day with this one. 

Eddie kept fidgeting with the card through the rest of class, twisting it and bending it until it was as crumpled and torn as your heart felt. He shoved it in his pocket and didn’t even glance at you as the bell rang and he stood up and tossed the eaten lollipop stick in the trash. 

It’s not personal. You told yourself. He has no idea who sent it to him.

That’s when you had a horrible idea, so stupid it might actually work. 

---

“Explain how this is going to work again?” Robin asked. “You’re going to keep sending him lollipops this week until he notices you?” 

“Sort of.” you said, buying another candygram. “I’ll just send him a few joke ones as a feeler and if he responds positively I’ll come clean. If not, I keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.”

“Since when do you care about your dignity?” Robin sorted. 

“Since I caught feelings for the least dignified guy in school, I guess.” You knew it was stupid, you knew it was ridiculous, but you already messed up once so you might as well lean into it. You scribbled his name down, this time signing it with a satisfied giggle. “This is so dumb.”

Oh, but it was so worth it. You had bought it before school started, guaranteeing that it’d be delivered the same day, handing over a crisp dollar to Nancy Wheeler who had volunteered for the booth. If Eddie had been surprised the first time, he looked almost shocked now.

Eddie, sorry I forgot to sign the first one! This card said, once again not giving away any sign of who it was actually from. You saw his eye sparkle in amusement as he ate his lollipop, and this time the card was read over a few times before being carefully tucked into his dungeon master notebook. 

By the third day, the novelty of Eddie Munson getting candygrams had worn off with the rest of your class, but Eddie’s grin only grew wider each time. 

“Anything for me, Cupid?” Eddie asked as the student council members walked back in to hand out more lollipops. 

He whooped as another one was dropped on his desk and he snatched up the card quickly and you had to cover your face and bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at his excitement. 

Eddie, sorry I’m so bad at remembering to sign these things! I just get way too excited about sending them out that I lose focus. So anyway this card is actually from-

You had carefully spaced out your writing on the small rectangle of paper so that it left absolutely no room for you to sign your name. Eddie looked downright giddy as he read the note over and over. Seeing him so happy made your stomach burst into butterflies and even if he decided after this he wasn’t interested, this was enough. Knowing that he was smiling because of you was enough. 

Someone said your name and you looked up, surprised to see one of the student council members standing next to you and handing you a candygram. Your eyebrows shot up as you took it with a thanks and opened up the card. 

Who had sent one to you? You’d been so wrapped up in your little scheme you didn’t even consider that someone would try and send you one either. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you saw your name and a small drawing of what looked like an egg in a nest as the sender. Robin, of course. Probably making fun of you for sending candygrams to Eddie without signing either. 

You tucked the candygram in your own notebook safely and dared a glance over at Eddie again. You hadn’t expected for him to be looking back at you, and your heart jumped in your chest. He unwrapped his lollipop and lifted it slightly as if he was trying to toast. You held yours up as well to him, an off sense of camaraderie between two people who had their day temporarily disturbed for commercialized love. 

Thursday came around, Valentine's day proper, but they’d be doing one last day of candygrams on Friday as well. This was a fundraiser after all, and capitalism trumps any semblance of real sincerity. Well, you said that but that wasn’t exactly going to stop you from continuing your little plan. 

Today was the day you were going to pull out the big guns. You handed over a full $5 to have a carnation sent to Eddie, as well as a return to sender card to Robin for being a good friend. 

“Shouldn’t he be the one sending you a flower?” Nancy asked, handing you the card to write on. You wondered how Nancy had time for all of the extracurricular activities she had going on, working with the student council and the school newspaper. 

You just shrugged at the question, not realizing how wide you were smiling or how obviously warm your cheeks were. To anyone with two eyes, you were glowing and to anyone with one eye, you were phosphorescent. 

The disinterest that your classmates had from the last two rounds perked back up with a flower was delivered to Eddie that afternoon. 

“For little old me?” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes at the delivery boy as he took the carnation. You giggled to yourself as he opened the card again. 

Man, I’m bad at this aren’t I? Don’t worry, this time I’m writing very small so I have room to sign this card. Seeing you light up when these get delivered has made my whole week, and totally worth it. Anyway this is from- 

To be fair, you had actually signed your name this time. However this time you had made an attempt to erase it with one of those erasers. The horrible stiff ones that only made big smudges and made the mistake worse and nearly tore through the paper. You had carefully looked at your smudged signature for a long time before deciding it was illegible enough to send. 

Eddie faked a swoon in his seat, nearly toppling over onto the floor. “Come on!” he laughed, pushing himself back upright, smiling with his whole face. He looked over the note again, something clicking in his brain and you quickly looked down at the book you were currently pretending to read. 

“It’s someone in here.” you heard him mutter to himself and your heart started pounding in your chest. You focused on your breathing to try and stop yourself from giggling and giving yourself away. 

“Stop sending yourself stuff, Munson. It’s pathetic.” Patrick called out. 

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask nicely.” Eddie said, but he sounded distracted as his eyes scanned the room for any hint of who this mysterious person is. “And next time, I’m more than happy with just the lollipop, it’s saving me on smokes.”

You didn’t even notice the lollipop on your desk until class had started back up. Unfolding the card you smiled to yourself, seeing that it was from Robin again. This time the egg in the nest had a crack in it and seemed to be hatching. You’d ask her about it later. 

Nothing said during the rest of class even registered with you, every word was in one ear and out the other. This had been a fun week sending Eddie all the lollipops and flowers but tomorrow was the last day to have something sent to him. 

Were you going to sign your name? That’s the million dollar question. You had told Robin that you would if Eddie seemed interested, and he had made it clear he was enjoying the attention. 

But would he still enjoy the attention if he learned it was from you? You two weren’t exactly friends, but not complete strangers either. He didn’t seem to dislike you, after all he’d raised a toast with you with your lollipops the other day. 

Well, if you were gonna put yourself out there, you were gonna do it on your own terms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Robin said that Friday morning as you dropped a handful of ones on the table for one last hurrah. 

“Nope, I’ve committed.” you said, taking the small stack of cards and getting to work. 

“I’m going to have you committed.” Robin shook her head. “I mean, this is actually insane, you know that right? There’s no reason to go through all this trouble, when you could just talk to him.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Buckley?” you asked, as you added one letter of your name to each of the cards. “Gotta make him work for it.”

“So you’re gonna give him a Valentine's themed word jumble as your big sign off?” 

“Yup.” you confirmed, adding his name to each of the cards. He’d get them all in one go and then it’s up to him to unscramble your name and figure it out. 

After that... well, the ball is in his court. 

Besides, if he liked the lollipops enough that he’d reach for one instead of a cigarette then that’s good enough. 

“You’re such a weirdo. You deserve each other.” Robin went on. “The Weirdo and the Freak. It’s like Beauty and the Beast except.. Not.”

“Robin, don’t you know three languages?” you snorted finishing up your stack and handing them over to be sent. “You are so much smarter than me, but this is where you lose words?”

“It’s Friday and I haven’t had coffee.” she pointed out. “Oh, thanks for sending me one by the way.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you sent me one so I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging.” you nudged her playfully. 

“I didn’t send you one.” Robin looked at you, confused. 

“What?” You reached into your backpack and pulled out the notebook where you had placed the card and handed it to her. “But that’s a robin’s egg...?”

“It’s an egg, probably.” Robin agreed. “But I’m broke. I didn’t send any out.” 

You stared at the card with new eyes. If she didn’t send it, then who did?

---

“Holy shit.” Eddie muttered as a bag of lollipops was dumped on his desk with no rhyme or reason, earning a round of laughter and snickers from the class. The teacher had long since given up on trying to keep the class’s attention when the Cupid’s showed up. 

He sorted through the cards, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the different letters on the cards until he found one that had real words on it. 

Figure it out, Sucker <3 Eddie’s face was a wonderful mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and mild offense. 

One of the Cupid’s handed you another two lollipops as well. One was actually signed by one of your friends in band, and the other had another doodle of an egg. This time the egg was completely hatched and there was some sort of weird bird flying off. 

Not a robin. You decided, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. 

You barely paid attention in class for the rest of the hour, your attention split between the three egg Valentines you received and the man next to you. Eddie had pulled out his Dungeon Master notebook to try and decode your message. You felt flattered that he was using his favored notebook to try and figure out your puzzle. 

Eddie was sucking on one of the lollipops diligently as he scribbled down random letters. Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen him look so studious in class before. You wondered if this is what he looked like when he was working on his campaigns and your brain decided to give you a treat of a daydream where the two of you were sitting around in your room while he explained his campaign and how he’d love to have someone like you join Hellfire-

It was three minutes before the bell, and that meant just a few minutes until your last period and the weekend. With Valentine’s day falling in the middle of the week, most of your friends were going to be off doing things with their partners. Maybe you, Robin, and Steve- no wait, Steve actually got dates. Robin worked on the weekend. 

Maybe Eddie- NOPE. Not going there, you were not about to get your hopes up for this. 

You glanced over at him again, looking at his notebook to see if he was anywhere close to decoding your name. Eddie had the worst handwriting you’d ever seen and so you would be surprised if he could even figure out his own notes. Between unjumbling your letters, he had started doodling in the margins. You assumed that they were D&D monsters from the look of it, since none of them looked like actual animals except for the bats in the corner. 

The only other thing you recognized was a dragon, drawn in a larger scale on the side of the page. It’s wings were expanded and it was flying off, and from this angle it looked like a weird...

It looked like some bird

Some sort of weird bird

Your head snapped back down to the card in front of you. This wasn’t a weird bird. It was a dragon. A dragon hatching from an egg. An egg that hatched a dragon. A dragon that was drawn with the same pose as the one in Eddie’s notebook. Eddie’s notebook had your dragon no wait, your card had his dragon-

Eddie Munson had sent you the cards. 

Eddie had-

“Oh.” You said out loud. You were nearly fighting back hysterical laughter at this, and you pressed your hands against your face, with your shoulder shaking with repressed laughter. 

Why the hell had Eddie sent you those cards? The two of you had barely spoken to each other!

 You did the same damn thing, dipshit. You reminded yourself. In fact you had gone way harder than he had. But what did this MEAN? 

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to get out of the classroom, and before you could say anything, Eddie was off and running out of the classroom at the speed of light. 

What was that about?

Robin was right. If you were ever going to have a chance with him, you were going to suck it up and talk to him, even if it meant possibly embarrassing yourself. Plus, finding out why he sent you three candygrams was currently trumping any fear of rejection. Curiosity killed the cat, but at least he died satisfied. You’re pretty sure how that saying went at least. 

You knew that Eddie had Hellfire today, it was Friday and he and all of his friends had been running around in their club shirts. With a deep breath you...realized you had no idea where the hell they actually met. 

This whole thing could have been planned better, actually. 

You started walking around the school blindly for any sign of the signature baseball tee that they all wore. If you found one of them, they were sure to lead you to Eddie. God, you felt like a stalker. 

There. Long dark curls against a stark white shirt with black sleeves. Your heart leapt in your chest, and you had to make the choice now. 

“E... Eddie! Wait up!” you called out, walking quickly towards him. 

When he turned around to look at you, you felt the air disappear from your lungs. How was it possible for him to be so beautiful and why the fuck did no one in this school seem to notice? 

Eddie pulled the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth, surprised to see you. 

“Hey.” he said. “Uh... you sit next to me in class.” 

He was either playing dumb, or you were about to make an ass of yourself. But, like Robin asked, since when do you care about dignity?

You reached into your bag and pulled out the candygrams that had been sent to you and holding them out. 

To your relief he gave you a bashful smile. “Guess you caught me, huh?” he asked. “You solved my Valentine’s puzzle.” 

“I have a pretty high intelligence when I apply myself.” you said, which only made him grin wide. “But I gotta say, Munson. I’m actually a little disappointed. I mean, sadistic and scary dungeon master of the Hellfire club, and this is the best puzzle you could come up with?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards you. “Well, I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” he said, and your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Had to start somewhere.” 

“I guess I had to be sneaky and pay attention to you to figure it out. You’re hard not to notice, you know.” you admitted, crossing your arms as well to mimic him. 

“Being The Freak means I fail most stealth checks.” he shrugged. 

“High charisma though.” you threw out there, hoping that line would land and to your delight it did.

“It’s the Munson Magic. I come by it naturally.” Eddie’s smile was so wide it was cheesy but shit, it was working on you. 

“Not great intelligence though.” you smirked at him. 

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” He looked a little offended now, and you saw his shoulder stiffen as if he was waiting for this to suddenly go south. 

“Spell my name, Eddie.” 

You could see the lightbulb go off in his mind and his eyes widened. 

“You- wait, you were the one who kept sending me the cards?” Eddie looked nothing short of bewildered and ecstatic. You had a feeling that if things went well, you wouldn’t have to worry about ever knowing what he was thinking as he wore every emotion on his sleeve. 

“Surprise?” you asked, playing with the strap of your backpack. 

Eddie licked his lips, chasing the last of the flavor of the sucker he’d been eating. He looked at you, as if searching for something, and you cut in before he had the chance to find it. 

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” you asked, a little louder than you meant to. “Like, just us.”

“Do you think you can handle a date with The Freak?” Eddie asked, standing a little straighter. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I promise the worst of them are true.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie, I’ve always wanted to join Hellfire.” you smirked. “I’m sure there are worse things for a first date than sacrificing someone to Satan, or summoning demons, or joining a cult.”

“I’m a gentleman, I would never ask a lady to summon demons on the first date. That’s at least a third date activity.” Eddie held his hand to his heart and raised a hand as if making an oath. 

Oh yeah, you were going to marry him. You were already picturing proposing to him and taking him away from this town. 

“Then how about dinner at Benny’s?” you suggested. “Burgers and shakes on me and you can tell me more about Hellfire and dragons and I can give you a spelling lesson.”

Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair and you giggled as the rings got snagged and he struggled to untangle them. 

“It’s.. a date then.” he said, but it came out as more of a question, as if he was asking if this was really happening. 

“A date.” You agreed, handing him your number, having come prepared. 

As you began to walk away, he called out after you. 

“Wait! You said you wanted to check out Hellfire, right?” Eddie said and you turned to look at him. “I’m... I’m actually running a one shot tonight. Kind of beginner friendly enough. I don’t often do this in the middle of the semester but one of our usuals dropped out because he had a date so... we have an open seat at the table. If you think you can handle it.”

Your smile widened as you walked over to him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Eddie offered his arm to you, as if he were a gentleman which you took eagerly. 

“So... how do you actually spell your name?” 

---

Dear Reader, I hope you have the easiest name to spell because that would make this fic at least 3% funnier. Also, I'm proud I got this done before Valentine's day because I never even finished my Halloween or Christmas fic. Be proud of me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tag List: @gagasbee, @ihaventgotaclue-really @tastefullyferal @anonymouskiwi @hellfiredarling

[wonderjanga]

Yo, Wanna Hang Out?

Billy asking people if they want to hang out at the strangest places. They hang out with him anyways regardless of the places are strange.

Marvel: *in the kitchens packing up a fishing kit looking like someone’s dad getting ready to fish*

Aquaman: *nearby, making a sandwich* “You know, I’ve never seen you wear a bucket hat let alone civilian clothes before.”

Marvel: “What do you mean? It’s a fisherman’s hat. And I’m wearing it because I’m gonna go fishing.”

Aquaman: “Still a bucket hat…”

Martian Manhunter(MM): *also nearby, rummaging through the freezer looking for ice cream* “Fishing? Where?”

Aquaman: “Are you gonna go to a big lake or something?”

Marvel: “Yeah! I’m going to the frozen over one on Mars.”

MM: *looks over, now distracted from his quest of finding ice cream* “What-”

Marvel: “The fish there are so cool looking! I was gonna catch a few and then throw them back into the water, you know?”

MM: “No… No I don’t know.” *shakes head slowly*

Aquaman: “Wait, Mars has lakes?”

Marvel: “Yeah! In the south pole. It’s under some ice. Do you wanna come?”

Aquaman: “Well, I mean sure? I’m down to fish with you, but I don’t wanna do that if I have to wear a space suit.”

Marvel: “I don’t think you have to. I remember seeing Supes wearing this thing over his mouth and nose, and it allowed him to breathe in space.”

Aquaman: “Oh cool!”

Marvel: “Yeah, but apparently it’s super cold down there.”

MM: “It is. In human degrees it’s negative 153 degrees Celsius.”

Aquaman: “What’s that in American-”

Marvel: “So yeah! You might have to bundle up or maybe I could cast the heating spell on you? Just know it’ll be really really cold. By the way, J’onn, are you coming too?”

MM: *shrugs* “If you’ll have me.”

They ended up actually getting attacked by this giant, Martian, vaguely octopus-resembling creature. It was an epic battle of which they brought some of it back to the Watchtower and ate a bunch of octopus dishes together.

or

Marvel: *packing some stuff in a little bag and whistling a little tune while dressed like a gardener*

Hawkgirl: “Captain? Are you going somewhere?”

Marvel: “Oh, I’m going to Thanagar cause I wanna pick up this species of plant that only grows there. Wanna come?”

Hawkgirl: “I sort of can’t, considering the fact the entire planet thinks I’m a war criminal for betraying them.”

Marvel: “Wear a disguise. Want me to conjure a fake mustache on you?”

Hawkgirl: *snorts* “No.”

Marvel: “You sure? It doesn’t have to be a fake mustache. We can just change some things about you, like your hair color.”

Hawkgirl: “Hmm…” *rubs her chin, thinking* “Can Carter come along?”

Marvel: “Of course!”

They got caught and ended up going on this wacky adventure of evading the authorities. They even got arrested. Multiple times. They also broke out. Multiple times. It was fun for everyone involved besides the Thanagarian Law Enforcement.

or

Marvel: *humming a tune as he stands inside of a heavily restricted building that only allows people of the highest military clearance access to*

Captain Atom: *is also here because one of his superiors told him to report here and sees Marvel* “Captain Marvel Sir? What are you-” *looks around* “What are you doing here?”

Marvel: “Hey, Atom!” *little wave* “What do you mean?”

Captain Atom: “This is a military building with restricted access. I know you have Captain in your name, but I didn’t actually think you were in any of the branches. Let alone high enough in whatever branch to have access to this place.”

Marvel: “Oh no, I’m not military. I’m just here to renew my contract. I just finished.”

Captain Atom: “Contract?”

Marvel: “See a long time ago, a.k.a. the 1950s, heroes would do contractual jobs for the United States Government. Me and the Squadron of Justice used to do a lot of them.”

Captain Atom: “So that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often?”

Marvel: “Yep! Me and the other Fawcett heroes.”

Super Duper High Level Person In the Government(SDHLPITG): *walks over while holding a clipboard* “Oh, it seems you both are already acquainted.”

Captain Atom: “Ah, yes. We’re both on the Justice League ma’am.”

SDHLPITG: “So that means you’ll be good teammates. Wonderful.” *hands a clipboard to Captain Atom* “The head honcho wants you guys to investigate a portal in Antartica.” *looks to Marvel* “Your first job back with us.” *nods to him before leaving*

Captain Atom: *starts looking through it*

Marvel: *looks over his shoulder to see it* “Isn’t that the portal that leads to the Winter Fairy realm?”

Captain Atom: “What?”

Marvel: “Oh my gosh it is! That place is super cool! Their ice cream is amazing. You should try some.” *nudges him with his elbow*

Captain Atom: “Oh- uh- Okay?” *confused if that means they’ll be interacting with the mentioned fairies*

That’s how Atom and Marvel ended up eating fairy ice cream while surrounded by a bunch of fairies who were all super happy to see the Champion of Magic. They were both made into honorary fairies.

Captain Atom: *staring at the bowl of fairy liquid the Winter Fairies gave them* “Marvel… I don’t know if it’s a good idea to drink a foreign substance that looks like an oil spill.”

Marvel: “Oh trust me, it’s not dangerous or anything. It’ll just give you wings!”

Captain Atom: “What-”

Marvel: *downs his bowl*

After that, all the Winter fairies shied away from them as their wings were too hot for them. After all, Marvel’s was comprised of lightning which is hot, and Atom’s was comprised of the same matter as his energy blasts which were also extremely hot.

Marvel: *leans over to whisper* “Don’t worry. I can magic them away when we leave this place.”

Captain Atom: *lets out a little sigh of relief as he resumes eating his remaining ice cream*

[hollowed-theory-hall]

your post on harry’s handwriting was an eye-opener for me! ik his writing resembled his mother some and is decent overall, but i’ve never seen pics of it!

idk where the horde of fanfic writers came up with the weird notion that harry has bad/chicken scratch handwriting, which triggers me every. time. they make out his handwriting to be messy, his eating habits sloppy, his speech behaviour bumbling, his appearance unkempt, and that he’s rather messy as a person. which boggles the mind, because he’s used to cleaning up after the dursleys and probably enjoys an orderly space, if not super spic and span??? is it only certain fandoms, cuz they make the other character(s) all elegance personified and well-mannered? like, harry already is a well-mannered boy, otherwise petunia would’ve been tutting, clucking, and dying of shame even more before the nieghbours lmaoo. idk whether to cry or laugh, and sometimes it’s such a turn-off that i choose to rage quit fics.

please, if you have the time, i would love a thorough breakdown/meta on how harry actually comes across as a person!

Okay, I have so much to say about this. And omg, Harry's chicken scratch handwriting is one of my pet peeves in fics (here's the handwriting post, btw). Harry's characterization when done wrong in general, tbh is a huge turn-off for me. Becouse I love Harry, he's my boy.

So, what we're gonna look at is how other characters in the books perceive Harry, how he comes across in universe to people who can't read his mind (like we can, as the readers).

I'll start with a general note about how most characters in the books don't really know Harry. This is mostly because Harry, contrary to fanon interpretations, is a very private person and rarely talks about himself/his feelings/his thoughts out loud. This is a habit I believe was ingrained into him by the Dursleys.

Like, I mentioned in the past Harry doesn't talk as much as other characters. Scenes of the trio usually consist of mostly Ron and Hermione talking, for example. This is not becouse he doesn't have thoughts (he's quite judgmental inside his head, and we know he has a lot to say), but becouse he's used to not voicing a lot of them thanks to the Dursleys.

This essay turned out pretty long, but here we go:

How do others see Harry?

Harry comes off as confident. Harry is a defiant and courageous person, and this often comes off as confidence to other people. It's why Snape thinks Harry is arrogant and why most students are always sure Harry meant to do what he did. They think he has shit together because he comes off like he does:

Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn’t going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet. “How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers . . . The resemblance between you is uncanny.” “My dad didn’t strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”

(PoA, Ch14)

Snape sees Harry as arrogant, when in fact Harry is just defiant and intelligent.

“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well ... I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(HBP, Ch30)

Ginny (and other characters) believe he likes to save the wizarding world. That he is this confident hero and savior. I mean, they believe her lie about the tattoo, which says a lot:

and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest.” Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them. “What did you tell her?” “I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more macho.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Harry doesn't see himself as leader material, but it's clear everyone else does:

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

(OotP, Ch18)

Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

(DH, Ch28)

“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?” As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!” [...] “Are you all right, Harry?” Neville was saying. “Want to sit down? I expect you’re tired, aren’t—?” “No,” said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione, trying to tell them without words that Voldemort has just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next, they would miss their chance. “We need to get going,” he said, and their expression told him that they understood. “What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?” “Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we—Ron, Hermione, and I—need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.” Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.

(DH, Ch29)

Everyone expected Harry in DH to have a plan of attack the moment he arrived because that's how he acts. Even in the above scene, he's in terrible pain from his scar, but the others don't see it. What they see is a Harry who looks exhausted but says no to rest because there's work to be done and they expect this of him. They see someone fearless and capable with a plan who could lead them, but this isn't what we see because we're inside his head.

How Harry doesn't speak much and acts overall quite distant, as in, he actively avoids the girls who fancy him:

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. “Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him

(HBP, Ch7)

And he only has two close friends and barley knows the other students in his year. Most students only know Harry Potter from the stories, rumors, and Dumbledore's end-of-the-year speeches about his heroism. They have no clue who the real Harry is — so they expect the hero they do hear about.

He stands his ground a lot (again, defiance):

Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily. “His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon’s. “She gave him an easy save.” “Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed.”

(HBP, Ch11)

And more often than not, he does so coldly and calmly. A lot of his more fiery anger is a sign of trauma with Harry, his baseline anger reaction is cold.

All of this adds to him appearing to others as controlled, confident, and like he has everything together and could never have any issues. He comes off as this bigger than life person to most people. Snape isn't the only one who reads Harry's behavior as confident. But it's actually far from the truth.

We, as the readers, see how depressed Harry is. How lowly he thinks of himself and how much he doesn't think of himself as anything special when he very clearly is. But the fact he doesn't say any of it and has mastered the skill of acting cold and like everything is fine when he literally wants to die at the age of 5, no one knows. Even Ron and Hermione didn't truly realize the full extent of Harry's low self-worth until 5th year.

The other students are shocked to see Harry as angry as he is in book 5 because he's often way more controlled and well-mannered than that. They're used to seeing him cold and quiet, not firey. Most of his fire stays inside his head unless he's really angry or emotional in general (or traumatized):

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. “Harry, no!” Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. “So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking. There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge

(OotP, Ch12)

The shock of the other students, I believe, is because of what he's saying, yes, but it's also because Harry is behaving very unlike him here. He usually doesn't shout at teachers or anyone, really. He rarely speaks in classes actually.

And regarding his confidence, everyone, Ron and Hermione included, was sure Harry is super skilled and that that's how he evaded Voldemort:

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —” “We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,” said Ron, looking aghast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t — you’ve got the wrong end of the —” He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.

(OotP, Ch15)

They didn't for a second think he wasn't confident in his own abilities because Harry acts in a way that comes off as confident and capable. It's why everyone so easily accepts him as a leader under various circumstances. He acts level-headed while he's terrified, so everyone thinks he knows what he's doing except Harry (and the reader). Ron and Hermione had zero doubts Harry's skill was a big part of why he survived book 4, it's only Harry who doesn't think that.

The fact Snape bothered to extract his own memories during his Occlumancy lessons goes to show how he thinks Harry is talented, contrary to his words. He feared Harry would reverse the connection and see into his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have taken these precautions.

Think of Voldemort’s resurrection even. Inside his mind, we know Harry's terrified. We know he has no idea what he's doing.

But imagine being a Death Eater in the crowd and you see this 14-year-old kid stand up after being Crucio-ed by their lord, and he stands up, resists the imperius, and shouts at your lord like he thinks of himself as equal to him — or, perhaps, better than him:

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!” [...] I WON’T!” And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him — back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body — back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing. . . . “You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now.

(GoF, Ch34)

That's pretty badass. Harry comes off like a confidant badass. And he gets more badass and confident as he matures (even if he isn't actually as confident as he appears).

Even in the DoM, Lucius Malfoy, who was in the graveyard, takes Harry seriously:

“Don’t do anything,” he [Harry] muttered. “Not yet —” The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. “You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!” “Oh, you don’t know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” said Malfoy softly. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

(OotP, Ch35)

Bellatrix makes fun of how Harry gives the other kids orders as if they're going to fight, but Lucius knows better, he knows Harry is going to fight, and I think, he's scared of what would happen when he does. Even Bellatrix quickly starts taking Harry more seriously:

“Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then —”

(OotP, Ch35)

And she changes her tone completely after he casts a Crucio at her:

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now.

(OotP, Ch36)

His aura is one of competence and confidence even when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing. Especially when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing.

And for the most part, he doesn't come off nearly as judgmental as he actually is, because he doesn't say a lot of what he thinks. We only see him start to actually speak his mind and be more sassy out loud around 5th and 6th year. And even then, his highly judgmental physical descriptions stay part of his narration, they aren't spoken:

“That’s the bell,” said Harry listlessly, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape’s dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes’ conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

(OotP, Ch12)

Ron and Hermione banter while Harry feels done with them, but he doesn't really say anything or complain. He keeps a lot of his thoughts inside his head.

If we look at how Ron, Hermione, and Sirius see Harry, they're the closest to who Harry actually is as these three know Harry best. (They're also more objective than Harry who looks down on himself)

After the book 5 conversation I mentioned above, Ron and Hermione are more aware of Harry's insecurities, but they find them silly. They see Harry as incredibly capable and skilled:

“Did he?” said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters.

(OotP, Ch35)

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head. “We just need to wipe their memories,” said Harry.

(DH, Ch9)

When danger comes, everyone's instantly following Harry's lead. Harry's the planner when the situation is dangerous, he calls the shots, not Hermione. Hermione and Ron look to Harry for a plan when things get tough, and Harry always figures something out. Now, we see Harry thinking he has no idea what to do:

He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(OotP, Ch35)

But Ron and Hermione don't. No one does. They just see Harry coming up with a plan to save them. Every time. They don't see him wracking his brain for a way to keep everyone alive.

Hermione never considers Harry stupid, not even in first year:

“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”

(PS, Ch16)

And Ron clearly doesn't expect stupid behavior from Harry. He's surprised and shocked when Harry does something he considers stupid:

“What the hell,” panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, “didn’t you take this thing off before you dived?”

(DH, 19)

Both Ron and Hermione trust Harry's opinion and they trust him to know what to do when shit hits the fan. When things are dangerous, both Ron and Hermione (and everyone else) turn to Harry to know what to do becouse that's the aura he has:

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated.

(DH, Ch22)

Hermione agrees with Lupin's assessment here. Dumbledore did too, he's the one who told Kingsley and Remus to trust Harry's instincts. Harry doesn't give the impression he's messy and bumbling, quite the opposite. Yes, Harry and Hermione have their doubts, they don't agree with Harry on everything, especially when he has no evidence for his claim except his intuition. But, it's telling Harry can make claims based on gut feeling and Ron and Hermione ask him why he thinks that instead of just instantly rejecting the claims.

Like I mentioned above, he looks like he has his shit together even when he really doesn't. He's an expert in keeping a mask on and bottling up his feelings.

Sirius, also sees Harry as mature and capable for his age. It's why he's so insistent on telling him things while Molly wants to cuddle Harry:

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still—” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.

(OotP, Ch5)

Between them, Sirius sees Harry more accurately. Harry is incredibly mature and capable and wants to be in the know. He'd be better off in the know. Sirius understands Harry's curiosity which Molly seems unaware of. Lupin also remarks on how Harry is going to find out things anyway, he's aware of how curious and determined Harry is. Sirius considers Harry capable even during PoA and GoF:

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you.

(GoF, Ch18)

Molly, on the other hand, never really sees Harry's capabilities. Molly only ever sees a polite, intelligent kid. In the early years at the Weasley, Harry barely talks to Molly and Arthur because he doesn't really know how to talk to them. So they talk to him, the other Weasleys talk around him, and he's polite in turn:

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —”

(CoS, Ch3)

Harry acts around most adults like this, especially when younger. It's clear he acted this way around his teachers too:

“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

(DH, Ch33)

Snape got it a bit different. Because Harry is defiant and sassy — it's how he responds to the Dursleys, and this is how he responds to threats he can't do anything about in general. Sass. It's why we see Harry do this with Umbridge, Snape, and Scrimgeour:

Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. “Hmm, let’s think . . .” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?”

(OotP, Ch12)

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry stiffly. “Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

(HBP, Ch9)

“...You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!” “It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.

(DH, Ch7)

Harry appears confidant and arrogant not only to Snape but to Scrimgeour too (I think other students at Hogwarts see Harry as arrogant too. His demeanor can come off as arrogant if you don't know what he's thinking. It's why they could believe the Daily Prophet, it fit what they got to see). It's because he is rude and sassy when speaking his mind. It's because he acts more confident when he's terrified. It's because he's cold, distant, and uncaring towards most people and actively avoids talking to most.

And even that's mostly when he's older. In 4th year, he responds to Snape by glaring at him silently and wishing he could cast a Crucio at him:

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry is overall really quiet, which does create the impression of him being put together. More than he thinks of himself, for sure. It also adds to why many students feel as comfortable talking about him as they do because he feels distant to them. His quiet makes him feel mysterious, unknown, and far away. Like a symbol rather than a person.

Something I want to note, specifically with Umbridge, is this scene:

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.

(OotP, Ch13)

Part of why Harry comes off as such a put-together badass is that he doesn't let others see his pain. He doesn't show he's in pain to others, especially when it's people he doesn't like. He acts though, constantly.

He hates crying in front of others becouse Harry does everything he can to not appear weak:

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

(PoA, Ch12)

And it works, people see him as confident, and capable, and heroic. Most people don't see the struggle because Harry keeps bottling it in.

Even with Hermione, he tries not to let her see how upset he actually is. We know in his head, that he is devastated by his wand breaking, that he's mourning it like it was a dead loved one, but this is what he's willing to show Hermione:

“It was an accident,” said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned. “We’ll—we’ll find a way to repair it.” [...] “Well,” he said, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, “well, I’ll just borrow yours for now, then. While I keep watch.”

(DH, Ch17)

All this means, we, as the readers , see Harry's pain, his struggles, his vulnerability — but the other characters almost never do.

The only character who is consistently aware of Harry's struggles is Sirius who Harry confides his weaknesses to more than any other character:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days

(GoF, Ch19)

Harry is so used to saying his fine and bearing his burdens in silence. It's what he does. It's what he did for years. Most characters think Harry is unshakable because that's how he acts.

Even when Harry tries to lie so Sirius won't worry, Sirius sees through it:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts.

(GoF, Ch15)

As for his room and appearance, he is a little messy actually when he has the chance to be in seventh year:

Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit.

(DH, Ch2)

As in, his trunk is a bit of a mess. But this makes sense, I think. He allows himself to be messy when he doesn't have the Dursleys over his head. It's like a sort of freedom he didn't have before, so he indulges in it. I think the mess in his trunk is also a result of him actually living from it for 6 years, as he couldn't really leave everything at home with the Dursleys, could he? Still, his room and belongings are nowhere near as messy as Ron's.

As for his appearance, the only thing mentioned to be messy is his hair:

His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it

(PoA, Ch1)

But from other characters (including Hermione) thinking Harry's hot:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

(HBP, Ch11)

We can conclude Harry's messy hair comes off as cool and attractive and not like a bird's nest.

We also see from Hermione and others that Harry looks scary. He is 5'11 by book 6 with an intimidating glare and that he looks like he can throw a punch, (and can definitely throw a punch when he wants to). So he has a physical intimidation factor when older:

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, Ch21)

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

To summarise

Harry bottles up a lot of his emotions and tends to be quiet, this creates the often wrong impression he is confident and has his shit together.

He doesn't show pain and weakness to others and doesn't cry or show he's upset to basically anyone (except Sirius). This means basically no one sees his struggles or how depressed and traumatized Harry actually is. It even surprises Ron and Hermione in book 5.

He is defiant and rude to people he doesn't like, especially when scared, the result is that he appears like a very capable and confident badass especially when under pressure.

He can be intimidating with his glare alone and once he's older he is a physical presence. He's not someone who can disappear in a crowd post-book 5.

His rudeness oftentimes stays in his head except when someone really annoys him. This makes him appear defiant, but overall polite because he keeps most of his mean comments to himself.

When younger, he is very polite and quiet, especially toward adults. When he's older, he gets a little sassier (as in, he says some of his internal monologue out loud). But he is a polite, well-mannered kid for the most part.

The character who has a messy room, is a bit of a slob, has chicken scratch handwriting, and is lazy with schoolwork, is Ronald Weasley, who I love dearly, but these descriptions have nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with Ron.

The only unkempt thing about Harry's appearance is likely his Potter hair, which is more messy hot than messy bad (if all the girls' reactions are anything to go by).

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 MUSIC TO WATCH BOYS TO

PAIRING: dealer!rafe x barry’slittlesister!reader

SUMMARY: ❝i like you a lot, putting on my music while i’m watching the boys.❞ — there’s no denying the attraction you and rafe share when you two meet each other. the only problem? he does business with barry, your older brother.

WARNINGS: slight age gap, mentions of drugs, dealing of drugs, protective barry, heavy flirting, teasing, playful banter, slight slut shaming, mentions of underaged drinking (reader is twenty, rest assured!), unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rafe fucks you against the wall, hair pulling, overstimulation, cream pie

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

tick, tick, tick.

you glanced at the clock in the corner of your room, the time 3:37 PM flashing back at you. the hottest time of the day, and you were definitely feeling it. you sighed, deciding to play some vinyls to pass the time. barry had stepped out real quick, leaving you by yourself to play your music as loud as you want.

you hummed along to the tranquil sounds, putting your hair up in a ponytail as you watched the record spin. placing your hands on your hips, your head shot up as you heard the revv of a bike outside. probably barry, you thought. making your way to what’s supposed to be the living room, you waited for the door to open, ready to give your brother an earful about the ac going out, again.

instead, you were met with a loud bang and a series of knocks after that. you jumped at the sound, peeking outside the window to see who it was. fresh haircut, collared shirt, and a gold ring on his index finger, he was definitely not from this side of the island. “it’s rafe man, open the door!” you paced back and forth, wracking your brain if whether or not you should let him in. barry’s number one rule for you was to never open the door to anyone who comes looking for him, he refused to get you involved in anything he did.

what was a kook doing here anyways?

the man outside kept knocking until finally you cracked the door open, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “ah, shit, i’m sorry i didn’t know barry had a girlfriend.” you were immediately taken aback by his words, a grimace gracing your face. “ew, no way! he’s my brother.” you moved forward, your body basically wedged between the flimsy metal.

at this, rafe raised his eyebrows. “your brother? i’ve never seen you here before.” you crossed your arms. “yeah, that’s because he’ll have a heart attack if i come out while he has someone over.” rafe scoffed. “yet, you opened the door for me?” the corner of his lips lifted slightly, your heart squeezing at the sight. “don’t flatter yourself, it’s not everday that a kook turns up outside.” you tilted your head, letting it rest on the doorframe. rafe scanned your outfit before his gaze settled on your eyes. “that’s fair,” he nodded, “i could see the resemblance a little.” you laughed softly.

“we have different dads, but i’m way prettier than he is.” you rocked on your feet, letting your orbs wander across the man in front of you. “yeah, you are,” your cheeks heated instantly, rafe taking notice of the effect he had on you. “you gonna let me in? or do i have to stand here until barry gets back?” you pretended to think, tapping your red nail against your chin. “you could wait!” you slammed the door, laughing loudly at the look on his face.

as much as you really did want to let him in, you knew you had to be smarter, considering the kind of business barry was in. you went back to your room, still giddy from your interaction with rafe. you moved the curtain, watching as he plopped down on one of the crates outside. pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your music still played in the background as you kept your eyes on him.

there was no denying how attractive he was, anyone with two eyes could see how handsome he was, especially with that pained stare of his. less than five minutes later, you saw barry walking up the dirt path, rafe jumping out of his seat to greet your brother. you quickly stood by where the entrance of your room was, listening closely to their conversation. “hey, man, did you try to come in or something?” your eyes widened as you mentally slapped yourself. of course you’d forget to lock the door when you really needed to.

“nah, a girl answered it.” to be fair, you slammed the door in rafe’s face, but you didn’t expect him to full on tell on you for it. “you don’t say…” you threw yourself on your bed, pretending to read a magazine just in time for barry to come in. “come out here,” he ushered you towards the living room. “you answering doors now?” he sat down next to rafe on the couch. rafe wore a smirk, obviously enjoying all of this. “i just answered this one. he looks harmless anyways,” rafe’s smirk disappeared as barry burst out laughing beside him. “damn country club! can you tell we’re related?” you rolled your eyes, taking a seat at the small round table by the kitchen.

rafe held his hands up in defense. “i’ll give that one to her,” he took out a wad of cash, throwing it in barry’s lap. “just don’t do it again, alright? i ask you not to do that for a reason.” barry pointed at a paper bag in front of you. “stopped at your favorite spot, mary gave it to me on the house as soon as i mentioned your name.” you smiled, taking the slice of cherry pie out of its container. you made a mental note to go by and thank her later. “thank you, bear,” barry shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as soon as the nickname slipped.

“y/n..” you laughed, licking the cherry filling from your finger. rafe watched you the entire time, loving the way your laugh sounded in his ears. “i’m sorry!” you wiped your brow, the sweat reminding you of what you were gonna tell him in the first place. “the ac is out again by the way,” barry took a box out from behind the couch, “yes, y/n, i know it’s like a thousand degrees in here.” he cracked open the windows. you looked past him, your eyes falling on rafe who was manspreading on the couch. with a view like that, it was nearly impossible to look away.

him and rafe started trading cash and blow, both of them wearing a serious expression as rafe weighed the baggies and barry counted the money. “i ran into lori on my way back,” barry spoke up, “she said you and her were gonna go out tonight?” rafe paused, looking up at you as you nodded. “yeah.. so?” you arched a brow at him. “you aren’t going to the tavern again are you? i’m not gonna be happy if i get another phone call that you and your troublemaker of a friend are dancing on tables together.” now it was your turn to be embarrassed.

you cleared your throat. “yes, we are going to the tavern, but no dancing on tables this time, just to hang out with some friends.” barry nodded. “i’ll be paying that bartender a visit if he serves you,” you swallowed thickly at his words. “you’re not even old enough to be in there.” he added. rafe’s jaw clenched as you answered back. “i’m old enough for them not to ask questions, they don’t care.” you got up, throwing the empty pie container in the trash can.

“i’m gonna go get ready at lori’s, at least at her place i could make it out the door without melting.” you went to your room, quickly throwing some clothes in your bag before making your way to the living room. rafe stared at your exposed midriff as you stood in front of the door. “lori’s is kinda far, why don’t you wait till i’m done here and i can take you.” you shook your head, your fist twisting the doorknob. “no need, i’ll come back home later tonight.” you spared rafe one more glance before leaving, a small smile forming on your lips when he winked.

“i didn’t know you had a little sister, bear.” rafe mocked your nickname for your brother, barry shoving his shoulder soon after. “call me that again and i’m gonna fuck you up country club.” rafe clapped his hands, putting the bags he weighed in his backpack. “i’m just fucking with you man,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “but seriously you had a sister this whole time? and i’m barely finding out about her now?”

barry flashed him a look. “yeah, and? you don’t need to know about her,” he put his cash in the same box as the coke, flipping the top closed. “she’s the only family i got, i don’t want her in the mix with what i do.” he sat back in his seat. “she’s cute.” rafe shrugged. “yeah? your sister is cute too, ‘think she’ll give me a chance since she’s already running around with a pogue anyway? watch your mouth, man.” rafe laughed as beads of sweat started forming on his forehead.

“jesus christ.” he shook his head. “kook party tonight, so i’m gonna be on my way.” rafe slung his backpack over his shoulder, making his way outside. “come back with my money tomorrow!” barry shouted from the living room, cursing under his breath as he watched rafe leave.

“aw, come on, one more!” lori pushed a shot glass towards you, all of your friends watching with anticipating eyes. this was only your second shot, not nearly enough to get you drunk whatsoever. obliging, your friends roared into cheers as you downed the burning liquid, slamming the glass down on the counter. “that’s our girl!” lori shook you by your shoulders, the bartender looking away from where you sat. “okay, no more. seriously, i can’t go home drunk.” you laughed.

you had been at the taven for nearly two hours already, your friend group settling down for the night as some of them started to leave. “hey,” lori took a swig from her beer, “would you mind if i left with chris? he’s been trying to get me to go home with him all night.” a part of you knew your best friend would leave with her on-again off-again boyfriend before you two had even arrived here.

“no, you go ahead. you know me, i’ll just catch a ride with someone else.” you hugged her, shaking your head as she mouthed a ‘thank you’ on her way out. just as the door closed behind her, it swung back open, your breath catching in your throat at the man striding in.

rafe.

you spinned in your chair, eyes shutting tight as if that’d make you disappear into thin air. sure enough, you felt the heat of someone on your back, his voice cutting through the thick air of the bar. “two cokes,” you relaxed, accepting your fate as he cleared his throat. “you gonna stay facing the wall the whole night?” you caved, unshielding your face from your hands. “what are you doing here?” you felt exposed, your top suddenly feeling more tight than it did five minutes ago. “this is a bar isn’t it?” he scooted a glass towards you, taking a sip from his own.

“you know what i mean. barry isn’t anywhere near here.” you heard your heart beating in your ears as he eyed you carefully. “i didn’t come for barry.” rafe leaned closer to you, his cologne intoxicating you more than any bottle of liquor in here could. “aren’t you supposed to be making my brother money right now?” sass was your defense mechanism, and right now you needed it. “i already did, sweetheart. sold out in thirty minutes.” your mouth opened slightly.

“i didn’t know blow was in such high demand over there on figure eight.” you covered your chest, a shiver going down your spine when his eyes flickered to your cleavage. “yeah. a bunch of sheltered rich kids made me, well your brother, nearly two thousand dollars in less than an hour.” you scoffed. “anything to rebel against mommy and daddy, right?” you accepted the soda, letting yourself relax. “you’re telling me you never rebelled?” rafe scoffed. “i never had to.” you shook your head. at this, the man next to you scooted closer, his thigh touching your own.

“where are your friends? i thought you told barry they’d be here with you.” he looked around, noticing everyone talking amongst themselves. “they were here with me. i usually like to stay later after it calms down a bit.” you shrugged. rafe nodded, his hand moving the hair off of your shoulder. his touch was enough to make goosebumps spread across your skin. “tell me something, y/n..” rafe leaned in, his breath fanning against your cheek, “does your brother know that your tits spill out of your tops when you go out?” your head shot in his direction, your face growing hot at his proximity.

“i wonder what he would say if he knew there was so many eyes on you.” you sighed, rafe’s large palm now resting on your thigh. “including yours?” his fingers dug into your skin as you let out a shaky breath. “why don’t you tell him, then? let him know that you were in the same bar as me.” while you expected him to respond with something smart, his lips hovered above yours as he whispered, “i won’t tell if you don’t.”

rafe kissed you, your hands balling up his shirt as you kept yourself from moaning at the taste of him. he kissed you slow and deep, the feeling of his lips moving so languidly with yours becoming your new favorite thing. rafe groaned, the sound pulling you out of whatever world you were in at the moment. his eyes swept over your face, his chest rising and falling as you pulled away. “i, uhm— i need the restroom, i’m sorry,” you panicked, clutching your bag as you speed walked down the dark hallway of the bar.

what the fuck were you doing right now??

you shut the door behind you, your eyes narrowing as the neon signs on the wall flashed their colors at you. you had never even been with a pogue, let alone a kook. not to mention, rafe does business with barry, it would make things complicated and you don’t even want to think about what your brother would do if he found anything out. you ran your fingers through your hair, taking a deep breath before you found yourself touching your lips, the feeling of rafe still lingered there.

you knew what you had to do; you needed to get out of here as soon as possible and forget about him. as harsh as that sounds, you couldn’t risk everything just because he gives kisses that you’ll reminisce about years from now. ‘okay..’ you muttered to yourself, gathering yourself together as best as you could. as soon as you opened the restroom door, it all came crashing down as rafe looked up from where he was leaning against the door frame. the second your eyes met, you pulled him in as he attacked you with another kiss. this kiss was rough, it was bruising, but so fucking good.

rafe locked the door behind him without turning around. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you spoke inbetween kisses as he backed you up against the wall. god, he was tall. rafe towered over you easily. “no, we shouldn’t,” he ran his thumb across your bottom lip, “this will be our secret, alright?” him indicating that ‘this’ was going to become a thing, meaning this wasn’t a one and done situation, made your heart flutter in your chest. you nodded, your bag long forgotten on the floor as he undressed you. “fuck, you’re perfect,” his shirt was next to go, the sight of his erection pressing against his jeans was enough to make you clench around nothing.

you shuddered as he took his belt off in one swoop, his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles. he grabbed you by your hips, picking you up as he pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. “i’ve wanted to do this to you since the second you answered that door.” his mouth latched onto your neck, your fingers tugging at the ends of his hair as he ground his cock against your wet folds. “these fucking eyes,” he moved your hair, both of you moaning as he entered you slowly.

“oh, fuck,” your head fell on his shoulder as he fucked into you. you don’t know what was hotter, the expression on rafe’s face, or the fact that he was fucking you while standing up, your weight like nothing to him as he slammed you down on his hips. “saying i look harmless? wait till you find out about me.” he repeated your words from earlier at the trailer, now understanding completely that this man was anything but. he made you want to do things you’ve never done, things that have never even crossed your mind.

“i was wrong.” you planted a kiss on his jaw, the action sending a shiver down his spine. rafe never let anyone kiss him during sex, or at all really, he didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was that he liked it when you did it. you hissed with every thrust, your back scratching against the wall. “hurts, rafe,” you mouth hung open as he grunted, letting you down on wobbly legs. he grabbed your wrists, placing them on your back as he bent you over the sink. rafe only entered the tip, a smile growing on his face as you looked up at him through the mirror.

“why’d you stop?” you nearly pouted before he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, i wanna watch.” rafe’s head lolled to the side as you glided onto him, your velvety walls sucking him in with ease. “oh, my god,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyebrows knitting in pure bliss. “you’re doing so good.” he breathed out, his hips bucking when you clenched around him. you were a high he could never come down from, the realization hitting him in his chest. he grabbed your waist, his large hands encircling your lower back as he started thrusting.

even though your elbows ached from your arms being tucked behind you, the pleasure overpowered any discomfort you felt as you fought to keep your eyes open. you were so full, the feeling of his head constantly hitting that soft spot inside of you made your knees buckle as rafe reached under, rubbing your clit at an unforgiving speed. a sob ripped from your throat, your head hanging in defeat as rafe watched your reflection. even when you were getting plowed into, your eyes sparkled under the neon lights, your lips looking swollen and perfect for him.

rafe felt his own climax approaching as his determination to make you cum first grew. the coil in your tummy was unwinding with each stroke of his fingers until finally it snapped, your eyes rolling back as he pulled you up by your hair. “gonna send you home tonight with my cum sticking between your thighs, how does that sound?” you moaned at his words, nodding as your soaked cunt fluttered around his cock.

rafe buried his face in your neck, leaving sloppy kisses as he finished inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum adorning your walls. “take it,” he covered your mouth as you whined at the overstimulation. “take every last drop you fucking slut.” his movements came to a slow stop, your eyes damp with tears. rafe dabbed the corner of your eye with his thumb, shushing you as he pulled out. “you’re too pretty to cry,” he spun you around, your fucked out eyes gazing up at his. “there’s no way in hell i could walk all the way home now.” you sighed, an exhausted laugh falling from your lips.

“you were going to walk home?” disbelief echoed in his voice as he pulled up his pants. “yes, but don’t worry i’ve done it plenty of times—” rafe picked up your clothes from the floor, “you’re never doing that again, got it? i’ll be your personal chauffeur if i have to.” he helped you put on your shorts and underwears, both of you smiling softly at eachother. just as rafe was going to hand you your top, you shook your head, pointing at the bag in the corner. “i have a spare t-shirt in there, i can’t let barry see me in that.” you leaned against the sink, your legs feeling like jelly. rafe slung your bag across his shoulder, putting your t-shirt on for you.

“all ready?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting you up as you made your way outside the restroom, trying to the best of your ability to avoid the stares of those who watched you two leave the bar. as if he could sense your unease, rafe turned as you walked up to his bike. “what’s wrong?” he moved your hair out of your face. “word travels fast around here,” you looked into the distance, your mind racing with how barry would confront rafe if he ever caught ear that you and rafe left the bar together. “yeah? so,” you flashed him a look that said ‘my brother will actually kill you if he finds out about this!’

rafe sighed, pushing his helmet into your hands, “don’t worry about anything, i’ll ride out of there fast enough for him not to see me, alright? if he questions you just say it was someone else. it’s dark as shit out here anyways.” you felt a lot better, ultimately deciding to let him take you home. he had you back at the trailer in less than ten minutes, your heart racing as he rode up the dirt path. you swallowed nervously, hopping off when he came to a stop. you handed him his helmet, about to run inside before he grabbed you.

he took your lips in a searing kiss as your hands snaked over his shoulders. “i’ll be here tomorrow to give your brother his money,” he whispered, grabbing a handful of your ass while you looked back at the seemingly quiet trailer. “rafe you have to go!” you laughed, pecking his lips one more time before you jogged to the front door. sparing him one more glance, you waved as he watched you go inside, only hearing him ride off when you shut the door behind you. you sighed, not being able to stop smiling at the whole thing. “you’re back late.” you jumped at the sound of barry’s voice as he walked away from the window. “uhm, yeah- i’m pretty tired though, so..” you avoided his gaze as you started to make your way to your room.

“hold it right there.” just like your movements, your heart stopped as barry let out a bitter laugh, the light from the tv illuminating his face. “am i tripping or was that country club that just dropped you off?”

fuck.

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

[tinytennisskirt]

Meet The Donaldsons

summary: being art’s college girlfriend and being the first girl he’s ever brought home. headcanon of art being the child of a single mother, raised by her and his grandma <3. meeting the family!

warnings: blurb-like, not a full fic. unedited from notes app. kissing. fluff!!! short n sweet babyyy

The first thing you see when you approach is that the house is big and white. The way Art spoke about his mom, you’d think with her grace, she’d be royalty and this house was just that. As you got closer, the intimidation slowed as you could come to see the huge gardens and the too many statues, garden gnomes and pink flamingo decor. Before you got out of the car, Art asked if you were okay. You nodded, so the two of you headed up the front few steps. Art knocked.

She opened the door with her arms up and open, “Arthur!” She beamed, wrapping her son in one of the biggest hugs you’ve ever seen given to anyone. “Oh, my darling, let me look at you.” She pulled away from the hug, observing him, holding his face in both of her hands.

“Mom,” he smiled sheepishly, nose scrunched. You watched his grin take over his smile, perfect teeth showing bright.

“You got taller? I thought you couldn’t! And you’ve been working out, my god, Art, these biceps.” She said, giving his arms a squeeze. You smiled and put your hands on your hips. “My god, you look like a man.”

His smile is pretty as always, but this time you can see that they share similar teeth. “Mom,” he said, a little quieter, her hands still on his face, his arms, his shoulders. He tipped his head toward you and his mom gasped a little.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry, darling,” she turned to you, gasping again when she fully set her eyes on you. she was not afraid to pull you into a hug. “Hi.” She said, rubbing your back as she hugged you. Her hug had the perfect pressure and you note that she smells like pumpkin spice. “My goodness, you are gorgeous, let me look at you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you laughed a little as she pulled away, giving you a spin. “I’m-“

“Y/N! I know, I’ve heard all about you! God, you’re gorgeous. Art, she’s gorgeous.” She nods back in Art’s direction. His grin is ear-to-ear, wide and stunning as he nods in agreement. “My goodness, who knit you, a supermodel and moviestar? Or two models, look at your eyes, they’re stunning!”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I-“

“You might just be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen-“ She turned back to Art, “She is so beautiful.”

Art nodded again, arms folded over his stomach. “I know.”

“Does he tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“All the time,” you replied. “You raised him right.”

She laughed and you could see the resemblance between her and her son as she bat you away, “I like you. Come in, come in!”

She opens the door and steps back inside, Art gladly slips his arm around you, his hand coming to rest on the opposite side of your waist. You beam at him and he’s smiling just the same, your shared thoughts are silent, but understood.

The front hall is massive and bright. It’s not white like the exterior, but the walls are a pale sort of rosy-purple and there are tons and tons of paintings of all sorts of things lining up the grand staircase. But on main display was all of Art’s memorabilia- ribbons, trophies all hanging and on small shelves above the archway to the next room. The staircase, as beautiful, wrapped around that arch to come down on both sides of the foyer. You were sure you’d never been in a house so big in your life, this foyer was probably as big as your house back home. “Wow,” you mumbled quietly. “You told me it was big, but I thought mansion big not big mansion big.”

“I’ve mentioned it but how many times do I really want to throw around the word ‘mansion’, I’d sound like some sort of…”

“I taught him better,” his mom nodded just ahead of you both. “Art knows that we are beyond lucky to have what we have, I couldn’t stand it if I birthed a little Richie Rich. I was already terrified when he came out blonde!” Her laugh was loud and melodious and filled the hallway entirely. You looked at Art, nodding.

“I’m not- yeah- shhh,” he smiled, passing you just a little, hand sliding back around your waist and into his pocket. He rocked just a little on his heels. “Tour? Mom?”

“Tour!” She cheered, “What was I thinking, charcuterie can wait. You like cheese, Y/N?”

“Love.” You replied, smiling.

“Good, because we have way too much. I wasn’t sure what to get but charcuterie is about assortment anyway, so I bought the whole selection. It almost takes up a table!” She laughed her booming laugh again. As she walked into the next room, you had a moment to fully assess her profile. She was short, shorter than Art, just the tiniest bit shorter than you. Shoulder length golden blonde that was just the slightest bit grey but in a sort of chic way. She shared Art’s eyes and his smile.

She didn’t look like she’d gotten any work done though Art had told you she’d gotten some. Her eyes crinkled when she laughed and her eyebrows were expressive and you wanted to credit her youthful glow with a happy life. She was also dressed in a tasteful blue floral wrap dress. Despite her money, the dress was one you’d seen at Walmart not too long ago. She also wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“You saw the foyer, this is the living room.” The room was decorated with flowers and lots of colours, though brown was the colour that was frequented most. But it was paired with pinks and blues and greens. You’d almost expected one of those homes that are nearly empty, but there were far too many fruits in the coffee table bowl, pomegranates and oranges and grapes. The clutter was gorgeous, books all around and of course, more of Art’s tennis trophies and lots of photos of him and his mom. She really loved her son, it was sweet to see.

“You were so little,” you sighed sweetly, looking at a photo of little Art and his tiny tennis racket. “Little blondie.” Art came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you gazed over the pictures of him at one, two, five, seven…

“I haven’t seen some of these in ages,” Art said, looking over them himself. “Before it was diaper pictures.”

You gasped, “No way, they’re gone?”

“Darling, they’re never gone. They’re in the photo book on the coffee table. Let me tell you, nothing compares to this one picture I have of little Art in the kitchen sink, butt-naked. He was one, maybe two? He-“

“Mom?” Art spoke with a tone of loving warning. “No sink bath pictures, please.”

You giggled, swaying with Art’s hands around your waist, teasing. “Later.” You nodded. Art’s mom gave you a sly little wink, guiding you into the next room. This room was a messy little office/study. A grand desk, gorgeously glossy and made of the prettiest coloured wood you’d ever seen. The walls were lined with books and the computer on the table was fancy. Big, chunky, fancy. There was an easel in the corner and a paint setup with shelving. “I like to paint with oils.” His mom told you. “Between business calls.”

The next room was a little gym, then a laundry room, the kitchen was absolutely stunning, huge, very fancy. The dining room was insanely gorgeous, lined with pretty wallpaper and a cream tablecloth. The next room over was a small parlour. You really had the idea that Art’s mom was a sports mom, but she was her own person entirely, and her personality was splashed all over the walls.

They took you outside where there was a pool, a hot tub, and a tennis court. A whole tennis court. It made sense, though. It was the biggest splash of Art you’d seen so far if you didn’t count the shrines. “Oh wow, it’s huge.”

“Where Art learned to love tennis. We bought the house with it, thought we’d let him try it out. Look at him now, on his way to a big name.” She pinched his cheek again and he bat her hand away lovingly. You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Art tells me you play tennis too?”

“I’m learning.”

“She’s better than me,” Art told his mom.

“Am not,” you folded your arms. “I can barely hit the ball.”

“Oh, neither can I, honey. We should play.” His mom grinned, grabbing your hand. Your fingers interlocked and she pulled you in, holding your hand as she pulled you down to the garden. You got into conversation with Art and his mom about the trees, how he used to play in them. It moved into a softer conversation about his childhood and about yours, moving through other curious rooms. You circled back to a room with the table full of cheese and crackers and other fruits and meats, where the conversation was school, your history, repeating the story of how you met. You two sat on the loveseat across from her in her tall pink chair. She clasped her hands together happily, listening, then after a while, dismissed herself for an afternoon nap until dinner. “I’ll leave Art to show you the upstairs. The bedrooms…” She teased.

“Mom,” Art said, a small flush to his ears and nose. He was cute. His mom fluttered out of the room with a small smirk. Art hid his face and you giggled just a little. He raised his head, nose pink. “I’m sorry, she’s…”

“Perfect,” you finished his sentence. You were so genuinely thrilled by all of this, it was no wonder you were practically bursting.God, she’s amazing, Art. She’s beautiful and looks just like you and she’s so eccentric, I’ve never met anyone like her- And I think she likes me.”

“She loves you,” he nodded, pushing your hair behind your ear, smiling. You couldn’t help but grin, leaning in to kiss him. Just a small kiss, with a mutual smile between. “I don’t think she’s ever loved me as much as she loves you.”

“Ooh, I might steal. You better watch out before your mom becomes mine,” you teased, kissing him quickly again. Your hand gently cupped the side of his face, but he held you close.

“There’s other ways to do that, I promise.” He kissed you again. “Come upstairs. My grandma is staying with us for the weekend too, you can meet her if she’s not asleep.”

You kept smiling, “Think she’ll like me as much?”

“She made my mom, my mom loves you and frankly, so do I. I don’t think my grandma can do anything but love you too.”

“Three generations,” you smiled, letting him pull you off the small couch. His smile was content and near a smirk. “I love you too.”

“Mhm.” He pulled you in again, kissing you once more on the lips, then forehead, before pulling you up the stairs. At the top, he did a little turning gesture, wide-arms referencing the top floor. You were a little in awe at how big it all still was. “Thoughts?”

“Huge.”

He chuckled, kissing your shoulder gently as he walked around you. “I used to go down the stairs on my stomach. Got rug burn. My grandma, actually, would always get me frozen peas to soothe it. I always went back and did it again later.”

“I think we would have gotten along as kids,” you nodded. “You’re cute, Richie Rich.”

“Unfair.” He retorted, leading you to his grandma’s room. He knocked gently at her door, “Grandma?”

“Arthur? That you?” A sweet woman’s voice came from the room. “Come in, come in!”

You smiled at the use of his full name. He winced just a little, smile on his face matching yours. He pulled you along as he opened the door. The room was baby blue, with a big wooden bed with lovely pale blue curtains. there was a tv and a rocking chair, which his grandma was seated in. Her hair in a little bun, she was a tiny woman. Very short, very thin, but also still very pretty. “Oh, it’s Y/N!” She smiled, clasping her hands together in a fashion much like Art’s mom. “Come, darling, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Art shot you an ‘I told you so’ look, but you were busy having your heart full of the fact Art spoke enough about you with his mom and grandma that she knew exactly who you were by name and wanted to see you immediately. You stepped her way, “It’s so nice to meet you, Art talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise, my dear! You’re just as beautiful as Art described. Do a spin for me?” You gladly turned in a circle. “Absolutely stunning. Art, you did well, my boy!”

“I think so,” he replied, stepping forward to hug her gently in her chair. He was so cute. Too cute. “How are you?”

“Oh, just a little sleepy. Was going to have a nap in a few minutes. Same old, same old woman.” She bat the air playfully. “My god will we talk at dinner. I am so glad you found someone with such kind eyes, Arthur. They match yours perfectly.” A poetic woman. “How are you, dear?”

“Oh, I’m good,” you smiled.

“And Arthur?”

“I’m good too- do you need help getting to bed? We can leave you to nap.”

She nodded, “Always such a kind young man. Missed you. I watched the last game your mom recorded, you were spectacular.”

“I missed you too,” he said with a small smile, helping get up. “Thank you, Grandma.” His lips pressed into a straight-lined smile. She held onto his arm as he walked her slowly over to her bed, helping her in. Your heart fluttered a bit at the simple act.

“Thank you for coming to say hi, Y/N. I look forward to meeting you better after my nap.” She smiled, pulling the covers over. She squeezed Art’s hand and whispered something to him under his breath. He grinned ear-to-ear. “Good mid-afternoon!” She called to you and Art jogged back over to you, you waved and followed him out the door.

“What did she say?” You giggled, moving closer to him, your chest pressed against his. He just grinned. “Tell me?”

“Mmm, later,” he nodded, hands wrapping around your waist. “Come see my room.”

“Is there a bed?”

“Queen sized?” He grinned, not letting you go, but pulling you with him, still against him, looking down at you just slightly. “My room is furthest down the hall. No judging though.”

“That’s all I’m here to do,” you teased, kissing him on the cheek and walking ahead to the room at the end of the hall. He nodded, so you opened the door and your jaw dropped. The room had pale red walls, partial beige carpeting against wooden floors, a big wooden bed, and a tv setup. You tried to ignore the folded ping pong table in the corner. “Oh my god, it’s huge. The room, the bed, the… wow.”

“It’s big, I know.” He walked over to his bed. The walls had tennis posters, movie posters, and game posters. You noted the mini fridge.

“This is not what I pictured,” you gawked a little as you took it all in. “But it’s so… you.” You eyed the books on the shelves. Old books, they seemed. It was very Art. Even his comforter was very him. He sat on his bed and you stood in front of him, looking down. Your hands rested on his shoulders gently. “Thank you for bringing me here with you. It’s amazing, it’s really beautiful here and your room… Richie Rich.”

He shook his head, hands gently sliding up your hips. “Maybe.”

“Knew it.” You said, pointing a finger. His hands snaked around your lower back, slipping under your shirt to touch your skin. “You admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Are you paying attention?” You teased, tapping just under his chin. He looked up at you with those soft eyes that read as a ‘no’. “That’s okay.”

“Tired.” He nodded. So were you, you noticed. The trip had been exhausting, but meeting his mom and grandma had given you a second wind that was now dying. You giggled a little as his arms wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you down onto him on the bed. With easily intertwined limbs, you both got comfortable on his bed, his arms around you, your legs twisted up comfortably. His hand ran over the back of your head, through your hair. A nap seemed to be the theme in the house. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You replied, squeezing him just a little. You moved just once more, so that Art was more in your arms, and you kissed him on the temple.

“I always dreamed about having a girl in my bed,” he mumbled, a grin on his face, his eyes closed. You kissed the side of his head again, he turned just a little to kiss you properly. You giggled a little uncontrollably as he rolled on top of you for just a second, kissing you hard and then kissing your cheek, your nose, your cheek again, your lips, and then reverting back to his original position.

“To do that?”

“That and other things.” He nodded, eyes shut again, smile still very wide on his face. “Later.”

“Sounds like a-“ you yawned, he followed. “Plan.” You settled in once more and ten minutes later the both of you were sound asleep. And you stated that way for a few hours, maybe three, intertwined on top of his comforter. His mom slowly opened the door in the fresh dark of his room, the sun having set, after knocking a few times with no answer. Her eyes fell on the two of you and she smiled, before closing the door and calling downstairs to say that dinner would be postponed another hour.

Around nine, you woke in the calm silence of his room, disoriented for a moment, but you felt Art beside you, breathing steadily. You looked at the digital clock next to his bed and sighed just a little. “Art,” you whispered, kissing his cheek gently. “Art, wake up.”

He stirred just a little. You kissed his cheek again, then the corner of his eye, then his lips gently. His hand raised, sliding over your jaw and into the back of your hair as he woke into kissing you more. It was sweet and gentle. “Hi.” He said between kisses. “What time is it?”

“Nine.” You replied. His hand slipped down over your arm, rubbing up and down. “Think we slept through dinner?”

“We eat late anyway,” he smiled. “Should probably head down though.”

“Mmm, okay,” you nodded back, starting to get up. He didn’t let you, kept you close. “Art.”

“Mhm?”

“‘Should probably head down though’,” you quoted back to him. He shook his head, pulling you back in to kiss you. You giggled against his lips. “Mmm, Art- your mom, your grandma- are they waiting?”

“Maybe-“ He kissed you again. “Probably. Okay. Let’s go.” You smiled, watching him stretch and get up from the bed. You slipped off the opposite side and went to turn the light on. You checked over your eye makeup which surprisingly wasn’t so disturbed from sleep. Your clothes were fine. You looked presentable, running fingers through your hair. Art, of course, didn’t have to do a thing. The two of you talked about the pictures on the walls as you walked down the stairs, teasing the gap between his teeth from his childhood and remarking on how cute his ears are and were, laughing as you entered the living room again.

“You’re up! Perfect. How was your nap?” His mom immediately set down the book she was reading. “I have to tell you, my nap was so lovely. I had a dream about creme brûlée, so I had my chef whip some up for after dinner. I would make it myself usually, I know, but I thought since we have guests, I’d much rather be present.”

Art rubbed his eye, “Nap was good. Where’s grandma?”

“Knitting in the parlour, we should grab her and head to the table, I know she’s dying to talk to you, Y/N. Kept going on about your hips and my god, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also jealous of them.” She laughed loudly, standing up.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m jealous of your hair, I mean the volume, it’s gorgeous.”

“So what you’re saying is we go get our hair done tomorrow?” She shimmied a little teasing shrug. “Oh, and nails? Maybe a pedicure and a massage. Art, your girlfriend is mine.”

He leaned into your ear, “She’s always wanted a daughter.” It warmed your heart.

“I would love that, but I can’t-“

“If you mention money, I want you out of here within the hour,” she warned you playfully as you walked to the parlour. “My treat! I need someone to go with me.”

Art’s hand slipped under the back of your shirt as you turned the corner again, resting on your lower back. “I would love that. That’s amazing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. But it’ll be fun. We can gossip, talk boybands, get lunch? If that’s okay with Art. Art?”

“I’ll… spend the day with grandma,” he nodded at you, then his mom with a smile. You could tell me really loved how much your mom loved you. Like he was proud, almost. “It’s okay with me.”

“Thank you. We’d be back for dinner and you’re staying four days, correct?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“So you really mean five?”

“Mom,”

“So you really mean a week?” She burst out laughing, turning and hitting Art in the arm playfully. “No worries, darling.” She opened the door and with a few sweet words, you all made your way to the dining room, Art’s grandmother in her wheel chair asking you your favourite colour, movie, show, showtune, animal, etc.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation was lighthearted. His grandmother was gorgeous with a stunning sense of humour and his mom and her got along like best friends. He interacted with them so sweetly. It was clear they were truly valued by him and their influence on him was suddenly clearer. The way he talked was from them, some of his little hand gestures were definitely from his mom. You laughed and ate and shared a bottle of limoncello until around eleven.

They were night people for sure. The conversation eventually lead to listening some music and then eventually, saying goodnight. Art’s mom pushed his grandma away in the wheelchair and you grinned wide the moment they were out of sight, turning to Art. “I love it here,” you told him. “I love your mom, your grandma.” You kissed him, his hands eased around your waist. “Thank you for bringing me-“ He kissed you again. “Home. I am so-“ You couldn’t help but giggle madly as he kissed you back down onto the couch, you were unable to fight it. His hands on your waist still, one knee between your legs, the other knee he balanced on his knee on the edge of the couch. He kissed you passionately, with the underlying notes of sweetness, both of you smiling into it. He was happy to be home, he was happy to have y-

His knee slipped off the edge of the couch, causing him to slip right onto the carpet. You gasped slightly as he tumbled, but then he just laughed, laying on his back on the purple rug. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. He started to get up, but you wouldn’t let him, kissing him as he started to come up, the both of you still laughing into it. He cupped your jaw, pulled gently, and in seconds you were on top of him, kissing him on the carpet while some 90s soft music continued to play from a record his mom had put on a while ago.

A gentle kiss, though unending, his hands through your hair as you kissed on the floor. Smiles still unwavering. Things had gone so much better than expected, you were happy. Really happy. You had plans with his mom tomorrow. She loved you. His grandma loved you. You had three more days with them. With him. Here, in his home, the home he grew up in. God, it was perfect. He was perfect. You were overwhelmed by just how perfect everything had been so of course you kissed him just a little harder. He took it gladly.

Keeping it tame, you ended up only kissing, which felt safe for the living room floor. After a while the kissing turned to talking, your face hovering just above his, fixing his tousled hair and kissing his nose. “You have to try playing tennis again.” He told you. “For me.”

“For you,” you nodded. “Third evening.”

“After dinner, third evening.”

“Mhm. So we can go back up to your room after.”

“Yeah?”

“So I can shower and sleep.” You teased.

“Awe,” he sighed, kissing you again. You kept smiling as the two of you soon got up and chased each other back to his bedroom. After an hour or so, the both of you were tired enough to pass out intertwined. Under the covers this time, with a big day ahead of you both.

Your head on his chest in his bed in his home. It was soon to feel like yours too.

[pervertwhore]

Saw you were taking requests and decided to drop on in! I’ve been really trying to push the “Leon loves goths” agenda and just wanted to see if you had an ideas for cute rookie!Leon having the hots for a goth. You can make it as sfw or nsfw as you want. I just can’t stop thinking about smothering him in black lipstick kiss marks ahh.

ROOKIE! LEON KENNEDY & GOTH CHICK

∿ warn . nsfw under cut, riding, tit sucking, leon calls you mommy!

this is a drabble! so the quality isn’t very good :(( vaguely proof read too so WAAA BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY! 3k words :33 when i tell you i CHEERED when i saw this in my inbox, i’m being so fr! i’m a proud goth so seeing the goth chick agenda being spread.. UGH! the dream don’t play. goth girl x leon is so real.. WRITING RULES | PINNED

when leon first saw you, he couldn’t look away. he really did try to tear away his gaze from you, but he physically couldn’t help but ogle at your outfit and overall disposition. he’s never seen someone with that sense of style you had outside of media — he vaguely knows what goths are, he’s seen goths displayed in movies and shows, like nancy downs in the craft, or late at night when mtv played the cure.

it was surprising to see you in raccoon city, with clothing that made it seem like you had just stepped out of a funeral and heavy eyeliner that made you resemble the dead.

in a midwestern small town, you don’t often see people with alternative fashion, and seeing you in full gothic attire was like finding a needle in a haystack.

it was almost funny how mundane setting was, leon had just stepped inside the local coffee shop near the police station to grab some coffee before his shift, and here you were, tucked away in the corner of the shop idly reading a book. he would’ve expected to see you at the local hot topic or the morgue, but no, you were just.. reading.

your nose was stuck inside a stephen king novel, carrie, leon thinks — he couldn’t make out the cover words as he stood by the cashier counter.

you were listening to music too, leon saw the cassette resting on the table and the headphones that covered your ears, he wondered what were you listening to. the cure? honestly, that’s the only gothic band he knows, he mainly focuses on listening to grunge, maybe the NSYNC when he needs a change of pace. would you hate that? frown down at him because he likes the occasional boy band? he hopes not.

leon was snapped out of his thoughts when the barista called out to him, “sir, can i help you?” she asked sweetly, tensing in surprise, leon looked back at the woman and cleared his throat. “oh, uh, yeah!” he said quickly.

after giving the barista his order, he paused, glancing back at you. you still read, blissfully unaware of his glances, “hey, does she come here often?” leon whispered as he turned to face the barista, subtly gesturing over to you. the barista raised her eyebrow as she looked over leon’s shoulders to you. “occasionally, but only at night.. some of my workers are convinced she’s like a vampire or something.” the woman laughed, mocking you as she looked back at leon. “what? is she scaring you, officer?” she teased, a small grin coming up to her lips.

leon shook his head, “no, no—“ he paused, “..what did she order?” he asked, realizing how stupid he might look.

the barista’s grin faltered, not expecting that response.

“uh.. vanilla coffee, why?” she questioned.

“can i add that to my order?” leon asked, he wanted to talk to you, and he wanted to seem as natural as possible to not seem like some creep.

the barista paused as she glanced back at you, “oh, yeah! yeah, of course, is that all?” she asked as she took her notepad out again. leon nodded his head, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck, “uh..yeah, ma’am, thank you.” he said quietly, nodding his head at her once more to show his gratitude before he took out his wallet.

after paying, leon stood by the counter, stealing glances over at you. once the coffees were ready, leon perked up and took them, walking over to your table.

once he reached your table, leon cleared his throat, holding the two steaming cups of coffee as he thought about what to say.

“excuse me?” he called out, hoping to get your attention from the book without having to stand there awkwardly. he had one mission tonight: to get your number.

while you read, you noticed how a figure had come up to you by your peripheral vision. taking your attention away from your reading, you looked up to see who was bothering you. you weren’t expecting to lock eyes with a police officer, it was the last thing you expected. tensing, you were startled, why was there a police man looking down at you? you hadn’t been a disturbance to the shop.

furrowing your eyebrows, you put your book down and took off your headphones before pausing your cassette.

“can i help you?” you asked, distaste clear in your features.

leon just stared, baby blue eyes taking in how pretty your makeup was. it wasn’t full traditional gothic glam, yet the detail in your eyeliner and perfectly coated black lipstick was impressive. leon bit the inside of his cheek before he took in a deep breath and shifted, “uh,” what was he supposed to say? “sorry, i was watching you earlier—“ horrible start, leon! “— and i just think you’re pretty, i like your..makeup and clothes.” he stammered. god, get it together, kennedy!

you paused, the tension in your shoulders releasing, that’s not what you expected at all.

as someone with alternative fashion, you’ve had your fair share of problems with people of authority. the world seems to love assuming that you’re satanic and plan to burn down churches, you’re nothing more than a girl that enjoys indulging in gothic media. from songs, to books, to movies, and make up. it’s just who you are.

nonetheless, having a cop, out of all people, compliment you was endearing.

you eyed the chubby cheeked cop, noticing the two cups of coffee in his hands. he was cute, with those bright blue eyes and preppy look, “aw, thanks.” you began, a small smile curling on your lips.

“what are the two coffees for?” you mused, your eyebrows raising in interest as you looked at the cups.

leon pursed his lips and glanced away, damn, why was he was acting bashful? looking back at you quickly, he let out a breathless chuckle, “i got one for you,” he said, offering you the cup. “thought it could help break the ice.”

you reached out and took the cup off his hands, a small laugh leaving your lips, this guy was charming.

“it’s working,” you mused before putting the carton cup to your lips, you took a small sip, a hum of delight leaving your lips as the warm liquid touched your tongue. vanilla, your favorite. “how did you know i liked vanilla?” you questioned.

leon shifted, “lucky guess?” he said, deciding not to mention he asked the cashier.

squinting, you nodded before putting the cup down. “so.. what do you want officer?” you asked, wanting to know the motive behind his actions, leon moved his hand up to scratch behind his neck. “i was hoping to get your number?” he said, looking at you like a hopeful puppy.

“you want my number?”

“yeah, i wanna get to know you better.”

a small smirk curled on your lips, “alright, officer.” you said, reaching into your bag, you slipped out a pen before reached for the table napkins.

leon watched intently, you swore his eyes seemed to be sparkling.

“i don’t know your name.” you pointed out while scribbling your number down onto the napkin, leon straightened up, “oh, right.. leon kennedy.” he introduced himself, glancing over at his digital watch. leon mentally winced as he realized he was already late to work.

nodding, you finished writing your number before standing up. “alright, leon, i’ll wait for your call.” you hummed, glancing at him with a small smirk before grabbing your bag and coffee. handing him the napkin, you walked away, leaving him staring at you like a lost puppy.

you were so pretty and confident, an air of mystery followed you that made leon want more.

taking the napkin in his hand, he read it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx — call me ;)

just then he realized, he didn’t know your name.

your room was chilly, closer by nine inch nails playing in the background, the song was muffled and quiet, leon’s focus was completely on you.

his lips were pressed against yours, making out with you sloppily, a moan slipped past his lips as the two of you kissed. his hands were wrapped around your body while you straddled his lap. leon’s body was hot, you were taking the lead with this and he didn’t mind — your body pressed against his while your arms were wrapped around his neck.

the kiss was eager and messy, leon’s hands resting against your back as they clutched the back of your lacy black bra, shaky hands trying to work on taking off your bra.

once oxygen began to come between the two of you, you pulled back with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips before you pulled back, your hands moving to cup his face as you looked down at him. panting, leon’s eyes locked with yours, your black lipstick smeared, coating his bruised lips.

a small smile curled on your lips before you aided him with unclasping your bra, quickly tossing it to the side, your tits perking in full display. “like ‘em?” you hummed, moving your hands to cup your breasts and push them up, leon’s eyes widened when he noticed two barbells adorning your perky nipples — your nipples were pierced and his cock was aching.

nodding like an idiot, leon shuddered, “y-yeah.” he confirmed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, greedy hands squeezing the mounds of fat, watching as the fat poked through the gaps between his fingers. he groped them like a hormonal teenage boy that’s never had a face full of tits before.

“they’re soft..” leon mumbled, squeezing and fondling.

letting out a huffing laugh, you plucked his greedy hands away from your perky tits and reached down to his pants, his denim jeans pressing tightly against his clothed cock.

shuddering, leon glanced down with wide eyes as your smaller hands palmed his cock.

a soft moan left leon’s lips, his hips twitching upward against your touch, eager for more. you moved your hand up to the zipper of his pants and expertly undid the button and zipper, leon wondered how many people you’ve been with before him. your movements were eager and precise, you had experience — it made leon’s heart tumble as he realized he didn’t match your level, yet a blossoming excitement filled his tummy.

you were going to make him putty in your hands and he was excited.

hooking your fingers on the elastic band of his pants and underwear, you tugged down the fabrics, a shaky gasp leaving leon’s lips as he felt his cock spring up from the restraints.

his throbbing cock stood proudly, the tip sticky with pre-cum while the tip blushed a rosy color.

your hand wrapped around his cock, giving him slow pumps before your gaze locked with his, “you have a pretty dick,” you mumbled, your lips curling up in a playful smile.

leon trembled, his hands moving back to clutch the black comforter of your bed. leon’s cheeks burned red as he looked down at your hand as you stroked his cock. looking up at you, he shuddered, “b-baby,“ he mumbled, “m’need you.” leon babbled.

“yeah, baby?” you mused, slipping your hand away from his cock to nestle yourself properly on his lap.

“you need me?” you repeated.

leon nodded his head, baby blue eyes lidded as he stared at you.

“s’much, please.”

you bit your bottom lip and hummed, moving to grasp his cock again before moving your hand down to your panties and pushing the fabric aside, quickly adjusting yourself above his aching cock, you lowered yourself, his tip kissing your folds.

leon was a pretty sight, he already looked fucked out and you haven’t even put his cock in, there was something about your boyfriend looking so shaky and needy under your touch that made your cunt throb. your pussy was wet and sticky, eager to feel him around your warm walls.

leon’s hands moved to your hips, his large hands squeezing the fat of your hips eagerly.

“c’mon, please, baby— please.” he pleaded, trying to roll his hips up to try and slip his cock inside your pussy.

“aw,” you smirked, tilting your head to the side, “relax, i’ve got you.” you teased, babying him.

in one swift movement, you slipped down onto his cock, a small moan of relief leaving your lips as your cunt sucked leon’s shaft eagerly. you’ve a handful of dicks inside you before, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, but leon’s body trembled.

feeling your warm walls hug his girth snugly made leon see stars.

he threw his head back as a choked moan left his lips, his eyes shutting tightly as he got accustomed to the feeling. holy shit.

panting, he squeezed your hips tightly, leaving crescent shaped marks on your skin as he dug his nails into your flesh.

“f-fuck—“ leon stammered, his eyes fluttering open and meeting your gaze. his breathing was shaky and you haven’t even moved yet — he really didn’t have much experience. leon has fucked before, he slept with his ex-girlfriend every now and then but her libido was low and leon was hormonal, the most solace he got was a hefty amount of lotion and his fist, but this? this was fucking brain altering.

slowly, you began to roll your hips again his, a soft breath leaving your lips as you felt his girthy cock push against your walls, savoring the feeling.

letting your hands rest against leon’s chest, you dug your black manicured nails against his pale skin. leon wasn’t shy about his pleasure, the moans leaving his lips were needy, whiny, and loud.

“like that?” you moaned, glancing down at him as your hips bounced against his, his cock slipping in and out of your pretty pussy, the tip pressing flush against your cervix, giving it kisses with each roll of your hips.

“y-yes,“ he gasped.

each roll of your hips felt like a surge of electricity slipping through leon’s veins, “s’good—“ he slurred, clenching his jaw as he let out a heavy breath. his grip on your hips remained tight and firm, his hips rolling up against your own, desperately trying to match your pace, but it was sloppy.

you let out a soft sigh, moving up to cup his face in your hands, leon’s gaze moved up to your face, big blue puppy dog eyes meeting yours.

smirking, you moved your chest to his face, moving his head against your plush tits.

getting the message, leon eagerly popped one of your pierced nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue pressing and flicking your bud like a baby. he moved his hands up to your waist, holding you close while he suckled eagerly.

shuddering, you let out a moan as leon sucked on your tits.

continuing to bounce on his fat cock, leon was seeing stars. being able to suck on your fat tits while your cunt actively sucked his cock back inside was making his brain fuzzy while a tight coil began to form inside his tummy.

he moaned against your skin, his balls beginning to tighten while his cock throbbed.

“gonna cum, m’gonna cum, mommy—“ he moaned, his cheek pressed against your tit while his saliva coated his skin.

he was too pussydrunk to realize he called you that, but you heard him. your eyebrows raised in surprise, “mommy?” you mused, a small smirk curling in your lips, “gonna cum for mommy?” you teased, moving your hand to the back of his head, your finger tangling between the locks of his hair. you pulled on his hair, pushing him away from your tits to look into his eyes.

leon nodded eagerly, his hips rolling against your hips.

“yes, mommy.” he gasped.

a small laugh left your lips before you let of of his hair and continued to bounce on his cock, “go ahead then, cum for mommy.” you babied, pressing your lips against his forehead, your black lipstick staining his skin.

leon moaned, his eyes rolling back as his lips parted, his lips were glossy with his saliva as his hands moved down to your hips. he gripped your body tightly as he began to maneuver you, guiding your hips against his as he fucked his hips upward.

his movements were sloppy, leon’s brain zeroing in on chasing his high.

the coil in his tummy began to tighten, he was desperate, forcing you up and down his cock like you were nothing but a pocket pussy.

you were surprised by the sudden change of pace, sometimes you forget that leon is much stronger than he seems. gasping, you felt your cunt get fucked with each thrust upward, your tits bouncing at the force while the sound of your pussy squelching around his cock got louder.

whimpering, leon bit his bottom lip harshly, he was right at his peak, and with one final thrust, he pulled you down onto his cock before his cum spurted out.

his tip nuzzled right against your battered cervix, his cum filling your pretty pussy up. thick, sticky, and milky.

leon’s back arched, his toes curling while his body trembled. he gasped and panted, a deep groan leaving his lips. he hasn’t cum that hard in forever, actually— he doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard, his head was swirling while his body shook with the aftershock of his climax.

you let out a small moan when leon slammed you down onto his cock, your breathing steadying as he filled your cunt up with his cum.

after a few seconds, you felt leon’s cock slowly getting soft inside you, but you didn’t make any attempts to move. “leon?” you mused, feeling leon nuzzle against your chest again.

“yeah?”

you hummed, slowly moving to roll your hips against his again, his body immediately tensing as his sensitive cock got rubbed against. he squeezed you and gasped out a choked breath, wanting to stop you, needing a break to get down from his high, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“you’re getting me a plan b later.” you moaned, smirking as you felt him tremble.

tags 〜 @rigorwhoring @nilpill @cubedkennedy @ottermarbles @dollivication @dilfmaagnet @v0lturiaq @maes-mind555 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @luvrgreyy @arminsbf @sprawberry @xxfritzz @flutterylust @angelstargel @cockiiess @ghosty-the-doll @crystaksack

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

the kraken's girl

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild fluff and mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, tentacles, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), double penetration, male masturbation, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, multiple creampies, brat!reader, switch!cheol, exhibitionism

word count: 3.4k

summary: neither you nor seungcheol expected to blow up twitter after your sex-nanigans. but that didn't stop you from meeting up again.

Author's note: happy halloween beloveds! this is the next installment of Vodka Slime. major thanks to @gyuwoncheol and @smileysuh for proofreading and screaming in my draft loves🥰

disclaimer: the twitter usernames used in the fic were randomly picked, any resemblance with real twitter usernames is 100% coincidental.

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

Fifty thousand followers. Fifty fucking thousand new people followed your Twitter account within a single night, all thanks to the two minute clip you uploaded before falling asleep. 

Your head is spinning with shock and excitement, arousal coursing through your body as you read the retweets one by one.

“GIRL WHO IS THIS”

“monster cock at its FINEST”

“me when me when me WHEN”

“eating a brick wall as we speak”

“i’ve never felt more submissive and breedable in my life before”

You giggle every time you scroll down, biting your thumbnail and kicking your feet like a kid who did something naughty. Although you’re not a kid anymore, your tendencies are definitely on the naughty side.

As if on cue, you receive a message from Seungcheol, who also retweeted your post on his account.

cherry_csc: we really caused a ruckus huh

You rapidly type back.

prettylilfreak: ikr ppl were STOKED

You receive another message from him.

cherry_csc: we can always make another one yk? 

cherry_csc: if you’re down i’m down too

You rub your thighs at the thought of fucking Seungcheol (and his tentacles) again, but this time, you’re not 100% sure about filming it.

prettylilfreak: why don’t we discuss it over brunch? i know a place that makes mean choco waffles

prettylilfreak: unless aliens are allergic to waffles or smth

cherry_csc: if i told you i have never eaten waffles before would you believe me?

prettylilfreak: i’ve seen worse from you tbh

cherry_csc: ok fair point

cherry_csc: send me the address and the date, i’ll be there

prettylilfreak: cool, see you soon <3

You search for the restaurant and book a table for two, sending the info of the reservation to Seungcheol a few seconds later. You close your phone and let it plop down next to your pillow. You lay flat on your bed with a stupid grin on your face, your insides still squelching with need.

You turn your head towards your nightstand and open the last drawer where you keep all of your toys. 

Just a quick one won’t hurt, you think and grab the tentacle-shaped dildo, licking your lips.

If only it was as good as the real thing.

“Damn, these waffles are really amazing.” Seungcheol gulps down a hefty bite of his choco waffles.

“I told you so! They are delicious.” You mirror his actions.

“Although I think you taste better than the waffles.” He sends you a wink and you nearly choke on your food.

“Damn, no need to die from waffles!” He passes you a glass of water and you drink it all in one go.

“And there was no need to spit out stuff like that without warning!” You try to clear your throat.

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Waffles and choking aside, I think we should pick up the conversation from where we left it off.”

“You mean the Twitter DMs? Sure, I’m all ears.” Seungcheol wipes his lips with a paper towel.

“So, about that….I must admit that I had one hell of a time with you that night, and…”

“And?”

“And I definitely wouldn’t mind if we repeated it.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip seductively.

“But I have a condition.” 

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to film anything for my account.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Are you disappointed?” You toy with your fingers.

“What? No, of course not! It’s your account after all, you’re calling the shots in the end.” He reassures you. “Can I ask why though?”

“Let’s just say that I want to….experiment with you.” You rest your face between your palms.

“Experiment? What are you, a NASA researcher?”

“No, but you left some unanswered questions and I want answers.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is about.”

You smack your lips. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, it saves me a lot of talking.” 

“You need to clarify some things first, sweetheart.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Seungcheol.”

“I beg to differ, doll.” He purrs the petname on purpose and you feel a chill running down your spine.

You stuff your mouth with more waffles, chomping on them like a starved animal to avoid answering to Seungcheol.

“You’re so stubborn, but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He plays with his bottom lip as he watches the cutlery in your hands move with light speed.

“Eat as much as you can, doll. You’re gonna need a lot of energy for later.”

The fork and knife fall from your hands and clack on the plate as you try your best to swallow the bite in your mouth.

“You….need to be restrained.” You point your finger towards his face in a menacing way.

“Hmm, I can think of a way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You can always fuck around and find out.”

You stare at the smirking man in front of you, contemplating his indirect proposal.

“You motherfucker.”

“How the fuck do you afford an apartment like this?!” You yell as soon as you enter Seungcheol’s home.

“I might be an alien, but I’ve been on Earth for over a decade. I think it’s enough time to learn how to make money.” He replies as he takes off his shoes and jacket.

“I don’t think I want to indulge my curiosity about your personal life right now…” You mutter.

“I know you don’t, Y/N.” He grips your thighs and puts your legs around his waist, carrying you like this all the way to the bedroom. 

“I guess your tentacles and cock aren’t the only strong parts of your body.” You grip his shoulders as he carefully lays you down on the double-sized bed.

“Not to brag, but I spend a lot of hours at the gym to keep myself in that shape.” He grins and rolls his hips against your crotch.

 You suck a harsh breath through your teeth. “If you do this one more time, I swear to God I won’t be able to hold back.”

“That’s okay, doll. That’s why I’m here -  To keep you in check.”

Seungcheol frees himself from the iron grip of your legs and straightens his back. You feel slightly intimidated by his muscular build, but the intimidation molds into heady arousal when he discards his clothes one by one, until he’s utterly naked.

“Your turn, baby. Take them off.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You taunt him.

His voice grows stern. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them to shreds.” 

You swallow thickly and take off your t-shirt, followed by your jeans. Your hands shyly creep behind your back and they toy with the clasp of your bra.

“There’s no need to be shy with me, Y/N.” Seungcheol kneels on the bed and cages your legs with his muscular thighs. “Now, take off the bra like a good girl.”

You exhale shakily and unclasp your bra, you slide the straps off your shoulders and remove it from your body, your nipples perking up.

“Perfect. So fucking perfect.” Seungcheol mutters before he pushes you towards the headboard and climbs on top of you.

“Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” You ask.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you want to slide your big, mean cock inside my pussy, Cheol?” You pout your lips on purpose and roll your clothed pussy against his naked shaft.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen today, doll.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Then why the f-”

Seungcheol shushes you with his finger on your lips. “I’ll make it all worth it, I promise. Now, I want you to sit across the headboard. Can you do that for me?”

“You better keep your promise, otherwise I’ll block you from my socials!” You crawl on the other edge of the bed with a grumpy look on your face.

Seungcheol gets comfortable against the headboard. “This is barely our second time together, but I don’t plan on dumping you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “The way I’ve heard the last part so many times from other men.”

“First of all, I am not a feeble human, even if I have human appearance. And most importantly…” His tentacles appear from his back and slide around his thighs.

“No man would ever do the things I’m about to show you.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious to me, Cheol.”

“I am ambitious, doll. And meeting like-minded people strengthens my own ambitions.”

You flash a sultry smirk. "Good to know we're on the same page."

The tentacles keep gliding over Seungcheol's body, leaving a slimy trail on his skin.

"Remember when you asked me about my tentacles spitting stuff?"

"I do. And what about it?"

"Watch and you'll find out, doll."

You nearly gasp when two thick tentacles wrap around Seungcheol's thighs and hold them apart, exactly the same way your thighs were spread. 

But he doesn't stop there.

Another tentacle binds his wrists above his head, rendering him completely helpless and exposed.

"Sheesh, didn't know you had an exhibitionism kink going on, Cheol." You rub your thighs together.

"I've never done this before, so consider yourself lucky." 

"You've never jerked yourself before?"

"More like I've never used additional help to jerk off before."

Two more tentacles appear in front of him, one morphing into a literal fleshlight and the other approaching his rim dangerously.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Cheol?"

"One fucking hundred percent, doll."

The fleshlight engulfs Seungcheol's cock completely and the other tentacle slides into his hole simultaneously, making him cry out in pleasure.

"H-Hah, ah, f-fuh…."

"Shit, Cheol, that's-"

"Nothing I cannot handle, s-sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip when the fleshlight starts sucking his cock and the other appendage thrusts in his ass rather strongly.

You never expected him to pull off this stunt and truth be told, it has you soaking through your panties and clenching around emptiness.

He's struggling to keep his eyes open from how good his own tentacles are making him feel - sweat has started to form on his forehead and neck, his skin turning glossy.

"Does it feel that good?" You ask him, rubbing your thighs together.

"Stop pretending to be sympathetic, I know you enjoy w-watching me like this." Seungcheol groans as he digs his nails into his palms. "But yeah, it f-feels good." His thighs jolt with each thrust and suck delivered by the tentacles occupying his sensitive spots.

You're certain the fabric of your panties has turned into second skin from how much you've soaked them and you haven't even been touched yet. This is the first time you're affected by a man to this degree and you almost feel embarrassed. Almost.

"Fuuuuck, that shit is so good." Seungcheol leans his head back and his puffy lips fall apart, deep moans filling the room with the same speed his tentacle is filling up his hole. The fleshlight picks up the pace and starts sucking his cock harder and his hips buck up, but the slimy restraints keep him down effectively.

"A-Are you cumming, Cheol?" You ask him, "Because I might do so, untouched."

"Don't you fucking dare." He growls at you for a split second, but his expression forms into one of pure bliss as he finally reaches his climax, loads of cum being milked from his cock.

You fist the sheets beside you and bite your bottom lip to suppress your whines as you watch Seungcheol lose control thanks to his own tentacles, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to calm down from his intense orgasm. The tentacle that was torturing his hole retracts slowly and your eyes fixate on the slimy residues all over his cock and ass. The restraints on his wrists and thighs disappear as well and his arms drop down on his sides with a loud groan.

Blond hair streaks are stuck on his forehead, sweat is dripping down his chest and his breaths are ragged and heavy. 

But his gaze still lingers on you.

"That was….fucking insane."

"I take it you…. enjoyed the show, doll?" 

You spread your legs and show him your drenched panties, a low whistle blowing from his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t want to sound greedy or anything but… I’m kind of suffering here.” You point towards your pussy and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

“I know you are. But worry not, the real fun starts now, Y/N.”

Seungcheol snaps his fingers and two tentacles attach themselves around your ankles, dragging you directly in front of him. You yelp when he puts his hands on your waist and he flips you over with little effort, propping your ass up and pushing your waist down.

He runs his hand from your waist to the curve of your ass. “Mmm, that’s a pretty arch you have, baby.” 

He squeezes your flesh and gives it a sharp smack, a gasp echoing in the room. You wince away from him, but his hand on your waist keeps you in your place.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You whine in defeat.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I don’t care! I just want you to fill me up until I can’t think straight anymore!” You shake your ass in an attempt to entice him.

“I can definitely do that, doll.” Seungcheol uses both hands to rip your panties apart and throw them on the floor. He pries your lips apart with his thumbs and hisses when your slick runs down from your entrance and glides on your clit.

“But I might have to get a taste of that pussy before fucking it.”

He catches your honey with the tip of his tongue right before it falls on the sheets and moans at the taste of it. He slowly rolls the tip around your bundle of nerves and you bite the sheets to muffle your noises. 

“I want to hear your voice, Y/N. It’s unfair to hear it only through your twitter posts and not directly from you.” He actually begs you and it has you keeling over.

“What’s unfair is you trying to beg me to moan, when you know I can’t resist your pleas, Seungcheol.” You grumble, yet you push your ass closer to his face. “Now, I would like you to use your pretty mouth to- AH!”

Seungcheol grips your ass and smothers his face in your drenched cunt, his tongue rubbing your clit and his nose nudges your hole. You can feel the curves of his lips savoring your juices and you can hear the sloppy noises they create - pure music to your ears.

“So, mmfh, fucking delicious…” He purrs against your pussy, “Makes me wanna - umffh- keep you by my side forever.”

Your walls clench harder than before and so does your heart - but you choose to shove that piece of information in the back of your head. It’s a bit early for that, you think.

You let out a particularly whiny moan when he circles his tongue around your hole and he laughs when more of your slick gushes out, but this time, he lets it drip down on his lap.

“I don’t know what’s messier, my tentacles or your pussy?”

“S-Shut up!”

He slaps your ass. “Don’t talk back to me, doll.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rail me until I pass out?”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and musters the strength he has left in his thighs to climb on top of your body, as if he’s about to mount you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he plants one hand next to your head and uses the other to pull your head back.

“That is actually a wonderful idea, sweetheart.” His lips barely touch the shell of your ear, but his voice is enough to make your spine shudder.

You open your mouth to give him a snarky reply, but the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs when two of his tentacles fill up your ass and pussy without warning, fitting tighter than a glove. He lets go of your hair and cages your wrists with his hands, rendering you immovable.

“See what happens when you talk back to me, doll?”

“F-Fuck, s-so f-full….”

“Yeah? You have no idea how full you’re gonna be after I’m done with you.” 

You can feel his cock resting on your ass and twitching with need.

"Remember when you asked me if my tentacles can spit stuff?"

"Y-Yeah?" You try to keep your brain intact, but the tentacles thrusting in your holes make it hard for you.

Seungcheol presses his lips right behind your ear and sucks on your earlobe. His voice has dropped to a mere whisper.

"They do and it's all mine."

Your eyes start fluttering when you feel his thick cock slide between your cheeks and fuck them as if he was really fucking your pussy - even if he somehow does it.

The tentacles ram you almost violently, the little suckers gliding against your walls. You're at Seungcheol's mercy, unable to move, unable to think and unable to form coherent sentences - just a pretty little toy for a hot alien and his slimy tentacles.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

"C-Cheollie, I wanna cum! Please!" You cry out, hands fisting the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You're close, sweetheart?" 

"Fuck, I am!"

"Go on then, let go for me." He kisses your temple and fucks your asscheeks harder.

You finally cum and it hits you like a raging waterfall, your entire body shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf trying to stay on the tree before it's blown away. 

"Hang in there, doll, we're almost t-there." Seungcheol's ragged breath fans over your cheekbone, his hands letting go of your wrists to grip your waist.

His tentacles come to a halt and throb inside you, pumping your holes full of his cum, until a few drops start slipping out.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks when the tentacles detach from your holes, wincing when the sticky mess flows out of you. Your moans are growing louder every time Seungcheol's pelvis slaps against the curve of your ass, his nails digging in your skin.

"Such a great fucking ass, all mine to fuck, ugh!" He throws his head back as he cums, splashing his load all over your back and ass, painting it white. He pumps his cock with his hand a few times before smacking the tip over your ass.

"Cheol…..I can't move…" You pout your lips tiredly.

"I know, baby, I know." He gets up and pats your head before disappearing from the room.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a clean towel and the feeling of the soft cotton wiping you clean from the sticky mess covering your back and private parts almost puts you to sleep.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet, I need to actually wash you." Seungcheol gently rubs the towel over your spent holes.

"Will you carry me to the bathroom?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I have any other choice, since you technically can't walk."

"I wonder whose fault is that, huh." You mumble against the mattress.

"I'm sorry, doll." Seungcheol swipes your hair away from your face, "Although I did enjoy fucking you dumb."

You support your upper half on your arms. "To be completely honest, I really enjoyed it - hell, I asked for it."

He catches your lips in a short yet gentle and sweet kiss, melting into his pillowy lips.

"We can always-"

"Repeat it?"

"No," Seungcheol picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. "I mean, I would love to, but I would prefer to take you out on a proper date first."

"Oh? I didn't know aliens had romantic tendencies." You joke.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/N. And I'm pretty sure there are lots of things I don't know about you."

"Are you saying you actually want to get to know me better?" 

"Yes. To put it with your words, I'd like to experiment with you."

You look away purposefully. "I might be a tough formula to crack." 

He carefully puts you in the bathtub and kneels in front of you, his eyes meeting yours.

"Consider this challenge accepted, doll."

[cmkren]

— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings: None!

A/N: This request had me cracking up while writing it bc the idea of a hippy bamboozling az into silence is so funny to me, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Ever since Azriel had met you, since you’d moved from Autumn Court, you always managed to utterly flabbergast him in ways that shouldn’t be possible for the stoic shadowsinger.

It had all started when he’d noticed the bright, almost obnoxious clothing you always had. Some weren’t bad, like the jeans you would wear with bright floral patterns accenting them, or the flowery shirts or skirts you’d wear.

Your fashion sense was the complete opposite of his, and since you had moved to Velaris under his suggestion, he got to see your wacky outfits every day.

Sandals were a common choice, not to mention warm-toned clothes, cardigans, and knitted tops. The earrings you wore were nothing like he’d seen before, not even trying to be elegant or beautiful, just giving an extra pop of color and flare to your outfit.

It fascinated him.

He’d always seen proper noble women trying to be beautiful or elegant or alluring, but you weren’t that at all. You were just…yourself. You didn’t care about what others thought, you were a rule unto your own law. You were just so out there, sticking out like a sore thumb, but in a good way.

Your bright clothes and personality became a comforting sight for him amongst the dark color theme of Night Court, with most residents opting for black.

And your opinions?

Completely outrageous. But also funny.

Like when you rambled on about how Fae should need a license to winnow, to ensure that they weren’t endangering themselves or others if their skills weren’t good enough. Or how any winged Fae should also need licenses, for the same reason.

He will never forget the time that you told Rhysand to his face on one of your first few times meeting his family that if Velaris was already peaceful and perfect, why not expand that principle to Hewn City, too?

And when he’d tried to explain that the people of Hewn City were too stubborn and hateful for that, you’d just called his reasoning “stupid” and an “excuse” because he just wanted to live in his little paradise city and not deal with the problems of the Court.

That had frazzled Rhys.

In fact, you frazzled almost everyone in the Inner Circle. Except Cassian. He seemed to find you extremely entertaining. You’d nearly given some of them a heart attack, especially since your fiery red hair and hazel eyes oddly resembled the Princess of Autumn, who hadn’t made a public appearance in months, and some people were getting suspicious.

Once getting over the initial hurdle of them adjusting to you, Feyre invited you to her art studio, and when Azriel got there (he’d volunteered to help with some of the paints since he didn’t have any missions that week) he saw you, an absolute mess of paint, helping all the children. You were surprisingly good at it, knowing just what colors to mix for them, giving them what they needed and when, and generally working well with Feyre even if all your paintings were bright and usually neon, and hurt his eyes a bit if he looked too long.

“You’re good with them.”

He spoke to you as he walked down the street, you alongside him as you finally left her painting studio.

“I’ve handled kids before, they’re pretty fun usually.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Did you…babysit, or something?”

He asked, the mental image of you watching and caring for a child for an extended period of time not exactly a great one.

“No, I helped raise my little brother. He was always a more mellow kid, but he had a tongue on him, that was for sure. I oughta visit Luci sometime soon.”

He listened. You’d never mentioned brothers before, or any family at all, really. It didn’t help his suspicions.

“‘Luci’ is an odd name for a boy.”

He commented dryly, and you, clearly not catching onto his sarcasm, as you rarely did, only laughed.

“Boys can be named whatever, but his full name’s Lucien.”

He stopped walking at that, and you continued, oblivious to it until he jogged to catch up.

“You’re Lucien’s sister? As in Lucien Vanserra?”

He asked in a quiet but surprised tone. You only nodded, grinning at him in that lazy, relaxed manner you always had.

“Our secret!”

You declared, before prancing off to go look at the bright fabrics of your favorite salesmen in Velaris. You’d already befriended more than half of the people there, and they all seemed to like you.

Cauldron help anyone who befriended you, and definitely help the shadowsinger stuck as your mate for eternity.

[rainyorca]

Flowers Don’t Bloom In Winter ❀ Logan Howlett x Reader

Content Warnings: F!reader, angst/no comfort, character death, kissing/make out, implied smut, mild gore, strangers to friends to lovers.

Summary: “Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

You'll wilt, all flowers die. But he'll bloom again.

Notes: I’ve been a wolvie fan since i was suppperrr young and I am so glad him (and hugh) are getting attention again. This is my second-ish time writing for him, I just got done rewatching the movies for the first time in a while so hopefully I did him a little justice. His hair in origins will forever be my favorite but in this you can think of him from any movie, there is no set one, no set timeline wolvie.

Words: 6,121

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You're not a weapon. 

You’re more human than everyone else.

Human was a funny word, to Logan at least. Being human meant a lot of things, mutant wasn’t one of them. Stuck as a mutant with the heart for a human, what a tragedy. Actually, did he even have a heart? Oftentimes he would spend nights trying to find his own heartbeat, a hand laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling. 

When he met you he wondered if you knew what he was, the way you stared at him when he came in and sat down at the bar made him curious. Most don't know, he looks normal on the outside, so how would you know? But he did have a hard time keeping his eyes off you too, you smelled human but there was something so sweet about your scent, it made you different from others. 

Wisteria, sandalwood, jasmine and maybe a hint of vanilla, he couldn't really pinpoint what you smelled like (however it reminded him of forests, nature, his old home) all he knew was that he wanted the scent to last forever, like a candle he could buy over and over again. He would only watch the stage when you got up there and when you're done, he would be too. 

You came to the bar shortly after to get yourself a drink, your eyes resembled a rabbit’s; innocence and beauty all in one, and they immediately found him. There was something else in your eyes, deep within like you were trying to figure him out. When you got closer to him your scent got stronger, so strong it was almost overwhelming. No human has ever had that effect on him before, at least not enough to make him physically react like he did, squeezing his glass a little tighter. 

“Hello,” you smiled brightly, like a blooming flower, voice gentle whilst you greeted him. 

“You must be new, I haven't seen you at the bar before.” 

“Just figured I’d try out a new place,” he responds, an attempt to try and be friendly despite his intimidating looks. You smile again, swallowing down the remains of your liquor and then putting the dish in the sink. “Glad you came to us,” your eyes travel down to his somewhat empty glass, “you want another?” 

Your kindness was obvious, but no one that kind is ever really okay. There was something off about you, something deep down was bothering you or maybe you just had some other problem he couldn't figure out. You're kind but in a calming way, not overwhelming. What's the word? Tranquil? That's what he thought of you. 

You knew Logan wasn’t human when you first met him. He looked human just like a majority of the rest of the mutants but you had a keen eye for finding them. It was a talent to some people, being able to point out who was ‘real’ and who was not. Logan was no exception, you could practically see that mutant blood underneath his thick skin as if you had x-ray vision. 

A human trying to befriend a mutant, what an odd thing to most of the world. You should be scared of him. People would say, many warning you to beware the mutants, stay away from the entities wearing human skin. He's only going to hurt you, stay away from him. 

Logan wasn’t an entity, he had a human heart just like the rest of them. But to you, he was a little more human than the others. To you, he looked like a winter flower, strong and capable of handling whatever comes its way, but flowers don't bloom in winter. He was too good to be true. 

You don’t really remember the details of how you met Logan (besides making small talk that first time), but what always stays in your head is what happened a few months later upon meeting him. 

There was a little dispute in the parking lot of your job. Being a dancer doesn't mean you do all the hard work at your job, that's up to the servers and bartenders. But of course you were always the one to go clean up after people. Your coworkers assigned you the role after you broke up a bar fight on your first night, so all the dirty work (dealing with rude customers or fights in and out of the bar) was left up to you. 

Kill them with kindness is an extremely real and full proof method, people find your kindness a little off putting (though you are unsure why). You don’t know what the guys were fighting about but it got messy quickly, they both started swinging at each other and when you tried to split it up suddenly you were the problem. 

Pushing you up against the car, threatening you instead of each other. Your coworkers who were once watching from afar were now safely back inside. You braced yourself for some hits, maybe you would get a cool scar out of the situation, a story to tell to your future children (if you even had any). But all that confidence from before was dropped as soon as the guy got on his knees, grabbing your injured face as you leaned lethargically against the car, making you look at him.

Your bare legs hurt on the asphalt, rocks digging into the softness of your skin, leaving marks. He held a knife up to your ribs, pressing and pressing until you felt a sharpness, the tip of the blade digging into your flesh. The other guy had run off, probably took his chance and instead let you take the beatings. 

You remember him getting ready to stand up, his face getting closer to you while he continued to threaten you, that was until he went silent. There was the sound of flesh ripping, or a knife sheathing you weren’t really sure. Blood splatters onto your face, the only thing you could hear was gurgling and a gruesome choking sound from the man. Slowly opening your blurry eyes, the sight in front of you almost made you scream if your throat wasn't so dry. 

The man had been silenced, three blades stuck out the front of his face, the tips of them so close to yours you could feel them poking into your skin. A shaky gasp escapes your lips when you see him move, his body lifting up. Standing behind him, the man's blood spilling onto his knuckles, was Logan (Haemanthus, in that moment). 

The look of fear on your face was clear in the dark, Logan could see it, hell he could probably smell it. You watch him toss the limp body aside and then he crouches down in front of you. Flinching away, you watch those metal claws slide back into his knuckles, the openings they tear closing almost immediately. Then he cups your face with that same, blood soaked hand, trying to wipe the blood that had splattered onto your face (useless, he was only smearing it). 

That was the first time you ever saw Logan use his powers and it was to protect you. What you should’ve done is run, call the cops or something but instead you stayed, you stayed in front of him, letting him pick you up and carry you back into your job. 

Humans are curious creatures, thirsting for an explanation of something they don't understand, even if that explanation could kill them. So, after that, you would stay after hours on your job, as long as he was there. After you got done closing you would ask him to show you, show you his claws so you could feel them, look at them. Maybe even worship them if you were that kind of person. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, trailing your fingers up the blades. “When they come out?” 

“Every time,” he responds, watching you intently, no one has ever seemed to show this much curiosity over his claws, at least no human has. 

“There’s something sort of humbling about them,” you speak slowly, looking at your reflection on the blades, “the fact that you could so easily kill me, kill anyone, yet you choose not to.” 

Your fingers trail back down the blades until you stop at his wrist, wrapping your hand around it to feel them when they return into his body. You could feel his muscles move every time his bones shift to allow the metal to escape the cavity of his arm. His eyes stay locked on your face, watching every tiny change in expression. 

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. 

Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

It was hard to say whether you really liked Logan after what happened, a part of you knows what he did was illegal, but he did it to protect you, maybe you could rule it out as self defense if the cops come searching. You took an interest in him honestly, this was your first time getting to know a mutant, your first time being saved by one too. 

But there was a part of you that wanted to protect him, keep him safe and out of harm from humans and mutants alike. Logan is stubborn but not as stubborn as you. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking your own life, although he argues that you shouldn't do anything like that for him. Humans are much more fragile, at least that's what he would say to you. He compared you to a flower, prone to breaking, prone to destruction. He feared that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe. 

It's strange, just a few months into this little friendship and you already feel this instinct to take care of him, to nurture him, treat him like he's the most perfect piece of art in the whole world, and also the most breakable. Like he's the most precious, rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The type that you discovered, not some random traveler. Even a few months in he allows you to meet all the other mutants, the ones he calls his family. You hit it off with Storm pretty quick, she knew how to be your voice of reason, your help when it comes to figuring out your feelings for Logan. 

You also enjoyed staying at the mansion, being able to interact with all the students. This place was wonderful to you, but you didn't like having to stay behind when Logan went on missions. 

Every time you watch him walk out that door you feel like you're left with nothing but desperation, the desire, the need to go with him. All you want to do is help him. But you were also left with fear, strangely enough. No matter how many times he came back, everytime he left it felt like he was never gonna come back. They’re just missions, he’ll be back soon. That's what you always told yourself.

You don't know why you cared so much, you two weren't even dating. But you don't really know what to call the relationship you two had, you were much closer than just regular friends. Yearning was never your thing until you met him. Usually you try to avoid relationships, your fears always making it hard for you to stay with someone. 

I wanna be a part of you. 

You would tell him. Always touching him, that was your thing. He liked that about you, that you felt safe around him, comfortable enough to always be touching him, a hand constantly on his shoulder or fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was something you did every time you were with him, even if you were safe from harm. 

His most favorite thing was that scent of yours, it drove him crazy in all the good ways. He could tell when you had just been in a room and he could follow your scent out of that room if he so pleased. He remembers the first time Charles talked about you after you had left the room just a few minutes before he arrived. 

“She's quite a unique one,” he says, watching Logan adjust to your scent filling the room, “isn't scared of mutants, believes we are all equal. I'm glad you found her, Logan.”

“Yeah well, I knew she’d be good here,” Logan responds, leaning against the wall. Charles is quiet, but there's a growing smirk on his face. “What?” he asks a bit harshly.

“You like her,” Charles says, “I don't have to read your mind to tell.”

“Yeah well a mutant and a human won't really work out, so forget it,” Logan grumbles, pushing through the doors and leaving the room before Charles could protest.

The dynamic was weird (for a pair that wasn't dating), but considerably normal to the other mutants. Many seek him out for protection too, he's just the type of guy you gravitate to, despite that grumpy face and angry attitude. You know that's not who he is on the inside, he's much more gentle than what others seem to think about him (Hibiscus, a delicate beauty, Gypsophilia, pure of heart).

When Logan was out on missions, you would spend your time distracting yourself with flower hunting or spending money on bouquets just to make you happy. You would leave them around the mansion, around your work. 

You love seeing him in the audience when he returns, usually sitting at the bar. He leans against it, facing the stage, eyes only on you (Sweet daffodil, you're my only one. The sun shines when I'm with you). When you were done for the night you would run to him, wrapping your arms around him, finding so much comfort in those large arms. 

You imagine Logan would be a kind lover, gentle and caring. The type to freak out if he accidentally hurt you. The type to sit you on his lap during dinner even if there was a chair for you. You know he would take care of you, he's said it a million times before. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he says softly one night after you get off work. You're standing behind the bar, watching him drink the last of the whiskey. 

“You can't be near me all the time,” you hum, teasingly, unaware of his seriousness. You figured it was just him being a little flirty. 

“I can if I want to,” he responds, his smile often a little rare to see but present in this moment. 

He made it very hard for you to try and hide your flusteredness. Logan can be very flirty, more unintentionally than not. In all honesty, maybe you did want him, wanted to be with him. For once you can see a future with someone, something rare for you (usually trying not to look ahead). You could see the future where you live in a cabin with him, somewhere in the woods, probably in Canada or somewhere cold. He would get a normal job, you would make him breakfast and then kiss him goodbye before heading to your own job. Maybe it was a sad, pathetic thing to think about at night but you couldn't help yourself, it was the life you always wanted and you finally found someone to have that life with. 

The day you really realized it, was when he came back from a longer mission, longer than usual. For once you didn't work that week, taking a break to give the new dancer a chance to earn some money. You spent that week cleaning your place, organizing, doing the things you didn't usually have time for. That's when you received a call from the mansion, Ororo had called you, letting you know Logan was back. 

You’ve never driven so fast in your life, that long trip turns into a few quick minutes. The snow didn't stop you, instead it only made your adrenaline spike, your excitement. You practically slipped when you got out of the car, running to the front door of the mansion. 

When it opened to his handsome face you felt a tingle in your spine, electricity coursing through your veins. He starts to walk forward, snow starting to stick to his dark hair, his arms open waiting to catch you. 

In that moment, when you ran into his arms, feeling them wrap around you again and cover you in that familiar warmth, that familiar scent, you felt something more. More than fasciation, more than adoration, you felt love (A blooming orchid). 

“Miss me?” he asks with a smile when you pull away, your arms still wrapped around his neck. He sets you carefully back down on your feet.

“Always,” you breathe, tears pricking at your eyes. You don't know why you felt like crying, you blamed it on the fact of how much you missed him, or maybe you were just incredibly overwhelmed. 

You knew the problems with wanting to be with Logan. The major one you realized while rewatching Twilight (Ironic given your situation, Edward a vampire, Bella a human. You a human, Logan a mutant). Logan is practically immortal, honestly you don’t even know how old he is now. You’ll grow old, eventually succumb to your age or maybe even a sickness if you're lucky. Logan will still be living, just older, a little more grumpy. 

You’ll wilt, all flowers die. But he’ll bloom again.

But unlike Twilight, you won’t get your happy ending. Logan can’t bite you and turn you into a mutant like Edward does with Bella. His fangs are dulled, they don’t secrete any special type of life changing liquid. 

Unfortunately you’ll be human forever. What a curse it is to be human or to be living at all. 

… 

The first time you and Logan kissed was outside his place, surrounded by nothing but trees, fresh snow falling to the ground and sticking to your hair. You had embarrassingly fallen on your ass walking up to his house, he quickly rushed out to help you up, dusting you off and asking if you were okay. But when he picked you up you never let go, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he held you on your own two feet. There was that buzz in the air, the flutter right before a kiss, that tingly feeling in your spine knowing it’s going to happen. 

And when his lips graze over yours you practically shove his head down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his without even considering the situation. To your surprise, he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist. 

It was like something out of a movie, just missing a mushy love song. You wished you could hold that kiss forever but your lips would get sore and you would probably get frostbite. 

When you pulled away he stared at you, eyes piercing into yours before he freed one of his hands. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, and then he pulls them up and over his head.

Then he puts them around your neck, the jingle of them coming to rest on your collar bones makes you shudder, but from warmth, excitement. 

You hide them under your shirt most of the time, always toying with them to make sure they are still safely around your neck. It’s like he transported his warmth with them because they were always warm no matter how cold it was outside. 

Sometimes, if you see him before he leaves somewhere, he’d press a hand to where they hang, rough palm warm against your chest. It was like his little special way of saying goodbye, just in case he didn’t return (which you hated to think about). 

Logan eventually gave you the spare key to his place, allowing you to visit whenever you so pleased. And when he was gone sometimes you would curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and usually getting the best sleep of your life. His scent brought you comfort, you always wanted to be surrounded by it, drowning in it. 

On occasion but rarely, he would come home to you still in his bed, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly. He’d pull the blanket back gently to see your face, sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at you while he waited for you to wake up. 

But usually you would be gone, his bed would be empty but he would always know you were there. Your scent would seep into sheets, the mattress drinking up your smell. He could smell you, like you were still present (Soft jasmine, beautiful wisteria).

Now the first time you two ever slept together was at his place of course, you were slumped from work, muscles aching, head throbbing. You’ve never been this tired before. You push through the door, unlocked as usual when he’s home. He’s already in bed when you're there, awake but he looks just as tired as you. He sits up when he sees you, turning on the lamp so you can see. You don't even say anything, instead you just drop your things by the doorway, tugging your shirt off over your head letting it pool on the ground. 

He doesn’t seem to care, instead he just watches you as you curl into bed next to him. “Rough day?” He asks a few moments later, turning the lamp off. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you mumble back, voice muffled by his pillow. You can already feel yourself relaxing, his scent like a calming drug (the smell of peaceful lavender).

He doesn’t hesitate, he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You let out a sigh, melting into his warmth. It started out as a normal night, sleep coming to you quickly. But it wasn’t until you felt Logan stirr, moving a little in his sleep. He lets out a quiet grumble, and then a louder one. 

Then you feel a sharp pain, agonizing, stinging, right in the back of your shoulder. You let out a yelp, jolting up, your movements pulling whatever it was out of your flesh. You look back, reaching a shaking hand back to feel the wounds. “Damn,” you groan when you see blood on your hand, Logan’s claws unsheathed, the tips covered in your blood. You can feel the warmth travel down your back, the sight of the blood trickling down your back and staining the sheets makes you feel dizzy.

Logan stirrs again, sniffing the air, eyes fluttering open at the scent of your blood. He acts as soon as his eyes land on your back, fear and worry clouding his head. “Fuck,” he curses, “fuck, fuck.” 

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” You breathe through clenched teeth, getting up to go to the bathroom. He quickly picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you on the bathroom sink, maneuvering around you so he could clean your wounds. You open your eyes, staring at his face. He’s focused, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he continues to wipe the blood from your open wounds before finally getting them to stop bleeding. You watch as he slowly starts to wrap you up with the gauze and bandages. 

You reach up, softly cupping his face with your free hand, making him halt his actions. His eyes meet yours, your reflection so visible in his pupils. Unsure of how long you stared into his eyes, he had somehow finished wrapping you up without taking his eyes off you. You could feel yourself inching closer, getting closer and closer to his face until you can feel his breath. His lips graze over yours and you flinch back, as if you haven’t kissed him before. It’s been a few months come to think of it, but still you shouldn’t be nervous. 

Logan just has that effect on you. It only takes a few seconds until your lips meet, kissing him gently, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. Fingertips brush the shore of his hair, almost like an invitation. 

And he takes it, kissing you with a little more vigor. His bloodied hand comes up to your face, smearing a little bit of your blood on your cheek. He’s careful with his movements, gripping your waist with his other hand to keep you up on the sink, to steady you. His kisses are starting to get more aggressive, pressing you a bit further back onto the sink.To make sure you don’t slip in, he reaches underneath you, his large hand coming to rest on your ass as he holds you still. 

You can feel that familiar heat start to pool between your thighs, and he can feel it too, or in other words smell it. Your legs clench around him, squeezing as if you're trying to pull him into you. He frees his hand from underneath you, feeling up the bare skin of your waist, his rough fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while he stares down at your semi-bare body, debating on unclipping your bra to feel you more. His breathing is rushed but even, mouth open. 

“Logan,” you breathe, coming out more as a desperate plea. He hums, pressing your lips together again, open mouth kisses, tilting his head for better movement and access. There’s a thin string of saliva that keeps your mouths connected when he pulls away. 

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, not only that but he could smell it too. Your scent was strong, if he got closer to your core it would be overwhelming, and he's not sure he’d be able to stop what he's started.. “You’re hurt,” he says quietly, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than you already are,.” 

“You won’t,” you respond, a smile on your kiss bitten lips, “Logan, please.” He kisses you again, slower and softer this time. “I can't,” he whispers against your lips, keeping them close even after pulling away again. 

“Why not?” you speak softly, scratching his scalp with your nails. He hesitates, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You know why.” He smiles, gentle and small before licking his thumb and wiping the small amount of blood off your face. “C’mon,” he mutters, lifting you off the sink. 

… 

Logan gave you all kinds of nicknames but your most favorite came from you showing up to his place with flowers. You loved orchids, always have so you bought a small bouquet of them to put on his coffee table. He accepted gracefully, and then from then on he started calling you by that name. A simple nickname but it was lovely.

 Orchid, my little orchid. A nickname uniquely your own (Orchids, love, beauty).

It wasn’t long before you two had officially agreed to being in a relationship, having a label. And not long after that you decided to move in with him, a bold move but you spend more time at his place than yours anyways. At night the moon will shine through the windows, lighting up the room with its cool toned glow. You’ll lay your head on Logan’s shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. You’ll both lie awake in silence while you draw circles on his chest with your finger. 

Some nights you’ll sit on his lap while his back rests against the headboard, your hands cupping his face. On occasion, you’ll run your thumb over his bottom lip until he parts them for you, then you’ll feel his abnormally sharp canines, his fangs. You test them, pressing the pad of your thumb into the sharp point to see if it’ll make you bleed but he always stops you before you ever do. When you're asleep he’ll stare at your face till morning, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. He stares at his dog tags around your neck, always warm from your body heat and always safe. 

He admires your beauty, especially when the sunlight hits you just right. When you're hiking in that tank top and whatever pants you decided to wear that day, he stares at your backside, your silhouetted figure. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, looking back at him with a smile, his eyes not only fixate on your face, but your scars. The scars he left engraved on your skin. 

The scars you admired, the scars that comfort you, a reminder of him always. 

It’s past 11 pm, you’ve been in the bath for almost an hour now, the water starting to get cold. The room is dark, only lightened by the light seeping through the open bathroom door. You lean back, head resting on the edge of the tub, fingers toying with Logan’s dog tags.

The familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the silent bathroom, Logan's heavy footsteps can be heard walking around, like he's looking for you. You slide down further into the bath, trying to hide yourself playfully, peaking over the edge while you wait for him. That's when he peeks into the bathroom, a smile creeps over his face when he sees you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” he says in that comforting gruff voice. He crouches down by the side of the tub, dipping his hand into the warm water. “Hi.” You smile, sitting up and resting your head on your hands, holding onto the edge of the tub. He brings a hand up to caress your face, gently rubbing the warm skin of your cheek. 

“What did you do today?” you ask, watching him reach for the loofa and dip it in the water. He grabs your arm gently, rubbing your skin softly with the item. “The usual,” he responds, staring at the suds on your skin while they wash away. You hum, sitting back in the tub again, making him let go of you and get further. “C’mere,” you beckon, tapping the edge of the bathtub. He complies, getting up and sitting down on the edge. He leans down so he could be close to your face. 

“I was thinking about you today,” he says softly, cupping your face, “I always am.” Smiling a little wider, you reach up with both hands, grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He kisses you back, much to your pleasure. You're quick to part your lips, giving him access to use his tongue. 

It's an aggressive kiss, open mouthed and borderline messy. He pulls away to say something but you block it out, too focused on the feeling of his lips to even notice. You try to pull him back down and you successfully do, he doesn't put up a fight or anything. The kiss becomes more vigorous, more violent but so passionate.

He slips, falling into the tub fully clothed, making the water rise and spill out over the sides. You laugh softly in which he responds with a small laugh too. He’s laying on your side, face inches away from you and just a little lower as he allows himself to slip into the bath more comfortably. Your lips graze over his again, his smile fades as he kisses you and then pulls away. 

You adjust your trapped arm behind his head, scratching his scalp as he gets closer and closer. Then he kisses you again, leaning his whole body forward and cupping your face with a wet hand once again. You close your eyes, but he opens his just slightly while his lips slowly slot against yours. Open mouth on open mouth, his lips never leaving yours. The only noise that fills the space is the quiet sound of water sloshing, soft breaths from the both of you while you kiss until practically sucking the oxygen from each other. 

Pressing his lips against yours a little rougher now, he eases on top of you. Your hands travel up and down his flanks and back, feeling him through his soaked clothes tight against his skin until you tug and pull at the bottom of his shirt. He sits back, breaking the kiss for once and taking his shirt off, immediately returning to your lips. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him press his hips against yours, his cock clearly wanting to be freed from the prison of his jeans. He can smell your arousal, your need for him. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck, kissing at the supple area while he struggles to grind against you. His fangs graze over your skin, making your body shudder at the feeling. 

Water spills out the tub with every erratic movement, but you can feel the warmth returning. He uses his other hand to hold the dip in your spine, making your back arch by habit, by command almost. Your eyes go all hazy and the more he presses his bare skin into yours you swear you feel like you're melting into his body. 

“I love you,” he whispers, into your neck. 

…

You loved flowers, always have. You loved what they represent depending on what type they were, you loved how colorful they usually work, how unique they are. You loved how they bloom again even after death, even after they've wilted and lost all their color. The petals turned into something wrinkled and rough, unlike their usual clear, softness. 

Even after they die, they still bloom again in springtime. Daisy, lavender, day lily, aster, they all bloom again. Flowers don’t mourn the dead, they respect it, embrace it. They become one with the dead, seeping into the ground and back into the earth in which a person is buried. 

To him, you were a flower. Delicate and soft, something he wanted to protect, to see everyday. Your color, he couldn't quite describe it but it was uniquely your own. Over 10 million colors and somehow when he sees you  and it's something separate from the million to choose from. When he thinks of you, that's the color he sees. When he thinks of you, he sees an orchid. 

But is a flower still a flower after all its petals have been ripped off, gored and left to rot and wilt on the ground. Is a flower still a flower after it's been torn out of the ground, roots ripped, its purpose gone?

You think of all the times you’ve woken up beside him, smiling when he opens his eyes, murmuring a soft “good morning” as he reaches up to touch your face. You remember the times where he would soothe you on your tough days, running a bath for you and gently rubbing the loofa on your skin. So many good moments, very few bad ones. 

Words of affirmation weren't your love language, at least not usually. But Logan had another super power, and it was exactly that. He knew what to say and how to say it at all the right moments. He was a generous lover, attentive, caring, when you were with him you felt like yourself. 

“Winter came early this year,” you hum, clutching the white orchids in your gloved hands, “my first one without you.” 

“I keep buying orchids for you, whenever I have the time. But even when I don’t you're always on my mind.”

You go silent, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes. “I just- I-” you stutter, voice breaking as you grip the flowers a little tighter. You fall to your knees, snow wetting your pants while your tears run down your face. Your sobs slowly pick up in volume every time you try to speak, only to get choked up and give up. “I just wanna see you,” you sob, pressing your face into the snow below, “I just want to see you.” 

You drag yourself further up the ground until you're met with the headstone, Logan’s name engraved on it, freezing to the touch. You press the flowers into the snow, laying down on top of them while your hands move to clutch his dog tags tightly around your neck. The snow and soil drink up your tears, and you can only hope they reach him.

 He was a flower, a dangerous one on the outside but oh so beautiful on the inside. But you seemed to forget one thing. 

Flowers don't bloom in winter.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I don't know flowers that well so forgive me flower fans ahaha

[only-luce-the-goose]

More than Nougat

Synopsis: You taught Jack about hickies and now he’s obsessed

Warnings: none really, just a whole lotta fluff

Nothing! There was absolutely nothing! No beer, no bacon, no nothing! And who would’ve eaten all the food and not replace it? The two black holes for humans you live with. The Winchesters, those boys with their bottomless stomachs drove you crazy sometimes. You’re half tempted to throw Jack into the accusation but he’s still figuring the foods he likes.

“I’m going on a supply run!” You shout through the halls. All you hear is a couple grunts of acknowledgement, until a voice behind you says “can I come?” You nearly jump out of your skin, not expecting to see Jack behind you. “You scared the shit outta be dude, but yeah, of course you can come” you answered him. “Sorry for scaring you y/n” he apologises.

You chuckle his apology off, trying not to let your heart run wild. Even though Jack was only, technically, a few years old, he resembled someone of your own age. This very quickly led you to falling for him, his newborn innocence, childish humour and clinginess (you loved though, let’s be real).

“Alrighty Jack, let’s go” you say as you lead him up the stairs, to the garage. You unlock your ‘64 Pontiac and hope in, turning on some background music before peeling out of the bunker.

“Can we have a movie night tonight, y/n?” The nephilim asks. “Absolutely” you reply “what do you wanna watch?” He sits there and has a hard think about it, “I don’t know, I’ll look up movies when we get to the bunker. Can we get snacks now though?” He asks. You nod your head as you park. You pull out a trolley and give it to Jack to push, while you wander around and get enough food to supposedly last a few weeks (you knew better than the expect it would last a few days).

Jack absolutely piles the junk food into the trolley, which gives you a good laugh, still enamoured with his childishness. He gives you a massive grin and keeps walking, always making sure to look behind him and make sure you’re still there. You head to the checkout and pay for the mountain of food you bought, Jack standing shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time, watching you interact with the register guy. Jack means his head on your shoulder after you pay and keep making small talk, even though you’ve finished all you need to do. Jack links his hand to yours to try and push his point, he doesn’t wanna be near anyone but you anymore.

After you get home, Jack wizzes off to the computer to search for a movie while you pack away the food, keeping out the snack for movie night. Jack comes bounding in a few minutes later, a dvd in hand, and says “I wanna watch this one” he hold it up for you to see. You look at him and asks if he’s sure, “I’ve never seen it so I really wanna try” he replies. You hold on your giggles as you make your way towards the dean-cave (you think it’s a silly name but whatever).

You press play on the movie as you and Jack get comfortable next to each other on the couch, sitting leg to leg so you can both reach the junk food. Sandy and Danny start singing on your tv screen and it has Jack laughing, you don’t know what at, but you don’t care. Getting to see Jack make you laugh makes your day a little brighter.

You get to the point in the movie when Rizzo appears with hickies from Kenickie. “Y/n?” Jack gets your attention as he taps your shoulder. You pause the movie as you turn to Jack, “what’s wrong?” Jack points at Rizzo and says “what’s wrong with her neck, who has hands small enough to punch her like that?” He ponders “or did she get bitten my a vampire? Some vampire bites look like that, don’t they?”

Jack looks at you concerned as you bust out laughing. “Oh Jack, those are called hickies” you tell him. He raises his eyebrow, almost like he want to ask something, so you continue. “When two people like each other a lot, some like marking their partner. It’s kind of like a possession thing” you can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to make sense of what you said.

“I like you a lot, and I don’t like when you talk to people that aren’t me, so do I put hickies on you?” Jack admits, a big grin adorning his plush lips. You feel a bit conflicted, maybe you didn’t make it clear enough that it was an ‘in love’ type of like, not a ‘just friends’ type of like and so you told him. “I don’t think you get it, it’s for people who love each other. Like want to get married and have a family, kind of love. Not the kind of love you have for friends”

His grin doesn’t falter, “I know what you meant, y/n, and I mean what I said. I like you a lot, the ‘love’ type of like. I wanna hold your hand, and kiss you, and I want you to give me hickies and I want to give you some too” if you were a cartoon, you knew you’d have hearts in your eyes and heart would be thumping out of your chest at Jacks brazen confession.

He watches you patiently as you lean over and peck his lips, testing to water. “I like you a lot too, Jack” you say as you make deep eye contact. Jack kisses you back grinning. “Can you give me a hickie y/n?” He asks shyly. “It’s kind of something you have to build up to. You have to start with marking out before you move to hickies” Jack smashes his lips onto yours as soon as you finish your sentence.

After showing Jack how to make out, you pull away which causes a small whine to rise from Jacks throat. “I’m gonna give you a hickie now, ok?” You say as Jack vigorously nods his head. You got back to kissing his lips, then start trailing them towards his neck. You spend a couple seconds looking around for his weak spot, knowing you’ve found it when he moans and bursts a light bulb.

You look up and see his eyes glowing gold “sorry” he says sheepishly. You kiss his lips, then go back to his neck. You suck and nip at the supple skin, causing all sorts of noises to come out of Jack. You pull back “that should give you a nice purple one in the morning” you say. Jack nods as you both lie down, his head on your chest as you doze off.

You wake up to Jack shaking you, “look, it’s here!” He bounces around, clearly happy to the new addition on marks on his skin when he says, “I think I like this more than nougat”

[thebluester2020]

Stardew Bachelors x Rude!Farmer Reader Headcanons

Summary: A new farmer has moved into Stardew Valley and...wait, how come they're always seen with a scowl on their face?! And why are they so mean?!

Warning(s): Fluff, Mean! Farmer, Doesn't contain all the bachelors! (I've only included Elliot and Sebastian since I didn't want things to become too long!), Farmer is low-key more of a tsundere to be honest, Slight favoritism to Sebastion at the end, !not proofread!

Note: As much as I love sweet-hearted farmers. I also love my mean, tsundere-esque farmers as well <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

:: Elliot had heard about the rumors a week before you arrived. That the grandchild of the late deceased farmer, who once cared for the old farm a little ways away from town, would be moving in soon. He thought a new face around town would be nice. After all, Elliot was fairly new to the town himself! He thought the two of you could share in your common experience of being new to the environment and possibly build a friendly bond.

At least…until the week you were supposed to arrive rolled around.

The rumors of you being rude. He swore they spread faster than you had actually been here.

First it was from overhearing a conversation between Gus and Lewis on Friday.

The way Lewis described you was like hearing a weary night regale his tale of how he narrowly escaped the fiery breath of a dragon. “They’ve…definitely got an attitude.” Elliot heard Lewis say.

“I’m struggling to find the resemblances. Looks aside, they’re rude! They threatened me the other day when I tried to ask if they could do me a favor!”

Elliot wouldn’t exactly deny that the possibility of you being rude made him nervous. Everyone in town was so nice that having someone mean would be like a black sheep sticking out in the middle of white sheep, you just wouldn’t belong. Yet when he had happened upon you once fateful morning on the beach/

“The hell you lookin’ at Prince Charmin’” You spat in his direction when he stared too long.

His eyes widened. “N-Nothing! Forgive me, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new here, that’s why.”

He cleared his throat. “So I see…” He stood in place a little while longer, observing you as you crouched down to collect items from the beach. Your appearance didn’t match your attitude, he thought. Your appearance was like that of nobility to him, graceful with certain details accentuating personality and your life on the farm.

From slightly muddied knees and a few scraps here and there.

But your tongue was like a freshly sharpened knife.

“The fuck?” You hissed at him again, snapping him out of his trance. “Who the hell you looking at? Got a problem?”

“N-No!” You dropped your bag full of items before you walked right up to him, your mouth nearly curling upwards like an angry feline.

“Yeah? You sure? You’re staring mighty hard for someone you A. Don’t know and B. Is just trying to go about their day! So what’s the problem?!”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry once again, it's just- I think you're really gorgeous to look at. The tales of your fiery temper did nothing to speak of your beauty as well." You paused at the compliment, your cheeks beginning to redden as your temper started to ease down considerably.

Besides the compliments towards the farm and your weapon prowess when you first joined the Adventurer's Guild. You didn't hear too many compliments about yourself, the only thing you'd hear was

"That new farmer is scary aren't they? They're completely unlike their grandfather!"

"Why did her grandfather entrust the farm to them? With their attitude, they'll probably soil the crops just from their glare."

To say it didn't hurt from time to time was an understatement. It wasn't your fault that you had a mean scowl on your face 24/7 and sometimes you had a habit of speaking about how you actually felt about someone before thinking about your words!

So, to hear a compliment? You couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter and your chest begin to warm.

Not that you would let this lonely beach writer who talked like some actor from Medieval Kingdom know that.

"...Thank you." You finally mumbled under your breath.

A smile graced Elliot's features. "You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you turned around to quickly pick up your backpack before walking off. But, not before Elliot could get another line in. "You should visit my cabin sometime! I love visitors!"

Although there was no response, for the next few months afterward, however, he kept strangely receiving duck feathers and ink bottles at his front door every other day...

Sebastion

:: The first time he had even heard the rumors of a new farmer. He was talking to his mother about her day and also alerting her that he would be out for a while riding his motorcycle. His mother had made sure to tell him to "be safe!" and likes before she told him that someone new would be moving into the old farm a little ways from town.

He hadn't thought much of it.

'Just another face in the crowd' he thought while also wondering why someone would even choose to go to this town where the most interesting thing that happened was when a slime got loose in the middle of town a while ago!

Until...the words of how rude and snappy you were began to pop up.

"That new farmer has no manners!"

"They're so mean..." He also heard Lewis say. "All I asked was for them to retrieve a...special item from Marnie's house and they said 'Get it yourself'"! Sebastion didn't see anything wrong with the supposed 'attitude' you were giving people in town, in his mind? He thought it was about time that someone had tried to bring a different energy to the town besides being yet another happy-go-lucky person who wanted to help everyone and anyone!

And even when he bumped into you one midnight evening...a sword in his hand as he wanted to go exploring the mines in order to try and put himself to sleep, his opinion of your supposed attitude remained the same.

Though, as he saw the piles of dead Shadow Brutes around...he did have a mind to be a little more weary of you. No one had told him that you were capable of slaying multiple Shadow Brutes on your own.

"You lost gloomy?" Were your first words to him as you pushed your hair back out of your face, snapping him back to reality.

He glared at you. "I could ask the same of you. Whose out fighting Shadow Brutes at midnight?"

"Me," You responded. "Something that I wouldn't expect you to do seeing how you're as skinny as a twig."

His mouth dropped a little, his annoyance with you growing as well as his interest of you. You were mean, that was no question but...unless his ears were playing tricks on him due to him not interacting with too many other people besides his friends.

He could've sworn there was a little bit of playfulness in your voice.

"I may be skinny but I've been down these mines before." He said, walking past you with a grumble as he started to look around the area for anything valuable.

As you looked Sebastion over, your mouth cracked upward a little more in an amused smile. You had just arrived at the valley, and joining the Adventurer's Guild was a good way to blow off some steam and clear your mind by fighting mindless monsters. You hadn't really thought about talking to any of the residents besides the essential ones such as Pierre, Robin and sometimes Lewis from time to time.

But, you were beginning to change your mind.

"You managed to make it all the way down to level 100 in the mines gloomy, maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me to level 120?"

Sebastion looked back at you with a huff. "You probably wouldn't want a 'twig' coming with you."

"Even twigs can have their usefulness, don't be a wuss."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a wuss."

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Then prove it! Killing those Squid Kids can be a tricky process at times." As you walked passed him, you playfully shoved him as a cocky laugh escaped you. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even upgrade from a twig to a branch."

He could've ignored you, he wanted to ignore you but...as you sauntered away cockily, climbing down one of the ladders into the next level. He couldn't deny that you were interesting despite your need to tease him despite the two of you just meeting, you may have had an annoyingly high urge to tease but...strangely enough?

He liked it.