#and you saw someone go through a door that doesn't exist

[thewillowtreess]

First time listening to The Magnus Archives How the fuck does Jon manage to not believe every single entry he reads and the go into intense detail as to why what that person went through was real?? Jon is an enigma, I've got no clue how that mans brain works but by god does his stupidity intrigue me

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[moonchildstyles]

pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough. 

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat",  Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out. 

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff. 

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night. 

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face. 

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?" 

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. 

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you." 

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?" 

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think." 

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share? 

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry." 

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest. 

"You'd share your dinner with me?" 

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you." 

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you." 

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point. 

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you." 

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!" 

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers. 

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes. 

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all. 

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show. 

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago. 

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side. 

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better." 

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment. 

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one." 

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled. 

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?" 

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face. 

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs. 

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh. 

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what. 

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers. 

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him. 

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you." 

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst. 

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top. 

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that." 

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry." 

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him? 

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers. 

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H." 

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way. 

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His...  well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even. 

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material. 

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people. 

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page. 

"Are you okay?" 

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes. 

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff. 

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep." 

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem. 

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry." 

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead." 

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile. 

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead. 

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head. 

He made her night. She made his life. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help." 

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning." 

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes. 

"See you in the morning." 

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her. 

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind. 

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. 

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch. 

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it. 

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move. 

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out. 

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option. 

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really. 

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later. 

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen. 

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone. 

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task. 

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment). 

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night. 

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk. 

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone. 

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth. 

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit. 

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids. 

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!" 

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half. 

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here? 

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again? 

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet. 

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least. 

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway. 

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her. 

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there." 

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol. 

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?" 

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight." 

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here." 

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment. 

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back." 

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun." 

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes. 

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?" 

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?" 

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?" 

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course. 

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?" 

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry." 

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was. 

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even. 

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her). 

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired. 

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home." 

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed? 

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in." 

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much." 

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his. 

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back. 

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you." 

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on. 

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue. 

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door. 

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence. 

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him. 

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it. 

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed. 

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?" 

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired." 

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing. 

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?" 

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine." 

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page. 

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover." 

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed. 

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by. 

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—" 

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin. 

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck. 

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold. 

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes. 

"What did you do while I was gone?" 

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like." 

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice. 

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right? 

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it." 

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know." 

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear. 

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him. 

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry." 

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?" 

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear." 

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought. 

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter. 

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway." 

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week. 

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart). 

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be. 

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress. 

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave." 

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet. 

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure." 

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet." 

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking. 

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy. 

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?" 

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped." 

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment. 

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?" 

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H." 

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat. 

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself. 

What the fuck? 

"(Y/N)?" 

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck. 

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. 

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed. 

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours. 

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off. 

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck. 

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness. 

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course. 

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake." 

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon." 

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here." 

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry." 

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food. 

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer. 

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet." 

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you." 

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to." 

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back." 

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days. 

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun." 

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms. 

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good." 

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first. 

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room. 

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice: 

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive. 

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes. 

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back. 

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—" 

"Do you remember what I said last night?" 

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter. 

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile. 

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself." 

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones. 

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again. 

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself." 

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me." 

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline. 

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date." 

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment. 

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

 "'M really okay, ser—" 

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—" 

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer. 

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin." 

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now. 

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips. 

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course! 

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications. 

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him. 

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume." 

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?" 

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?" 

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never." 

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest. 

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it." 

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)." 

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned. 

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be. 

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?" 

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess." 

"With someone you trust." 

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust." 

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?" 

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap. 

"Do you trust me?" 

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes. 

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted." 

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him. 

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking. 

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—" 

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?" 

His mouth ran dry. "I know." 

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

 Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings? 

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words. 

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—" 

"I want to." 

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises. 

"Really?" 

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded. 

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs. 

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points. 

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you." 

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?" 

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me." 

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want." 

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands. 

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment. 

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features. 

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves. 

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own. 

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?" 

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want." 

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted. 

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely. 

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features. 

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side. 

God was this really about to happen? 

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them. 

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first." 

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now." 

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours." 

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself. 

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought. 

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle. 

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night. 

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand. 

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?" 

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor. 

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened." 

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even. 

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this. 

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip. 

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips. 

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one. 

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.  

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes. 

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay." 

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential. 

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster. 

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light. 

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies. 

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base. 

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined. 

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought? 

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea." 

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started. 

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom. 

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side. 

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick. 

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises. 

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later. 

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)." 

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so. 

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life. 

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care." 

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart. 

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—" 

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you." 

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him. 

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive. 

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips. 

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock. 

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love." 

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand. 

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids. 

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together. 

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames. 

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild. 

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades. 

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess. 

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm. 

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. 

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked. 

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet." 

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane. 

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist. 

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more. 

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—" 

"Harry." 

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this. 

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo. 

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment. 

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it. 

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her. 

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth. 

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you." 

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry." 

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—" 

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled. 

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need." 

He could only hug her harder. 

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him. 

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?" 

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible. 

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now. 

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[hotchner-edu]

Candied Hearts | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You and Aaron have a no-strings-attached relationship, but things change after Aaron suffers an injury while on a case.

Pairing: BAU!Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: sugar baby arrangement kinda, allusions to smut (heh), fluff, jack doesn't exist in this universe (sorry)

"Aaron?" Your voice comes out thick with sleep, eyes still closed as you slowly rouse. The man in question stands frozen at the foot of his bed, having accidentally dropped a binder on the floor just moments before.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you." He says softly and walks over to rub your back as you roll to lay on your stomach.

"What time is it?" You practically slur out as you sink back against his pillows.

Aaron smiles fondly, one that you can't see, and smooths down your hair. "Too early for you to be up."

"Going to work?" You crack an eye open to peer up at him as he stands by the bed, hand trailing down to your spine. Shivering at the touch, your mind flashes back to the events of the night prior.

He hums and nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll be away for a couple of days. Are you sore?"

"I'm all good, agent." You tease quietly and smile tiredly. "Go save some lives."

He chuckles and nods. "Alright. Get some more sleep." He whispers to you before standing straight again and getting ready to leave. When you hear the front door shut, a vibration from your phone causes you to sit up slowly and grab it from the nightstand.

Glaring back up at you is an email from your university with a receipt thanking you for your tuition payment. Huffing softly in disbelief, you shoot a quick text to Aaron, knowing he was the culprit.

'I thought we agreed that it wasn't necessary?'

He doesn't reply until twenty minutes later when you've managed to lug yourself out of his warm bed to brush your teeth.

Of course, even without any context to your message, Aaron knows exactly what you're talking about.

'I wanted to'

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, and shake your head, typing back quickly as you swipe your toothbrush from the medicine cabinet.

'Thank you, be safe <3'

'Always. Have a good day.'

You suppress a smile as you place your phone down on the sink, beginning to brush your teeth. As you stare at your reflection, you attempt to ignore the way the moment feels all too domestic, a faint whiff of his signature cologne dancing around the bathroom.

In hindsight, you wishing him good luck was probably a jinx.

Or at least, that's all you were thinking when you had gotten the phone call that Aaron was in the hospital for a pretty bad head injury, getting banged up in the process of chasing their suspect.

It had been two days since you last saw Aaron, and only a few hours since he last called you to send you money for lunch despite your protests. So you hadn't bargained on hearing that he was involved in an accident serious enough to leave him hospitalized.

You had initially been sent into a blind panic as the man on the other side of the phone asked if it were possible for you to fly out since Aaron kept asking for you.

That's how you knew it must have been bad.

Aaron was the type to suffer in silence as to not burden others, so if he was asking for you enough that someone had to call you— it must have been really bad.

The moment you land, you're rushing to the hospital without even dropping off your bags. Your taxi driver had wordlessly slammed on the gas when he saw your pallid face, only asking for directions when you were already halfway out of the airport drop-off.

You practically fly through the hospital once you get there, weaving around nurses and patients as you make your way to the front desk.

"For Aaron Hotchner." You say breathlessly, ignoring the incredulous looks you were getting.

The nurse receptionist quickly types on her computer, not batting an eye at your disheveled appearance. "ID, please?"

You quickly grab your wallet and slide your ID for her to check and note down.

"Aaron Hotchner is on the second floor, room 206. Here's a visitor badge, please keep it on the entire time you're here." The woman says politely, handing you back your ID and a visitor badge sticker.

"Thank you." You rush out before quickly making your way to the elevator, a fog of dust practically erupting behind you from how quickly you race away.

When you manage to locate Aaron's room, you see a couple of people already hovering by the door, peering inside. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, you pat down your clothes a little before stepping forward.

"Sorry... is this Aaron Hotchner's room?" Your voice comes out a bit meek as the three unfamiliar faces suddenly turn to you. Their eyes flicker around your face and stature almost imperceptibly, a brief pause occupies the air between you all as they assess you.

"Yes, it is. I'm Derek Morgan. We spoke on the phone I believe." The man is quick to introduce himself, extending a hand forward for you to shake.

"Oh, yes, hi. I'm glad you called." You shake his hand and smile a bit nervously. "I'm Y/N."

"Thank you for coming so quickly. Are you a friend of Hotch's?" One of the women speak up, eyes gleaming in curiosity. You gaze at her dark hair and sharp features and you couldn't help but notice how attractive Aaron's work friends were.

Perhaps it made dealing with suspects easier?

"Oh, yes. I'm a friend." You reply softly, knowing it must be a strange picture for them to digest since you were a bit younger and looked completely unfamiliar to them. "Is Aaron okay?"

"He'll make a full recovery, he just got a pretty bad concussion and whiplash from the crash." The blonde woman explains, stepping aside so you could make your way into the room.

Your brows furrow in worry. "Oh... thank you."

As you step in, your eyes immediately find Aaron's figure on the hospital bed, sitting up but looking a bit dazed. There's another blonde woman doting on him, hovering by his bedside and holding some balloons.

"You cannot do that again, sir! Do you know how terrifying it is that the one time I come with you guys, you nearly get flung through your windshield?" The woman says in exasperation, shaking her head as if trying to escape the mental images her words conjured.

You just stand there for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but Aaron glances toward the doorway and sees you.

"Honey..." his voice is barely audible, and you can see the relief in his eyes.

The woman spins around with an expression of utter shock (and delight?) before grinning brightly, a complete switch from her worry while fretting over Aaron just moments prior. "Hi! You must be Hotch's friend! I'm Penelope."

You go in for a hand shake but she opens her arms and you wordlessly oblige, charmed by her already. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Is he doing alright? I heard he was asking for me."

Before she can answer, Aaron speaks up again. "Sweetheart, come here."

Penelope catches on to her boss' fond tone and a smile tugs at her lips. "I'll leave you both to it then!"

She's hurries out of the room without another word, closing the door to give you both privacy.

"Aaron, are you okay?" You immediately ask, walking toward his bedside and reaching to gently cup his cheek.

His hands moves up to rest on yours and he nods. "I'm okay... just needed you here."

You can tell he's a bit high on pain medication at the moment and you chuckle. "Yeah, I was surprised when Derek called me. They really did not hold back with the pain meds, huh? I suppose that's good, otherwise you'd probably have a hard time even talking to me right now."

"I'm fine." He grumbles, clumsily reaching for your other hand.

Watching him grasp your hand gently, your face softens a bit and you sit on the edge of his bed. "How long have you been up? You should get some sleep, Aaron. Your body needs to heal." You say gently, leaving no room for argument.

He stares at you with a small frown, probably not even realizing how tired he really was. "You just got here though..."

"And I'll still be here when you wake up. You need to listen to your body."

He glances down at the bed and starts scooting over to one side. "You should rest too, then."

"What if I accidentally smack you in the neck while I'm asleep?" You ask with a raised brow, only being half serious.

"It's fine." Aaron mumbles and lifts up the blanket, his hospital gown and semi-delirious gaze making him look less and less like the collected man you were used to seeing.

Sliding into the vacant spot next to him, you have to caution him again about his own injuries when he tries to turn over to spoon you. "Goodness, Aaron. How high are you right now?" You stifle a laugh as he gives you an indignant glare.

"Okay, fine, fine. We can cuddle."

While Aaron is able to snooze after you both settle in, the cramped hospital bed and Aaron's light snores wake you up after an hour.

Instead of laying beside him as your right leg felt fuzzy from restricted blood flow, you slip out and decide to go grab a few things from the vending machine.

The floor you were on was quiet, your trek going undisturbed as you fish out what few bills are left in your wallet.

When you get back to his room, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see that Aaron is awake and sitting up, staring at you owlishly. "Oh my goodness!" You gasp out and hold a hand to your heart.

Aaron says your name softly, voice tinged in confusion. "You're here?"

"Yes?" Your tone matches his. "You don't remember me getting here? You were pretty high from the meds, so that's fair." You joke softly and close the door behind you.

"I remember bits and pieces... but I thought it was a dream." He says, slowly leaning back as he watches you walk toward him with a variety of snacks.

"Oh? Do you remember whining and begging me to spoon with you?" You tease and smile, opening up a cold water bottle for him to drink.

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and drinks some of the water. "I'm sorry you had to fly out here."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I didn't miss any classes or anything, but I had to cancel a date I had." You joke and shrug.

Aaron immediately frowns at this and his eyes avert to look out the window. "I'm sorry." He says softly.

"Huh?" You tilt your head and sit by his bedside again. "I was just kidding, Aaron. Who would I be going out on dates with? No one can pay for my tuition and my takeout like you can." Your teasing words draw a grunt out of him as his lip twitches, a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"Brat." His hand reaches to draw you closer.

"Old man." You retort and scoot closer to him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Better now that you're here." He says quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your nose scrunches at that and you smile in disbelief, spurring him to continue. "I'm being serious, y'know..."

As you gaze at him, his hand comes up to cup your cheek. "When they took me into the ambulance, I kept going in and out of consciousness. But I kept thinking about you... the night before I had to leave for this case, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

Aaron draws in a deep breath and his thumb mindlessly sweeps across your cheek. "I think we should end our arrangement."

Your heart drops at his words and you laugh softly to hide your hurt. "You thought you were going to die and your last thoughts were that you should have broken it off with me first?"

His mouth parts a little in surprise before he shakes his head quickly and sputters a bit. "No, that's not, uh, that's not what I meant. It's just that for me, this—" he gently gestures between the both of you, "has turned into something deeper... and I wanted to end it so that we could start a real, closed relationship together."

"I mean, our relationship has never really been open." You say with a humored smile. While it was true that the arrangement wasn't exclusive, neither of you had ventured to start any connections with other people.

Aaron chuckles a little and nods, his hand dropping down to take ahold of yours. "I suppose you're right. I also wanted to talk to you about this because I know that having a romantic relationship together wasn't on the table for either of us when we started this... but I want you to know that I am in no way trying to steer you toward something that may be uncomfortable for you."

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you shrug a little and smile at him shyly. "I'm not uncomfortable... I think I want to give us a try too." You respond quietly.

"Really?" He breathes out. From the way his eyes flicker around your face, you can tell that there are a plethora of thoughts consuming him right now. "I... It's selfish of me to want you so wholly, sweetheart. With my work and my age, you deserve better."

"Aaron, if I wanted someone else do you think I would have stuck around this long? I mean I sure as hell wouldn't have gotten on the first flight here in a blind panic hoping you weren't dead." You retort, squeezing his hand as you try to mollify his insecurities. "Besides, who said being old doesn't look sexy on you?"

That elicits are an amused huff from him as he shakes his head. "You're probably the only person who thinks gray hairs and aching joints look good on me."

"Well that's just wrong, but even if that were true, my opinion is the only one that matters in this case." You smile cheekily and kiss him.

He kisses you back, slowly and meaningfully as your words sink in. Pulling back a little from your lips, he whisper softly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Positive." You whisper back. "Now be quiet and let me make out with you."

Aaron's chuckle is deep and smooth as he smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

On the other side of the door to Aaron's room, his team are huddled together to try and peek into the door's little window.

"What are you people doing?" Rossi's voice suddenly rings out, painted in amusement at how ridiculous they looked. They all look back at the older man, eyes comically wide and resembling guilty children caught red-handed

"Trying to figure out who Hotch's mystery friend is." Derek answers, coolly stepping back as he plays off how his face was practically pressed against the glass.

"Oh? See anything of intrigue?" Dave asks with a small grin, tucking his hands in his pockets and pretending like he had no clue about you and Aaron.

Derek is about to answer, but he's interrupted before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uhh, guys, they're..." JJ says softly, drawing everyone's attention back to the glass. They see you both inside and they suddenly straighten up and step back.

Emily is the first to speak after a long pause. "Dinner, anyone?"

Penelope looks dazed and shakes her head. "Yes, and some new eyeballs please."

Rossi chuckles and begins walking toward the elevator, deciding to let Aaron fill them in later about his experience as a sugar daddy. He was just pleased that he was no longer going to be alone in the team's inescapable teasing about old men and their love lives.

[inkspiredwriting]

Flirt and Fight at the Sparrow Academy

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stood in front of the imposing Sparrow Academy mansion, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar facade. This was supposed to be their home, the Umbrella Academy, but instead, they had landed in the wrong timeline—one where the Sparrow Academy existed instead of their own.

"Ready?" Luther asked, his voice tense.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Five replied, leading the way into the house.

They barely made it through the door when they were met by the Sparrow Academy members, each one poised for a fight. The leader, Marcus, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"We're the Umbrella Academy," Luther said, standing his ground.

Before they could explain further, the Sparrows attacked. Five found himself facing off against a woman with sharp eyes and a confident smirk. Y/n, he heard someone call her. She moved with precision, her strikes quick and calculated.

Five blocked her attacks, but couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with challenge. "Nice moves," he said, dodging a particularly fast punch.

"Thanks," she replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "You're not too bad yourself."

Their fight was intense, but there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Every punch and kick was matched with a flirtatious comment, a sly smile.

"You always this charming in a fight?" Y/n asked, blocking one of his kicks.

"Only when I'm trying to impress someone," Five shot back, grinning.

Y/n's laugh was short but genuine. "Well, consider me impressed."

The battle raged on around them, but Five found himself almost enjoying the sparring with y/n. She was skilled, confident, and there was something about her that drew him in.

Eventually, the Hargreeves managed to escape the Sparrow Academy, regrouping outside. As they caught their breath, Diego noticed the distracted look on Five's face.

"What's up with you?" Diego asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Five shook his head, trying to focus. "Nothing. Just... thinking."

"About that Sparrow chick?" Klaus chimed in, a teasing grin on his face. "I saw the way you two were flirting."

Five rolled his eyes. "We were fighting, Klaus. It's not the same thing."

"Sure didn't look that way to me," Allison added, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Can we focus, please?" Luther said, trying to bring the conversation back to their current predicament. "We need to figure out how to get back to our timeline."

But Five's thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. There was something about her that he couldn't shake, and it annoyed him how easily she had gotten under his skin.

"Come on, Five," Viktor said, nudging him. "We've got work to do."

"Right," Five muttered, trying to push thoughts of y/n out of his mind. But even as they walked away from the Sparrow Academy, he couldn't help but glance back, wondering when—or if—he'd see her again.

As they continued down the street, Klaus threw an arm around Five's shoulders, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, if this whole saving the world thing doesn't work out, at least you've got a new crush to think about."

Five shoved Klaus off, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Shut up, Klaus."

The journey back to their timeline would be fraught with challenges, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Five knew that y/n, the intriguing fighter from the wrong 2019, would be a thought he couldn't quite let go of.

[steddieas-shegoes]

documentary

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the music'

rated m | 723 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: modern era, famous corroded coffin, established steddie

📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹

"Steve!" Gareth calls from the couch of the living room, not caring that Eddie was fast asleep in his chair. "It's on!"

Steve rushes into the room, nearly falling face first when he slips on the corner of the rug. He's wiping his hands on a towel, probably wet from doing the dishes after dinner.

Jeff and Frankie are sitting on the other couch, leaning forward to watch.

Eddie's still asleep somehow.

"Metal bands have always been expected to just make due with whatever already exists in the metal community. 'Don't play acoustic' and 'You can't play Coachella' and 'You can't feature a pop star.' But we just like music. We wanna share music with people."

"Listen to you, Jeff. So poetic," Frankie teases. Jeff shoves him, but they keep watching the ad for their documentary.

"We live in a time where people don't have to just like one thing. Someone can have a playlist that's got us right next to Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift if they want. If people saw my playlists, they'd think a group of teenagers made it."

Eddie doesn't even wake up when his voice fills the room, his face on the screen.

"Corroded Coffin announces world tour with a new opening guest for every show. The artists range anywhere from Chappell Roan to Sleep Token." A male reporter is shown on the screen.

"No one's doing it like them, that's why we love them," a few fans say into a camera during an interview.

"The members of Corroded Coffin refused to do a documentary for years, too busy writing, recording, and performing music for the masses. But they've taken time off this year, focusing on personal time with loved ones and staying out of the limelight they worked so hard to reach. We finally managed to sit down with them and find out who they are...behind the music."

The ad changes to a fast food commercial and Steve laughs.

"That was somehow more dramatic than anything Eddie's ever done," he says as he walks over to wake up his still sleeping boyfriend. "Ed, you missed it."

Eddie's eyes blink open, but he doesn't seem to remember that he fell asleep with everyone in the room. He grabs Steve's thighs and pulls him down so he's straddling his waist.

"Hey, big boy. Was just dreamin' about you."

Steve laughs. "You can tell me all about it later. When your best friends are not sitting a few feet away."

Eddie turns his head, but doesn't take his hands off of Steve's hips. "You should all go. I have business to attend to."

"You missed the ad, dumbass," Gareth says, throwing one of the pillows at Eddie. "Keep your hands to yourself until the next run."

"Don't you think it's already on social media?" Frankie asked before Eddie could.

"Probably, but it's different on tv."

Eddie squeezes Steve's hips, but lets him get up. He sits up and smiles up at Steve. "Later?"

"If you can stay awake, sure."

Steve leaves the room and Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth all start teasing Eddie immediately. He lets them; He knows he's a lovesick idiot.

When the next ad comes on as scheduled, Eddie watches it silently.

He pulls his phone out and calls Wayne, asking if he saw it.

And then he starts crying.

Everyone's in complete shock.

"Steve! Eddie's crying!" Gareth yells.

This time when Steve comes rushing into the room, it's with panic in his eyes. He seems to realize what's going on the moment he sees Eddie, though. He shoos everyone out of the room as he makes his way to him, kneeling in front of him and placing his hands on his face.

The guys don't hear much, but they can make out Eddie blubbering "we worked so hard for this and it's happening" and Steve's gentle shushing and praise.

"Should we get pizza delivered?" Frankie asks.

"I think now's a good time to just leave," Jeff suggests. "We can get hibachi."

"Hell yeah!" Frankie fist pumps and opens the front door, holding it open as Jeff walks through it.

Gareth looks back towards where Steve has Eddie's head against his shoulder, hand in his hair. He smiles to himself as he leaves to join Jeff and Frankie.

They really did work their asses off to get here.

[thatnonameuser]

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here

There is no safe place here.

No home to return to, and the path back is just so far out of reach, that it's practically nonexistent.

Ramshackle is nice enough. It's a roof over your head. Walls to protect you from the chill and weather. A bed for you to sleep in at night. But it's not safe.

Rusty old hinges hang on my tiny threads of metal.

Locks on doors and windows are old and can't close properly.

Windows with cracks and holes the hands can fit through and open them with ease.

You chose your bedroom because it had the least holes in the walls and windows, had a bathroom you could use without accidentally bumping into the ghosts, and door that wasn't splintering at the touch of a hand.

But besides that, in the case of an obsessed stalker ready to take you home and away from your life for good, you might as well be sleeping outside.

Your door doesn't lock properly, and the locks on the windows are so weak they might as well not exist. A warm welcome to someone creeping on you in the night, wanting to come in and do whatever creepy or sick things they please.

You covered the holes in the walls and windows with old sheets and furniture, but what's stopping someone from peering through to watch you sleep at night.

It's no sanctuary or safe hiding spot, but where else is there to go?

Asking to room with Ace and Deuce could be a disaster if they decide to cross some very important boundaries as you sleep.

The old dorm is all Crowley could have offered, and after you're meeting today, you doubt he'd be very helpful. Or even concerned.

"Hey Grim, do you wanna stay in my bed tonight?" You don't want to sleep alone tonight, with what you discovered today still fresh in your mind.

"The Great Grim deserves his own bed, Why would he share one with his Henchman!" This coming from someone who sleeps in a basket with an old comforter pilled into it, if the day had been kinder you would've laughed. Would have.

You sigh, "I'll give you your own pillow and half the bed. I just don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Grim grumbles wordlessly for a few seconds before answering with a reluctant "....ok."

You smile, hugging him, "You're the best, Grim."

Grim squirms against your embrace, trying to escape, "Of course I'm the best Henchman! Now lemme go!"

Grimm jumps onto the bed to find your most comfortable pillow as you prop one of the old chairs against the door handle. A makeshift lock, just until you can get some thaumarks together to get a new lock for the door.

Your library escapade had yielded some fruit. You found a book about all the nations laws, so you at least knew were to run if you're being chased. Not helpful for now, but possibly in future, for emergencies.

More importantly, you saw a list of the different types of crazy, separated by dorm. With that it mind, and some helpful books about darling manipulation, capture and possession, you can plan around whatever you face.

Hopefully.

From what you researched each of the seven the dorms were dedicated to were yanderes, whose treatment of their respective darlings matched that of the students.

Ace and Deuce's dorm was your first priority, with their growing fondness for you. Heartslaybul had a reputation for housing the most controlling of yanderes. All obsessed with keeping their darlings under their control and rule. Based on the strictness of the Queen of Hearts, it makes sense that controlling behaviour was the thing that separated them from the rest. You pitied the poor King of Hearts, her darling, a man too afraid of his wife's rules out of fear of being beheaded. It was so hard to believe that Ace and Deuce in the few days you'd known them, and the near death experience you shared together, were anywhere close to that level of a relationship control freak but from what you saw in the hall this afternoon, over a slightly too tight grip or what you wanted to do that afternoon, made you wonder what you hadn't seen before. Who else was like that? What was the extent of their control? How much freedom would they take from you to make themselves happy?

Next was Savanaclaw, a dorm nearly packed to the brim with beastmen, was a dorm full of possessive yanderes. All more than willing to fight their rivals to the death to get their darlings all to themselves. Based on the persistence of the King of Beasts, they will stop at nothing to get their darlings. No crime, not even murder is off the table. King of Beasts' sister-in-law was his darling, whom he killed her husband, his brother, for. If the rest of the dorm is like him, that means they'd willingly kill their own families to get you for themselves. And if that other book was right, they'd get away with it too. You made a mental note to carry a knife if you ever have to go to that dorm.

Octavinelle, similarly is also full of possessive yanderes, though they tend to come from the sea rather than the land. Even if they're similar to the yanderes in Savanaclaw, they're more sneaky than outright violent. The Sea Witch's benevolence mirrors the other students' preferred traps, as she tricked her darling into a deal that ended them in her garden, a mollusk until they stayed 'willingly'. Their preference is catch them, break their spirit and then, obviously, 'profit'. You made a silent promise to yourself then, never ever make a deal, or an arrangement with anyone in that dorm. No matter the offer or the cost.

Scarabia's next. A dorm based on the Sorcerer of the Sands and his mindfulness. In this case, mindfulness is another word for him being manipulative. Mind control was that man's specialty, and the woman who would have been his darling just barely escaped it, if it wasn't for her quick thinking. If the students in that dorm are anything like that, then you need to never speak with them. You might not be able to think that fast on your feet.

Pomefiore, a dorm about tenacity, determination, meant to match that of the Fairest Queen's. The poison that rots within its students are of the obsessive variety, as all of them have one thing in common, and that's their practically worship-level devotion to something about their darlings, that boils over into everything else. That dorm scares you especially, as the book had told you many horrible things. The Pomefiore Dorm Head has a spell book holding all the spells a yandere would ever need. Love potions, lethal poisons, even a spell to lock a darling inside a mirror, just as the Fairest Queen did with her lover, where they'll be forced only to look at whoever trapped them there forever until that person lets them out.

Ignihyde, a dorm of technology has enough history to date back centuries, founded based on the diligence of the King of the Underworld. The story about his darling is eerily familiar to a myth from your world. His wife was stalked for months to years, before being kidnapped and trapped in the dark and lonely underworld till she was tricked into staying forever. It makes perfect sense that dorm is full of stalkers. Devoting all their efforts into learning everything about their lives, before abducting them, and trapping them into the darkness to never see the sunshine again. A rumor recorded in the book said something about the Shroud family, said to have descended straight from the King, who have a very special fruit that has been used from the beginning to bind their darlings to them for the rest of their lives, and the afterlife that follows. That note makes you want to check every nook and cranny in Ramshackle for any cameras hidden from view.

And finally there's Diasomnia, the enigma. Based of the nobility of the Thorn Fae's spirit. That chapter was practically empty. Not one source could be found that had any information about her darling. They could have been the king who stole her wings, the princess she'd cursed or saved, the raven she taught to be human, or someone not mentioned in her tale. They could have been the prize jewel of the dragon's hoard but there was no evidence on how the Fae caught them, what happened to them after the Fae's death. The yanderes in Diasomnia were just as enigmatic. Some were devoted, sadistic, obsessive, but there was never a pattern to follow. No trick consistently used. Nothing. It's probably safest to avoid them at all costs. You don't know what they're capable of, after all.

But now, you can only prepare for the present. And you weren't really prepared, all you had was the sturdiest wooden chair from the dining room and a freshly sharpened knife from the kitchen, for emergencies.

Still, you promised Ace and Deuce you would hang out with them tomorrow, might as well, get some rest before you make yourself sick with worry.

You toss on one of your few pyjamas, the longest ones you own to prevent anyone from peeping in and seeing you in a compromising state of undress while you slept. Crawling into bed, Grim firmly cements his sleeping spot of choice to be right in the middle of where you curled up in bed. You laugh, but it ends in yawn. Exhaustion fills you and your eyes start to fall heavy.

It's only just before you drift off, that the mirror you have on the wall starts to glow.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—CHAPTER TEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: swearing and just angst.

Notes: Yayy! An update after being gone for a month or so lmao XD but anywho, heaven and back would be updated next week, I'm still finishing the chapter up lol.

Second notes: incase if you haven't seen the Azrael fanart my friend did for me, here's the link~! And also, did you know we have a discord server? Here's the link to it:3 come and join, everyone is friendly<3 and if you're already part of the server, come and say hi too:D

Word count: 4.6k

PART ONE I PART NINE | PART ELEVEN | NAVIGATION

Michael lets out a deep exhale once he finally hears the door to [Y/n]'s room clicked as he closes it. He was beyond worried when he heard the news of what happened to her. He blamed himself for being the cause of her passing out, if only he didn't send her down there then she would've been fine.

Michael leans against [Y/n]'s door, running a hand through his soft blond locks, eyes closed as he sighs.

Unaware of the approaching dark haired taller male.

Azrael's eyebrow raised as he noticed the blond man scrunched against [Y/n]'s door, seemingly in deep thought.

Azrael heard what happened and he immediately rushed back to heaven after his work, he was worried sick for the woman.

He sighs, although he didn't show it. His charming and mischievous face remains unchanged as he approaches the door.

“Michael, didn't expect to see you today.” Azrael says, his usual teasing and sultry voice catching Michael's attention.

Michael's head raised up—previously hung low—to look at the source of the voice, only to see Azrael in his deathly glory.

“I heard what happened so I immediately came here to check up on her, especially knowing she went down there and possibly saw him.” Michael explained and Azrael fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the man.

“Still wondering why you chose her to go down there, I was willing to take the load off her shoulders.”

Michael sighs, running a hand through his light blond hair, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

“I know and I suggested it to her right? To do the rock-paper-scissors game again after she lost but she was determined to take the case and I needed to respect that, she was fully prepared to go down there.” Michael explained, exhaustion evident on his voice. He was confused too, worried even. He can only believe God's words, the man sees everything—the past, present, and future.

He can only trust his judgement despite how it pains him to see [Y/n] suffer.

Azrael sighs, stuffing both of his hands in the pocket of his pants. Decided not to further question the man and possibly aggravate both of them.

Fights between Virtues are close to non-existent, but never zero. Arguments can be dangerous for powerful heavenly beings such as themselves.

“I shall not question you further, I'll hand you my reports later this evening so for now, excuse me.” Azrael says with a sigh, walking past Michael as he knocked on [Y/n]'s door before entering.

The door closed with a click. Michael was alone in that hallway after, with a sigh and finally drooping his heavy shoulders, he walked away.

For someone to be God's right hand man, he doesn't know anything. He has no choice but to place his trust in their heavenly father.

Who is currently away to a place they don't know.

‘What a mess,’ Michael thought to himself, the worried expression on his face disappearing as it was replaced with his usual cold and aloof facial expression that he is known for, shoulders straightening up, his footsteps fading as he disappeared from the hallway.

[Y/n] was blankly staring at the ceiling as she was lying down on her bed, seemingly lost in thought.

Azrael sighs, heels clicking as he walks towards her bed, [Y/n] shifted her head to look at the sound of the noise just to see Azrael, sitting on the empty spot of the side of her bed.

She gave him a weak and tired smile.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened,” Azrael muttered, a worried look on his face, “What did I tell you about pushing yourself to the limit?”

“The audacity to say that to me with your nonexistent sleep schedule—” [Y/n] says with a teasing tone but got playfully smacked by a pillow by none other than Azrael.

“I am death, I do not need sleep.”

Azrael says with a small pout, returning back the pillow to where he got it from, crossing his arms and crossing his long and slender legs.

[Y/n] chuckled softly, moving her position to sit on the bed instead of lying down.

“I mean... You looked like death.” She says, Azrael raises his eyebrow at her.

“I don't know why but I feel offended by that statement—”

[Y/n] stares at him, almost a deadpan looking the man up and down, “Come on... You know what I mean.”

“It's the bags underneath my eyes isn't it?” he asked, deadpanning at her, “Michael has it worse, stop attacking me.”

Azrael sighs, sometimes he forgets how difficult she is.

‘Dear father, give me the strength not to end her myself. I'm just kidding, I didn't mean to say that—’

He thought to himself, letting out a long exhale as he saw the teasing grin on the girl's face.

“You're trying to distract me.” he says, eyes narrowing into a deadpan, his lips still in a pout.

“Is it working?” [Y/n] asked with a playful tone, eyebrow raised teasingly at the male.

“Unfortunately.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, long and slender fingers weaving through the dark black locks in slight frustration.

Whenever he's with her, he sighs a lot. That's something he noticed a long time ago.

The heart palpitations he gets whenever she's near might've not been because of attraction, it's probably because of stress.

She stresses him out.

Okay, just a little bit.

Azrael sighs once more, [Y/n] resisting herself to burst out into laughter, “That's the sixth time you've sighed.” She points out, Azrael deadpans at her.

“Thank you for keeping count, I really appreciate it.” He says, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“You're welcome, death.” She says, it was enough for both of them to burst into chuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock was heard from her door, catching both of them off guard.

The door opens. A long dark blue haired woman can be seen standing by the door. Her hair tied into a ponytail yet her hair still reaches her waist. A serious look on her face.

Gabriel is here.

‘Oh shit.’ Azrael thought to himself, a shiver running down his back.

The room suddenly felt colder with the woman's presence. Something that often happens whenever Gabriel is in the room.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Gabriel, known as God's messenger; she handles reports that are needed to be passed around between realms.

It is natural that the news of Raphael collapsing would immediately reach her.

She can never understand what [Y/n] sees in Lucifer, sure she can see the vision but after what happened and what he did to [Y/n].

She gets the ick.

When the meeting about Sera and Adam's actions were held and the meeting also included about this 'Hazbin Hotel proposed by none other than Lucifer's daughter.

Someone needs to oversee it.

Unfortunately, [Y/n] lost the game that decides that.

The other members thought it was a bad idea but [Y/n] insists, saying that it's fair.

She doesn't want them to baby her. She wants to prove to them that she's okay.

Gabriel was beyond worried, [Y/n] is like a little sister to her despite their ages being so close to each other.

She trusts [Y/n], she can't trust Lucifer.

She couldn't trust the man who abandoned his wife for another woman.

Especially when she learned that Lilith left Lucifer.

It made Gabriel smile when she found out.

Qui totum vult totum perdit, as she always says.

Which translates to, ‘he who wants everything, loses everything.’

Michael usually refutes it with an, ‘Omnia causa fiunt.’

Which translates to, everything happens for a reason.

She doesn't understand Michael sometimes, despite knowing the man for many eons now.

She supposed Michael has some secrets to hide as the heavenly father's right hand man.

She couldn't imagine the burden he's carrying but then again, everyone in the seven virtues has something to hide.

She hums to herself, her mind returning what she was previously thinking.

What was she talking about again?

Oh, Lucifer.

Lucifer got greedy, he lost both of his wives in the process.

What differs him from the first man then?

Nothing.

After all, he is the embodiment of the sin of pride.

He is prideful, arrogant, and greedy.

Not much of a difference between him and Adam, except for how they show their arrogance.

Lucifer became blind when given the opportunity to act upon his God forsaken dreams.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought. The very dreams that doomed humanity.

With that blindness, he lost everything in the process.

As what he deserves.

Gabriel wonders why can't [Y/n] see that a man is willing to go on his knees to worship her?

Azrael, the angel of death.

The virtue of humility. Despite Azrael's slight narcissistic personality, the man knows how to be humble.

Despite the popular belief.

The man knows how to control himself. He knows the difference between being arrogant and being proud of one's achievement.

Unlike Lucifer.

Although, Azrael is borderline to it, she won't speak about it though. Nope, nuh uh.

How funny, Lucifer the sin of pride and Azrael the virtue of humility.

Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought, ‘I supposed there are two sides of the same coin.’

With a sigh, the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors came to a halt.

She stood in the hallway of the Caeles mansion, facing the door that leads to [Y/n]'s room.

She can hear [Y/n]'s muffled behind the door, along with a familiar voice of Azrael laughing. Though, muffled.

Gabriel tilts her body slightly to the side so she can gaze outside through the many windows that are in the hallway.

Dark evening blue skies are what she can see, the sun has set a few hours ago.

She's not sure, the concept of time doesn't matter to an immortal being such as her.

She turns to face the door once more, taking a deep breath as she composes herself.

Stand straight, chest up, shoulders back. Confidence.

She knocks and opens the door.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Azrael smiled nervously at [Y/n], patting the girl's head before getting up from where he was sitting—the edge or side of [Y/n]'s bed—his heels clicked on the tiled floor as he walked.

He passes by Gabriel, patting the woman on the shoulder before exiting the room.

The door clicked as it closed. [Y/n] nervously gulped.

Gabriel sighs, finally letting herself walk towards [Y/n]'s direction.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor is what [Y/n] can only hear, she plays with her thumbs nervously. Her [e/c] eyes avoiding deep dark blue ones.

“We need to talk.” She says sternly as she sits on the edge of the bed, [Y/n] sighs and nodded.

This is going to be fun. [Y/n] thought to herself, sighing mentally.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms as she looked at the other female.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, “I sorta got ambushed by evil...?”

Gabriel just stared blankly at her before deadpanning, “How—”

“It just happened okay?” [Y/n] just sighs and Gabriel just inhales and then exhales loudly.

“I don't want to continue asking about that,” Gabriel says flatly, clearly lost for words.

[Y/n] just nodded before looking away to avoid the other woman's eyes.

“Why do you insist on taking this job?” Gabriel asked, her dark blue eyes sternly looking at the [h/c] haired girl.

[Y/n] looked at the other woman in the eye, faltering slightly from the sharpness or Gabriel's dark blue ones.

“Because I just want to, what more reason do you want?” [Y/n] says nervously, avoiding Gabriel's stern and judgemental gaze.

Gabriel sighs then raises an eyebrow at her, “We know you just want to see him. It's been eons, [Y/n]. Why are you still hung up on the guy? You should move on and perhaps find someone new?” she asked her and [Y/n] avoided Gabriel's gaze and turned to look at the window near her bed, watching as the clouds passed by her window.

She sighs, “I can't, I still love him, Gabriel. After all these years my heart still yearns for him, aches, and beats for him.” she whispers softly, voice shaking and vulnerable.

Gabriel sighs, “You always let your emotions get in the way, that's the problem with you [Y/n] you don't think.” she says sternly and [Y/n] remained quiet, she knows Gabriel is right but she can't help it.

“He's just a man, [y/n].”

“A failure of an angel, he brings shame to the seraphims.”

“No, he's not.” [Y/n] refutes back yet her voice lacks resolve, it was barely a whisper.

“So what are you telling me? That this is all worth it because he's the love of your life and this was the man for you” Gabriel asked, a tinge of anger in her voice, her words sending knives to [Y/n]'s heart.

Gabriel is right and she refuses to listen.

“I don't know... He might've been.” [Y/n] answers weakly, a single tear running down her left cheek.

“This is ridiculous.” Gabriel says and [Y/n] just gave a pained laugh, “I know.” she says, she knows that.

“So there's no chance of changing your mind then?” Gabriel asked, a small scoff leaving her lips, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in slight annoyance at the thought of [Y/n] going down in hell once more.

[Y/n] nodded, Gabriel sighed and stood up from where she was sitting, “You're really an idiot, [Y/n].” Gabriel says with a small sigh, a strand of dark blue hair falling on her face. She uses her finger to tuck those strands behind her ear. Her dark blue eyes analyzing the other woman—helpless, weak, an utter fool for lowering herself for a man.

One might say the standards are in hell because of how low it is.

How ironic, amusing.

[Y/n] smiled weakly, she knows. She knows she's stupid for loving a man this much.

Yet, she can't help it. She's a fool. A fool in love with the devil, who was once an angel, who was once her loving husband.

You can never really know you love someone until they've hurt you and still think of them as the best person ever.

“Yeah, I know.” [Y/n] says with a pained smile, a bitter chuckle escaping from her plump pink lips.

Gabriel stood up from where she was sitting, walking to a nearby window that's near the edge of her bed, she stared outside the glass panel, her hands behind her back.

“Does that mean you'll be going down there again?” She asked, not bothering to look at [Y/n].

“Yeah.” [Y/n] nodded, her eyes downcast as she looked defeated. She hated herself for being like this.

“I am not stopping you, you're far too stubborn to listen anyways.” Gabriel says, voice monotone and tired.

“I know.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, a meek and powerless voice. Not wanting to agree with Gabriel but the woman is right and it hurts admitting it.

“Don't say I didn't tell you so.”

Not the first time someone told her that, and it didn't end well for her.

History repeats itself.

And as usual, it's her fault for not listening.

Azrael stood behind the door, ear pressed on the wooden door, eavesdropping.

He is aware that Gabriel can be harsh sometimes and he is also curious.

Can't say what he heard didn't break his heart.

He moves away from the door and leans against the wall, his face expressionless.

He has no reason to cry about it, he knows he had no chance.

A small smile was now on his face and a single tear slid down from his left eye, leaving a wet trail on to his pale cheek.

The door suddenly opens which prompted him to quickly wipe the tear away and composed himself.

He watches as Gabriel walks out of the door and closes the door behind her.

Dark blue eyes meeting dark black ones.

Gabriel's eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Azrael standing and leaning on the wall near the door, “I thought you left.” she says, eyebrow raised at him.

Azrael chuckled softly, his voice smooth and sweet yet had a tinge of slight bitterness.

“I was curious what you girls were talking about, curiosity kills the cat indeed.” he says with a slight humor in his voice.

Gabriel's eyes softened slightly, “Are you okay?” she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azrael shakes his head, “No, but I will be eventually.” he says with a small sigh, “Perhaps I should start moving on, besides, I'm starting to get interested in a certain someone.” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face as remembered a certain archangel who is the acting celestial scribe to the book of life.

“Is it Michael?” she asked and Azrael gave her a disgust and flabbergasted expression, a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he says, dumbfounded, “I may swing both ways but he isn't my type.” he says flatly, Gabriel gave him a side eye.

“Really? I swear both of you have this weird tension. The younglings say they 'ship' you and you two are the perfect representation of old man yaoi whatever that means.”

Azrael almost choked on air, what the fuck? Where did those angels even learn those words—

“Gabriel, what the fuck?”

Gabriel chuckles, nudging the male's shoulder, “I am just kidding.” she says with a teasing tone before humming to herself, “Metatron was it? I barely interact with them nor see them often. They're like Michael but worse, they're usually near father at all times to help him write the book of life so we barely see them in public.” she deadpans before looking at Azrael, “Since you are the angel of death, I supposed you see them often. I can just imagine you annoying them every time you're with them.” she says flatly.

Azrael chuckles, “Indeed, they're rather interesting but for now, I'll resolve my personal issues before acting upon my interest in them.”

“Good. Go to therapy.” Gabriel says, her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked at Azrael with a deadpan expression.

Azrael pouted a little.

“But I no no wanna...” he whined dramatically with a small laugh as he began to follow Gabriel as they walked away from [Y/n]'s room, the click of their heels slowly faded away as they slowly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile,

“Dad, are you okay?” Charlie asked softly, her father staring outside his bedroom window, a lost look on his face.

Charlie was outside the door during her father and her supposed half brother arguing.

She wanted to come inside the room and try to calm both men down, but when she heard Xavier's voice as he talked to their father.

Charlie could hear eons of rage and utter pain in the boy's voice.

It stopped her from intervening, a voice in her mind kept telling her, ‘Don't. He needs this.’

Even if their father was the receiver of those harsh words.

She might not fully know nor understand the pain and suffering Xavier went but when she looked at the boy's [e/c] eyes, she was able to see utter sadness despite the blank expression on his face.

Lucifer was just blankly staring outside the window, his eyes fixated on the outside world but his mind somewhere, lost and drowning in his own self hate.

He hated it. He was not prepared. He was not prepared to see an almost exact replica of himself to arrive at his daughter's doorstep.

He was not prepared to see an exact replica of him filled with anger and sadness.

Seeing Xavier with his own two eyes, he was able to understand a bit of what the boy went through.

And he was the cause of it.

He regretted the things he has done, especially on how he treated [Y/n].

He was young—no, he was stupid. Just stupid.

Nothing can excuse his actions. He was an idiot and a fool.

[Y/n] was there for him, she was his best friend and he treated her like that.

Like a doll he discarded once he got bored.

He was wrong on how he treated her.

He should've done that, he should've loved her properly, treated her properly.

He should've been Xavier's father, the father that the boy needed and the father that the boy could trust.

Not someone he looks at with so much anger.

Terrifying, Xavier's rage reminded him of his own when he fell from grace.

Though, the reasons are highly different.

He loves [Y/n], he still does.

He realized that he still does in fact love the woman when he was separated from her for many, many years.

He would often call out to her without thinking, then remembering ‘Oh, she's not here.’

Falling from grace was enough to slap some sense into him.

He treated an amazing woman like her like garbage.

He's really an asshole.

Lilith cannot compare to [Y/n], he can't remember how many times [Y/n]'s name slips from his lips whenever he argues with Lilith.

It created distance between them.

Lilith couldn't take it anymore and left him.

He was left alone to wallow in self pity. He was left alone to mourn for the woman he left to suffer in her heartbreak which he caused.

He mourned his first love, he mourned his first son.

Which he doesn't deserve to do, considering that it should be the opposite.

To Xavier, he's a dead man. To [Y/n], he's a nobody.

Charlie watches her father with an unreadable expression on her, her hand outstretched as if to reach him but it hesitated midway. Shaking and unsure.

“Dad...?” she softly calls out again, her voice echoing despite the ringing in Lucifer's ears. His daughter's voice sounds like it's echoing in the four corners of his hotel room.

Suffocating. It felt like he was trapped in his own mind. His mistakes echoed like a siren's call to him. Teasing him.

He felt cold. He felt numb.

Snap. Everything stopped. The ringing stopped.

Though, his heart is beating erratically against his ribcage, like a monster threatening to get out of its prison.

He felt utterly numb.

His eyes are scanning his room, gentle streaks of light filtering through the glass panel of his windows giving his room a reddish like hue.

With a deep shaky sigh, he turned around and faced his daughter, his hand gripping his cane clenched ever so slightly.

“Charlie, dear... I would like to be alone at the moment.” he says, hesitantly. Voice quivering in each syllable, each word filled with the regrets of his past and present. Weighing him down.

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly before giving her father a small reassuring smile, “Oh! Of course... Excuse me...” she says giving him a small bow before turning around on her heels to walk towards the door. She paused, took a deep breath before looking at her father through her shoulder.

“If you need me, I'll be somewhere around the hotel. I'll always be here for you, dad.” she says with a small smile before turning around once more, twisting the doorknob open and walks out of the door.

The door clicked to a close when she was gone.

Lucifer's tensed shoulders loosened as it drops, a small frown on his beautiful face.

A single tear slips past his eye, the droplet sliding down on his left cheek, leaving a trail on his soft and pale yet rosy cheek.

“I know.” he whispered before a choked sob escaped his lips.

He can feel the stinging sensation around his eyes, vision blurring as tears mess up his sense of sight.

He can feel his legs buckling as if it struggled to carry the weight of his mistakes that he's carrying on his shoulders.

It gave out as he was now on the floor, small sobs could be heard from, his sobs bouncing on the walls of his room, mocking him.

“Why am I crying? I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to cry after what I had done.” he says choking on his words, shoulders shaking, trembling.

He hugged himself in an attempt to comfort himself, yet he was met with painful memories of when [Y/n] used to hold him when he was crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth on where he was kneeling like a sinner.

Begging for her forgiveness, yet his repentance can't be heard from her.

‘It's all my fault, it's all my fault.’ thinking these words were like a stab to the heart because it is true.

With his last bit of energy, he lies down on the cold tiled floor. His white suit a pop of color to the redness all around him, his cheeks pressed against the tiles as tears continue to slide down on his pale skin and on to the floor.

“Over, I can't believe it's over, I can't believe the love I lived, to show some other day...” he quietly sang, his voice raspy from all the crying he shifts to let his body face the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the chandeliers.

“Listen, I hope that you can hear me...” he sang, propping his elbows on the floor to lift himself up into a kneeling position, his hands trembling, voice cracking with emotions, “As I kneel down and pray with the love I meant to say...” he sang softly, his voice beautiful yet filled with unexplainable regret.

“Shadows, you took away the shadows...”

“Before my life was black and white, though tonight the room's gone gray.”

She was the light of his life, his life was monotone before she came, she was a splash of color to the black and white of his so-called life.

“Golden, all the love you gave was golden,” he sang softly, [Y/n]'s bright smiling face flashes into his mind, a smile that brought so much warmth and happiness into his life, “Golden, I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say...”

“Oh, music you made me hear, such music,”

“Silly Lucifer, don't take our elder's words to heart! Their ancient beliefs can't possibly understand your amazing ideas!” [Y/n]'s words echo in his mind, for a brief moment, he could see [Y/n] smiling and giggling at him, her long white dress fluttering against the wind.

His eyes widened when the figment of his imagination of [Y/n] slowly fades away, his eyes widened in fear as he attempted to lift himself up from the floor, his hands outstretched in hopes of reaching her.

Only to grip on to nothing.

“Without you here to guide me, I feel as though I'll fly away...” he muttered, his voice continuing to break as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

Droplets of his tears falling into the floor, his reflection mirrored into the small puddle of his pain.

“S-sorry,” his voice breaks even more, a simple word that is too late to say, too heavy to speak with his own lips. The very words he wants to say to her.

“Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you,”

He took a deep shaky breath, his wine red like eyes tired and dull, eyes puffy and red after all the crying he had done, “The other word is stay, to hear the love I meant to say.” he softly sang, small hiccups can be heard.

He's really an idiot.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[buckyshusband0]

𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

pairing; DarkProfessor!August Walker x M!Reader

☬— nsfw content. dark themes. body worship. degrading/praising. jealous themes. mentions of past trauma. rough sex. descriptions of violence/murder. daddy kink. knife play. verbal insults.

summary; After having a first glance at you, professor August knew he wanted to make you his. The only thing stopping him was that you were a forbidden obsession. Not only an obsession, but you were his student.

THE brightness of the sun seeped through the jet-black curtains as the morning day came to a beginning for August Walker. A slight groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up and leaned his muscular back against the dark bed frame.

His hooded eyes looked around the bedroom as a — quiet but still audible — sigh left his mouth. His hand gestured over his beard as he got up from his bed to get ready for the day.

Once he was ready, he made his way into his jet-black car with a black hot coffee in his hand. After a 10-minute drive towards the university, August slammed his car door shut and marched his six-foot frame towards his classroom.

Attending a university when your professor is August Walker, of course, he would get all the lust-filled eyes from the girls as he walked through the halls with his slightly unbuttoned shirt and his sleeves rolled up on his muscular arms.

Why wouldn't he?

He walked around the place like he owned it. He knew he had this hold of power over everyone in the university, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. The girls worshipped the ground he walked upon, wanting every but of him. But he didn't care for them.

But August only cared for one person. A person who was so naive as to not even recognize the thoughtful acts he would do for him every day. Someone he would secretly protect without his knowledge.

That person was you...

His beautiful sweet angel. You looked shy when you were not with the right people, but when you were, a beautiful smile would break out on your face. As soon as he saw you enter his classroom, August lost his breath as he knew you were going to cause him problems. He was clear that you caused him to have an obsession with wanting you.

They say "love at first sight" doesn't exist, but with August, he felt that love for you blossom out of his stone-cold heart. You were like a plague, something which invaded his mind 24/7.

He couldn't stop thinking about you.. he felt compelled to have you underneath him, to feel your soft skin under his touch. To hear your sweet moans as he gave you the pleasure you most desired. August needed you...

As time goes by, the hallway that was once flooded by people begins to become empty from people going to their lectures. Your soft lips pressed against Zayn, your boyfriend as he forcefully kissed you hard. His hands went to your arms—where bruises covered—and let his mouth form into a smirk.

Zayn was your boyfriend of 2 years.

He wasn't always like this, he was once a loving man. But something inside of him switched. Something to cause you harm. You were too naïve to notice any of his wrongs.

"We're going out tonight, baby," Zayn ordered. He never asked you, just ordered. He never asked why you would cry yourself to sleep, why you would feel like something was holding you down. Your heart clenched and your eyes would cry until they couldn't no more from the way Zayn wouldn't even reassure you.

Reassurance was all you needed...

As he spoke, you nodded before walking away to enter your lecture. When you walked into the room, your professor, August Walker, was talking to a student until his words came to a stop. Without your knowledge, your presence made August happier.

One thing ran through his wretched mind the whole time he taught everyone who stayed sat the whole time, paying attention to the words that flowed out of his mouth. You...

August couldn't help himself but picture what your beautiful body would look like under his. Your sweet angelic moans would escape your lips from the pleasure that he knew you desired — That he desired. He wanted you and only you.

The sinful thoughts that would pop up in his mind caused him to stutter while he was teaching the class that you were sitting in. How could he not? Your (e/c) eyes connected with his every time he would talk, and just by making eye contact with you, his pants tightened.

August knew that he couldn't breathe without you… You were the main cause of his morning awakening. He was aware that this forbidden obsession with you would get him into trouble, yet he didn't care. He was only aware that you were going to be his.

No matter what.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

The terrible smell of alcohol reeked through the club.

August felt the — almost silent — wooden floor creak under his heavy feet as he entered the place. The sight of people letting their bodies lose to the music and chugging alcohol into their system made August grimace with a scowl on his face the whole time.

He walked over to the bar — which was crowded with many slouchy men— with his broad shoulders and towering stance. He gives a sharp nod to the bartender whose eyes were glued onto him, waiting for his order and hurried to get a beer at his command.

The sound of unfunny jokes could be heard being thrown around from man to man as August's blue eyes observed the crowded place. He was here for one thing only—well someone...

August knew you would be here.

That is what he loves to believe—that he wasn't stalking or following you. He wasn't, He was protecting you. Protecting you in any way from the risks that this world might pose to you. He was aware that he had to keep his beautiful angel safe from harm.

Because if something were to happen to you at the hands of someone else, they would have seen the devil himself, only God knows. August would happily cover his hands in the blood of the person who had the audacity to harm what was rightfully his with a smile on his damn face.

His hand gestured gently to his pocket to feel for the pocket knife he always carried with him just in case someone ever tried anything with you. He knew no one would try to attack him because of his threatening build and hovering height.

And then, his eyes connected to your figure.

He felt a muscle in his jaw ticks from the scene that was happening in front of him. You were—drunkenly dancing—with another student of his from another class, Zayn.

August couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. His face turned into a dark red and his knuckles turned white. The sudden sound of glass breaking caused him to step out of his trance and look down at his bloodied hand.

"Fuck." August whispers as his vision darkened at the sight of seeing the—used to be fixed—beer bottle now broken into little pieces in his hand. But, he could care less about his wound. What he really cared about was the anger that he had never felt when he watched you grind onto another man.

Another man who isn't him...

Jealousy hasn't been so clear before, but it was painted like a perfect picture on a canvas on August's face. His brows furrow when he could see Zayn forcefully pull you into a hallway where no one was in and that makes him stand up harshly.

He steps into the — lightly dimmed — hallway and hides behind a wall to observe what is happening. His nostrils flare with anger and envy coursing through his veins from the thought of you being with someone else. Someone who isn't him...

"C'mon, baby... stop being scared and let me touch you..." Zayn whispered drunkenly into your ear as his hands caressed your body. He had you pushed against the wall and even though you were drunk, you clearly didn't want this.

"Zayn, I-I don't want this." You muttered under your breath as you felt his slimy hands make their way under your shirt. You felt an uneasy feeling in your stomach from his touch.

You didn't like it.

You wanted this to stop. "Baby quit bitching and let your boyfriend fuck you," Zayn said with anger and impatience as you didn't let him touch you the way he wanted to. He could see that you were uncomfortable, but he didn't care.

Zayn always loved that feeling he had with you. The feeling of power. He had knowledge about how you're childhood was and why you're this naïve now — which is why he loves to take advantage of you. He loves having a sense of power over you.

But you were done with it.

"I said, stop!" You shout and roughly push Zayn off to get him far away as possible and march your way out of the exit with tears trying to fight their way to escape your eyes.

August's eyebrows lower as he sees you walk out and debates whether or not he should follow you, but he can't just let Zayn walk away feeling happy with himself. He couldn't let Zayn walk away freely after hurting his angel mentally and physically.

And with that, August steps out from behind the wall and marches his heavy feet towards Zayn whose brows furrow from seeing his professor. "Professor Walk-" His words are cut off when a straight punch connects to his jaw, sending him to the rough ground.

His face starts to get covered in crimson-red blood as August continues laying punch after punch onto this fuckers face for touching and disrespecting his sweet angel.

He was going to pay for what he did...

"If I ever hear you talk to y/n or touch him like that again, I will not hesitate to hurt you again. And so God help me, if I find out you were to hurt him again—" August lets out a low evil chuckle and lays another punch onto his broken rib. "I'll kill you with a smile on my face." He seethes through his teeth as he starts to stand up.

"F-Fuck you man!" Blood covers his ugly teeth and a smirk makes its way onto August face as Zayn coughed up more blood.

"Just know this, Zayn, and hear me clearly..." August reaches for the knife in his pocket and retracts it. He roughly injects the cold metal blade into Zayn's stomach and leans in toward his ear. He licked his soft pink lips before speaking.

"He's mine."

Zayn's brown eyes widen from the blood that was rushing out of his body. His skin turning pale, and his eyes fighting to stay open. His vision slowly turning black as the last thing he saw was August's dark shadow walk away from him. He was left there to die. Left alone.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

Darkness was all you could see.

The sound of crickets could be heard as you walked on the rough concrete with your arms crossed. The chilling breeze caused your body to shiver and bumps to grow on your skin.

Your thoughts were running wild as you walked to get back home. You couldn't believe what just happened. You actually stood up for yourself... sort of. The sudden sound of a loud honk and beaming lights came behind you and you started walking faster.

"No, no, no, no."

You whispered under your breath hoping the person in the jet-black car would just surpass you and not think to look back. That was until it stopped right by your side and the window rolled down and you felt your eyes widen from who you saw.

"Professor August?" You questioned the knowing face. Worry covered your professor's face as he observed the unsafe environment that you and he were currently in.

"y/n? What are you doing out here walking alone at this time? It's not safe." August said sternly with concern laced in his husky deep voice. You frown not wanting to tell him what happen, but he already knew. Hell.. he even dealt with the problem.

August could still see the way how your body didn't stand up straight, so he knew you were still drunk. "Get in, I'm taking you to my place." You were too drunk to even comprehend what he was really saying, so with that you got into his car and felt how soft the passenger seat was. His face was lightly lit up from the street lights and you couldn't help yourself but think how attractive August is. You feel your body grow with heat and your eyes widen slightly with the sinful forbidden thoughts that rush through your mind. 'Stop it y/n... he's your professor.' You thought to yourself as he drove to his apartment.

Now you were sitting on the end of his bed waiting for him to come back with a glass of water he said he would get. August let a gentle smile come onto his face at the thought of him taking care of you.

This is how it should be...

Him making sure you're safe, well-fed, cleaned, and loved. He needed to love on you like no one else could. He wanted to be yours as much as he wanted you to be his. He couldn't help the feeling of butterflies crawling their way into his stomach at the thought.

He brings the glass of water and lays it down gently on the desk. "Are you okay, angel?" August asked with a soft tone he would only use with you. You are so special to him and you don't even realize... Too blind to see the acts he has act upon for you to notice him.

He let out a soft breath as he looked down at you and saw an unfamiliar look in your (e/c) eyes. "Angel are you-" August's words were cut off when he felt a pair of lips connect with his. A bright pink shade reached his cheeks as you kissed him, and God did he love the feeling. The feeling of your soft lips on his...

He soon returned the passionate kiss and felt the butterflies he once felt, come rushing back in. Fuck he needed you so bad... Your tongues soon started to dance with each other—fighting for dominance. He backed away from the kiss to connect his lips to the soft skin of your body and gestured over every mark on your body.

"You're so beautiful..."

His tall muscular body leans in towards your ear, his hot breath exhaled towards your (s/c) skin which made unwanted goosebumps arrive. His next words left you to let out a soft whine escape your lips.

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you angel.."

August's words made a smile reach onto your face as you leaned back onto the silky sheets of the bed and reached your hands out for him to take. He threads his rough fingers into your soft-like ones and puts them over your head. He leans in for another kiss until you have to pull away—which causes a string of salvia to form—to catch the loss of breath.

Your body was in bliss as you felt nervous under his touch. His blue dilated eyes held nothing but lust and love. As you feel his hands gesture over your thighs, you look away but instantly feel a finger under your chin to reconnect your hungry gaze to his.

"Look me in my eyes as I fuck you, angel."

You swallow a growing lump in your throat and nod to the six-foot man's order. Without warning, you felt a soft pair of plump lips against your hole and your eyes widen from the euphoric feeling that made its way towards your stomach.

It was all happening so fast. Soft moans escape from your lips and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your toes curl. Your fingers thread through August's brown hair and you pull at it roughly which causes a muffled grunt to leave him.

The eye contact August was making was so real. His eyes filled with—nothing but lust and love— never stopped looking at you as he ate you out like you were his last meal. "Fuck, that feels so good!" You moaned out loud, not holding back any noises. Your body jolts up when you feel three fingers curl up inside of you and penetrate your hole roughly. Your cock leaking as you felt your orgasm rushing in already.

"Shit, I'm so close, keep going-" Your words were cut off when he yanks his fingers away from you to your wet tongue, leading them. As he forces you to suck on the fingers that are already within you, he inserts another finger. He moves them into scissor motions as he removes them from your lips to show how wet they have become.

"You're not gonna fucking cum till I say so, understand?" August growled out and all you could do was nod until you felt his thick cock push itself into you. Your eyes widen from the size of it and sweet moans escaped your lips.

"A-August..." You mumble a whisper as he thrusts deep inside of you over and over. You couldn't believe what was happening. This felt so... so real. August hands caressed your body, worshipping every part of it. Like the beauty you are. Your touch, your moans, your fucking sweet scent. August couldn't hold back any longer. He felt his cock twitch inside your pulsing hole—which signaled he was about to cum.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum! Cum with me, angel... cum with me like the good boy you are." He moaned out. The scratches that you caused on his back start to turn a dark shade of red and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he felt his sticky, white cum paint the inside of your walls— like a blank canvas waiting for its artist to perfect a masterpiece.

A masterpiece is what you are...

Letting out a huge sigh of relief, August pulls out of you and falls down onto the soft sheets. You fall onto his chest and lay a gentle kiss on his chest as you look up at him. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, as if you could disappear at any second.

He couldn't let that happen.

You were finally in his arms, exactly where he wanted you. The butterflies started to flutter once more as soon as he felt your presence next to him. You were, after all, his to hold, feed, care for, and protect—his beautiful forbidden obsession.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

[mariclerc]

betrayal and rescue | cl16

Summary: your ex betrays you, but luckily your teammate has your back.

Warnings: angst, mentions of domestic abuse, ferrari driver!reader, single mom reader, fluff.

a/n: let me know if you like this!!

Your life as an F1 driver has been a massive roller coaster of emotions, but you don't deny that it has been the best adventure of your life... Being the first female driver in a long time in the category is a pretty big and important title, but no title is as important as being a mother.

In your second season in the category, and while you were racing for Haas, you became a mother in a way... not so pleasant, to say at least, but you will not deny that the love you feel for your little girl is enormous. And the atmosphere of familiarity that exists between the drivers is something very nice, since almost all of them were very attentive to you during your pregnancy, especially the one who would be your future teammate...

You are currently leaving the Ferrari hospitality with your three-year-old Mia, who is very loved by everyone in the paddock, when walking through the paddock you meet George Russell, he started playing with Mia.

“But hi there pretty ladies! Where are you going looking so pretty at night, huh?” he says with a little smile, Mia lets out a giggle.

“Dad! Eat!” Mia says happily.

George chuckled. “Are you going to eat your daddy? That's not very good Mia.”

You shake your head. “Oh, no, no George, her dad is here for the weekend and... well, he thought that the three of us should go out to eat.” you say softly.

“Oh, I hope you're doing well girls! See you tomorrow in qualifying y/n.” says George, saying goodbye with a hug and walking towards the Mercedes hospitality.

You and Mia walk towards the car that the team lent you to go around Melbourne, the truth is that things between you and your partner have not been on better terms, but because he wanted to have dinner with the two of you, you decided to give him a chance to see if he once and for all decides to be a good partner and a good father... But of course you had pretty high expectations and obviously he just kept screwing up more and more every single time...

Now you find yourself with Mia in the hotel room, the two of you had already had dinner but obviously your partner never showed up, you find yourself calling him incessantly while you caress the hair of a more than sleeping Mia, just so he doesn't answer you. A little tired of the situation you decide to check if he posted an update on his social media or something like that, which he did... He posted a photo having dinner with another woman. "What a pleasant surprise" you think.

Just when you thought about calling him back once again, there's a knock on the door. You hesitantly open it to find your partner standing there, looking a little guilty.

“Hey, I'm so sorry about earlier love... There was a lot of traffic and it was...” he said trying to smile.

You interrupt him with trembling voice. “I don't want your empty apology.” you speak up. “I saw you had a very important date with other woman instead of having the dinner you promised with your daughter and girlfriend as you promised.” you say harshly.

He step into the room. “No, no, let me explain...”

“There's nothing to explain! I'm tired of your incompetence as a partner and also as a father. I'm tired of all the damn abuse all this years!” you said raising your voice, which unleashed his fury. “I'm breaking up with you, and this time I won't have any mercy on you.”

He backed you against the wall, grabbing one of your wrists with his hand, his grip is quite strong. “You can't do this you little brat. You and that little shit are mine and only mine!”

“Let go of me!” you scream while struggling to break free.

Your partner's grip tightens once more on your wrist, and you start to cry out and scream for help, begging for someone to listen to you. Suddenly you hear the door of the room beside yours being opened abruptly, Charles, hearing the commotion, has gone out into the hallway, his face filled with concern by the cries that emanate from you.

“What's happening?” says Charles rushing towards you.

“It's none of your business you pretty face.” your partner says a little startled.

“Of course it's my problem, you're hurting her, you idiot.” says Charles protecting you.

Your partner gets angry and furious. “You think you can just...”

Charles pushes your partner back, and he stumbles against the wall. You collapse onto the floor, sobbing, you feel so lost and hopeless.

“Listen to me, you get close to either of them two again and I won't hesitate for a second to hit you, is that clear?” says Charles in a deep voice while looking towards your partner angrily, he nods in fear and slips out of the room like a coward. Then, Charles turns around and kneels beside you. “Are you okay, y/n?”

You nod, barely able to speak. “He... He was going to hurt me.”

He holds your hand tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't know, not yet. I just... I can't.” you shake your head while you tremble.

He nodded understandingly. “I know and it's okay if you don't want to talk about it yet, it's a lot to take in. But you and Mia are safe now... I'm here for you.” he said while he pulled you into his arms.

“Thank you Charles, I don't know what I would do if you didn't came in.” you say as you bury your face in his chest.

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “You're welcome y/n, you're so stronger.”

As you and Charles get up from the floor, Mia stirs awake, you pick her up and hold her close.

“Mommy!” she babbled happily, unaware of the situation.

Charles smiled at her. “She's a lucky girl to have you as her mommy.”

You smile shyly at him and he looks up to smile back. You never thought that the betrayal from your ex-partner and the comfort — or rescue, from your teammate would happen in the same night, maybe it doesn't bother you that Charles is the person who knows about this.

***

The next day you wake up super early to prepare for quali day, you get ready and carefully prepare Mia's bag with her stuff, you approach her bed and start giving her small kisses all over her face.

“It's time to wake up my little sunshine! The sun has already come out to play!” you say in a soft voice, she shifts in bed and babbles.

“Mommy...” she mumbled.

You stroke her hair. “My pretty girl, you have to wake up! Mommy has to go to work and you're going to spend some quality and fun time playing with Joris, you know? Charlie's friend.” you tell her that and she starts to squeeze her eyes and she finally wakes up.

Gently, you pick her up and take her to the bathroom where you bathe her carefully and dress her in a cute butterfly outfit. She smiles when she sees you combing her hair, she is a happy girl and you do what is necessary to give her a good life.

With everything ready, you two go down to the hotel buffet for breakfast, once you two had already chosen breakfast, you both sit at the same table as Charles.

He smiled as he saw the two of you coming towards him. “Good morning ladies, did you sleep well?”

You nodded. “A little bit, Mia woke up a few times, but it was okay.”

Mia smiled. “Hi Charlie!” she said while waving her hand.

He waved his hand. “Hi Mia!” he looked at her. “She's such a little sweetheart.”

You smiled back. “Yeah, she really is.”

As you all sit down and start to eat, you decide to tell Charles the full story of your relationship with your ex-partner, or at least a context of reason why last night's argument between your ex-partner and you happened.

You take a deep breath. “Charles, I... I want to tell you something.”

He looks at you with concern. “Sure, what is it?”

“It's... It's about my ex.” you say a little hesitant.

He nodded. “Go ahead, I'm listening.”

You start to speak, slowly. “Well... we met at a party a few years ago, he was charming and funny, and I was immediately attracted to him, I mean, I think it was more than obvious since that's where Mia came from... Although I think it didn't mean anything to him. We started dating, and everything seemed perfect.”

Charles nodded. “Sounds like a typical love story.”

You smile sadly. “He was charming and flattering at first, sweep me off my feet with compliments and gifts. But it didn't take long for the cracks to show.” you feel your voice trembling. “It was with little things at first - jealous comments if I spoke to other men, accusing me of cheating for no reason... Then the anger started, over smaller and smaller things, like throwing and breaking things during fights.”

Charles reached out, grasping your quivering hand in his steady one. You took comfort in his presence, continuing.

“When I found out that I was pregnant with Mia, at first he seemed happy... But that's when the physical abuse began.” your eyes welled with tears at the painful memories. “Pushing and shoving that left bruises, slapping me hard across the face when I 'talked back.' Kicking and punching me when he'd been drinking.”

A comfortable silence develops between the two of you, Charles was quiet for a moment, anger and sadness evident in his green eyes. After a while Charles decides to speak.

“I can't believe he did those things to you.” he says softly, he holds your hand softly. “You did nothing to deserve that, you and Mia... You both deserve so much better.”

“Me neither, but I thought he was different.” you sighed tiredly.

Charles takes your hand. “It's not your fault, he's the one who made the choice to cheat.” he caressed the back of your hand.

“I know, but still hurts.” you nodded.

Suddenly Mia decides to throw a small piece of watermelon to Charles, he lets out a giggle and puts the piece of watermelon in his mouth while smiling at her.

You giggled. “Oh, Mia, you're such a distraction.”

“Mama! Fruits!” she says while holding a small piece of strawberry in her little hand.

Charles chuckled. “She's a lifesaver.” he said while looking at her.

As you continue to eat and talk, you feel a sense of relief. Sharing your story with Charles has helped you to process your emotions and feel less alone.

His words, and steadfast support, can give you courage and hope that things would only get better from here on.

***

After qualifying, in which you will start 4th in the race, you and Mia were snuggled on the hotel bed watching a kids movie... But her little brow was furrowed in thought.

“Mommy? Where daddy?” she asked softly.

You sighed softly. “Daddy... he did some bad things... He won't be living with us anymore sweetie.”

Her lower lip trembled. “He yelled at mama?” she asked shyly.

Your heart ached at having to explain such adult problems to her. But somehow she deserved the truth.

“Daddy was mean sometimes to mama... But it's not your fault, sweetheart. Mommy and Charles will protect you now, okay?”

She nodded uncertainly just as a knock came, you opened it to find Charles with a little shy smile on his face.

“Hi y/n, just stopping by to see how you're doing?” he says softly.

“Well, everything is fine for now, just that...” you say a little quietly, you glanced back at Mia now distracted by the movie again. “She started asking about her father after last night... And I tried to explain it simply.”

“You did well, I'm sure!” Charles assured you while he cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you thought more about what you'll do now? Do you have somewhere safe to stay?”

You hadn't thought about that situation, I mean, going back to the shared apartment you had with your ex is not the best idea, because it would mean going back to the same old routine, but you can't stay living in a hotel either...

You sighed heavily. “I've been trying not to think that far, I mean, my family is so far away, and I don't feel comfortable at my apartment anymore because, he would be there too, so...” you say while playing with your trembling hands.

Charles caught you trembling hands in his steady ones. “You don't need to worry about any of that. I want you both to stay with me, for as long as you need.”

You gazed into his kind eyes, feeling tears well up with gratitude. “Charles, are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble...”

He shake his head. “It would put my mind at ease knowing the two of you are protected and safe.” he insisted gently. “Please, let me do this for you... Both of you.”

His heartfelt offer was too much, and you broke down sobbing as he gathered you close to him. In that moment you knew you two had each found the strength and comfort you both desperately needed.

“Oh my... Charles, thank you... I.” you whispered and he smiled softly, he kissed your forehead.

“Don't worry about anything, you two are going to be okay.” he whispered and you nodded.

***

One week later...

After the Australian race weekend, Charles insisted on driving the two of you to his home to settle in. Pulling up the long driveway, you gazed at the spacious house nervously.

“Whoa, this is a little bit bigger than I expected.” you admitted shyly as Charles helped with your bags.

You were able to get all your belongings out of your now old apartment thanks to some friends who helped you recover all of your and Mia's belongings.

He smiled warmly. “I want you both to feel comfortable here, this is your home too now.”

Mia clung shyly to your leg as Charles gave you a home tour: the spacious bedrooms, well-stocked kitchen, and gorgeous backyard took your breath away.

“Mia, look - it's a playroom just for you! Isn't that amazing?” Charles said excitedly, her little face lit up and smiled at the toys and books.

In that moment, the tension eased from your shoulders. This house, and Charles' kindness, offered you two the safe haven you'd desperately sought.

That very first night, Charles cooked you two a decadent welcome meal as you helped Mia adjust to her new surroundings. She warmed up to Charles quickly thanks to his playful, gentle and caring nature.

Over the following days, Charles went out of his way to make you and Mia feel at home - helping decorate Mia's room, taking both of you shopping to refill the pantry, entertaining Mia for hours so you could have a well deserved rest.

His generosity and compassion left you in awe, because, despite of being your teammate, the famous athlete that could have any woman, yet he chose to open his heart and home to a struggling single mother and daughter.

As the few weeks passed, you found yourself smiling and laughing more than you had in years. Mia bloomed under Charles' care, and you felt falling for this beautiful soul who gave you both everything without question or complaint.

One night over a candlelit dinner, Charles took your hand gently and gazed into your eyes. “I know this is so fast, but... my heart is yours, if you want to have it.”

Tears filled your eyes, you smiled and squeezed his hand, for the first time, your future seemed full of hope, happiness, and the love you knew that both of you really deserved.

***

You and Charles had been cautiously exploring a romantic relationship over the past few weeks. And him, being true to his word, he never pressed or rushed you at all, he's happy to take things at whatever pace you desired.

One sunny afternoon, you were reading in the bedroom when laughter and giggles floated in from outside. Stepping onto the balcony, your heart swelled at the sight before you...

Charles lay relaxing on a lounge chair, Mia snuggled contentedly on his chest, he popped slices of strawberry into her smiling mouth between fits of giggles.

“There's ma petite princesse!” Charles cooed, tapping her nose playfully and she beamed up at him, her hazel eyes sparkling. (my little princess)

Mia smiled. “Princess!” she says with her mouth full with strawberries and Charles nodded.

Charles looks up from Mia and looks at you, tilting his head back with a radiant smile.

“Mon coeur, come join us!” he patted the space beside him invitingly. (my heart)

You settled in under his strong arm with a sigh, stealing a grape from the fruit bowl and Charles pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Mia babbled happily about the cartoons they'd been watching and Charles listened with rapt attention, praising her vivid and creative imagination.

You gazed between them, heart full to bursting. Here in this perfect little moment, surrounded by the love and acceptance of this wonderful man, you felt yourself starting to heal.

While the circumstances weren't simple or traditional, Charles made your unconventional little family feel like the most natural thing in the world with his unwavering devotion. For the first time in years, you began to let yourself believe that you both deserved all the joy and happiness you found in each other's arms.

[starlightandfairies]

Ok ok I really love you! That's the last request hahaha I don't wanna annoy you ❤️ I had this somehow cute idea where you've fallen in love with him but he doesn't know and one time you get a little drunk with the girls, later deciding to grab a taxi to the Mikaelson house. Klaus is the one letting you in but Elijah already felt your presence and tries to keep you safe around Klaus, or as you start playing with their swords and stuff. Klaus watches with amusement at his brother taking care of a human girl and makes a comment like "better keep her before I do", and that wakes something in Elijah that he takes you to his room, just to keep you safe. You end up cuddled on top of him, admitting your love to him before falling asleep. He also realizes that he has feelings for you, but he decides to tell you properly in the morning when you wake up 😊😙

Description: A drunken reader leads to playful chaos between the Mikaelson brothers and feelings being revealed.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, drunkness, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you so again for requesting! No! You're not annoying me! I'm really enjoying getting requests so don't feel bad! I hope you also enjoy this one!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1,156

First Person's POV

Girls' night out was amazing, I haven't had a night like this in ages, away from all the drama and finally able to just relax with the girls and just be us. I knew I was getting tipsy, I could feel my giggles becoming more and more prominent than normal. The girls were going home, so I decided to head towards the Mikaelson house, I stood on the street hailing a taxi and stumbled into the vehicle once it arrived. I asked to be taken to the address, the walk to the porch of the Mikaelson resident seemed like an incredible challenge, I'm sure that to an outsider I just looked like a fawn learning to walk but I felt as if I was climbing Mount Everest. 

I giggled to myself as I fell against the door, I sucked in a breath, trying to pull myself together as I knocked waiting for someone to answer. I was surprised when it was Niklaus, I waved almost childishly, smiling brightly at the Hybrid who clearly seemed amused by my current state.

In all honesty, I have no clue how I ended up sword-fighting with Niklaus, however, somehow this is where we ended up. Sword fighting in the parlour. I highly recommend it, however, do take care. I grinned brightly seeing Elijah walking forward with his usual look of concern plastered on his face, however, once he was at my side he smiled. 

"Good evening, Y/n, I didn't realise you'd be joining us." 

"Spur of the moment type thing." I turned my attention back to Niklaus, continuing our little sword fight, I jumped as Elijah used his speed to appear in front of me, I grinned excitedly but quickly pouted as he took the sword off of me. 

"How about instead you sit with me, and tell me all about your night?" The pout faded away, I nodded in agreement, sitting on the sofa with him and instantly began rambling on about every little detail that went on tonight. I'm sure I shared details I wouldn't typically share in normal conversation, my filter was non-existent and oh, how I know that if I could watch myself right I would wish for it badly. 

"Am I okay to take my shoes off?" I questioned glancing down to the hells that were now becoming painful and unwanted. Elijah nodded, though, after watching my struggle he lightly took my hands and proceeded to continue to charm me with his gorgeous smile that drew me in the first time I saw him. 

"May I help you?" I nodded, frustrated with my inability to undo the damn straps on my shoes, Elijah kindly took my shoes off for me and rested them to the side. The vampire stared at me for a good minute, assessing my needs and whatever else that was needed to be assessed. 

"I'll be right back, I'll get you some water." I threw my arms around him, giggling happily, thanking him and plopped back into the couch. I waited patiently for both vampires to return, I fiddled with my hands, staring at everything in the room and running my finger over my lips making odd sounds just for the sake of it. 

Elijah's POV 

I began pouring some water, and getting some things prepared for Y/n knowing that in the morning the hangover would come, I wanted her to be okay and wanted her to be safe. So I was quite glad that Niklaus chose to follow instead of causing more havoc with Y/n. 

"You know, brother, you better sweep her up before I do." His smirk and words struck a chord. He knew of my feelings, Niklaus knew that I would do anything for her and knew that he would follow through on his words. I made my way back to the living room, stopping in my tracks seeing her laying upside down on the couch, he head on the floor and her legs dangling over the backrest of the sofa. 

I bit back the smile dying to show, I sat beside her, smiling as she waved happily and awkwardly twisted and turned trying to get back into an upright position. I took her hands, smiling as she rested her head on my shoulder and that gorgeous smile just permanetly stuck on her lips. 

"Come with me, will you, please?" Y/n nodded, taking my hand and following me to my room. I handed her the glass of water, watching as she plopped onto my bed finishing the glass of water within a gulp and began curling up underneath the blankets. 

'Would you lay with me, please? I couldn't refuse, I nodded and kicked off my shoes and rested besides her. I wrapped my arms around her as she began to lay upon me, her eyes were fluttering open and shut her words escaping in a mumble. 

"I love you, Elijah. I really love you. Like a lot. Super a lot." Before I could even deny anything, I could feel her swiftly fall asleep, I didn't want to disturb her, I didn't want this moment to end. I knew that in this moment I wanted to confess my feelings for her, so I thought it would be best to do so in the morning. 

First Person's POV 

As the light shined into the room, I knew my headache would be a bitch to deal with, I pushed myself up into a sitting positon in the boat. I stretched briefly, jumping slightly to see Elijah walking into the room with a glass of water and a packet of painkillers. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." I whispered, sipping the water and taling the painkillers. Elijah sat on the bed besides me, I rested my head on his shoulder and began sharing my apology. 

"I'm so sorry, was I a complete mess?" 

"No, not at all." 

"You're a liar." I whispered. 

"You were just really giggly and silly. You told me you loved me- I don't know how much of that was true..." 

"That was true, I meant that." I confirmed, seeing there was no point in denying the fact that I loved him. Elijah sat in silence for a good moment, I could feeel my heart halt for a second fearing that his reaction cold be poor and that he would react in a way that ruin our friendship. 

"I love you too." He whispered, his eyes focused on me, I glanced to him surprised and shocked about the outcome of the confession. I smiled pushing myself up and grabbed ahold of his face. Looking to see if the noble vampire was lying to me, he grabbed my hands, his look gentle and comforting. I knew just then that it wasn't a lie and that this was all true. 

[vioartemis]

Friends?

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: One day, in the library, you catch Wednesday's attention... Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: none a/n: expect a part 2, not proof read, it was in my drafts for like 3months now so I can't guaranty it's not awful (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Wednesday pushed the library’s door and directly walked to the aisle she knew had the books she needed. After 10 minutes spent in said aisle, she let out a frustrated sigh; she couldn’t find the books, which meant someone either borrowed them already -which was unlikely, or the librarian forgot to put them back on the shelves.

Either way, it annoyed her.

Now she had to talk to the librarian to ask if the books were here, and it would probably take longer than necessary.

When she arrived at the desk with a blank expression, the woman was writing something on her computer, not sparing Wednesday a glance.

“I would like to borrow some books.” She said through gritted teeth, causing the librarian to look up

“What books?”

Wednesday put a piece of paper with the references of the books on the desk as an answer.

“Botanical curses & poisons, and The supernatural” the woman read out loud “You’re lucky, they’ve just got returned”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. Even if she did think it could’ve happened, she was still surprised. She didn’t actually think anyone else would ever borrow these books. It wasn’t common seeing someone read that kind of books -or read at all. And usually Nevermore students only read the books in the school’s library.

She didn’t hear the door while she was in the aisle, which meant the person was still there. Maybe she had found a classmate with the same interests as her? Which didn’t mean she would try to befriend them, but it was always good to know.

“If you’re looking for the girl, she’s in the aisles over there” the librarian said, as she had already put the books on the desk

Wednesday looked at her, a frown on her face, but nodded once and grabbed the books.

She then walked to the aisles the woman talked about. And here you were, looking at the books on the shelves, reading the back of one while holding another in your arms; Royal art of poison. Wednesday had read that book before, she recognize it was a good one.

Her attention then shifted on your face, even if she could only see your profile. She was sure she never saw you at Nevermore. She usually had a good memory for that kind of things, so maybe you didn’t have classes in common.

After looking you up and down, she walked out of the building to go back to Nevermore.

On the way there, she couldn’t help but think if she had seen you in the hallways, she would’ve never thought you would read this type of books.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The following week, Wednesday tried to find you in the school. Unconsciously at first, as she didn’t really care, but then it became more and more important to her as she couldn’t seem to see you. That frustrated her. You had to be somewhere.

And yet she couldn’t find you.

She always got what she wanted, it was unusual for her to ‘fail’. So naturally, she decided to go back to the library.

When she did, she wandered in the aisles, looking for you. Unsuccessfully. It was like you didn’t even exist.

She felt like she was losing her mind, and it wasn’t as fun as she anticipated.

Just as she was about to go back in the aisle she saw you in for the first time, she saw Thing out of the corner of her eye. He was pointing a nearby aisle, signaling you were in there.

You were indeed in the aisle, looking at the books on the shelf in front of you. Venomous was already in your hands. A book about earth’s deadliest creatures… Wednesday thought.

Then your hand rose up to pick up another book; The Black Dahlia.

Now Wednesday was really interested by you. She never met anyone who knew about her favorite unsolved murder case, let alone read about it.

She took some step closer to you and grabbed a book on the shelf.

“You might as well read this one, if you’re interested in the Black Dahlia case.” she said as she handed you the book

You gave her a surprised look, not expecting anyone to recommend you any books in that section, let alone about this case.

“Oh, thanks” you grabbed the book “Do you know much about this case?”

“Of course, for it is my favorite unsolved murder. How come you know about it?”

“I saw a documentary on tv yesterday. Just thought I’d read some more about it. It seems to be a very interesting case” you explained

“Indeed.” A little pause “So what are you? Werewolf? Siren? Psychic?”

You frowned, confused as to why she would ask that.

“Are you from Nevermore?” you asked

“Are you not?”

You shook your head.

“I’m at Jericho High, sadly”

“‘Sadly’?”

You nodded.

“There’s a bunch of idiots there. Like- a whole bunch. I don’t really fit in. They’re all about social medias, hating on outcasts for no reason”

Wednesday looked at you, waiting for you to continue and explain yourself.

“I prefer books, even if I have to admit that scrolling on Pinterest while listening to music can be addicting. As for outcasts… I’ve always been interested in them, especially vampires. But I mean- every ‘class’ of outcasts I read about was interesting”

The raven took a moment to think about what you just said.

“It’s unusual to see a normie who doesn’t hate outcasts. Are you sure you’re a normie?”

“Pretty sure, yeah”

She looked you up and down after that, analyzing you. You seemed to be honest, she didn’t sense any hostility coming from you.

The following days, Wednesday caught herself thinking about your conversation, and by extension, about you. As much as it pained her to admit, something in you attracted her. Or at least made her ant to know more about you, which led her to the library once again.

This time, you were sitting at a table, reading another book about poisonous plants, some other books stacked next to you.

“Are you planning to murder someone?” she asked as she sat on the chair facing you

“Holy shit…! Do you make a habit out of scaring people?” you asked, half joking, a hand on your chest after her voice made you jump

“It’s more of a hobby. Who is going to be your victim?”

“No one!” you chuckled, once your heartbeat calmed down a bit “I’m just trying to find information about Aconitum, like where it grows, etc”

“Why?”

“I want to experiment with it myself, simple curiosity” you shrug

So you did want to poison someone. Interesting. She thought.

“No, no, I can guess what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to kill anyone. But you never know when that kind of information can be useful”

“Indeed.” she nodded, even if she was a bit disappointed

“And if I did want to kill someone, I would probably use something else like Nightshade or the Nerium Oleander -but I’d have to find some first” you added “Anyways, I need to go, I have class… See you later, maybe?”

Wednesday looked at you as you packed your things and left the library, not without putting the books back on their shelves. You definitely had a little something that made her look forward to the next time she would be in your company. That thought surprised her; she usually wasn’t one to seek others’ company.

She stayed sat at the table for a few minutes, lost in thoughts, before standing up almost abruptly. She walked to the door and was about to leave, when the librarian called her.

“Hey, wait a sec!”

Wednesday turned to face the woman who got out from behind her desk. She handed something.

“What is that?”

“A micro-cassette recorder. It must have fallen from your friend’s bag when she left. I thought you could give it back to her”

“She’s not my friend.” Wednesday said blankly but took the object anyways

The librarian rolled her eyes at the smaller girl and went back to her desk while Wednesday left the library, putting your recorder in her backpack.

“What’s that?”

Wednesday looked up from her typewriter; Enid was holding the recorder.

“A micro-cassette recorder.” she simply said “Put it back where it was, Enid.”

“Oooh what are you doing with it? Recording podcasts? I thought your thing was novels” the blonde continued, not listening

“‘My thing’ is novels.”

“Then what’s on this recorder?”

Before the raven could say anything else, the werewolf pressed the play button.

“Okay… Is it recording? Ah, yes, the numbers are moving. Okay okay… um… Where do I even start? God I must look so dumb talking to that thing… Anyways. Uh… Day 1 of research on outcasts, I guess? Is that how they do in movies?”

The recorder stopped playing, for Wednesday had pressed the button again, taking it from Enid’s hands.

“Whose voice is that? It’s not yours”

“Of course not. It’s…” she paused, looking for the right words “… it belongs to someone I met at the library.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?? I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Why do you have her recorder then?”

“She forgot it. I just keep it until I can give it back.”

“Hmhm, sure”

Enid said with a big smile, before going back to her activities: laying on her bed and scroll on Instagram, probably. The other girl watched her do so, then went back to her writing, putting the recorder on her desk.

After half an hour of peaceful writing, she heard Enid tell her she was going in Yoko’s dorm for whatever gossip session they had every week. From the corner of her eye, Wednesday saw the recorder move closer to her.

Thing was pushing it in her direction.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you want to hear more?” Thing signed

“I wouldn’t like it if anyone read my novel without asking me first.”

“But you’re curious”

“… Of course.”

“Listen to it then! Maybe you’ll be able to help her. She seems nice, she won’t get upset” Thing signed quickly, almost as curious as Wednesday to hear your research

“Fine. Give it to me.”

Thing pushed the recorder further so she could grab it. She did, and pressed play again, but not after a glance at Thing.

“A word to Enid and I’ll snap all your fingers.”

“Hmhm… so I borrowed this book in Jericho’s library about outcasts -I’m surprised they have books about that considering the way they see them. I think it was a pretty interesting book!”

Wednesday listened to what you had to say on that book, then fast-forwarded to a bit later on the record.

“… lost count of the days at this point. It’s crazy how I can’t find anything more than what I already read! It’s like normies’ knowledge about outcast is only the basics -not to say the clichés. God, I wish I was at Nevermore. I’m sure they have sooo much more books there. Not only about outcasts, but about poisonous plants as well!”

The raven was about to stop listening when you started speaking again.

“Oh, yesterday, I met a girl at the library! She advised me to read a certain book about The Black Dahlia case. She said she was from Nevermore. Well, she didn’t deny it. I wonder what’s her gift… But it’s a weird question to ask, isn’t it? I bet she knows lots of outcasts if she studies there…  of course she does, what I am even saying?”

The record stopped by itself after that.

Wednesday had the tiniest smile on her face. You were smart, that she had noticed when you first talked, yet hearing you speak freely like that made you sound so clumsy. You were passionate, that was for sure.

“Thing, do you think you can find her quickly?”

A knock on your bedroom window caught your attention. Your stopped what you were doing and opened it. To your surprise, a hand -without a body- ran (?) in your room.

You looked at it, mouth agape, certainly not expecting that.

“Hi…?” you said hesitantly

The hand stopped on your desk and starting signing.

“I uh… don’t speak sign language… sorry”

The hand paused, as if it was sighing.

“You can… hear me?” you asked, surprised

It gave you a thumbs up as an answer, before showing its palm to you. A message was written on it with a marker: ‘You forgot your recorder at the library. Call me.’ Followed by a phone number.

 “Thank you”

You said while typing the number on your phone, before calling it.

On the other side, Wednesday was waiting in front of Enid’s computer. She remembered how to use it from last time Enid told her. When she saw you were calling, she pressed the spacebar to pick up.

She certainly didn’t expect to see you with Thing on your shoulder.

“Hi!” you said with a smile “So you found my recorder? I was afraid someone random found it…” you paused “Your room is… more colorful that I would’ve imagined”

“It’s my roommate’s side.” Wednesday frowned, a bit offended you could think she would decorate her room this way

“Oh. What does your side looks like then?”

She turned Enid’s computer to show you -quite proudly.

“Ohh it’s nice! Wait- you have a typewriter?? That’s so cool! Like the overall decoration”

Thing typed lightly on your shoulder.

“Oh, yes, sorry. He’d like me to drive him back to Nevermore. Which I can understand, it’s a bit far away… So, we were wondering if you could open a window or something? I don’t think your principal would appreciate if someone from outside came without permission”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Let’s say it’s for keeping my recorder safe, that way we’re even” you smiled

Wednesday nodded, and said she would open their window, just before your parents called you from downstairs, asking who you were talking to. While you were answering them, Thing gave the raven a thumbs up.

Of course it was your plan all along, bringing her here… she thought, a slight smile forming on her lips again. Well played.

After going out by your bedroom window, took your bike, put Thing in the little basket attached to the handlebar, and started making your way to Nevermore. On the way there, you talked with Thing; he used your phone to type and made it read the text out loud so you could hear.

When you arrived at Nevermore’s gate, you left your bike against the low wall near the entrance. To your surprise, the gate wasn’t closed -which was a good thing. You got on the school’s territory, walking silently to the school itself.

You had only ever seen it in pictures, and you had to admit, it was way cooler to see it for real.

Thing tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality, and pointing at a big round window with a metallic spider web on it. It was probably the dorm you had to reach.

“You could’ve told me it was on the fourth floor…”

You examined the architecture of the school, before cracking your knuckles and starting to climb.

“If I fall… I hope I won’t break too many bones”

After what seemed like an eternity, and three times almost falling, you finally reached the balcony. You took a moment to lay there, catching your breath, Thing patting your arm reassuringly.

He then disappeared inside and came back with the raven right as you were standing back up.

“Thing said you were hurt.” Wednesday said, her eyes shifting from your face to your hands, bruised by the climbing

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve done rock-climbing with my parents before, I’m used to it”

“… If you say so.” she paused, and handed you your recorder

“I almost forgot about it” you chuckled, taking it from her hands and putting it in a pocket of your vest “Thank you”

Wednesday nodded. You did the same, as a goodbye, and were ready to go back home, when she spoke again.

“If you want more books about outcasts or something else…” she stepped forward and gave you a piece of paper “… let me know.”

You took the paper and opened it. Another phone number. You had guessed the previous one wasn’t hers, and according to what Thing told you, she never used the phone some guy gifted her.

You smiled and put the paper in your pocket.

“Thank you”

You were about to leave, but you remembered something.

“You never told me your name”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n”

“Wednesday. Wednesday Addams.”

“It was nice seeing you, Wednesday” you smiled “It’s probably going to sound weird… But I enjoy your presence, I feel understood. I hope we’ll be good friends. Anyways, good night!”

With that, you climbed down the wall, disappearing from her field of view.

Wednesday looked at the sky; it was dark, lots of clouds, but the moon was still visible behind them. It even illuminated the raven’s face.

Thing tapped in her direction.

“I only tolerate her presence. Don’t imagine things.”

More tapping, and what looked like he was rolling his eyes.

“One more word and you’re locked in the drawer until I decide otherwise.”

Thing saw it as the sign to go back inside, not wanting to risk it.

When she was alone on the balcony, Wednesday’s eyes shifted to your small form while you were getting on your way home.

Her little smile was back, that smile which was so unusual to see on her face, that only the people she really cared about ever saw.

Friends, hm? I suppose that’s what we are.

[Next part]

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

||Yandere!Bnha Oc x gn reader||

▪︎Yikes, well NSFW so please MDNI or I'll personally put you down 🔫

TW: NSFW, Suggestive themes, Noncon(?), Him fucking you in your sleep-, Groping, public ehem indecency, dark themes, Violence, breeding, Top character, Bottom reader, etc-

Jun, our villian of the day. His Quirk requires skin to skin contact and it lead to him pounding into you. You can say he is a human aphrodisiac with just a single touch.

If his touch affects you a lot, imagine his bodily fluid- it amps it up and makes you dizzy and needy.

He loves using this on you whenever he is in the mood or you keep trying to escape. Once you are near the front door turning the knob, he is already putting his hands in your pants and kissing up your neck whispering, "Hah..Do I need to teach you that you can't live without me and my cock, hm?"

Believe it or not, he doesn't even use his Quirk on anyone else except you because he hates touching someone else Nevertheless fucking them. He just does a simple bullet to the head for fun. They don't even need to do anything, they can just exist and he will shoot them.

Let's talk about when he first met you, he was simply strolling around the city looking for someone to torture until he saw you..The oh so..innocent you. He can smell that you haven't slept with anyone yet. From then on, he trailed after you and left Cum stained used underwear of yours.. presents in your room! How sweet~

He especially love when you are defenseless during your sleep! He likes laying right behind you and..touching you. Ngh, God you are so soft..

He tends to rub his cock in between your thighs after taking off your underwear and pants! He teases your entrance with his tip a lot..He won't put it in though!

Oh what's this? It seems he is already inside you..Don't worry he won't cum ins-oh dear..He accidentally filled you up. Your belly looks so delicious marked up with his cum.

Despite already getting filled up, he continues to rut inside you while whispering dirty things to your sleeping self. It's surprising how you slept through all that!

The fact that he would not clean you up and even have the audacity to shove something inside your hole so it doesn't drip out. He can't wait to see your reaction.

If somehow you woke up during it, he will make sure you are screaming his name by the end of it. He will try to knock you up even if you can't have a kid. "Fuck baby..You're going to be a good parent for my kid, mhm yeah? Yeah you will.."

Oh you don't want it? Well too bad, he will just have to tie you up during it..

He will even do this in public. Let it be in front of everyone or in an alleyway. Which one would you pick?

Jun would make sure everyone knows you are his whether you are walking out the bathroom stall with his cum dripping down your legs or neck filled with bites and marks.

Oh but putting all those aside! At least he is loyal?