#THE END PAGES ARE EVEN BRIGHTER HOT PINK!!!!

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE DEATH I GAVE HIM by Em X. Liu.

Up next! Hamlet retelling but make it science + a locked-lab mystery (which is, of course, directly up my alley!). Horatio is the lab's resident AI, and I'm so excited to see how this goes.

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[wri0thesley]

morning person - nanami x fem reader (2.5k)

you just want to make his mornings pleasant. 

(not sfw, cock-warming, dom/sub undertones, domestic, established relationship, afab reader with fem pronouns).

[a/n: haha me posting more self-indulgent nanami fic? u guessed it]

Nanami is more of a morning person than you, and you’ve adapted your routine to suit that.

He can be tired when he gets home from work – then, he bends world-weary with the weight of his profession and what he’s done in the day. You undo his tie for him and kiss his cheek and give him a half hour to decompress before the two of you work on dinner together (you had wanted to cook for him, at first; you’d learnt in the end that being able to cook for himself was something that Nanami cherished, and the two of you work in perfect tandem now).

But in the morning, his eyes are a little wider and brighter. His lips are a little more likely to curve than sag; his hands a little more . . . free. You’ve adapted your routine to roll out of bed before him so that you can make sure everything is perfect.

You spend a moment, always, to enjoy the sun-dappled light on his face – picking out sharp cheekbones, the sweep of his hair, the muscles in his broad shoulders that he keeps hidden beneath well-tailored shirts. And then you’re wrapping a robe about yourself, as quiet as a mouse; heading downstairs, fetching the morning paper where it lays on the kitsch welcome mat of your home. Standing before the cafetière, putting in a scoop of Nanami’s morning coffee--

You don’t notice the difference yourself, but Nanami does. He’s so exacting, so precise – it’s one of those things that you love about him. You flip through the newspaper as you wait for the coffee to prepare, folding it over to the financial section because you know that he’ll look for it straight away anyway.

“Good morning.” Nanami’s voice startles you from your task; you look up to see him, only half-dressed, his hair still sleep-tousled and his smile soft with that specific kind of gentleness you only ever see on people when they’ve had a pleasant night’s rest.

(It’s partly a smile of satisfaction, you know, and you also know exactly why he was so satisfied last night. Not that you need to be thinking of that kind of thing so early in the morning--)

Not thinking about that specific thing only makes the memory of being pinned beneath him all the more potent, and you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together as you turn to pour the coffee into his cup proper.

“Good morning,” you reply, wondering if he can hear the slight rush of breath that you try to hide. “This’ll be ready in just a sec’.”

Nanami moves across the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist. You can’t help but relax into the warmth of him, his embrace as familiar as the back of your hand. His shirt is half buttoned, shirt-sleeves pushed up to his elbows (his jacket is draped over the coat rack, along with his harness and weapon).

“You look beautiful this morning,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. You go all over hot at the words, heady with the rush of being loved by him. “Almost as beautiful as you did last night.”

“And you don’t need me to tell you that you look handsome,” you say, still breathless. You put the cup of coffee by his chair, beside the paper, Nanami’s arms still wrapped around you. He’s not always affectionate like this, but you suppose something about the warm morning and the air today and last night’s escapades have made him more romantic than usual.

“Mm. Perhaps I’ll decide I like hearing you say it?” It’s lightly teasing, his hand stroking your bare thigh below where the hem of the robe hits. “I definitely like coming into the kitchen to you in this.”

He lets you go now, taking the handle of his cup to take a sip of the coffee as he sits, leaving you flustered and blushing. His face, damn him, is perfectly impassive – not the face of someone who was holding their lover mere moments ago. You bring up a hand to feel how warm you are.

“I’ll get dressed once you leave,” you say, and Nanami raises his eyes from the financial section just long enough to quirk an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I like you best in nothing at all, anyway.”

“Kento—”

Your voice is soft, scandalised – and more than a little bit needy. There’s a thread within it of wanting that Nanami doesn’t miss for a moment. You’re still very close to him; close enough to see that there’s a peculiar stiffness at the front of his trousers.

Oh . . . had he . . . woken up, with a problem? One that you hadn’t noticed? You suppose that you’ve been trying to get out of bed early to impress him recently, to have everything ready – but you didn’t think that you were far gone enough to not notice something like that. A curl of heat makes itself known low in your belly. If you’d known that was an option this morning, perhaps you wouldn’t have rushed around so much.

You inch even closer to him, so your breast presses against his shoulder. He raises a hand to lick his thumb, flicking to the next page of his newspaper. You wonder if he can hear your beating heart – it certainly seems to be the only thing you can hear right now.

“Did I forget something?” He asks, mildly – but there it is. A touch of danger. He knows that you know.

“No,” you breathe. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder – his skin is hot beneath the linen. Fingers stroke over the shoulder, to where the collar of the shirt isn’t buttoned, the hollow of his throat. He leans back under your skittish touch, a soft noise escaping his mouth.

“You’ll distract me,” he chides. He’s done a pretty good job of that on you already. He focuses his eyes on the paper again, as you guiltily move your hand away. You watch him swallow, the bob of his throat entrancing. Lip caught between your teeth, you sink to your knees. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

The soft pet name makes you feel weak and warm inside, like your insides are all liquids. You raise a hand to rest on his knee, to move towards the zip of his work trousers. He sighs, clicking his tongue against his teeth as if he didn’t instigate this whole thing himself.

He says your name like a reprimand coated in hunger. He isn’t fooling anyone – not when the heat of his cock is pressing so snug. You shuffle slightly (glad that yours and his cleaning schedule means that the cool tile beneath your knees is spotless), pressing your cheek against his crotch, nuzzling into it.

You catch him by surprise, a hiss of breath through gritted teeth. You look up at him only to see that his eyes have focused sharp on you, his lips wet. You want to kiss him.

“Can I help you?” You ask, through a throat thick with arousal. It’s a marvel you can form words. When you woke up this morning, you did not expect to be so wet between your thighs and muddled in your brain before Nanami even left for work.

He puts the newspaper down on the kitchen table, relaxing his shoulders slightly, a sigh falling from his parted lips. One of his hands comes to rest gently on your head, fingers tangling in your hair. The heat of his palm (from his coffee, no doubt) resonates through you, mixing with the heat in your cheeks and your chest and your stomach to make you feel like you’re practically on fire with need.

“That depends,” he says. “on you.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you,” you say, and he shakes his head. His smile is almost sad, this time.

“That’s not something you should say to just anyone,” he murmurs. “That kind of pact has more power than you realise.”

“You’re not just anyone. Kento,” you repeat, a little more petulant, and he sighs again. “Please?”

“Please what?” A little hidden curve to his smile. He’s teasing you. He wants you to use your words.

“Please can I help you with this?” You rub your cheek against his crotch again, catching him off-guard – his cock stirs, twitching against the softness of your skin even between two layers. His hand flexes where it rests on your head.

He pretends to think about it. All the while, you’re wetting your lips, squirming, pressing your thighs together with ill-disguised hunger. If he says yes, and you use your mouth on him, you know that he’ll see to it you don’t get left without – Nanami Kento is an efficient man above all else – but that doesn’t help the fact that right now, your skin is prickling with the demand to be touched.

“Alright,” he says. Eagerly, you reach for the zip, tugging it down, leaning your mouth close-- “But not like that.”

“Hm?” You pause, tipping your head up, your eyes meeting his. He motions for you to stand up. Though you don’t quite understand, you do it anyway, watching with wide eyes as he frees his own cock from the confines of his underwear and trousers, giving it a cursory pump--

You can’t drag your eyes away from it. Nanami isn’t exactly the kind of man people see on the street and expect to be packing something like that, but . . . oh, you know from experience exactly how well it fills you up. The head of his cock is swollen pink, precome beading at the tip as he rubs his thumb over the slit. He sighs again, shuddering into his own grip.

“Are you just going to look at it?” He asks you, mildly, raising an eyebrow as you. His big hands settle around your upper thighs, pulling you just a bit closer. Heat radiates off of him; you think that if he pulled his hands away, you’d have handprints in the shape of him all over you. (You think you’d like that; looking down at yourself and knowing you belong to him utterly and completely).

One hand drags up, leaving trails of fire behind – pulling the hem of both your nightgown and your robe, higher and higher--

He clicks his tongue.

“Did you forget to put on underwear this morning?” He asks you, dragging a finger over your thigh and through the valley between your legs, your slick gathering on the tip of it and shining in the early morning light of the kitchen. “Or were you just hoping that something like this would happen?”

Your cheeks seem to get even hotter. You just didn’t see the point in putting it on before getting dressed, honestly – but as Nanami lifts his finger to his mouth, savouring the taste of your arousal just as much as he savours the taste of his morning coffee, you can’t make your brain work quickly enough to defend yourself.

And perhaps you sometimes think about him coming into the kitchen in a morning and fucking you hard over the kitchen table. When he looks so handsome half-awake and rumpled, who could really blame you for that?

He pats his knee.

“Come on,” he urges. “If you want to help me, there’s a seat at the table right here for you.”

You swallow but move forward, spreading your legs – straddling Nanami’s thighs. He adjusts his cock so it rubs across your folds, teasing your heated clit for just a moment before it catches on your entrance. Your hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you ease yourself down past the plunging stiffness of him. You let out a shaky breath as he hilts within you, the stretch at once wonderful and aching so early in the morning and after last night’s vigorous activities.

You hadn’t realised how badly you could want somebody inside you until you’d met Nanami; you hadn’t realised how empty you could feel when they weren’t.

You adjust yourself, resting on the balls of your feet, ready to begin vigorously fucking yourself on Nanami’s cock, when the blond takes hold of your hip and forcibly presses you back down.

“Stay still,” he says, off-hand. He reaches around you to pick up his coffee, taking a slow sip of the dark liquid. You make a soft, confused noise, and he glances at you.

“You were being a brat,” he explains, as if the whole reason you were being a brat isn’t down to him. “I thought this would kill two birds with one stone.”

He picks up his newspaper with the other hand, holding it at such an angle that he can still read every line. Something about the way that he bends to hold the paper in particular makes his cock stroke a particular spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply.

“It’s all about efficiency with you,” you mumble, and you think you hear him make a soft snort of laughter – you can’t quite tell, because he’s turning the page and his cock is rubbing against you in that way again, your mind bursting into stars. You’re disappointed when he stops, the little flame of heat inside you that was threatening to burst into a fire dampened down.

“Stop squirming,” he says, unconcerned by your mumbles. He smells like freshly baked bread and bourbon and crisply pressed laundry, and you breathe it in, dizzied by how much you love him. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“C-can it be that interesting?” You ask him. “M-maybe you should tell me what you’re reading--”

Inside, you think that perhaps Nanami’s boring financial times pages will make the hunger in you, licking up at you like all-consuming flames, tamper down. He takes a deep breath, before speaking aloud some facts and figures that you don’t properly take in because all you can do is think about how deep his voice is, how it makes his whole body vibrate and rumble, how you like his voice most of all when he’s telling you what a good girl you are for him, how much he loves your body, how hot and tight and wet you are, how good you taste--

“You’re not listening, are you?”

The noise that comes out of you in reply is a whine. Nanami clicks his tongue again, stern, pretending to be disappointed in you though you just felt the twitch of his cock where it’s buried as deep inside you as it can possibly be.

“Be good,” he murmurs into your hair, pressing another kiss onto the top of your head. “And I’ll make sure that you get to come before I go to work.”

Your voice is wobbling.

“What if I’m . . . not good?”

Nanami pauses, weighing the question up. His voice is very soft when he finally replies, so deep that it makes your toes curl.

“You don’t really want to find out, do you?” He asks.

You kind of do.

[the-dream-team]

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

--

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work��not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

[kim-monsterlings]

Vin - M Orc x F Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match

Monster match for the lovely @teenagezombiekryptonite​​ <3 I couldn’t tag you!

Matches will be under the read more!

Content: NSFW/Lemon; mutual pining, friends to lovers, use of endearment “sweetheart”, intimate embraces (cuddling, thigh touching), slight possessiveness, teasing, flirting, kissing, lingerie on reader, light choking, teasing, nipple play, marking (love-bites, tusks), fingering, slight praise kink, penetrative sex (no mention of protection or explicit release), clitoral play

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

Not for the first time today had you wished for company beyond the orc settled patiently outside your changing room. The morning had passed with such ease - ever comfortable with Vin, supported by a touch as simple as his chest to your shoulder - until finding yourself staring at your reflection, otherwise alone.

Days ahead of the annual camping trip often passed with a familiar cluster of friends. Breezing from shop to shop - buying gear and planning itineraries, usually you would fall into waiting arms after a long day, not begin with him.

It was harder this year, accompanied only by the orc gently rapping his knuckles to your fitting room door.

Everyone else was busy. Clashing plans promising a ruined summer, and your heart had sunk. "No camping trip?"

"We could go." Quietly so not to call attention to the disappointment rising to your face, Vin squeezed your hand, crinkles rising at the corners of dark eyes. "Just the two of us, hey?"

You wanted it more than anything, hesitating only at the twisting of your stomach - had he offered to appease your pain?

When he lifted your chin to whisper, "I'll even let you choose the music," you agreed. He wanted you there as much as you wanted to be with him, though the day of shopping had slipped your mind.

You opened the door for him, looking at your reflection. "What do you think?"

"Give me a spin, sweetheart."

The soft hem to the short dress spun before he drew you into his broad chest, so close he embraced you with all the warmth you would soon be sharing a tent with.

"Look at you," he breathed. "Do you like it?"

You loved it.

"Do you?"

"You make it beautiful."

Windows rolled low - cool wind tangling your hair and bringing the piercing through his tusk to clink - your music warmed the car, his smile lifting at your soft singing. Halfway as you found yourself tiring, his hand fell to your thigh, an exchanged smile easing your slight nerves.

Friends preoccupied at home teased you before leaving.

Some gambled that before the return journey, over a crackling fire or near sleep, either one of you would confess your feelings for the other. You chose the faded pages of your diary to turn to rather than fuelling their bets.

How it happened, though, seemed more an accident.

Cuddling together came in a natural progression, resting on the thin bedding, whispering, "it helps me to sleep." Hugging your old bunny tight to your chest eased your racing thoughts, until Vin pressed himself close, arm extended.

"Maybe I could help, too?"

Vin stroked over the curls formed of a day driving through wind, and with all the courage in your chest - clinging to hope and remembering how he cared for you, you pressed a soft kiss to the hair of his chest.

Only after your friends hinted towards him returning your crush did you recognise it.

How when you turned to your front beneath midday sunlight, he rested close, applying your sunscreen without you needing to ask. In the passing presence of hikers, Vin's heavy hand curled into your upper thigh.

You turned your cheek on your arms, though your teasing faltered. The way he kneeled close, hovering as though to remain as near as he could, tugged at your heart.

"I think you've covered my legs."

His dark lips fell to let free some excuse, sure to brush off your remark, until he found you smiling and yet to turn from his softening touch.

You were left breathless when his tusks dragged against your throat, guiding your thick hair away.

"Let's stay longer."

The same hopes shared in secret between you and your diary the night before lifted your head. "Really? With me?"

Vin grinned, stroking his hand against your back when you turned to meet his soft lips. "Really."

Drabble

Since returning from the first holiday taken as a couple - turned from several nights into almost a fortnight, and one you were both reluctant to end, you rarely shopped alone. The warmth of his approval coaxed you into easy decisions, and buying a riskier outfit had your nerves high.

Vin adored you in brighter clothes; he wore black enough for both of you.

To pass him with nothing more than a kiss after never sharing your plans to spend the day shopping was a tease, worsened by the ruffling of tissue paper set atop the bag. Had he sought to peek inside, he would've found it empty.

The delicate lace clung to the curve of your hips and chest beneath a dress he loved.

Late evening, you turned into his embrace, warming at the gentle run of his palm over your rear with a light squeeze.

"Tonight, you choose the film. Let me guess..."

"If you don't want horror," you interceded, though he already hushed you with a soft kiss, film set up ahead of your decision.

Despite banning anything horror on your first camping trip - "we aren't watching a horror film alone in the woods, sweetheart," - he never objected on your evenings. Rather than disappoint you, he distracted himself.

In less than twenty minutes, his straying touches brushed lace, and you tucked yourself closer. "New today. I bought them for you."

Only distantly, you registered him ending the film. The hand easing around the column of your neck and pressing you into the soft cushions became your only focus, fixated by him rising over you.

"Dress off, please."

Little more than a growl of pleasure turned against your collarbones when you revealed darker lingerie. So little of your body was left to the imagination, decorated with slinky lace beckoning him closer.

He adored you in pink.

He ruined you in black.

Rounding over your thigh, Vin stroked where your body burned beneath elegant lace. He held you down with little strain as you arched beneath him, your body throbbing from fabric pressed to your slick folds. He whispered his love and devotion as he sucked on your sensitive skin, taking your nipple between his lips through the thin bralette.

Tusks traced the slope of your chest when thick fingers eased into you. "My pretty girl."

"So-" your voice trembled, his thumb lifting to run against your flushing clit when you lifted into his hand. "You like them?"

"So much," he hummed, guiding his fingertips to your tight walls, "that I'll take you in them."

Fabric tugged against your trembling thigh, Vin stroked himself before easing his thick head against you. He waited until you keened before flexing his hand - a gentle reminder as you fell back with a moan.

"Lay still. You're taking me so, so well, sweetheart. Feels so good."

He angled his hips down and your thighs clenched around him. Your gasp silenced against his hot kiss, only able to whisper, "I need you."

"Let me take care of my girl. Tell me," he murmured, running the rougher pad of his thumb over your flitting pulse. "Who's my girl?"

With his wide hips pressed to yours, tusks marking flushing patterns over your chest and tongue tracing burning kisses not far behind, you rocked up, desperate for him.

"I'm yours."

[sweetstarling]

Obey me - Valentines Day Headcanons

Happy Valentines Day, Lovelies! I hope you had a wonderful day, As a gift to you from me, here are some Valentine’s Day Headcanons of all the characters!

Warning: Fluff/ A bit of NSFW

————————————————————————

.~𝕯𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖊 𝖂𝖊 𝕲𝖔~

Lucifer:

🌹Prepares in advance: finishes any paperwork the day before, makes special reservations as well as try’s to keep everything in order in the house otherwise he’ll just steal you away after breakfast.

🌹This demon loves you more then anything, he’ll make sure to leave you roses and a card by your bed while you’re asleep, the roses a blood red (Love & Respect).

🌹He’ll tell you during breakfast about his reservations, the whole restaurant to yourselves as he wants nothing more then to be alone with you.

🌹He’s a gentleman, loving anything you gift him as it came from you.

🌹Will make sure you spend the night with him, making sure the time he spends with you at night is more gentle and sensual then normally. Keeping you close and comfortable as if he was afraid you would disappear.

.𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝕱𝖊..

The lights from the chandelier luminated his features, his eyes glowing crimson not leaving his gaze from you. A small smile caressed his lips, a rare sight for the other; He made sure the building was empty, the only people occupying it were you two and the workers. A calm atmosphere, light classical music danced in the background as to Lucifers wishes.

Stay always by my side

Mammon:

✨Oh lord Diavolo, please have mercy on him. He tried to make you breakfast in bed, he even tried multiple times since 6am but it didn’t turn out very well.

✨Decided to leave you a card, with some hearts drawn in them with a small pack of expensive chocolates, a gold (Love & Compassion/Excesses) ribbon tied into a bow on it.

✨Will take you out for a walk in the park if the weathers right just to keep you away from his brothers, will definitely get ice cream for the both of you.

✨When you finally get back after an hour or so, he drags you into his room for a movie night, letting you pick the movie as he gets pizza for the both of you to eat whilst watching.

✨When you gift him something, he looks like he’s going to burst from happiness no matter how small the gift. He holds you tight at night, cuddling, just being thankful you’re with him.

..........𝕴 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖇𝖊 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓...........

The day was cool as the breeze crisp, you sat down on the bench the wind a calm whisper as Mammon sat down by you. Handing you your ice cream gently as he made himself comfortable, a light sigh left him as he took off his glasses not really bothering with them; His face held a bright glow to them as he couldn’t help himself but keep all your attention on him.

I want you to always be happy.

Leviathan:

☘️Likely had a reminder on his phone to go to sleep the night before just so he can spend the day playing and binge watching anime with you without being tired.

☘️Probably ends up over sleeping slightly from his lack of sleep but makes sure to hand you your gift at the breakfast table: A brand new manga that the main character reminded him of you with a couple of orange roses (Fasination & Enthusiasm)

☘️Takes you to his room after breakfast to play a few games, deliberately going easier on you at times so you win as he enjoys how happy you seem.

☘️Feels blessed to receive a gift from you as he still tends to feel inferior, you giving him a gift means a lot to him.

☘️You spend time in his bathtub, a few pillows and a blanket to keep you warm. Him surprising you with a few kisses as well as an anime playing in the background, a plate of different treats beside you.

.......................𝕴 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚, 𝕸𝖞 𝕳𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞......................

You stood by the large aquarium, the colours of the tv screen being illuminated onto the glass. Your gaze following the fish swim peacefully as you waited for Levi to return, a few footsteps echoed behind you then warm hands wrapped themselves around you waist. The hot breath of the third born warming your neck, his ocean eyes calm as a smile graces his lips.

You really came, my Henry

Satan:

🥀Has cooking duty that day which leads him to making your breakfast extra special, the food being catered to your favourite flavours.

🥀By your plate lays a single red rose,(‘You’re still the one’) as well as an emerald wrapped book layer beside it, the book being one of his favourites that he knew you would enjoy.

🥀He decides to go out with you to a simple but beautiful place, a cat cafe near by, a warm place filled with cats as you two enjoy a drink and a few of your favourite treats.

🥀Takes whatever you gift him with a smile of gratitude, his heart swelling with joy as he put the gift away to enjoy later.

🥀Decides to take a detour round a beautiful park filled with flowers before heading home, As at home he sat down on the bed with you calmly reading to you until you fall asleep.

................𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖇 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊..............

The warmth of the room put you at ease as you lay in bed, the sound of Satan’s voice entering your ears like a sweet lullaby intending to put you to sleep. His voice barely above a whisper reading both to you and himself, the noise of him turning the pages were barely heard but brought comfort a noise of familiarity as you fell asleep.

May we always celebrate like this

Asmodeus:

💋He needs his beauty sleep and expects you to have yours too but that doesn’t mean he won’t leave a sparkly pink bag infront of your door in the morning: A cute personalised card with a picture of the both of you and a perfume he thought would suit you.

💋A nice light breakfast he’s prepared for the both of you in his room before a whole day ahead of you; A bit of badminton to keep the day fresh before lord of self care.

💋A warm hot in for the both of you as you lounge around enjoying a light conversation, the lights a cool shade as you enjoyed your time

💋A light but delicious dinner before heading back home, a few hundred photos being taken together on the way back some posted others for his eyes only.

💋You get welcomed into his room, pink (Appreciation and gratitude) rose petals scattering the floor leading into the grande bed and open invitation as Asmo wanted nothing more but to show you your worth.

......𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖐𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖗?.......

The warm water splashed onto you as Asmo carefully dipped into the water his eyes never leaving your form, a look of joy bloomed in his eyes as he settled and relaxed. The warmth of the water releasing any tension in your muscles, the air cool around you as the other smiled bringing himself to talk about any latest gossip

You’re so cute when you blush

Beelzebub:

🌼Decides to make breakfast for you and it turns out great too, he doesn’t get up too early leaving you enough time to get ready before eating with him.

🌼Decides to gift you some chocolates and light pink roses (Admiration & Sweetness). He loves the idea of getting to spend the whole days with you and plans to bake as well getting plenty of engrediants in advance.

🌼The baking turns into a mess quite quickly with flower everywhere, you two snacking on extra ingredients and just making a mess of the kitchen but the baked goods turn out great which leaves you to enjoy some treats and leave some for Belphie when he gets up.

🌼Decides to go into town with you to eat at a restaurant, him choosing a quiter more reserved place for the two of you so you’re both comfortable.

🌼Wants nothing more then to hug you tight at night, your warmth a constant reminder you’re by his side.

..............𝕴𝖒 𝖌𝖑𝖆𝖉 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘..............

The soft fluffy whitness ambushed the whole kitchen not sparing you or Beel in the process, leaving everything to look like a winter wonderland. You laughed holding back a cough from all the flour on you as Beel took another piece of chocolate handing it to you as you both waited for the baked goods to be ready; His eyes glowing as he met your gaze.

You’ll never leave me, right?

Belphegor:

🌙Gets up, the tiredness still evident in his eyes as he headed to breakfast, your gift in his hands as he gave it you infront of the others: some warm blue pyjamas (trust &sensitivity) with a small card.

🌙takes you to the attic after breakfast, the place seemingly filled with more pillows and blankets. The place perfect for napping especially on such a day when he gets to steal you away.

🌙Spens quite a bit of time with you building a large pillow fort, blankets above you and fluffy pillows serving as walls. Belphie taking this as the perfect time to tickle you before settling back down to nap with you.

🌙Wants nothing more then to eat dinner with you in peace besides the company of Beel who’s great at cooking, the three of you eating in the twins room, the food seemingly twice as good as you were together.

🌙Decides to go stargazing with you, a blanket and pillow at hand for the both of you to be comfortable, the night sky illuminating his happiness.

.......𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖘 𝖜𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖓𝖆𝖕 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗.......

You layed on the floor, a multiple blankets masked the carpet as you lay surrounded by an army of pillows of all colours and textures. The face of a particularly sleep demon lay beside you, his soft arms wrapping around you bringing you close. Him singing you to sleep quietly as you couldn’t help but smile.

You shine brighter then any star

Diavolo:

👑This Prince has a lot of ideas for what you two should do but not enough time for all of them, one things for sure that he invites you to the castle for breakfast then moves on from there.

👑Expect to walk into a room with just you and the Prince, even the watchful eyes of the devoted butler not being present. The table filled with all kinds of food to choose from, rose petals scattered on the table all following some kind of pattern.

👑The Prince gifting your the tradition red rose bouquet with a beautiful card and a box of chocolates, all of it placed nicely in a basket with a gold bow.

👑The Prince being desperate to be by your side the whole day, even letting you wear his crown for the day as his lust for information about the human world showed. Constant questions while you settled down to play chess.

👑The prince encouraged you to stay the night, the master bedroom occupying a large bed for the both of you; As he laid down cuddling you, he continued to talk to you regardless if you listened or not.

...............𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚............

The prince sighed, considering his next move carefully, his eyes glimmered as he moved the pawn.Leaving you to decide your next move, The room was dimly lit but just enough light for you to see his the concentration on his face before a light chuckle left him, the breeze from the slightly open window playing with his hair.

Enjoying yourself, Are you?

Barbatos:

🍃The best at preparing everything for the special day, yet making sure not to try too hard as it’s meant to be a day that you both enjoy. He’s prepared a calm breakfast for the both of you with a bit of everything to try as well as some special brewed tea.

🍃This butler makes sure to spend all his time with you today that he might not be able to spend another day. His room is where you spend of the day, a small gift lay on his desk for you, a charm that reminded him of you alongside a lavender rose (Love at first sight).

🍃You spend the day taking a walk around the castle gardens, all the flowers just starting to bloom as well as a few activities at hand in his room.

🍃Dinner comes sooner then you expect, all of it made with adoration towards you, the food simple but luscious an ethereal flavour to them.

🍃Ends the day with you two falling asleep in each other’s arms, both deserving the rest in the silent room.

....𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖎 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚...

A soft breeze played around leaving the warmth of the day to caress your skin, the heat from a hand in yours guiding you around the wonderland of flowers. A colourful atmosphere as you both truly felt at peace; The butler going at a slow pace for the both of you to relax and by all means not hurry.

You don’t mind if I steal you away?

Simeon:

❄️This Angel wants nothing more then to show his love to you in a way that praises you throughout. Meets you by the House Of Lamentation to go to a cafe for breakfast, the fresh smell of food surrounding the place.

❄️Gifts you a bouquet of red and white roses (Unity, Love, Innocence), the roses seem to glow when handed towards you a small smile gracing his lips.

❄️Plans going to the cinema with you, a movie that you both are sure to enjoy play as you shared some treats through out the movie, the place almost empty as you two enjoyed.

❄️Gifts you an Angel charm so that he can always be by your side no matter how far apart; The gift being delicacy wrapped in blue wrapping paper as he gifted it to you in his room.

❄️The night was spent with him giving you gentle kisses, and stories from his past that seemed humorous.

.............𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘, 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖇............

The screen lightened up, the colourful images reflecting in both your eyes; A calm atmosphere surrounded the room with very few others leaving the two of you to enjoy the moment. The sound from the movie drained out from your mind as you left the warmth from Simeons hand caress your own holding lightly, a smile on his face as he continued to watch the film.

You’re ethereal in my eyes

Solomon:

🕊He plans the day carefully but decides not to warn you in advance; Leaving purgatory hall to visit you at the House Of Lametation with a gift at hand.

🕊He means well ignoring the brothers judgemental gazes as he gifted you a red rose and a photo book, It was filled with different kinds of memories both in Devildom and the human world.

🕊He guides you away from home and instead to take a trip to the human world, Decides to take you on a picnic in a field filled with daisys (innocence & purity).

🕊Enjoying the calmness of the picnic, he teaches you about magic and how he learned it though he never specifys how old he truly is he has many tales to tell.

🕊Returning back to purgatory hall, he invites you to spend the night with him, the room seemingly prepared as everything was organised and the bed flourished in more pillows then before.

....................𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚..................

The sun shone brightly, a clear sky above as there was only a simple breeze accompanying the both of you. A large basket lay on the blanket with multiple treats to share and a few spells to show and learn from the excited wizard; his voice continuesly being heard as he moved onto another memory of his own.

You showed me no bounds

[forthehpfanboys]

History

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Hermione swore she would hate Slytherins since Draco Malfoys blonde self rolled into town, but your relentless flirting and charming smile causes her to feel stuff.

Warnings: Swears, bad flirting.

Notes: Slytherin!Reader, cute request. Probably super late and probably super crummy-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

"Hello, Granger!” You flashed her your best smile, your arms crossing over the table. She turned to you with a raised eyebrow, lacking all hint of the grin she held just moments before you sat beside you. “What? Did I interrupt something important?”  You knew you interrupted her read, of course you did. This was the only time she was ever away from Strawberry Shortcake and Boy Wonder. Maybe they were allergic to studying?

“What are you doing here, (L/n)?” Your last name rolled off her tongue with grace, making your heart skip a beat or two. She turned back to her book, her now dull eyes trailing down the page at an impressive rate. Her voice was colder than a Dementors heart, but that didn’t kill your mood a lick.

“Well, I just wanted to chat! See how your day is going, maybe ask if you need help with whatever you're currently studying.” You slid the book closer to you, effectively causing her to lose her place. You lifted one end to check the cover. “Muggle history, huh? Didn’t take you for the type.” 

“First of all, it’s none of your business what I’m studying or how my day went. Second, don’t touch my book,” she yanked it back and held it to her chest before standing up, “and finally, leave me alone.” She pushed her seat in, giving you the cold shoulder as she walked toward the exit of the library. 

“Alrighty then, Granger! I’ll just see ya tomorrow!” Your cheery voice made her groan in dread. You weren’t going to get all gloomy just because she didn’t want to see you right away. You knew you would have to warm her up and you kept to your word, sitting next to her the next day at the library. She was only closed off toward you because some idiots can’t keep their bloody mouths shut. That, and you were a pure-blood that wore the green and silver tie.

Slytherins got hate, more than other houses. They always got a bad wrap because someone had to open their mouth and say some of the dumbest stuff imaginable that gave perfectly normal and rational people bad reputations. That someone was named Draco Malfoy. It wasn’t like they could lock him up and pretend he was in literally any other house, they tried. It didn’t work. Maybe if Draco kept his mouth shut, you wouldn’t stay up so late at night, cursing the color of your tie. Scratch that, you probably could’ve been the golden Trios friend, maybe just Hermione’s.

The brunette had caught your eye. She was rather pretty. And rather smart. And sassy. And strong. And- Ok, so she was a lot of things and you liked her and that’s fine! Perfectly fine. You'd accepted how you felt about the witch a while ago. Only problem was the way she viewed the house you were sorted into. You were a Slytherin, which explained all the tension. But you didn’t want it there.

Over time, you longed to be near her. You wanted to hold wants with her and make her laugh and watch her eyes sparkle with emotions reserved for only you. So, you decided you'd try to change her perception on the green and silver themed house and the people who were sorted into it, which led you to now. You’d been doing this for a few days now, just saying hi to her, her friends and just trying to be polite. 

You left the library, quickly finding no other reason to stay there. Walking down the bustling halls, you ignored the glares you got from all around you. People would always look at others and see the color of their robes before the person themselves and it was beyond frustrating, but you managed to win a few over, like Cedric and Cho and, somehow, Harry Potter himself. That’s how you knew you’d win her over. Once people got to know you, they learned you were very down to earth, very not stereotypical Slytherin, and most found you charming with a splash of witty. 

So, you kept up the routine of seeing her every day at the library, trying your best to make small talk and change her mind. What Hermione kept to herself was that she promised to do anything but fall for you. She tried her hardest not to let you in. She tried her best to not blush over your cheesy flirts and genuine compliments. Her and Ron thought you were a spy for Draco- Harry knew better. 

It had been a week since that encounter with muggle history and pure sass and she was starting to open up to you. It was evident by how her eyes would shimmer at you too, instead of just her friends, but now you. You’d managed to turn her a soft pink with a simple wink. It was so refreshing to see her smile everyday, which led you to actively seeking her out in the hallways. You didn’t find her in the hallways, though. She was outside, in the courtyard sitting between Harry and Ron, no surprise there. You scurried over, waving enthusiastically to the trio, to which you received two waves and a simple nod- Ron still didn’t trust you.

“Hello, boys! Hermione. How are you doing this evening?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face as Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, like usual nowadays. You sat down on the ground in front of them, not worrying about the dirt that would cover your dark uniform.

“Hi, (Y/n).” Harry spoke up first, reaching around Hermione to nudge Ron when he remained silent. 

“Hi.” Oh, his voice just held excitement, didn’t it?

“Hello, (Y/n)! Are you here to return my textbook or do I have to pry it from your hands?” The brunette witch held her hand out, a cheeky smile across her lips. You ducked your head down, gazing at the cover of the muggle history textbook tucked under your arm and took in a breath through your breath.

“Ooh, I’m not sure, Granger. Might have to take it from me.” You smirked at her, enjoying how her cheeks turned a brighter red. You let out a chuckle when she looked at you with a playful glare and handed the book over to her. “Alright, alright. I got the hint, love, relax.” You laughed a little harder when Ron dramatically rolled his eyes.

“Why did he have your book?” Harry turned to Hermione, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She pulled the cover of the book to her chest. 

"Well, he ruined his after the potions fiasco last week-" 

"Hey!" you tried to cut her off, embarrassment quickly setting in. 

"-when his potion turned green and literally climbed out of the cauldron."

"He gave me bad instructions!" your voice kept falling on deaf ears as the trio snickered. 

"Oh, right! I remember that!" Ron spoke up, snickering as your cheeks turned red. 

"Didn’t it slide right off the table and fall into his bag and literally ate his muggle history book?" Harry covered his mouth as they all snickered at the event. You crossed your arms over your chest. 

"It didn't eat my book!" You grumbled out as you looked down at the dirt. You used your finger to draw in the loose dirt as you pouted. "It burned right through it. Cost me a few galleons and a detention."

Hermione let out another giggle and rolled her eyes. She slipped a piece of her hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip. 

"I know, which is why I let you borrow mine. Aw, come on! Don’t be like that, we’re just teasing. It’s what friends do.” She smiled at you again, but instead of smiling back, you just felt cold.

A shiver wracked down your spine as a freezing cold sensation spreading across your chest. The word ‘friend’ literally echoed in your head while the trio talked like you didn’t exist. She thought of you as a friend. The words made your heart physically ache and suddenly, you were worried you’d throw up, or scream. You watched the brunette nudge Ron on the shoulder, almost shoving him off the ledge of his seat and your head started hurting. 

Why would she like you when she was surrounded by chivalrous Gryffindors who’d gladly take her anywhere she wanted to go. You were just a Slytherin. It probably didn’t matter how hard you tried, how nice you were, how many friends you had, you were still a Slytherin. 

You looked down at your tie, chewing on your lip. Your eyes stung as your brain went on the tangent. Your brain stopped when you remembered what exactly was inside the book. The coldness in your chest seemed to triple. Your mind flickered to the night before, when you were studying in the library and decided enough was enough and wrote the female a poem that put Romeo and Juliet to shame. It may, or may not have even hinted at your feelings.

You felt a physical itch to get it back. You wanted to wipe the parchment clean, give it to your owl and send it to the ocean to drop it in, maybe even feed it to Scabbers- anything to get it out of her hands.

“Hermione!” Your loud shout interrupted the jokes flying back and forth between the friends, and, honestly, interrupted most of the conversations scattered across the courtyard. Your cold chest quickly flipped to burning hot as embarrassment set in. “Um.. I think I left some notes in your book.”

“Oh, did you?” She looked down at it, laying it cover side up on her lap before opening the cover.

“Yeah, but uh, don’t trouble yourself with finding it! I um- I can do it.” You reached for it, but she shifted the book so she was holding it by the spine.  

“No, no, I got it.” The brunette witch dragged her thumb along the edge of the pages, allowing them to fall until she spotted the brownish parchment separating the gray faded pages. “Is this it?” She picked it up delicately, smiling at you. She noticed how your ears were bright red, how your hand was twitching just a few inches away from the book and how your eyes held dread- borderline panic within them. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s.. That.” You chewed on your lip, refusing to meet her eyes. Hermione’s smile dropped a little. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what was going on. She looked down at the paper, noticing the semi-messy handwriting and a few doodles that had her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her eyes skimmed across the pages of where said paper was trapped and noticed it was wedged between a few pages of a specific romantic drama.

“We went over Romeo and Juliet ages ago, (Y/n). Why are you re-reading it?” Her words had your entire face practically turning red and even Harry seemed to pick up on a clue. He stood up and grabbed Ron by the hood of the robes, literally dragging the now shouting red-head away to give you some speckle of privacy.

While you stammered out a response, her eyes flicked down to the brown parchment again. You panicked. You grabbed her wrist and tried to take it from her before she could read it, but you ended up, pushing her off her seat and landing on the floor with a thud. You fell on top of her, your hand pinning her wrist with the parchment beside her head while you basically straddled over her waist.

“Oh, bollocks. Sorry, I’m sorry.” You stammered, letting go of her wrist. “I am so sorry. I just- I didn’t want you to read the poem and think I’m some idiot and like, slap me?” Your eyes looked into hers and that was when you noticed how bright her face. It was a stark contrast against her tie, but not by much. Her cheeks were a bright pink and her lips were hanging open ever so slightly. You got lost in her eyes for a brief moment. 

Once you snapped out of it, you practically jumped off the young witch and helped her up. You brushed off her robes and fixed her tie that became crooked and flashed her an awkward, but apologetic smile.

“It’s ok.” Her voice was softer than a whisper. Her hand rubbed the wrist that still held the poem, her eyes casting down to it before looking back up in confusion again. “Wait, you said poem.”

“I did?”

“You told me they were notes, (L/n).”

You swallowed thickly at the mention of your last name. It’d been a good few weeks since she called you that and you were worried you were back at square one. You let out a shaky sigh, nodding your head. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just..” Your sentence trailed off. She was reading over the poem now, so you found explaining it useless. You fiddled with your own robes, dusting them off while she read. 

“A night in the star freckled skies or a day below the deep blue lakes, cannot hold a twinkling diamond nor elegant magpies toward your beauty that overtakes.” She read out loud while you cringed. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the best, but you tried. “What’s this all about?” You expected her to glare at you that promised hexing, but you were met with a look one could almost confuse with love sickness. 

“Ah, well.. I.. Kinda.. I fancy you.” You squeezed your eyes tight, waiting for the stinging of a slap to meet your cheek, instead you were met with a bunch of giggles. You slowly opened your eyes to look at her. She was covering her face with the paper. “Hermione?” You whispered. Was she laughing at you?

“It’s about time you realized that!” She moved the paper, folding it perfectly and sliding it into her robe pocket. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a clear expression of confusion across your still warm face. “It’s been so obvious!” She was giggling again.

“Wait, so you knew?!” You screeched out, your voice vanishing in the middle. It wasn’t like you didn't know since the bloody beginning that you liked the witch, you just had no idea it was so obvious.

“Of course I did! The winks, the cute nicknames, the obvious attempts to be near me- oh and Harry told me.” She counted on her fingers. The witch looked up when you didn’t respond and stepped forward. “Don’t worry, (Y/n). I fancy you too.” Hermione cupped your cheek with her free hand and landed a kiss to the other one. 

“Was it the poem?” You squeaked out, quickly bending down on one knee to pick up the abandoned textbook before standing back up. You winced at the floor as your voice echoed in the now empty courtyard, but smiled a little when Hermione let out a snort.

“It was the flirting, the kindness, the poem and then some.”

“Oh.. So, date? This Friday? I could take you to the Quidditch game?” You rubbed the back of your neck, holding the history book out for her. Your smile turned into a wider on filled with hope as she contemplated her answer.

“You do know the game is Gryffindor vs Slytherin, right?”

“Of course I know. I’m not a dummy.” You held your arm out for her. Your heart skipped a beat when her arm wrapped around yours. You began leading her down the hallway, straight to the library. 

“Then yes, I’d love to go.” Hermione leaned into you, her own captivating grin clear as day. The two of you ignored the puzzled glanced from across the student filled corridors as you passed. It was strange to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin so close to each other.

“It’s a date then! I can’t wait.” You spoke as you separated from her. You hurried to the library door, holding the entrance open and letting the brunette witch go in first. You trailed after her, grinning as you hurried back to her side. “I bet the fist fight with Malfoy really did it.” 

“I will not confirm that.”

“I knew it!”

“Hush!”

“Sorry, love. Just excited we got the history out of the way.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt for youuuu (they’re pulled from lists)

“Don’t you touch a hair on his head!”

For Lambden? 💗💗

this is especially for you because you're my K-Drama buddy

modern au - actor au - mutual pining - vaguely based on an episode of Boys Over Flowers

(this was written before I made my break announcement)

yes I made a poster for season 2 of a fake show

tw: blood mention (tv show special effects), injury (also special effects), depictions of fake angst with a real happy ending!

---

Aiden groaned, trying to muffle the half-involuntary sound by burying his face into the side of his enormous red wolf plushie. He sat back on the couch and crossed his legs beneath him, staring the toy wolf straight in the eyes.

“Good gods, Milly, what am I going to do with myself?” he whined. He tugged his hood up to cover his curls and pouted. “I can’t just waltz back onto the set and pretend I’m not head-over-heels for that stupid, sexy asshole. I may be an actor but I’m not that good.”

It was his first day back on the set of Love in the Wolf’s Den, and Aiden wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself; a side character coming back for an episode here or there was pretty normal but he had somehow become a fan favorite, so the writers invited him back to join the regular cast. Under normal circumstances it would have been a dream come true - Wolf’s Den had turned out to be the network’s largest commercial success in the last decade - but he was co-starring with his celebrity crush and that was turning out to be a bit of a problem.

Without really thinking about it, Aiden pulled up the video app on his phone and searched Wolf’s Den Leo Rescue Scene. When the all-too-familiar thumbnail appeared at the top of his search results he tapped it eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly. He pulled his favorite fleece blanket over his head to make a half-hearted fort and zoned out, staring down at the back of his own head as the clip played on the tiny screen.

“I’ll never tell you where they’re hiding!” Aiden heard himself cry, voice hoarse. He’d been tied to a chair with his hands behind his back and his ankles fastened to either leg, leaving his legs slightly spread; the director had called it ‘innocently sexy’ and Aiden had unfortunately agreed. He spent the day focusing a Herculean amount of self-control on not embarrassing himself in front of Melitele, the cast, and everyone. On the screen the villain backhanded him, sending his head snapping to the side, brown curls bouncing rather majestically.

It had taken them ages to get that shot.

“Oh you’ll tell me everything I want to know, pretty kitty, or you’ll get much worse than a slap,” the villain, portrayed by the famous Cahir, sneered down at him. Cahir grabbed Aiden’s curly brown hair and Aiden winced in real life - that had actually hurt. “Nobody knows where you are. Nobody’s coming to your rescue, Leo. Give it up, kitty cat, and perhaps I’ll be kind enough to let you live.”

“Don’t you touch a hair on his head!” one of the three lead characters shouted as he kicked the warehouse door open. Aiden melted further back against the couch, sighing dreamily into the otherwise empty trailer as Lorenzo (depicted by the love of Aiden’s life, the apple of his eye, his sun moon and stars: Lambert O’Rory) raced to his side. Lorenzo pulled a knife from his pocket and waved it at the villain, eyes frantic. His hand rested firmly atop one of Aiden’s thighs and the Aiden watching the video remembered that sensation vividly.

The heat of Lambert’s hand had burned through the thin denim of Aiden’s acid-wash jeans and into the skin of his leg. Aiden had wondered - as he remained tied to the chair for the following three re-shoots of Lambert’s entrance - if there would be a perfect outline of the actor’s hand somehow imprinted there when he took his pants off later. Unfortunately it wasn’t there when he peeked. No marker remained to hint that Lambert’s hand had ever been there at all, even though the phantom sensation of that too-hot palm continued to haunt him over the summer filming break. Aiden bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head to clear it again: “Fuck.”

Someone knocked at his trailer door and Aiden practically threw his phone across the trailer in surprise. He bounced to his feet and grabbed the counter when one foot got stuck in his blanket, nearly tripping him to the floor. “Sorry, it’s unlocked! Come on in!”

Aiden was just pulling his hood back away from his face when none other than Lambert O’Rory himself poked his head in through the door with a grin, “Hey! Good to see you again, Aiden. Heard from Jask that you’re going to be a regular this season.”

“Uh, yeah,” Aiden nodded, swiping a lock of dark hair behind his ear and fiddling with the ringlet nervously. “I hope you don’t mind!”

“Well honestly I was coming to check in and hear how you were feeling about it,” Lambert admitted. He was rubbing one hand up and down the back of his neck looking almost nervous about something. His long coppery hair shone like a crown in the early morning light and Aiden wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his fingers through it; his burgeoning daydream was interrupted when Lambert said, “I hope you’re alright with the direction they’re taking our characters and our, uh… relationship.”

“Wha- huh?” Aiden blinked stupidly. He’d been so distracted by the thought of seeing Lambert again that he’d totally forgotten to see if the Script Manager had his Pages ready yet. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, well…” Lambert half-grinned. “I hope you don’t mind being my love interest.”

Aiden can only nod and send a quick thank you to whichever god grants wishes to foolish B-list actors.

"It'll be nice to have a friend on set," Lambert added. "I won't have to watch Geralt and Jaskier make out while I try to eat lunch."

"Are they really that affectionate all the time? I thought they just turned it up for the tabloids."

"Oh no... it's terrible. But their on-screen chemistry is honest."

"Yeah..." Aiden thought about the way Lambert had cradled his 'unconscious' body against that strong, broad chest at the end of last season, sobbing for him to wake up after an accident knocked him out. "Maybe we can outshine them this season, really shake up the ratings."

"You think?" Lambert asked, leaning into Aiden's space.

Aiden squeaked and blushed an even brighter shade of pink. "Maybe."

Lambert grinned wolfishly - appropriate, Aiden thought - and turned away towards the set. "See you later, babe."

"Yeah," Aiden muttered, heart palpitating dangerously in his chest. The whole world felt tipped sideways in a wonderful, glorious way. "Later."

[whumping-to-conclusions]

Howdy there! Thanks for tagging me on the post. Could I get number 20 please? [voice trails off as I vanish behind a corner in awkward slinkiness]

This snippet introduces a couple of my OCs, Eleanor and Jesse, two definitely-not-in-love programmers in their mid-20s who you'll be seeing on here every now and then. They're a pair of cuties; I hope you like them.

----

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Eleanor was typing away at her computer when it started.

It was early afternoon at the office and she was editing a line of code, nose practically pressed to the screen, when suddenly, her vision went fuzzy at the edges. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking that maybe she had gotten something in them, but her periphery remained fuzzy. Lights and blobs of nameless colors started popping in front of her eyes.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

Then came the pain.

A sharp, clear stroke of pain cleaved her forehead, like someone had driven a searing nail into her brain.

“Agh!” Eleanor took her glasses off and pressed her hands to her head, but it did nothing to abate the throbbing, aching pulse, the nail driving in further second after second.

“Eleanor? You okay?” Jesse’s voice floated out to her from the neighboring cubicle. Eleanor couldn’t even answer.

She heard footsteps approaching. Jesse’s hand touched her shoulder, the brush of a bird’s wing.

“Eleanor? What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” she gasped. “Really bad headache.”

More footsteps.

“What’s going on?” Mia’s voice. A pause. “Is… she okay?”

“I don’t know. She says her head hurts.”

Eleanor heard Mia bend down beside her, felt her feel her forehead.

“Eleanor, can you hear me? Look at me.”

Eleanor lifted her head from her hands and winced at the radiance from the fluorescent light above her. It was much too bright.

Mia was kneeling beside her, and Jesse and a few of her other coworkers were standing around her. She groaned a little. “Nothing―just―the head―and I can’t really see―it’s too bright in here.” She shivered and closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her head again.

“I think she has a migraine,” Mia said to Jesse. “She’s probably going to have to take the day off, especially if she’s got no meds for it.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jesse said immediately.

“You sure? I can take her if you’re busy with something.”

“No, I―I got it.” The others murmured their assent. Jesse’s hand touched Eleanor’s shoulder again. “Can you stand up?”

Eleanor nodded. Woozy from pain, she rose from the desk. It felt like she was underwater, her movements thick and slow. She opened her eyes a crack, looking down at the floor to avoid the fluorescent lights. Mia handed Eleanor her bag and glasses. Jesse offered his hand, and Eleanor took it, grabbing at the walls of the cubicle for support as he led her out of the office.

Jesse stopped and turned to face Mia again. “Uh, tell Ben I’m taking the day off.”

Twenty minutes later, Eleanor was huddled on Jesse’s couch as he brought her a cup of tea. The room was darkened, the lamps turned off to keep from hurting her head. The apartment was cluttered, but cozy--movie posters on the walls, CDs and books piled up around the coffee table and couches, not to mention the wealth of electronics scattered around.

Jesse handed her the cup and tried not to wince. He hated seeing Eleanor like this―her skin too grey, her hands shaking, her beautiful dark eyes dull with pain. He handed her the cup. “Drink this--my mother always made it when I was sick.” Eleanor took a sip, and Jesse glanced at her for her reaction. “You like it?”

Eleanor swallowed. “Yeah, it’s―it’s good. I just….”

Jesse knew that voice―she always had a little hesitation to her speech when she was afraid of inconveniencing someone. “What is it?”

Eleanor set down the cup on the end table. “Something cold sounds better, actually.”

Jesse nodded. “No worries, I’ll get you some ice water. Anything else?”

“And… a cool rag for my head sounds pretty good right now,” she admitted.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jesse dashed out to the apartment’s kitchen and poured a glass of ice water for Eleanor, then took a clean dish rag out of the cupboard and ran it under the faucet. He started wringing it out with more force than what was strictly necessary. The worst part of this whole thing was that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help Eleanor but keep her comfortable. His job as a programmer was all about fixing―tweaking the code, eliminating bugs, changing the programs to function exactly as intended. But this was a bug he couldn’t fix. He hated it.

Jesse returned to the living room along with the glass and cold rag. “Here you go, El.”

Eleanor took a sip and draped the rag on her head, brushing her dark bangs aside. Jesse took a seat on the other end of the couch and tried to let his mind wander. But he was still too fixated on Eleanor’s pain. He found himself looking back at her every minute or so, just to make sure that she was okay.

“You can go do something else if you want,” Eleanor said softly, after a while.

Taking care of you is what I want. “I’m staying here.”

Eleanor nodded.

The afternoon passed by and slowly changed into night, and Jesse’s stomach started to rumble. “I… kinda need some food,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor gave a listless shrug. “Still hurts. And I feel a little sick to my stomach.”

Jesse took her hand and rubbed at her knuckles gently. “I’m sorry. Does food sound good or no?”

“I don’t really feel like eating.”

“Okay. Let me know if you want something later, though, yeah?”

“I will.”

Jesse turned on some classical music and thirty minutes later he sauntered out of the kitchen with a bowl of tomato soup.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said as he sat down on the couch again.

Jesse’s brows drew together. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“I... didn’t want to put you through this whole mess. I… I don’t want to be a burden on you.” She picked at the hem of her blouse.

Jesse set down the soup and looked her straight in the eyes. “Now, I want you to listen to me, El. You are not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

“Okay.” Eleanor nodded, then rubbed at her temples. “It just hurts so bad.”

“I know.” Jesse gave a sympathetic grimace. “Is there anything that can help take your mind off the pain? Any movies you like, or music? Or maybe… no, that’s a bit silly.”

“What?”

Jesse felt his ears getting hot. “I was going to suggest I could read a book to you, but, you know, if that’s childish or whatever―”

“No, that sounds nice. Really,” Eleanor added, leaning forward earnestly. “You seem like you’d have a good reading voice.”

“Okay. What sounds good?” Jesse got up and walked over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and started running his index finger down the spines of some of the books. “I have all kinds of novels--mystery, fantasy, a little horror but you probably don’t want that right now….”

“Any fairy tales?”

Her voice was so soft, a bird’s wing brush, that Jesse wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Sorry, what was that?”

Eleanor blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I, uh, asked if you had any fairy tales.”

Jesse smiled. Look at her, all embarrassed about it. “I think I do, actually. Give me a moment.”

Jesse darted through the door on the opposite side of the living room and into his bedroom. It took a few minutes to locate the book, but eventually he found it stashed under his bed.

He walked back into the living room toting the huge volume and flopped down on the couch beside Eleanor. The cover was dusty, faded pink and green, and embossed with curly gold letters. Jesse rubbed the dust off the cover. “Hans Christian Andersen’s Compendium of Fairy Tales. My favorite as a kid, actually. Here we go.” He flipped to the first page and cleared his throat. “Once upon a time….”

Jesse had no idea how much time passed as he read tale after tale, keeping his voice lilting and soft as to not aggravate Eleanor’s migraine. Eleanor watched the pages turn with her lovely eyes, which seemed to grow just a bit brighter as he read. Eventually, Jesse realized that it was very silent, and looked over. Eleanor had fallen asleep against his arm, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even.

Jesse didn’t want to disturb her, so he simply stayed like that for a while, listening to the sounds of the night, until the book slipped from his hands and he, too, drifted off with a head full of dreams.

[pinkesthoney]

Idiots in Love

Summary: Eddie and you have been friends for almost a year now. He’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to show you how he really feels. Will he finally make a move when you both end up snuggled at the top of a ferris wheel? 

Relationship: Eddie x Reader

Word Count: appx. 2000

You came into Eddie’s apartment with a knock. Eddie was sitting at his desk, finishing an article. He greeted you over his shoulder before returning to his work. He could hear you moving around behind him. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his face when he heard you making yourself some tea. He never drank anything besides pitch black coffee, but he kept a tea kettle and boxes of all your favorite teas, just for you. He peeked over his shoulder to see you pouring hot water into a light pink mug with a pastel rainbow on it, also something that was only for you. The warm smell of vanilla chai made him smile.

Sometimes Eddie would look around his apartment and feel like the only thing missing was you. It’s been almost a year now since y’all started hanging out, and Eddie felt like he either had to make a move or risk losing you. And he didn’t want to lose you. Eddie had never met anyone like you. You were so...alive. He loved seeing you happy and excited, loved how it lit up your eyes and the way your chin ducked when you laughed deeply. But you weren’t a ‘good vibes only’ type person; Eddie loved how when you were furious or heartbroken you weren’t afraid to feel it. From the first time he met you he’d felt immediately drawn to you. He couldn’t get enough of you and how vibrant you were. He’d never thought he was missing anything in his life–he loved his job and he had great guy friends who got together regularly for sports or cards. He was happy. 

But then he met you; you were soft and funny, and you didn’t care what anyone else thought of you because you liked you. You were kind and loving and you shared your feelings so easily. You brought something so new to his life. He’d become nearly obsessed with your softness, your smiles. And that’s why he had to make a move, let you know how he felt and tonight was the night. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts, closing out his word editor and swiveling around to see you relaxed, laid out on his couch sipping tea, absorbed in a thick black and gold book. He tried not to look too lovesick. He had to ask you out, he had to know if you felt the same as he did. He knew if you gave him the chance he would spend the rest of his life making you smile. And he had a plan.

You could see Eddie from the corner of your eye, but you just relaxed even more into the couch, sipping your tea, letting the warmth soothe you into a dreamy state. The book you were reading was getting good and you couldn’t wait to see where the author took it. You had read for a few more pages before you noticed Eddie stand, stretch, then plop down on the other end of the couch. It wasn’t quite long enough for you to not touch, spread out as you were, so you let your feet rest on Eddie’s thigh, which he pretended to huff at while he channel surfed.

Eddie cleared his throat before breaking the comfortable silence “..hey so I, ah,  I mean I wanted to ask if you were doing anything later?” you peeked over your book and gave your head a small shake, eyes crinkling at the hesitation in his voice “good, yeah, cause I was gonna say I could take you out to that carnival that’s in town? You know, I saw they have some cool shows going on..” he trailed off, chuckling at himself and you nudged him with your foot so he would meet your eyes.

“hey, I can’t wait. I love carnivals. What time do you want to pick me up?” you asked, a bit of teasing in your voice, but warm and sunny nonetheless.

“oh I’m picking you up am I?” Eddie teases back with a wink “how’s 6:30 work for you?”

“that’s perfect” you respond with a bright smile. 

You both lapse back into a comfy silence, with you hiding behind your book so Eddie can’t see your blush or your excited grin–which also meant you couldn’t see Eddie’s ears turn red or the way he had to fight to keep his own smile at a normal level. Around 4 you headed back to your own place to get ready. 

***

You heard a knock at your door and dog-eared your page before skipping into your hall and yanking open the door. Eddie stood there, nose a little red from the chill that was just creeping in. You noticed he’d changed his clothes and smiled to yourself about it. “Hey!” you said brightly “Just give me one moment to put on some shoes, c’mon in.” you left to find a well-loved pair of baby blue and cream vans, pulling them on and tying the laces. You could see Eddie shuffling in the doorway and grinned at him. “will I be cold?” you asked him.

“You? Always. but, yeah, it’s gonna get a little chilly. I could always lend you my coat if you got cold though.” Eddie added on that last bit a little quieter. You were already in your favorite sweatshirt and Eddie ran hot anyway so you decided to take him up on his offer “you wouldn’t mind?” you checked, grabbing your keys. Eddie grunted an affirmative, and you trusted him to know his own mind so you motioned for him to lead the way.

Eddie walked a little ahead of you, which seemed odd until he stopped by your car door first to open it for you. You smiled and thanked him, sliding into the still-warm interior. Eddie kept his car neat (well, aside from the different papers and writings), just another thing you loved about him. Eddie got in too and y’all were on your way. 

outside it was getting dark, but the sky was still a cobalt blue and there was plenty of light to see by. Soon you pulled into a parking space outside the carnival, which was glowing against the dark blue sky like a magical forest of light. Your eyes were huge with wonder and you couldn’t stop the smile taking over your face,

Eddie knew he’d made the right choice asking you here. You experienced each new joy like you might die from its intensity. He loved you. He loved you and tonight he was going to tell you.

Eddie got out of the car, quickly coming around to your side and helping you out. You felt the brisk air on your skin and grinned even brighter. You could see your breath coming out in white wisps. You grabbed Eddie’s arm and pulled him towards the glowing entrance, him pretending to resist only so you would hook your arm fully in his and pull harder. He chuckled, following you happily.

When you got to the ticket booth, Eddie got both your tickets and handed you the classically shaped stub. You tucked it in your pocket–you always held on to sentimental little tidbits, especially with Eddie.

When you got inside the gate it was a wonderland of color and lights and smells. There was the heady smell of frying foods and a grassy smell like summer. There was a hum of happy chatter and music that would be creepy in a horror movie. You were torn on what to look at from the brightly colored tents to the glowing signs and rides. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way your face glowed in the multicolor lights. Eddie was just asking you where to start when your stomach grumbled loudly. You giggled and Eddie chuckled. He let you pick what booth to get food from then shooed you away to find a picnic table. A few minutes later Eddie waltzed up, arms laden with frito pies and funnel cake. They were delicious and warm, and you couldn’t help the moan you let out at the first satisfying mouthful. You noticed Eddies ears turning pink and gave him the benefit of the doubt that it was because of the chill. 

You knew Eddie and you had chemistry. You’d known it since you first met. But he’d never made a move to be more than friends, so you just enjoyed the moment. When you finished eating, you grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him to the games booths. You weren’t the best shot, but you managed to win a sparkly pink bracelet, which Eddie immediately put on when you gifted it to him. Eddie was much better with hand-eye coordination and even managed to win a respectably sized stuffed bumblebee, which handed to you with a blush. Your squeal of glee wiped away any momentary embarrassment he felt.

You linked hands again as you strolled through the carnival, giggling at the performances and gasping when a fire-eater blew a stream of flame over the crowd’s head. As soon as you passed him though you noticed how cold it had gotten, even with Eddie’s warmth at your side. Before you could even say anything, Eddie was shrugging out of his thick leather jacket draping it over your shoulders. “what?” he said defensively “I was getting too warm anyway.” You pulled his jacket around you tighter and hummed in satisfaction with the warmth. You let Eddie pull you close to him, pretending he was pulling you out of the way of a juggler, but you noticed he kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders even after you’d passed.

“How about that next?” he asked, bending to talk in your ear. You shivered and saw him pointing to the glowing ferris wheel. You nodded, letting your glee light up your face and giving the bumblebee an extra squeeze. Eddie grinned and steered you towards the huge wheel, pulling you closer to his side. 

The line was surprisingly short, so before too long Eddie handed over some tickets to the ride operator, mumbling something to him, and y’all took a seat in the swinging cart. The bench fit but didn’t leave any wiggle room, so you ended up plastered to Eddie, who once again wrapped an arm around you. 

By now the sun had set so the lights of the city glowed bright in the darkness. From the top of the wheel it looked like you and Eddie were floating in space with stars all around. “Eddie...I feel, so full. it’s almost too much, it’s so beautiful I feel like I might burst!” you looked over and saw that Eddie wasn’t looking at the view around you, he was staring at...you.

“iloveyou” his low voice came out in a rush, followed by a very dark blush, but he never broke eye contact. And that’s when you started crying. At first he looked horrified, but you squeezed his hand. 

“I love you too, I have since I met you.” You whispered, not trusting your voice. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and the hand that had been draped over your arm moved to the back of your head, slipping through your hair to pull you into the best kiss you’d ever had. His lips were soft, contrasted by his rough stubble. You couldn’t help a small moan from escaping, but judging by his responding moan, Eddie didn’t seem to mind. You melted into the kiss, losing sense of everything else around you.

When you pulled back, all you could see was Eddie’s blue-green eyes glowing from the lights below, and you noticed that the corners of his eyes were just a little wet with tears. “hi” you whispered, “hi you” he whispered back. You felt so perfectly happy. You both knew this was where you would end up, from the first second you met. 

“haven’t we been at the top of this for a while? I’m not complaining but...” you asked, a little confused

“oh, yeah, I tipped the operator to give us a bit of extra alone time.” Eddie says with a wink.

You giggle, snuggling closer in to his side, just enjoying this feeling. 

[lluvguts]

Picnic that is accidentally rained on// Stan & Bill

Please&thankyou 💕

certainly! ❤❤ hope you like it

---

note: they're aged up! 17!

Stanley surveyed the picturesque scene with more scrutiny than Bill had hoped for. The perfect spot for a picnic--one of the few grassy areas in Derry, untouched by the wet season--with the perfect setup: ratty old blanket Bill found in their attic, a few paperbacks he knew were Stan's favorite reads, lemon tea, pastries Bill had his mother prepare in plastic wrap so they wouldn't crumble. Even the goddamn placement of the assorted foods and drink were perfect, but Bill couldn't help but feel a certain something was missing. Bill's truck was only a few feet away, that had to be it. The eyesore. Or was it the lack of songbirds, to flit about their cliché little picnic? An orchestra in the background?

He turned to Stan, who ended his cursory stare with a warm smile that melted Bill to a pool of butter. It made the anxiety that tapped its quick fingers along his ribcage quiet down, too. It was something Bill had grown to love about him: Stanley knew just when to say the right thing, when to grin, when to kiss his lips so he'd stop stuttering.

"I k-k-know," Bill started, but stopped sentence at the warning signs of a stutter. No. It would not ruin this date, not today. Bill was certain of it. He had worked so hard on ending his evil stutter, he scheduled extra speech therapy sessions, even repeated the tried and true phrases that he knew would help until he heard them in his sleep.

Stanley looked at the grass before stepping closer to Bill, grabbing his hand. If he was to say something, it ended when Bill opened his mouth again to speak, his words coming out true and clear. More confident than perhaps he'd heard their whole childhood.

Bill shut his eyes to focus and spoke softer, gentler. "I know it's not much, but I t-thought it would be something you'd like."

Stanley gripped Bill's hand, glancing away briefly at his own embarrassed blush.

"This isn't one of your artfully worded scenes in your novel, is it Bill?" Stan asked while wiping his free hand across his hot cheeks.

Bill's heart resumed its excited drumbeat as he eased the two of them down onto Grandma Denbrough's patched quilt. Once Stan was comfortable Bill handed him one of the chipped cups and the thermos of tea. "Of c-course not. All Original Bill, just for y-you," He replied.

Stan snorted. "You're kinda sounding like Richie."

"Oh really, the T-Trashmouth, huh? 'hey Eds, let me call you names and pretend I'm not flirting with you. I've been in love with you since middle school but I'm too chicken to show it! My Own Get Off On a Good One! Yowza-YOWZA!' Oh oh, and something about E-Eddie's mom." Bill didn't stutter at any of Richie's parts, much to Stanley's liking, as he was in a laughing fit at Bill's gangly arms that swung across his sides and the imaginary glasses he adjusted on his nose.

"That was a pretty good impression. Maybe you do Voices better than he does," Stanley said on the end of his giggling, finally reaching out to unwrap a berry tart. Bill saw him eyeing it, but was too shy to take it first.

"These aren't half bad. I didn't know you could cook." Stan said around the bite in his mouth.

"George helped me make them. He a-added the sugar on top." Bill smiled to himself then looked out to the horizon, where a league of darkening clouds appeared, but to him seemed miles away from their picnic. Nothing was going to ruin their date.

"Books, too?" Stanley asked with feigned horror, placing a hand across his chest. He scooted closer to Bill and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You outdid yourself, Bill Denbrough."

Bill picked up one, the closest of the newly purchased paperbacks. "I c-can try to read to you."

"Okay, but that one might be a bit difficult," Stan said with a nervous glance at the cover. "And not because of the, uh, stutter. You're just gonna think it's dead boring."

"I'm sure I won't. Here, s-see?" Bill used one hand to pull Stan's side closer, and with the other he flipped the book to its front page. The other boy leaned in to see the words for himself as Bill peered at the lengthy first sentence. He wasn't sure why Stan liked this book, maybe it was just the love for reading he picked up from Mike.

Bill opened his mouth to read aloud, hoping the words would sound as perfect in his head as they did on the paper when a fat droplet of water splattered onto the page, soaking the ink in a dime-sized bullet. Bill looked up with surprise at the water falling around them, then back to the book, which was collecting more pellets of rain.

Oh, right. That was the problem. The weather forecast.

He tried not to look too upset as they packed their picnic up into Bill's backpack, the rain steadily growing. Stanley only laughed at the water, and ran a hand through his curly hair that was soon drenched in rain. Once they half-ran, mostly laughed, back to Bill's truck, he spoke up.

"Y-You're not m-m-mad about the rain, a-a-are you?" Bill was in the driver's side, and deposited their things in the back seat while Stanley found a spare blanket tucked under one of the seats before climbing in next to Bill in the driver's seat with it wrapped around his rain-covered shoulders. In some ways Bill was grateful Stan wasn't like Eddie, who at the first sight of storm clouds would go weak at the knees and rush home for his boots and three unnecessary coats. He lived, just a little.

Stan saved a few of the pastries before Bill zipped up his backpack. "Of course not. Why would I be mad? We can have our picnic in here, Bill...but after we warm up a bit first."

His heart was racing, and the anxiety made his words come out choppy and jumbled and anything but perfect. "I was w-w-worried you'd think the d-date was gonna suck n-now, but I'm su-su-sure we can s-s-stay in here till the weather c-c-calms down. Unless y-y-you want me tu-tu-to take you h-h-h-"

"Hey, it's alright." Stan took his hand again, and looked into his wary eyes. He smiled, reminding Bill to breathe. "You don't have to say anything, I'm happy right where I am."

Bill blushed as Stan set the food on the passenger's seat and slipped comfortably into Bill's lap, finding his favorite cuddle position: his legs carefully placed on either side of Bill, hands clasped against his chest, his mess of curls inches from Bill's nose as he nestled in. Bill slid his hands under the blanket to sit snug across Stanley's waist, and the other boy sighed.

"It's so peaceful with the rain."

He was right. The clouds ahead filled the sky in an off-white, everything that much brighter with the blank overhead canvas. Making the soft patter of rainfall against the windowpanes the perfect sound when the boy cuddled close in his lap was heating up his entire body with the warm puffs of air across his exposed neck as he breathed.

"Stan?" Bill whispered.

"Hmm?"

He bent down to murmur in Stanley's cold ear. "Maybe I-I'll add this to one of my b-b-books."

Stanley affectionately thwacked Bill's upper chest, and even if he was flustered he still put his lips to Bill's shirt collar, kissing his skin. Bill tensed, a little flustered himself. They weren't quite at the annoying, honeymoon stage of their relationship, as both Stan and Bill promised they'd never be the stereotypical high school sweethearts. And they definitely were not as lovey dovey as Ben and Beverly were--or for that matter, Richie and Eddie. Good lord, were those two joined at the hip. Hugging in public, practically drooling over each other, always finding a spare moment to make out. Bill wasn't fond of that, thank you very much. It was the tender moments together, without the spying eyes of the other Losers he cherished most.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Billy," Stanley said between another tentative kiss, his pink nose brushing Bill's neck.

Forget the Disney-worthy scene outside minutes before. Bill loved this. He loved hearing, feeling the rhythm of Stan's heartbeat, and the rain that tried its best to copy it. It didn't have to be perfect. But it was with Stan and that was really all that mattered to him.

[alecxaheart]

Wish I Were | Kim Seungmin Oneshot

✎ Genre : High School Student AU, Angst, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Kim Seungmin X Reader (?)

✎ Word Count : 1.1k words

✎ Synopsis : Winter has already passed, yet Seungmin is getting colder and colder as time flies by.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . Another angsty oneshot but a song inspired one. It's been a while since I wrote a very short oneshot. Btw, the whole oneshot is in Seungmin's Point of View. Enjoy my loves, mwah. <3

Kim Seungmin.

Save the date, 3rd of December. Where in the middle of a snowfall, sunshine appeared out of the blue. The time I was saved from the inner demons haunting me, from the bothering cold of winter. The time I never thought would come to the point that I lost care for myself.

With a small yet simple gesture, I was saved. She came just in time and the best part of her rescue was probably her giving me her soft light-tinted blue sweater. " It looks better on you than it did on me, Seungminnie, " She giggled as we sat in front of her fireplace, my cup of coffee laid unfinished on the table. Her arms around my waist while I lay my head down on her shoulder. All the warmth I received on that day was completely comfortable. From the fireplace, the hot coffee she offered, her sweater and her care and love. I couldn't ask for more than that to feel enough.

With a small yet simple gesture, I couldn't help but fall.

Fall.. In Love?

Just another new start allotted for this school year happened on this very day. Months had already passed ever since me and Yuri met. Right now, it's just me and her having a wonderful conversation. Her beautiful smile appeared once in a while with a small chuckle as we continued to just pass some time before class started.

" No way, this happened when you hit the baseball with your bat? You're that strong? " Her eyes twinkled as I showed her the picture my friend, Bang Chan, posted on Instagram. I responded with a nod and a hum, smiling.

" It looks like teeth marks at first glance, " Both of us giggled in unison while I tucked my phone back in my pockets. " But hey, that's really an impressive strength. You'll be in my speed dial in case I want you to kick some asses for me. "

Then there was a short silent pause in the area as the main doors opened. I took a glance towards it to figure out what caused such distraction from multiple individuals. And I must say or rather I could tell it already, he's definitely gonna be the elephant in the room.

His face defines ethereal, perfectly sculpted by the Gods to the point that they placed a star beneath his eye. He was indeed shining, everyone blinded by his beauty.

What broke my heart was when I took a glance back at you, you were one of them. I saw your eyes sparkling, filled with adoration towards the newcomer. You couldn't look away, trapped into his spell as he walked towards us. He caught your attention and you couldn't help but fawn over him more. What a sight for sore eyes.

I slowly distanced myself away when he was now onto you, both of you sharing smiles brighter than the blue sky and exchanging a few words. You're too lost in his eyes to notice my presence vanishing from your area, too lost in love while I'm starting to lose love itself. You never looked at me the same way as you did to him.

With one last glance, I witnessed how you got him so mesmerized before I die.

Or Fall.. Apart?

Back in place, like it was the start of winter once again. The time I was emotionally and mentally going downhill. But the difference is that it's far from almost winter, the sun shines too bright these days and I hate it.

Messages

💟 : Hey, can't meet you up today

💟 : I promised Hyunjin I would go with him, sorry

It's okay. : KSM

Go and have fun with your man. :) : KSM

Read – 5:03PM

Closing the door, I leaned my head back on it before silently letting my body fall onto the ground with the phone in hand, the picture of the two of us showing in the lock screen. I knew that behind me, behind this door stood Hyunjin and you having the greatest time of your lives. Exchanging words, smiles, and laughter with one another.

The scene I saw a few moments ago played. I walked into the rooftop, supposedly to be looking for you – which I did but never thought of it to be something like this. I watched you two there standing before the golden sun setting in the horizon then he held your hand. You, too, gave one of your sweaters to him. Putting his arms around your shoulder afterwards when you two took a seat on the ground, your head resting on his chest as you both took in the scenery.

I wanted to hate him so much, for he took away my chances of even having the confidence to confront you and confess my feelings towards you, ruining all of my plans to have the greatest life I've ever had in my grasp. Although as much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to do so. Hyunjin-hyung never treated you or anyone else badly, being the angel that he is. He's also true to his feelings, I overheard it from a conversation he had with Minho that he likes you, the same way you like him. However, I did prefer him not existing at all – thinking that maybe it would go the way I wanted it to be if he was never there.

In the end, I'll only get colder and colder to the point that my heart will freeze, slowly distancing myself away from you. While you're looking beyond exquisite than ever with a smile brighter than the sun, twinkling stars adorning your eyes and the pinkness of your cheeks – all of it was because of Hwang Hyunjin. Just for the sake of your eternal happiness, I have to disenthrall you.

Laying down alone on the bed, in the middle of my gloomy bedroom, drowning in my own pool of thoughts. Wearing the light-tinted blue sweater to feel the warmth back in the 3rd of December that I always loved, but I knew it would never be the same as before. Today, she wouldn't be able to save me. This would've been the aftermath back then.

Eyes red plus the visible dark bags underneath it came all from excessive crying and insomnia. Body tired like hell. Lost my appetite. Pale skin and dry lips. Too many emotions mixed up in my heavy chest. My mind screaming and yelling in agony yet none of it was heard since I lost my own voice as well. All in all, I feel like shit.

Beside me laid my journal, the messed up pages filled with black ink shown. The words " Wish I Were Hyunjin " were mindlessly written on the pages, repeatedly scattered.

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave him your sweater

It's just polyester

But you like him better

Wish I were...

Breaking the silence, a knock on the wooden door was heard out of the blue.

End.

[svtshine]

Tattooed in my heart

Pairing: Minghao x reader

genre: Soulmate!au, Fluff

type: oneshot, imagine

ability: Soulmates that share the same tattoo, which is located on a random part of your body. It glows when you’re going to meet your soulmate

extra: i’m not actually sure if minghao has this tattoo or if it was edited. Feel free to tell me if you know :’). But it’s still really gorgeous and beautiful, inspired me to write this

You were five when first felt the hot searing pain on your wrist. It shocked you and you immediately found your parents, tears running down your face at how painful the feeling was. After a while, a beautiful 8 figure formed on your wrist like an infinity sign, it was gorgeous you first thought, slightly sniffing after enduring the pain for an hour.

Your parents showed you their tattoo, and explained how soulmates worked. Everyone is born with someone they were destined to meet, to love and to spend their whole life with. There were different ways one would be able to find their soulmate. Matching tattoos, being able to feel their pain for example.

It seems that you, alike your parents, had matching tattoos with your soulmate. You stared in wonder of the beautiful figure and wonder what it meant

It was around the age of twelve when you learnt the true meaning of your tattoo. The infinity 8 symbol represent everlasting love and good fortune. Infinite energy, infinite love and endless abundance. You loved the tattoo at first sight, and now understanding the deep meaning that it symbolises made you love it more. You couldn’t wait to find your soulmate, you believed that whoever he was, was someone who would love and appreciate for infinity and beyond.

It was a nice evening, as you made your way to the restaurant you were working at for your night shift. You sighed as it was going to be a long night, but the beautiful colours that painted the sky made you wanna smile.

It was sunset, the hues of orange, yellow and pink mixed together and formed a majestic sight to behold. The wind also complimented the scenery and you stopped for a moment to admire it.

You knew it was hard to be alone, but the thought that one day, you were going to meet the one, that would protect you, love you and take care of you, regardless of any situation. Someone you could pay all of your attention towards and wake up every morning to make them breakfast, was worth every second. You hoped, somewhere out there, your soulmate could watch the very same scenery that you experienced.

You turned your attention from the array of colours as you felt a sting on the inside of your wrist. Your tattoo was glowing slightly and you scrunched your eyes brows in confusion as this has never happened before. However, the alarm on your phone set off, reminding you that your shift was going to start soon. You took one last look at the sky and rushed down the street

Your tattoo glowing brighter with every step

“Minghao, let’s go. coups hyung said we’re all gonna go get some late dinner” Hoshi said as Minghao looked away from the mirror in the practice room and replied with an ‘okay’

He stared back into the mirror for a while, noticing how his tattoo on his back, was emitting a small glow.

“hyung, am i thinking too much? why is my tattoo glowing” Minghao asked frustrated because this was the first time his tattoo had ever done that he didn’t know why it was doing it.

Hoshi came over to check and sure enough it was really glowing, “i don’t know man, but i’m sure it’s fine” hoshi patted Minghao’s back. Minghao packed up his stuff, “we’ll just ask the rest later” hoshi said waiting at the door. Minghao nodded and took one last look at his tattoo that he has grown to be fond of.

He loved the number 8, in fact his stage name was chosen after his tattoo. Coming from a chinese family, Minghao loved the chinese meaning of the figure 8 and what it stands for. Loving it more since it became his tattoo.

He was aware about soulmates, and he longed to meet his destined soon enough. In seventeen only woozi hyung has found his soulmate, and only accidentally. She is very kind and bright, always bringing refreshments for the boys whenever they finished practice. But the one thing that minghao envied about them, was the way they looked at each other. Woozi hyung and his soulmate that it. They always looked at each other, eyes filled with adoration and pure love.

Minghao wanted that, to look at someone and just smile by them laughing or doing something random. To spoil someone and to love that person with his whole being. He couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate and always wondered how it would be like, the first time meeting them.

His tattoo glowed brighter with every thought that passed his mind.

It was a slow night, as you sat on the counter and doodled on a note pad, the design of your tattoo. It was close to ten now and most of the families and couples have already left. There were only a few customers left in the restaurant.

You continued sketching your tattoo and hummed a soft melody to yourself. You looked up to check the time and got lost staring at the second hand ticking.

The sound of the doorbell jiggling pulled you away from your thoughts and you double checked the time, it wasn’t very often customers came in at this timing.

“Welcome, how many of you are there—“

Your eyes slightly widened at the sight of 13 young men that were all way taller than you, pooling into the restaurant. It was a large group and they were all wearing masks or hats almost to cover up their identity.

“Hi, can we have a table for 13?” The one infront spoked politely. His deep voice shocked you but the way he spoke with a warm tone made you less tense.

You flashed them a smile and took 8 menus in hand and guiding them to a table at the back. “Of course, we can only give you this table, it’s the biggest and there’s more space here”

The boys started choosing their seats and flipped through the menu. You took out your notebook and pencil, preparing to write down a very large order.

Minghao continued to stare at you as you focused on what Josh hyung wanted to order. He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as you took in their whole group but he found it cute.

Even Mingyu whispered to him, “hey she’s pretty don’t you think?”

When you directed them towards the table at the back, he found your voice super satisfying, there was just something about you. That made him want to know you more.

When you finally reached him, since he was sitting at the end of the table. Your whole page was already filled with orders but you continued asking, “what would you like, sir?” looking at Minghao for the first time

He’s handsome.

The way his hair was styled, and how great he looked in his outfit even thought it was coming to midnight and you probably looked like shit compared to him. For a moment you just stared at his lips moving, it was like moving in slow motion and you couldn’t help but focus on them instead of his orders.

Minghao realised you were staring at him and he blushed slightly, praying that under the dim light you won’t be able to notice it. He waved a hand u tik you shook your head slightly and apologised to him before biting your lip.

Oh god that was so freaking sexy—, stop Minghao

You broke away from your thoughts and blushed, apologising to the handsome one infront of you.

“i’m so s-sorry, could you repeat yourself?” you stuttered.

The rest of the boys resumed conversing within one another so only Minghao attention was on you.

“it’s really fine, i’ll get fried noodles and hot tea please.” He looked at your badge, “Y/n”

You nodded, writing it down and announced that you were going to come back with the food.

Minghao’s eyes continued following you as you prepared the plates and interacted with the chef while preparing to serve them their dishes. You just seemed, perfect. he could almost see you glowing under the lights. Minghao didn’t understand why he was so attracted to you.

You served their drinks before going back and getting the dishes. You folded up your sleeves since you didn’t want to accidentally stain it, forgetting your tattoo for a second.

Minghao noticed there was a tattoo on your wrist, but under the lights he wasn’t too sure of the design. He also realised that you were able to memorise all their orders without even needing to ask them twice and found that super cool.

As you walked towards him with two plates of steaming food and placing the fried noodle dish infront of Minghao, that was when he realised he was staring at the same tattoo that he had on his back.

For a moment, he was still taking in the fact that he’s actually seeing his tattoo somewhere else that wasn’t his back. His eyes widened in disbelief and shock.

Minghao instinctively grabbed your wrist after you let go of his plate and looked up at you. Your eyes were as big as his, “T-this tattoo, i have the same one. O-on my back. Oh my god, i found you” he stood up and hugged you tightly.

You processed the information and proceeded to hug him back as tightly as the members cheered you on, some already knew as they recognised tour tattoo but didn’t want to spoil it for Minghao.

Minghao wrapped his arms around you and pulled away, brushing the stray hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“I think this is why i was so attracted to you ever since you entered but, i’m really going to need proof” You whispered shyly as you stared at the man infront of you, who you hoped deeply that really was your soulmate.

“y-yeah of course, do you have a staff room or something here? with more privacy?” Minghao questioned, still smiling and in a daze as he stared at you.

You looked at your manager, and judging by the noise and hoots from your soulmate’s group, he understood you guys needed some privacy and even gave you a thumbs up as you led Minghao to the locker room at the back that was only for staff members.

Minghao closed the door behind him and turned behind from your gaze. He took off his shirt and let you stare at the tattoo on his back.

he heard you gasp in shock as you left gentle traces on his back, following the lines of the tattoo.

“it really is you. I-i can’t believe it, i’ve been wishing for this day ever since i was a kid, oh god i even thought about meeting you just a few hours ago” You said quickly, voice clearly showing you were nervous and exciting about finally finding your soulmate. “what’s your name soulmate?” you asked

“Minghao, love” minghao said, wearing back his shirt and turning around to face you. He lifted his hands and his eyes silently asked if he could wrap them around your hips. You nodded and he instantly pulled you closer to him, admiring you.

“i’ve been dying to meet you too, Y/n. and can i say, you’re gorgeous, i’m so lucky you’re my destined” You loved the way your name rolled off his tongue and blushed as he complimented you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Minghao, you’re really handsome too. I can’t wait to get to know you, and i’m really grateful you’re my soulmate”

Minghao smiled at you and leaned in closer, hesitating as he was scared that you weren’t comfortable with it. After you nodded in approval, he softly placed his lips against yours.

it was, magical. A soft moan escaped you as Minghao’s hands came up to sneak around your waist and your hand pulled on his hair ever so slightly. His lips never stopped moving against yours. The two of you pulled away for air.

Minghao laid his forehead on yours, and the both of you smiled at each other. the same thought crossed your minds.

“thank you, for letting me have this blessing as mine”

and your tattoos, glowed brighter than it ever did before

Masterlist

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmates AU- Part 1

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

Marinettes knees were bruised. Again! She was so so careful not to ruin her new summerdress on the way to Ninos 9th birthday-party and now her knees were all red and scratchy. “Not todayy”, the little girl whined while searching for some kind of medicine in her small pink backpack, hoping to ease the pain for her as well as the cause of her suffering: her soulmate, who seemed to have an eagerness to ALWAYS fall on their knees. A few moments and a frustrated huff later, Mari found herself punching her arm for some kind of payback and wincing right after. Why couldn’t she just have a harmless soulmate-bond? Why couldn’t she just dream of them like Nino did or have a tattoo like Chloe? Why was her bond forged through literal PAIN? 

Rounding the corner, little Mari found herself in a field full of green and blue balloons with loads of boys and a few chosen girls surrounding a happy Nino. The boy was currently bouncing like a basketball and grinning from ear to ear, while sneaking longing glances to a table full of presents, as well as various treats from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Speaking of the Dupain-Chengs, their daughter was spotted by her best friend as she was about to put her present next to the others, which lead to him running to greet her and pulling the girl into a bonecrushing hug. Therefore Mari was left patting Ninos’ back and trying to catch a breath. “You made it! I saw your treats and I know you answered my invitation but I was still worried, this party wouldn’t be the same without you!”, he blubbered in all of his bubbly grace while trying to lift her, even though he wasn’t quite strong enough to succeed yet (which didn’t mean he wouldn’t try again tomorrow, he was now older and stronger than her, after all). 

Mari wriggled her way out of his arms, happy to catch a breath and giggling. A blush was gracing her face, leading to Nino blushing happily in return. “Of course I made it! I didn’t spend all week making you a present for nothing!”, she smiled as Ninos ears grew hot, “You spent a-all week making a present? F-for me?”, he stuttered with a big dopey grin splitting his face. Marinette nodded, another soft giggle escaping her mouth. All the guests were now watching them, holding their breaths. She handed him the pretty red box. Nino sat down on the grass right there in front of her and opened it, hands shaking with eagerness and breath held in anticipation. Mari sat across from him, covering her eyes with her hands, afraid of his judgement. This was her first time gifting someone one of her sewing-projects, after all. 

His delighted gasp led to her parting her fingers slightly, only now noticing all the tiny cuts covering them, no doubt the price she had to pay for still being clumsy at sewing (”even though I have been doing it for a year now, I should be better than that”, she mentally scolded herself). Her thoughts were interrupted by a round of gasps coming from the tiny audience surrounding the best-friends-duo. Marinette focused back on Nino and dropped her hands to her mouth, squeaking in delight. The boy in front of her put on the basecap she made him and was grinning even wider, which she, until then, wasn’t even sure were possible. He hugged her, in a much gentler embrace then the previous time. His fingers were soft, not covered in cuts and red spots, as he pulled away and took her hands in his, not caring about the giggles and ew-s from their audience, nor the blush creeping up Maris’ cheeks. “I love it...so much”, what he meant, though, was “I wish you were my soulmate”.

And Mari couldn’t agree more.

-----------------------------------------------

It was dark, a coffee mug was standing amongst an army of already finished ones and a droopy eyed girl was sitting in front of them, lazily turning a page on the book her english-teacher assigned her to read. She recognized the storyline, knew all the plot-twists and felt connected to the characters as if she’d been there herself. The strange thing about that though, was that she has never laid eyes on it before. Of course that didn’t stop her from reading it. There were assignments she had to fullfill and tests she had to ace, which were connected to that piece of literature and she couldn’t risk getting a bad grade due to a foolish reliance on her instincts. 

Instincs.

Yes that is what they are and of course none of this is connected to her soulmate. 

It couldn’t be, she couldn’t dare dream of it. They died, that’s what that numbness she felt for over six months must have meant. That’s why those scars were now gracing her whole body. Her soulmate could not have survived this. No mortal being could go through so much and still be breathing. 

The new bruises and cuts she was getting now and then? Her Ladybug suit can’t protect her from everything, being thrown over the Saine so may times couldn’t have left her with no traces whatsoever. Yes, that’s the reason. He’s not resurrected, that’s silly...there’s no way.

---------------------------------------------

“What happened to your lips, milady?”, Ladybugs partner purred as they layed on a roof not far from the eiffel tower, watching the stars, having just finished patrol a few minutes ago. “M-my lips?”, the 16 year old girl stuttered, a tiny voice immediatly occupying her, previously calm, mind with thoughts of her soulmate. They have been acting up lately, not that it was possible. They were gone. 

There’s no way, she must have been hallucinating again. She must have forgotten how she hurt her lip, she must be feeling side-effects from the loss of her soulmate. Her thoughts were spiralling and that tiny voice in her mind was whispering, filling her denial with doubts and cracks and making her heart beat faster. 

“Your lips, they look... different...”, Chat Noirs voice interrupted the turmoil in her head. Ladybug gazed over to him, only to find him closer to her then when they first layed down. His eyes were glistening, seemingly shining even brighter than the Eiffel Tower in it’s nightly glory. A foreign sensation ran through her veins, a weird tingling covering her whole body. It could have been mistaken for goosebumps, if it weren’t for the warm summernight they were currently enjoying. “They do..?” she said, though it came out as nothing more than a whisper, for he was already so so close, even closer than when they are in battle. Their noses were almost touching, his eyes took up all of her view and for once she wouldn’t dare complain. Since when does she like that proximity? Why is his warmth so intriguing? Why does she enjoy the way his arms found their place on both sides of her body? “They look so...red...like your suit...Ladybug re-”, he got interrupted by his lips sealed shut. Shut not with that redness he mentioned, not with that love or attraction and reciprocated admiration Adrien was hoping for. No, it was her red suited hand which covered his mouth to silent him. She felt it before she heard it. An earthquake was rummaging through the streets and handling it was much more important than handling that purring in her best friend.

-------------------------------------------------

Jason was annoyed. His fingers were full of cuts: sure, he was used to that. His hips were bruised from his soulmate constantly closing doors and cupboards with them, at least that’s what he thinks they do to cause such silly bruises: no problem, he didn’t mind dealing with that. His backpains he could deminguish by working out, though he has been thinking of finding them just to tell his significant other to better their fucking posture. But the tiredness? Holy fuck! It’s like he’s sleeping for both of them! Whenever he sat down to read he just... collapsed. Guess he’ll have to dream about it... yeah sure it’s fair, ‘cause after all she treated his wounds for both of them, too. It’s like she had some kind of superpower which made them heal clean, never leaving more than a white line behind. Nontheless, right then he would rather have ugly scars than have to deal with this inhuman tiredness. His grumpy grumbling was interrupted by Red Robin speaking up in his ear.

“Hood where are you? The portal is about to appear, we won’t be able to wait.”

“I’m on my way, give me 2 more minutes.”

“Hurry.”

With that, the line went silent and his mind went back to coordinating his grappling hook and limbs into getting him to the batcave in time. He had planned on finishing at least one of Terry Pratchets and Neil Gaimans novels in preparation for the moviemarathon he and his brothers had planned for the upcoming week. “Good Omens” is a masterpiece but he refused to watch any visualizers nor read the book if he hadn’t read all of the previous works the authors had published. “It’s not just about the continuation, it’s a matter of respect.”, he rememberd telling Stephanie, when she asked him why Alfred was handing him a box filled with a combined number of about a hundred books. He had work to do and reality to escape, but that last part was none of his lovely sisters business. 

Zoning back into reality he noticed he had already reached his destination. “Focus Jason. There’s a whole city just waiting to be pulled out of the ashes.” With that thought in mind, he entered the batcave and went straight for the portal, following his siblings into the destroyed city of love.

----------------------

Adrien was on edge. The fight has been going on for four days, the city was nothing but blood and ashes, the akuma-shelters weren’t enough to protect every citizien who has lost their home to the earthquakes and following akuma attacks. Many people have died, many have volunteered and too many of those have died in the process. It was traumatic, painful and quite honestly felt like the end of the world. They could fix it, of course. But to do so she had to survive and Adrien, or Chat Noir as you will, was not about to leave her unprotected. He didn’t know where she got her power from, why she could go on without taking a break for so long. He has lost count on how many times he saw her helping someone who was about to be crushed by a collapsing building, how many times she was screaming in frustration, torn between following the akuma and guiding a lost civilian to safety. 

It was an incredibly sneaky akuma. It was nearly translucent, consisting mostly of dirt and dust. It could hide in the mess it made, attack you from behind and you wouldn’t be sure whether it was a flying brick or it’s fist hitting your head. It hasn’t officialy announced itself yet, hasn’t given itself a name or shown any forms of weakness. Hawkmoth was definetly trying out a new approach and highly succeeding. The Dustmonster was probably planning on wearing them out until they wouldn’t be strong enough to resist it going for their miraculous.

In the beginning Chat felt like he could trust his Lady to take care of herself, trusted for her to keep the target in mind and think of a plan while he was going to protect her and the citizens around them. It worked, at first. She figured out what the akuma was, aka figured out that it was an akuma in the first place and soon started giving out orders to police and firemen. After a day of trying to get the akuma, in order to stop it before things could go out of hand and failing to do so, no matter which strategy the heroes tried and no matter how many seemingly random Lucky Charms they used, they decided to replan. 

They met on a building not far away from Marinettes home, Chat remembered. They were hoping to come up with a new plan and let Ladybugs Kwami recharge. The recharging was an already practiced routine they came up with, once her fifth Lucky Charm has also failed. They jumped into the water, which was apparently off limits to the akuma, since the dust didn’t settle properly and it wasn’t able to hide (any attempts of getting it wet were blocked by the destruction of another building, which led to the heroes saving the civilans and themselves instead of attacking the enemy.) One of Ladybugs Lucky-Charms straight up covered the Saine, turned up side down boats now gracing the surface. Those boats mobilised possible hiding and resting places for the heroes. 

That time though, they needed more food for Tikki and Plagg and what better place to restock could there be, than the famous Dupain-Cheng bakery?  Ladybug swung in and came back with two baskets. One full of cheese and the other full of cookies. Chat grabbed the smelly one and turned to jump in the direction of the river, when they heard it. 

A grumbling which turned into a roaring and finally morphed into deafening laughter. That was the first time they heard the akumas voice. Instead of shouting the following words, the way it did scream in laughter, it just spoke in an even, eerie and scarily confident voice: “You should stop asking for help, insect. Helping others only leads to you getting hurt. Help won’t save you. Your precious little safety-nets won’t save you.”, the sound was coming out of the dust, echoing off of every destructed creation, seeping into each broken bone and every fractured mind. “You think you can reach out? Think someone is going to pull you away from under the pressure of this worlds eternal suffering? You are wrong. No one came to save me, no one is capable of saving. You.”, the last word came out emotional. The monotone voice the akuma had previously used to preach it’s intents was gone. A shiver ran up Marinettes spine. The dust surrounding the city build up and rose in columns, coming out of every broken source from all over Paris, towering over it, looming dangerously over it’s citizens. Everyone was trying to decipher the meaning of those words, Adrien was the first one to realise. 

“Marinette!”

Ladybug first looked at him in shock, thinking he had figured her out, then she realised what he he had actually meant. Chat was off, jumping on her balcony and screaming her name. 

“No...”

The silence before the storm, the frightening towers of dust and dirt started moving, accompanied by horrified screams of terrorised civilians. The dirt wasn’t meant for them, though. It flew as if it were one. Gigantic snakes with one single target. 

Marinette ran, but the destruction was quicker.

The Dupain-Cheng ceiling collapsed. Marinettes yo-yo missed it’s target as she plummeted to the ground. Her vision was blurry, her mind blank, eyes wide and  breath unconciously held. 

She didn’t recognize the pain as she hit the pavement. 

She didn’t even think as she called out for her seventh Lucky Charm. 

Ladybugs cry echoed through the ruins of Paris as her usualy leather-clad partner fell from the sky, with tears in his eyes and covered in a red and black spotted suit. “Sabine she’s...they’re...”, both of them broke down crying in each others arms. Adrien never knew how great his partners pain actually was, in comparison to his.

---------------------------------

Hi! This is my first try at writing MariBat and my first fanfic in like... 4 years? 

I’ve just recently graduated Highschool so I’m now embracing my free time and trying to get back on my creative track.  

Please comment, I NEED to know what you think of this. Critique and all that is very appreciated, even a simple “YES” is going to absolutely make my day and, honestly, you could comment about dogs and I’d be happy to read it. 

Thanks for reading ^^

[carrotmakar]

Arrangement

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k+ (I AM SO SORRY THAT IT’S SO LONG)

Summary: Tom gives you an offer you can’t refuse

Warning(s): It’s not edited, sorry.

A/N: This is my submission for the throwback writing challenge that @naturallytom is doing! I hope you enjoy!!

Add yourself to my taglist here 

Masterlist

How did I end up in this situation? You ask yourself as you stand arm in arm with the one and only Tom Holland. There were flashing lights all around you, temporarily blinding you. There was nothing that you could possibly focus on. Nothing at all, except for the way that he held you to keep you steady.

Oh, yeah, I’m crazy. You think as you begin to walk slightly farther down the red carpet in a dress that costs more than you make in an entire year at your job. But are you really crazy? Who in their right mind would turn down an offer like the one that he gave you? You couldn’t think of a single person, which made you feel slightly better about the situation.

*

It had started as a normal Saturday. 

Your alarm went off at seven a.m. sharp. Your eyes snapped open, slightly disturbed by the blaring noise. There were broken rays of sunlight flowing into your room, making everything way brighter than it needed to be. You groaned to yourself, dreading the day you had ahead. 

You groggily pulled yourself out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet a million times. You stumbled around your room, finding everything you needed to take a quick shower. Once you found all the necessities, you quickly went to the bathroom to clean yourself and try to get you looking presentable. You stepped out of the shower less than 15 minutes later, having washed your hair and your body in record time, while also remembering to shave since your uniform consisted of a short sleeve shirt and a skirt - since the weather had turned almost unbearably hot. 

Your brain wasn’t even fully functioning yet, you were just going through the motions, doing what you do every morning when you have to go into work for an early shift.

With a cup of freshly brewed coffee and your keys in hand, you rushed out the door. You didn’t want to be caught in traffic, knowing that it would set you back by at least 30 minutes, which would in turn make you late for work. Traffic always ruined perfectly good mornings, and you wanted today to be a good day. 

*

You got to the small, corner side cafe where you work almost twenty minutes before your shift was scheduled to start, so you sat down at a table and pulled out your laptop to get some writing done. You barely have any time to write, so when you did, you seized the opportunity. You had been working on the same piece for weeks, and you were beginning to lose hope in ever finishing it, so having this time to work on your piece made your day just that much better.

You had gotten almost four pages of the story done when your manager walked up in front of you, carrying herself like she was the best person in the world. Her face held her signature smirk, letting you know that the day was about to take a turn for the worse, at least until she left in a few hours.

“Time to clock in, y/n. Wouldn’t want to be late. You heard what the boss said if you’re late again.” You shut your laptop and put it away carefully in your bag. 

You are completely aware of what he said to you. If you’re late one more time, whether it be because of traffic or not, you’re fired. He doesn’t care if you live forever away and the traffic sucks, he even went so far as to suggest that you find a job closer to home.

After you clocked in and laid your computer in the back room, you went to the schedule to see where they had you working for the day. You were assigned to man the cashier, which you normally wouldn’t complain about, but there were barely any customers. Within the first four hours that you were on the clock, maybe ten customers walked in and ordered something. And the last five were together. There were barely any orders, which meant that you spent the majority of your time at work wiping things down, making sure that everything was spotless, until a customer came in.

It’s going to be a really uneventful day, You thought to yourself. Days like these always were. They were the kinds of days that wore you down and made you feel even more tired after a shift than if you had been running around all day

Little did you know, this was not going to be one of those days.

Less than an hour before close, a man walked in. At first, you paid absolutely no attention to him. You were still wiping off a counter, waiting for him to come up to the register so that you could take his order. You had barely even looked up, just paying attention to how far away he was from the front counter. 

But when you actually did look at him, the air was knocked out of your lungs. 

Harrison Osterfield was standing right in front of you.

It took everything in your entire being to make your voice not shake when you asked, “What can I get for you today?”

He flashed you his award winning smile and rattled off his order. Surprisingly enough, it was quite simple. You quickly typed it into the register, assuming that the coffee would be the only thing he ordered seeing as he was alone. Before you could tell him his total however, he stopped you. 

“One second, love. My mate, Tom is coming too. Just got the text, let me get a tea for him, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Will that be all for today?” There was a slight shake in your voice that time, you having no luck concealing it. Tom Holland? Thomas Stanley Holland was about to walk into the small cafe that you work in? What are the odds?

“Yeah, that’s all, love. Thank you.” He hands you a fifty dollar bill and says, “Keep the change. Buy yourself something that’s almost as lovely as you are.”

You couldn’t help but blush as he walked away. Usually, you would take this as an insult, but the way he worded it made it seem like less of one. Usually the guys that left you tips were old men that either took pity on you or waited around after one of your shifts to see if you’d sleep with him because he gave you an extra five bucks.

But this was Harrison Osterfield, he wasn’t that kind of guy. Or at least, he seemed to not be that kind of guy.

A few moments later, their drinks were ready and you carried them out to Harrison so he wouldn’t have to get up again. You didn’t usually do this, but come on, these drinks are for two of the best actors you had ever come across.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He says with a smile as you sit down the drinks.

“No problem.” You all but mumble as you turn around, slightly intimidated by his presence. You keep your eyes trained on the floor so that nobody can see how much you're blushing. Maybe it’s how he’s literally one of the most attractive guys on the planet, or maybe it’s because of the accent, but everything that he says seems to be getting to you today.

That wasn’t your brightest idea, however, looking at the floor in a cafe when you should be watching where you were going. Before you knew it, you bumped into something hard.

You look up, expecting it to be a wall, since it didn’t move one bit. You’re pretty clumsy. 

As soon as your eyes lock with the chocolate colored ones attached to the brunette in front of you, you wish it was a wall that you had run into. That would have been a lot less embarrassing. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Tom asks you, putting his, rather large,  hands on your shoulders, ensuring that you’re steady and won’t trip in any way. 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” You look down at the floor, embarrassed that you were clumsy enough to foolishly run into someone as important as him.

He chuckles, making your eyes shoot back up to meet his. Great, now he’s laughing at you.

It seems almost idiotic of you to think that today was going to be a great day. Yeah, it had started out that way, but all great days can change in an instant.

“No, no, it’s all on me. I was blinded by how gorgeous you are. Should’ve been focusing on not running into you and ruining my first impression.” His cheeks immediately turn a slight shade of pink, making him look even cuter than he already is. For a moment, you find it hard to believe that someone as perfect as him could be blushing and calling someone like you gorgeous.

“Oh, please, you could never ruin your first impression. I mean, just look at you.” You compliment, hoping you’re not being too forward, not wanting to scare him off when you just met him.

“Why, thank you, darling. I’m Tom.” God, that accent will be the death of you.

“I’m y/n. It’s nice to see that you still introduce yourself to people.” Most famous people that walked into this cafe expected everyone to know exactly who they were, even if they had only been in two episodes of a TV show or one film.

“Of course I introduce myself, I can’t automatically expect you to know who I am. For all I know, you hate movies.” He has a shy smile on his face, kind of like he was hoping you did like movies.

“Well, Tom, I do, in fact, like movies. But it’s sweet that you’re so humble about your major role in the film industry.” 

“It’s not that major, love. I’m just Spider-Man.” He talks about the role like it’s not that big of a deal, but you can see the way his eyes light up and the large smile that comes to his face.

“You are not just Spider-Man. Sorry if I’m being too direct here, but, in my opinion, Spider-Man will forever be the best superhero.” It’s your turn for your cheeks to tint pink. You can’t begin to process why you’re being this forward, this flirtatious. It’s the accent. Has to be.

“Is that so?” He smirks.

Oh what you would give to know what he was thinking at that exact moment. You may never know, however, because your boss interrupts the conversation you’re having.

“Y/N come back here, we have other customers than the Holland kid.” You roll your eyes at her and flash Tom an apologetic smile before reluctantly walking back to the counter.

There was not another customer in sight. There were barely any cars in the parking lot or on the street surrounding the cafe. Sounds about right, your manager had a long list of crazy rules for when she was the highest authority in the store. One of the biggest was that you’re not supposed to mingle with the customers for too long. She could have at least come up with a better excuse, though. Maybe Tom had liked your little cafe, and because of the rude comment, never wanted to come back.

*

The store is about five minutes from closing when Tom walks up to the register. 

“When’s your shift over, darling?” He has a cheeky smile on his face. For a split second, you let yourself internally groan. You had hoped he was different, that he wasn’t like every other guy that tried to pick you up after shifts. 

But then you realized, this was Tom Holland. There was no way in the world that he was like that. 

“Try to be more subtle, Holland. The directness doesn’t look too good on you.” You joke, knowing full well that it looks great on him. And honestly, if that’s what he had been asking, you would have pushed aside the part of you that was internally groaning and went right with him. Because, come on, it would be crazy to say no.

“I don’t want to sleep with you, love. I want to talk to you about something.” He smirks, obviously amused that you assumed he wanted to take you home with him.

You blush at that, embarrassment setting in. “I get off in less than five minutes.”

“Alright, sweetheart, my mate and I will be waiting in the car.” He points to an Audi sitting out front. “Meet us there. I’ll make Harrison sit in the back.”

“Alrighty, Tom, I’ll see you in five.” You give him a sweet smile, although you were extremely confused as to why you would be meeting him in his car.

Was he going to kidnap you? Who cares? He’s hot.

He turns and walks out the door as you rush to get everything done.

*

When your area is cleaned, you all but sprint to the back to get your laptop bag.

“Bye, everyone. Have a good night!” You yell, making sure everyone hears you. You always tell everyone goodbye before you leave, it’s just something that you’ve grown accustomed to. You started it the day that you began working at the cafe, and everyone liked the idea of it. So, it just kinda stuck.

You walk out of the cafe and head to the sleek, obviously expensive, silver car awaiting your presence. You open the passenger door and slip into the seat.

“Hello, love.” Tom greets you at the same time as Harrison says, “Dang, I owe you.”

“Hello, Tom. Harrison, why do you owe Tom?” The confusion is written all over your face as you look between the boys for an answer.

Harrison visibly gulps before replying, “I bet Tom that he scared you away and that you weren’t going to show.”

“Well, he was quite forward, but what person in their right mind would be told to come meet you two and not show up to, at least, see what it was you needed to talk about?” You sure couldn’t imagine someone turning down the offer.

“Exactly, Harrison. But, love, we do need to talk to you.” Tom says, turning your attention back to the actual reason that you are sitting in a car that costs more than probably three years worth of paychecks, with two very handsome men.

“Alright, fire away. What is it?” You’re more curious than ever, wondering what could be so important.

“So, my management is pushing me to find someone that will attend events with me.” His face contorts in embarrassment, already seeming to regret his decision of asking you anything. “They say that ‘a young bachelor like me will draw more attention if I am seen with a pretty lady by my side.’” He doesn’t exactly look embarrassed anymore, it’s more of a look filled with disgust at how his management team worded their statement. “Something about being more desirable if I’m taken. I don’t know. However, I do want to please my management, no matter how stupid they sound. And when I was talking to you in the cafe, you seemed to be sweet. And you’re gorgeous. And I felt like our conversation just kind of flowed.” He hesitates for a second, as if to see if you were following along or if you were lost.

He continued after you nodded for him to do so. “So basically, y/n, what I’m asking is, for the proper compensation, would you be that girl for me?”

“Wait, wait, wait. You, Tom Holland, are asking me, y/f/n y/l/n, to be the girl you take to major events?” You’re trying your best to wrap your head around the situation. 

“Well, not just that.” Harrison pipes up hesitantly.

“What else could there be?” Your voice is laced with confusion, and you know by the way that he places his arm on your leg to calm you, that Tom hears it.

“You would have to stay with me for a little while. Don’t worry though, if you say yes, we have guest rooms, so it wouldn’t be too invasive.” You can tell that he’s trying his best to make you as comfortable as possible with this. “You would need to go places with me, outside of these events. Nobody could know that the relationship is fake. Which means that our families and friends will have to be involved. Everyone, besides my management, and the three of us, would have to believe that it was real.” He avoids eye contact with you for a second, as if he was embarrassed to be asking something like this. 

You understand, though. He’s 23, he shouldn’t have to be tied down by a woman just because of his management. He should have the ability to choose what he wants to do with his life, especially the romantic aspect of it. 

“You can say no, of course.” Harrison says from behind you. “We wouldn’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

“Yeah, there’s no need for you to do this if you don’t wan-” Tom begins, reaching a hand behind him to scratch his neck.

“I’ll do it.” you interrupt, surprising both of the boys in the car.

“Wait, really. That easy?” Tom asks.

“You seem surprised, Holland.” It wasn’t like you had anything better to do. You worked at a corner side cafe for a manager that absolutely hated you, and you had no relationships, so you were completely free.

“Well, I kind of am, love. I didn’t expect for you to say yes that fast. If at all. I expected for you to have to think about it for a few days. And then ultimately say no. But, alright. I’ll set up a meeting with my management so we can go over a contract and what your payment should be.” He pulls out his phone to put everything in his calendar.

“There’s no need for payment. I don’t need your money. I’m just here to help.” In reality, you probably could use the money, but that wasn’t the kind of person that you are. You like to help people, and you never, ever ask for anything in return.

“You really know how to pick the perfect girl, don’t you mate?” Harrison says. You look back at him and he has a smile on his face. He doesn’t seem to be joking. That thought makes your stomach storm with butterflies and your cheeks instantly heat up.

“Seems like it. Everyone else would’ve wanted my money. You just seem like you’re doing this to benefit me. Nobody seems to be that genuine these days.” Tom says, his eyes never leaving yours. Of course you’re genuine. Just because he’s famous doesn’t mean that he’s any less of a human being. You would help anyone in a situation like this. If they needed you, you wouldn’t hesitate to be their fake girlfriend for a week or two.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But would you really say yes to just anyone? Probably not. At this point, though, you’re just telling yourself whatever helps you sleep at night.

“Well, I just figured that you could find someone worse than me. And if you really need this, who am I to make this hard for you? Plus, I don’t need your money. I have a job that I really like and it pays the bills.” You’re surprised that they seem to think so highly of you already. They don’t even know you. It’s nice to have someone think of you as more than an employee to boss around. Although, with this whole thing, you’ll basically be working for Tom. Just with less money and more touching.

“You’re about to have more than enough money. You won’t be needing to pay rent if you’re staying with me. If you want, you can move the stuff that you really need or want with you to my house. And the rest, we can put in storage if you want, it’s up to you.”

“That sounds alright to me. I can start packing tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you send me your address, I can come help you. Harrison would probably come as well, if he isn’t busy.” Tom says, looking back at Harrison for confirmation.

“I have a meeting in the morning, but I can come after lunch.” The blonde says from the back seat.

“Tom?” You say, getting his attention again.

“Yes, love?” He looks at you instantly, his eyes trace your face over and over, looking for any sign that you changed your mind.

“I don’t have your number. I can’t send you my address without it.” You smile, and place your hand atop of his, which was still on your thigh. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Hand me your phone darling.” You do as he says and he enters his number. “Text me the address and then anytime that you need anything.”

“Sure thing, now if you two gentlemen don’t mind, I think I’m going to head home. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“See you then, darling.” Tom says, watching you get out of the car.

“Goodbye, y/n.” you hear Harrison call before you shut the door.

You spend your drive home thinking about what in the world you just got yourself into.

*

Over the next few days, you had gotten closer to Tom. Your entire apartment had been packed up. You sent the things from your bedroom and other things that you wanted to make sure were with you to Tom’s house. The rest of your belongings went into a storage building that he wouldn’t stop pestering you until he got to pay for. That man was the most persistent person that you had ever met. 

You refused to let him pay for anything else, however. You didn’t need his money. And you didn’t want him to think that you only took his offer for the financial aspect. You genuinely just wanted to help him. 

You hadn’t started with your outings yet. You first had to have a meeting with his managers and some lawyers so that you could sign a nondisclosure agreement. Basically you just had to say that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this agreement with anyone. The whole thing would just end up blowing up in both of your faces. 

You could see the headlines now if this were to ever leak.

‘Tom Holland, 23 Year Old Heartthrob has to PAY for his Girlfriends!’

‘Y/N, Just Another Golddigger’

There was no way in the entire world that you would ever tell someone about the fakeness of the whole thing. The consequences would be catastrophic. And you could not be the reason that Tom’s career fell apart.

*

A week later, the NDA had been signed and you were hanging out in Tom’s living room. You were talking about absolutely nothing,but the conversation still flowed as if you were talking about something important. He was giggling at something that was on his phone when you had an idea.

“Let’s go out. To lunch. You know, like a date.” You look down at your hands, embarrassed for some reason. It’s not like you were actually dating him. This shouldn’t be scary. But it is. This is Tom Holland. 

What if you mess up? What if his fans hate the two of you together? What if his management regrets this decision? What if he regrets this decision?

That’s what’s running through your head as you wait for his answer. The silence that is radiating from him seems to be an uncomfortable one. The entire mood has shifted, and you hate the feeling of it.

“You-You’re asking me on a date?” You look up and he’s shocked. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe that you would ask him such a thing.

“Yeah, Tom. The public has to be introduced to me at some point. And it’s probably better to do some outings before the first event that you’re going to drag me to.” You try to explain, hoping that you thought right.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll go on a date with you, love. Where do you want to go?” He questions.

“I’m not sure. Where will we get the most exposure?” You’re trying your best to get this out there without having to do something like him posting it on Instagram.

You’re just trying to help him get this moving so that his managers have absolutely no reason to gripe at him. 

“Doesn’t matter. What’s your favorite place to get food?” He brushes the exposure idea aside, making it seem as if he really just wants this date to be just that, a date. 

Now you’re thinking crazy y/n, you think to yourself.

“Well it’s not really a restaurant, but I’m kind of a sucker for the Gains Bowls from the Body Energy Club.” 

“I have to say that I have never been there, or even really heard of it.” 

“You wouldn’t have. It’s over in the states. California.”

“Is that where you’re from?” He seems genuinely interested in the answer, so you answer honestly. 

“Yeah. Born and Raised. I moved out here to London so that I could stay with my best friend. He moved over here to go to college and I thought that was what I wanted too.” 

“What do you mean, you thought?” 

“I really just wanted to be a writer.”

“Do I get to meet this best friend of yours?”

“Oh, no, that won’t happen.” You want to leave it at that, as it is a sore subject for you, but you know that Tom’s going to ask why so you continue with, “We stopped being friends when he decided that my dreams were stupid. Told me that I would never make it as a writer.”

“Well, forget about him. You can be whatever you want to be. Don’t ever let anyone come in the way of what you want the most. I know the perfect place. But first, we need to get you into a dress.” 

“Are we matching?” You ask, wanting to know if you should coordinate with what he was wearing or not.

“No, not on dates, that would seem too staged.”

“Alright.” With that, you leave to go find a dress. 

When you signed the contract, you were also given a new wardrobe. Two, actually. One for dates that required dresses and one for non formal events that a dress should still be worn to.

The major events would have more extravagant dresses, of course.

So, you walk over to the rack in your room that holds all the ‘date dresses’ and you immediately pick the one that had been holding your eye since you got it.

It’s a blue high neck, lace cocktail dress. There’s a bow around the waist. It stops around mid thigh. You hope that Tom will like it. You remember him rambling about absolutely nothing in particular and accidentally telling you that his favorite color was blue.

You walk out of your room after fixing your hair and getting the rest of the things that you need.

Tom is standing in the living room in a white shirt, black blazer, and dress pants. Simple, yet perfect at the same time. How the hell can someone look that good? How the hell did you get so lucky? You know he isn’t really yours, but it’s a privilege just to be around him.

“You look ravishing, darling.” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“You look really, really handsome. Like, wow.” He chuckles at this, and your cheeks immediately heat up.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, love. I’m not the best at taking compliments, that’s all. Now, would you like to get going?” Tom says, trying to calm the nerves he can not only sense, but see due to the tint that has made its way to your burning cheeks.

You walk outside with him and get in the car. The ride to the restaurant is pretty quiet, the nerves having silenced you. 

“Darling, are you all right?” Tom asks, looking over to me when we came to a stop at a red light.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine Tom. Just nervous about it all.” You say, looking down at your hands.

“What are you nervous about, sweetheart?” He looks over at you, concern evident in his voice.

“What if someone sees us and then they take pictures? I mean, I know that’s the point and all,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “but what if your fans hate me? What if they hate us together?” You’re completely out of breath now, the nerves not allowing you to get the proper amount of oxygen into your lungs.

“My fans will be fine with you, love. You’re gorgeous. We look great together. Plus,” he reaches over for your hand and gives it a light squeeze, “we don’t have to look at what they’re saying. They’ll warm up to the idea if they don’t instantly love you.”

His words do little to soothe your insecurities that have made their way to the surface, but you give him a smile anyway. 

He gives your hand another squeeze. He can tell that you’re still on edge.

“We can just go home if you want.” He suggests, just wanting you to be comfortable.

“No, no, it’s fine. I promise.” You assure him.

After that, the car ride goes back to being silent, but it’s no longer tense or awkward. 

It’s comfortable.

*

When you arrive at the little restaurant he brought you to, you look over at him.

“I’m gonna get out and get your door, alright love? Just breathe, you’ve got this.” He says, trying to reassure you.

He does as he said he would. He opens his door and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips and giving it a warm kiss.

“Such a gentleman.” You coo at him, causing him to give you a sweet smile.

“I try.” He smirks at you, letting you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing, making your heart flutter lie nobody has been able to do in a long time.

You make your way into the restaurant, being seated almost immediately and then having someone bring your drinks of choice. 

“I miss moments like these.” Tom admits, although you don’t know what he means at first.

“Moments like what, Holland?” You question, wanting him to elaborate.

“Moments when I can be myself and not worry about saying the wrong thing because I know that someone is writing everything down.” This makes your heart swell, knowing that he feels this calm and open with you. 

“Well, I’m not writing anything down, darling. You can tell me anything you want and nobody will ever hear a word about it.” This makes him genuinely smile, and you can tell how happy he is to know that.

“Well, what do you wanna know, love?” 

“Hmm, what’s your story?” 

“That is such a cliche question!” He giggles.

“I know, I know, but I’m genuinely curious. The whole world knows Tom Holland: Spider-Man, but I just want to know Tom Holland: the person.” 

“Well, there’s not much to tell darling.” 

“That’s nonsense-” You were in the middle of your thought when the waiter came back up to you to take your food orders.

After he leaves, Tom looks at you and begins, “That’s not nonsense, there’s nothing exciting about me that you probably don’t already know.”

“Hmm, well, because of the media, I know that you have three brothers, all younger. You have a dog named Tessa. Two loving parents. You used to dance and you play golf sometimes.” He gives you a look that radiates surprise that you even know anything about him in the slightest. “However, I do not know your birthday, your favorite color, what made you want to be an actor.

“I don’t know what your favorite pastime is - unless it’s golf of course. I don’t know the little things.” He’s giving you a look of pure adoration, and you let yourself wonder for a second what this would be like if it was real.

“Not a lot of people take the time to get to know me like that anymore.” He says, barely above a whisper. You know instantly that it wasn’t meant to be heard, so you say nothing and let him continue. “If you must know, my birthday is June 1, my favorite color is blue, I was born an actor, darling, there wasn’t a question of whether I wanted to or not.” 

You giggled at that before motioning for him to continue. 

“And, honestly, unless it’s just hanging with Haz, golf probably is my favorite pastime.” 

“See? It wasn’t that hard to tell your story.”

“That’s not a story, y/n. That’s just details.” 

“Details make the story, Holland.” 

*

After you finish eating, he insists on paying, which you end up letting him do. But only because he brought up the fact that you were on a ‘date’ and no man in their right mind was going to make their girl pay, especially on the first date.

You’re on your way back out to his car, both laughing about nothing, when you get the sudden feeling that this may have been the best decision that you ever made.

*

A week later, you’re in a whirlwind of stylists, makeup artists, and managers. All getting you ready for some red carpet event that Tom was invited to. 

They’ve picked out an extravagant dress for you, one to match Tom’s suit. It’s a maroon, flowy dress. Very modest, neckline not showing too much, legs completely covered. But you still look like a princess, at least that’s what you think.

“You look ravishing, darling.” Tom says from behind you, shamelessly looking you up and down. 

You turn to look at him and all of the air is knocked from your lungs. “You look really handsome, Tommy.” 

He smiles at that. The first time you called him by that nickname, he seemed hesitant, thought it was too childish, but the name on your lips made it perfect.

“Thank you, darling. Are you ready to head out?” 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go show the world how absolutely amazing that Mr. Holland looks tonight.”

“Don’t forget that we have to show them how I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You cock your head to the side, wondering what he means by that. 

“I get to have someone as stunning as you accompany me, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” You can’t stop the blush that appears on your cheeks.

*

You stand arm in arm with him. There were flashing lights all around you, temporarily blinding you. There was nothing that you could possibly focus on. Nothing at all, except for the way that he held you to keep you steady.

There’s something about the way that he’s holding on to you, his arm slightly tighter around your waist than it needs to be, that makes your heart flutter, even though you know that there’s nothing going on between the two of you.

Right?

You push the thought fro your mind, almost completely. Although you can’t stop yourself from wanting to do something. Something that you’ve been trying your best not to do since the night you met him.

When he puts his arm back around you, you put your hand on his shoulder and lean up, giving him a kiss on the cheek, letting it linger there for a second before pulling away.

He looks shocked, and you begin to wonder if you made a mistake, moved too fast.

“I-I’m sorry. Was that too much?” He’s blushing profusely, and you begin to see that he’s trying to suppress a smile.

He leans down to your ear and whispers, “No, no, not at all darling. Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

And with that, all those little butterflies in your stomach multiply. And there’s no stopping them now.

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