#but also i’m dying from the stress of everything and i want to curl up in a ball and die

[starbuck]

having one of those Times where on one hand everything is completely fine but, on the other hand, i am drowning and there’s so much to do and i’m at my wit’s end and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[seungfl0wer]

*Han Calling You Clingy*

Pairing: Han x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Reader Gets drunk, Not proof Read

Buckled up for this one yall it hurted me ngl. I also while putting it all together realized i in fact of course messed up a part of the messages. So I am sorry in advance 🥲

This is part of a series. Find the others here:

Bangchan, Changbin, Minho, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Today was Han and yours 3 year anniversary. You had planned a nice dinner and a surprise for him after you both got home. You made reservations at one of his favorite restaurants and even got a new outfit for it. Hans been busy with the new album the last few weeks, he’s been super stressed and you know this would definitely help wind him down a bit.

You had told him a few times about the dinner because he forgets things easily. He was doing some work at the studio right now but he said he’d meet you there for dinner since he had to finish some things up. You put on your cute outfit and got yourself all ready to leave the house. You texted him “I’m leaving the house now! See you soon😘” before heading out.

About 15 mins had passed since you had gotten there for your reservation. You had gotten seated and gotten a drink. You were getting nervous that he had forgotten so you texted him a simple “hey babe did you leave yet?” It was radio silent after another 10 minutes you texted again.

Everything in you wanted to cry I mean you had a few tears but you quickly wiped them away. You sat there for a moment in honest shock of what to do. The love of your life is standing you up, yelling at you and forgot your anniversary. What the actual fuck. You waved the waiter over, got the check for your drink and left. You didn’t wanna go home you wanted to find jisung and punch him in his cute stupid face.

Driving home you stopped at a park close to your house. You sat there and cried. You cried hard your chest heaving feeling like your heart was thrown at the wall and smashed with a bat. You punched your steering wheel and just deflated. You had gotten a call from a friend of yours who asked if you and ji wanted to go to the bar with him and his gf. You sniffled trying not to cry on the phone but he knew something was up. He drove to where you were, him and his gf both were friends of yours. So when you saw them you just bursted into tears again.

The consoled you for a bit before asking what you wanted to do. “You know what- fuck it let’s go to the bar” you said. You wanted to numb the pain just wanted to drink everything away. To come home and just puke all of jisung stuff. The both nodded, they followed you to your house to drop your car off and drove to the bar. It didn’t take long for you to start taking shots back. You just wanted to forget the night and to forget Jisung.

It was late, you were plastered you had gotten a text from Jisung who must have just gotten home to see the surprise you had laid out for him. You had gotten him a new guitar that he’s been wanting it was placed on the bed with a note. The note read.

“Hannie! The actual love of my life. I can’t believe it’s been 3 years! Were you surprised? I bet you were! I just wanted to tell you I love you so much. I appreciate you and I know you’ve been working so hard so I hope today relieved some of that stress. I love you my sweets. Happy 3 years! I hope for many many more. -love your amazing loving girlfriend.”

Han choked back tears realizing what he had done. He had forgotten your anniversary but most importantly he had yell at you when all you were trying to do was make him happy. He broke down in tears, curled up on the floor in a little bawl. He could feel his chest tightening, he was scared. He didn’t know where you were, what you might have done or if you were safe.

Your phone ended up dying not knowing the floods of texts you were about to get. You didn’t know it but you started to cry. Your friends helped you to the car, the boy not drinking at all that night drove you to their place. He put you in the guest room while the girl put some water by your bed, a bucket and put your phone on the charger. You curled up knocked out cold from crying and the alcohol. You woke up around 5am feeling your head pounding. You couldn’t remember much of anything from the night.

You picked your phone up not even looking at the texts and called Jisung. He answered it immediately in a frenzy. “Y/n!” He said his voice horse from crying. Your head spun as you slurred “ji can come to (friend’s name) I wanna cuddle.” Jisung was confused but he didn’t ask questions “of course I’ll be there in 5.” He said basically sprinting to his car. “Mkay, ima gonna walk down to the door.” You said fumbling to get to your feet. Jisung drove like a madman he even ran a red light.

His heart dropped seeing you slumped over trying to stay awake at the door “hey I’m here” he said as he opened the door taking your hand. You fell into his chest holding onto him with a death grip. You started to sob, you cried so hard but in your dazed state you didn’t know why you were crying.

Jisung clung to you rubbing your back trying not to cry himself, he pulled you to the car getting you to sit in the back. Where you promptly laid down and just cried. Jisung drove just as fast as home one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing your head to try to calm you. Your cries had almost completely stopped as you pulled into your place. Jisung left out a soft sigh the tears he was choking back were bursting at the seems. He held them back until he got you safely into the room laying you down.

He wanted to leave you alone knowing you were hurting still but you quickly pulled him into bed with you. He curled up with you as you both laid there, your eyes half opened “I’m sorry for being so clingy” you said. Your voice sounded so sad so meek. “I don’t wanna ever be a bother to you” you kept going on. The tears he had choked back finally broke and it started to flood.

He held you close crying hard trying to get out the words he wanted to say “don’t you dare apologize” he croaked out. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, it was all me” he said rubbing your head. “Don’t you think for a second you did anything.”

You both ended up drifting to sleep both of your heads spinning as you woke up. You looked over at jisung his eyes puffy and his chest still heaving from the nights happenings. You read through all the messages he had sent and sighed softly. You were still hurt by his words and it was gonna take some to comeback from but he was genuinely sorry. The way he clung to you told you that alone. He was afraid you were gonna leave. That thought really never crossed your mind but he knew he fucked up bad enough that it could be a reason to leave. He’s never yelled before let alone said anything mean towards you. You knew he was hurting from what he said but so were you.

You thought to yourself though laying there in his arms “i do very much love him but he’s gonna have to do some heavy groveling to make it up to you” you smiled a bit.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open feel free to send me something🩵

[papurgaatika]

Kiss Me Once, Then Kiss Me Twice

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORK PLEASE !!

A/N: disclaimer this is so insanely self-indulgent. I got my IUD put in this past Wednesday and have been in bed with pain since then and if I could have gotten a strong man to coddle me through it, I would be 900x better than I am today. Quite frankly, I'm dying more now than I was the day of the procedure but that's bc I'm impatient and can't wait a whole three months for the side effects to pass. If you're thinking about getting an IUD please talk to a doctor about allll the side effects and which one is best for you and also yap @ me about it, I'm an open book

Also, this is not beta read, I don't care enough. I'm sorry y'all are gonna see my overuse of commas. Xoxo, peace and love on earth from me as always.

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags/warnings: fluff, domestic joel, reader has an IUD and has hair that joel runs his fingers through.

Word Count: 773

Summary: Like I said earlier, self-indulgent perfect boyfriend joel taking care of you after your IUD insertion.

I’m dying.

That was the notification that popped up on Joel’s phone while he was at work. He was confused, but mostly just concerned. You’d usually send him a message with an egregious amount of punctuation or emojis to emphasize your mood, so to see something so… bland was worrying. He didn’t think he would be able to sit patiently for a reply to a text and calls you instead “Baby, you alright? What happened?” His voice is soft but stressed at the same time, wanting to make sure that you are alright. 

And despite your current agony, he did soothe you. The low timbre of his voice, the way you could imagine his brow creasing, was more than any anti-anxiety pill could do for you. “I got my IUD put in.” you know he could hear just how pitiful you sounded, curled up in bed with your heating pad currently burning a hole into your skin “Everything hurts, I’m dying.” 

You were absolutely tugging on his heartstrings and he could feel his protectiveness taking over. “Oh sugar,” he coos into the phone “I’ll be over in a little bit, alright? You hang tight for me, I'm on my way.” He doesn’t even give you time to protest before he hangs up the phone and tells Tommy he’s taking an early day today, heading over to you as soon as possible.  The next half hour was spent with you curled in bed, trying to get comfortable and failing. You could barely stomach any food, the ibuprofen wasn’t doing anything, and your heating pad felt like it was barely on despite it staying at the highest setting. All of the lights in your room were off and you just wanted to curl into a hole, it was like your period cramps had gotten steroids and you were dealing with the aftermath. 

About forty minutes into your routine of deep breaths and groaning into a pillow you hear your front door open, and a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Honey?” Joel’s soft voice calls out “Oh baby…” he drops the bags of goodies he’d picked up for you and moves to brush a few strands of hair from your sweaty forehead, laying a kiss on your skin. “That bad?” you all but manage to nod in response to his question, clutching the heating pad closer to your stomach. He pulls out a bag of chocolates he’d gotten from the store and hands you a piece. “C’mon baby, eat somethin’ for me.” 

You open your mouth and let him give you a piece of the chocolate, a smile finding its way onto your lips. “Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, looking at him like he’d hung the stars for you. “Y’know what I really need though?” you ask, taking a deep breath through the monstrous cramp that hit you “Boyfriend weighted blanket.” Joel can’t help but laugh aloud at your words, his hand running over your back in soft motions, rubbing at your hips to help keep the aches away from you. He would give into anything you asked of him in a heartbeat, and if you wanted him to lay on top of you to feel better, he would do it. 

“Alright, pretty baby. One boyfriend weighted blanket coming up.” He stands up and stretches out before he lays down, his weight practically smushing you into the mattress. You let out a sigh of relief at the constant pressure against your body, helping the pain and tiredness fade in the moment. You can see him rummaging through a grocery bag next to your bed through your peripheral vision, and letting out a snort of laughter when he pulls out a giant tub of Advil. 

You try to keep a straight face when he puts it on your side table, right in your line of sight, but you can't help the giggles that leave your lips. “That thing could cure a small village of aches and pains, honey.” you chew your lip in a half attempt to stay quiet. 

You can feel Joel shrug on top of you, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Wanted to make sure you were all good this weekend, I’m not leaving you for a damn second.” he murmurs against your hair “Got some soup on the way too, know you barely eat anythin’ anyway.” your heart was overflowing with how much love you had for this man. The one who had offered to take you to your appointment, to get a vasectomy so that you wouldn't have to go through the pain of this, your perfect man.

[starstruckmoony]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

thank you for this request anon!! i am so so so sorry for taking longer than i should have but i've just been all over the place with requests and in just general this past week 😭 so yeah i am a little late but i hope you're feeling better and that this meets your expectations <333333

in between.

masterlist , requests

pairing - theodore nott x slytherin!reader

trope/tags - fluff

word count - 1.7k

warnings - descriptive period pains

waking up in time for class was always difficult for you. not even because you were lazy or didn't care about your grades enough, but mostly because theodore, your boyfriend and number one favourite person in the world, had an annoying little habit of staying inside of your room until pansy chased him out because she wanted her beauty sleep. most of the time, that would be somewhere around two in the morning. and you had to get up at six. four hours of sleep. wonderful. usually, you didn't mind. you didn't like getting out of bed, anyway.

but this morning, you very much minded. your eyes snapped open, you weren't entirely sure what had woken you up. you grunted, irritated, and disappeared under your two blankets to shield yourself from the cold of the dawn, sighing when your realised you that you'd have to get up in no less than ten minutes. with transfiguration as your first class, too. how you loved having to turn tables into chairs first thing in the morning.

but then you felt it. a terrible sensation in your abdomen, so harsh it felt like sharp knife was slicing through you. it took everything in you not release a pained moan. the discomfort spread almost all the way to your upper thighs, coming in constant strong waves. you groaned, hiding further under the covers and curling yourself up into a ball.

you wanted to cry. not only were you exhausted, but you were also in a tremendous amount of pain. you had got your period the night before, and it was going kind of smoothly... as smooth as they go... so you weren't really expecting to wake up with a dying wish to pass the hell away barely five hours later.

pansy's footsteps sounded throughout the room, and you heard the bathroom door shut. you didn't move a muscle. a few moments later, it opened again, and she paced around for a bit, shuffling through her trunk and then your own when she couldn't find a clean pair of socks. she was humming some tune as she got ready, seeming to be in an okay mood, but then she scoffed. her steps got louder as she neared your bed, pulling the covers off of you.

"bitch, you'll be la– oh merlin, are you alive?" she was a little startled seeing you resemble the appearance of an ill victorian child, but nevertheless took a seat at the edge of your mattress, "no." you dragged out, retrieving your precious blanket. you couldn't recall the last time you felt this bloody awful.

"period cramps, huh?" she made a sympathetic face at you, very familiar with that struggle. you only nodded. she hugged you and stayed like that for a bit, before standing up and walking over to her drawer. she dug out a few chocolate frogs and tossed them over to you.

you muttered a strained thank you, collecting them all. you placed them onto your night stand, grunting. you knew that they probably wouldn't help as much as you wished for them to, but you still appreciated your friend for trying. it was the least she could do in those circumstances.

she sighed, picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, "i'll tell mcgonagall you won't be coming in today." you sat up immediately, getting a bit stressed, "don't tell theo."

"huh?" she deadpanned, eyeing you like you had gone mental.

"i don't want him to worry." you explained with a shrug, wincing when the cramps got stronger. you knew what your boyfriend was like, meaning you were aware that he'd come running right to you if pansy were to tell him about the dreadful state you were in. you didn't really want him to see you like that. your head was beginning to hurt, too.

she rolled her eyes, "as if he won't come looking for you the moment he sees you aren't with me." she bent down and picked up a dirty stocking, throwing it at you. and she was right. theodore loved you more than all of his friends combined, so you could already picture him bolting through the dungeons and straight through your door after seeing that you were missing. he wouldn't even have to be told why you weren't present.

pansy left then, leaving you to suffer all alone. you were barely able to get out of bed to clean yourself up. even moving around was hard. it took you about two minutes to drag yourself to the bathroom and and another fifteen to leave it. managing your hygiene had never been more exhausting.

just as you collapsed back into your bed, ready for a few more hours of torture, the door of your room opened. there went theodore, holding one of his hoodies, a bunch of period products you weren't sure how he acquired, and some chocolates he had stolen from lorenzo's drawer. your heart may have simply melted.

"hi." you peeked at him from beneath the covers, your voice small and tired.

"oh, love." his face twisted with concern as he took in the sight of you. he quietly shut the door and was next to your bed in a matter of seconds. he clumsily set all of the things he brought onto your nightstand, eager to have you in his arms as soon as possible. he shrugged off his robes, kicking his shoes away too. you tried to sit up, and once you did, he took the opportunity to take the shirt you had slept in off of you. he replaced it with his hoodie before settling down next to you. it smelled like him, which was also one of your favourite things in the world. you sighed, a warm feeling overwhelming you.

"tell me if you need anything and i'll get it for you, okay?" he brought the blankets all the way up to your neck, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close. he was willingly missing out on classes for you. could you just let that slide?

"theo–" he placed a finger against your lips to hush you, "i can take one day off, it's not like it's gonna kill me." he retrieved his hand.

"but–"

"no buts." he made you get closer, and you let out a startled giggle, momentarily forgetting about the pain you were in.

you laid there in silence for a little while. theo was rubbing comforting circles into your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead every now and then. it eased you a little bit, and you weren't feeling so terrible anymore. the pain was still there, but whatever he was doing made it a little easier to bear.

"is it really bad?" he questioned after seeing you had scrunched your face up. you hummed and he sat up, reaching under your bed. "where is it– oh." he pulled out the hot pack he knew you sometimes used in similar situations, heading for the bathroom to fill it up with warm water. he returned rather quickly and reclaimed his position on the bed. he adjusted your pillows and placed the hot pack against your stomach, throwing an arm around you again. it made it a little difficult for him to pull you completely against his chest, but your own comfort mattered more to him.

"thank you." you sighed. he gave you a look, not a particularly annoyed one, but one that told you that you didn't have to thank for him doing things like that. he pecked your nose, the urge was too difficult to resist. you exhaled comfortably, taking a hold of his hand and intertwining your fingers.

he began massaging your knuckles, and you shuffled closer, as close as it was possible, burying your face into his chest. he kissed your hand this time before releasing it, and tangled his fingers in your locks instead. you loved it when he played with your hair, and he loved it just as much, mostly because you were giving him a fantastic excuse to touch you.

"what explanation did you come up with for missing classes today?" you questioned, suddenly feeling curious. your cramps slightly reduced in their intensity, so you didn't mind talking or even getting up for a bit.

"i just told it as it is." he shrugged, continuing to play with your hair. he tucked a strand behind your ear, smiling at you.

"what?" you chuckled in surprise.

"i told mcgonagall my girlfriend wasn't feeling well and that i wanna take care of her." he was so, very causal about it. you were surprised he actually knew what to do to help you. you did assume he asked pansy, but it at least meant that he cared. and it made you that much more happy to have him there with you.

"really? what did she say?" you raised an eyebrow.

"she was a little annoyed but she understood what i was getting at," of course she did, she couldn't not, "and then she told the other boys to take notes," he grinned proudly, "draco especially."

you burst out laughing, "that did not happen."

"yes, it did," he snickered against your cheek before placing a big, loud kiss against it, "you can ask anyone." he pulled back, but did not move away. you were so close that your noses were touching.

"hm, i think i'll take your word for it." he smiled again, and you pecked his lips, another way to thank him for doing all of that for you, "i love you." you whispered.

"i love you more." he gave you a cheeky grin.

"wrong." you retorted playfully, poking at his chest.

"that's up for debate." he put his hand over yours, holding it in place.

"do not argue with me." you warned, not very seriously, though.

he snorted at your teasing reply, but didn't push the discussion any further. on a different day, he probably would have. that one adored getting on your nerves more than anyone else in the world, but he wasn't so stupid to do it when you were having such bad period pains. there were other things to be done. he said he'd give you cuddles, and kisses, and hugs, and snuggles, and even more kisses and everything in between. and he did just that. that one time, and all the other times.

[websterss]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 𝟐/𝟒 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘  

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your plan to get the group's attention becomes too difficult of a task especially with Ethan leaving your bracelet in his dorms, forcing you to be stuck in his dorm until he returns. You start to wonder whether he'll keep you locked up forever until he presents you with the idea of going to a party for the night.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): A bit graphic, mentions of blood and dying, angst, implications again but no smut, sad flashback

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,005

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ethan Landry x fem!Ghost!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! I based this off the song by Lizzy McAlpine - Doomsday

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Perhaps you had overestimated Ethan’s true intentions that night. Being pinned down both alive and dead brought on stress, pain, and ptsd, that wretched night scarred you. Flashes from the night he killed you remain true and gory. The color red turned into your most hated color of the rainbow. The second worst color; was brown. It was the color of his eyes. You used to adore having his attention, wanted nothing more than for him to swing that gaze on you with that charming grin he bore. Now you just wanted to erase every touch, conversation, and his whole existence. You knew the repercussions of attempting to bring justice for yourself, the whole obstacle of being invisible to the human eye; to your friends mostly. They couldn’t see you, and try as you wanted, they would not be able to hear you plead and beg for their attention, which you craved and yearned for the most. Anything but Ethan’s, anything but the heavy reminder of him stabbing you over and over with his knife. 

You were oblivious to his attack. You saw him coming, and you let him into your home, but you never saw his intentions. You would have guessed what the night would have potentially led to had it gone the way you hoped. A kiss, maybe even more, but not this. Not him, and the war he was battling behind his eyes, as he stared at you with a lost expression. 

-

“Hey Eth, do you want anything to drink? There’s water, and juice, a few sodas that I haven’t drunk yet. I’m not much of a beer person, but we can go to that bodega on the corner to get some if you want. I’m kind of craving some chips honestly.” You called out to him. Ethan had excused himself to use your bathroom. He needed to go after a few hours of trying to absorb every painstaking word from his econ textbook. You teased him for his class requirement. Why would anyone put themselves through such a class? Cause it was required for his degree of course. You shook your head as you opened your fridge up. The bright light from inside illuminates your face. Your brows pinch together when you get no response from him. Do guys usually take long to pee? 

“Ethan?” You glance at your fridge one more time before closing it. The second the door was closed you turned, and you wished you never did. “Ethan you okay in ther–” You cut yourself off seeing him stand there at the door of the bathroom. A black robe was now thrown over his clothes, and his hands dawned gloves; also black, but what made your heart sink was the knife he twiddled in his hands. His gaze was solely on the weapon. All you could see was his dark brown curls. “Ethan?” You take a small cautious step back. You kept trailing your eyes up and down his entire. Trying to find the butt of this really fucked up joke. There didn’t seem to be one though, just cautionary fear tingling up and down your spine. You had never really been in a flight or fight situation and you really didn’t want to be. You cringe when he tosses the mask onto the island between you both. The mask revealed all you needed and everything you were afraid of. Your breathing picked up as you stared down the all too familiar ghost face mask your friends warned you about. Your watery gaze rose to meet his detrimental stare. One look at his stance, the way his eyes burned with hate. The tight grip he had on the hilt. It screamed a man with the intent to do harm. And he would because your sweet dorky Ethan was gone. You didn’t recognize the intensity of the man before you. “W-What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna give you two options okay?” His voice was shaky. His jaw clenched. You sucked in a breath as he continued. You were on the verge of sobbing. “You can run, and you might get away with some injuries, or I can get it over with so you won’t suffer as much.” How generous…You look away, walking over to the farthest counter and placing your hands on it. You eye the pan you had left on top of the stove, before looking over your shoulder in distraught.

“W-What’s the third option?” You cry softly. 

“There isn’t one baby…My dad…” His eyes glistened. “He wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t be swayed, Y/n. I tried…” He looked down at the knife. “Believe me when I say that I tried. He wouldn’t let up though, he wants you dead.” 

“What?” You shook your head confused. “You tried? What the fuck does that mean? Why would he want me dead? W-We were just studying a few minutes ago Ethan. For your Econ exam. If you wanted to take a break you could have just said so, you didn’t have to go to such extensive measures!” You gesture to the robe hysterically. “Why are you doing this? I-I haven’t done anything to you. I haven’t done anything!” You breath hitches and cracks with every exhale and inhale of your cries. “I-I don’t wanna die Ethan…” You cower back against the door of your refrigerator. “Please, y-you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be my friend...”

“I know baby…” He closes his eyes shut. Then looks back up at you. “But I don’t have a choice. It was either you, or me.” He tilts his head. You go still, terror overtaking your face. You straighten, balling your left hand into a fist. The small pan was hidden behind your back, out of his sight. If he did notice you grab it, he didn’t mention it, maybe to allow you some peace of mind before everything went to shit.

You walk over to him slowly, cautiously, hoping not to trigger his fight response. “Will you give me something then, before you start?” You let out shakenly. 

“What?” His brows furrow.

You slowly reach up with your left and cup one side of his face before bringing his lips onto your own slowly. Your hand slid behind his head and curled your fingers into his locks, tugging him closer. Ethan nearly dropped the knife then and there. You caught him off guard. Might as well right, you thought. If you were going out then you’d go out believing and dreaming of what could have been. Maybe someday, somewhere right? Yeah right. Your breath hitches as you pull away, a tear slipping down your face as you pat his cheek gently. Then you swing the frying pan you grabbed into the side of his head before bolting down the hall to your room. Ethan's stance faltered. He stumbled back into the bathroom door, before falling onto his side. You had barely rushed past him when he tried to reach for your leg, but he missed. Not so safe to say he didn’t appreciate the sudden whack across the head since he thudded heavily towards your locked door. It took him about three powerful kicks before he got it open. You flinched by the window having it halfway lifted by the time he got in. He stood at the entrance, his eyes narrowed. He sighed heavily, as he shook his head. 

“Option one then…” He cracked his neck before he stormed towards you. You cried and fought him off, but the knife still got lodged into your stomach. You cried out in pain as you felt a sudden pinch snip at your wrist before he threw you across the room, you fell to the carpet, doing a horrible job at staying upright. He had gutted you well and efficiently enough to cause you to bleed tremendously. One thought and one thought only ran through your mind then and there. The door. The front door was the goal. The dream really. It was wishing thinking at this point honestly. But you began your crawl in agony. You grunt and whimper as your limbs and organs hurt with every movement and push you force your body to move forward. You couldn’t stay here, you had to get out, You just had to. 

Ethan begrudgingly sat at the edge of your bed. He rubbed against the side of his temple, his fingers drawn back with blood now smeared across his tips. Fuck, he thought. He looked over at you pushing yourself out the door with a struggle. How long he would let you do this for, was the real kicker. He thought it best to let you hope for a little longer. To let you continue ‘escaping’ as he assumed that is what he was looking at. He knew he said he wouldn’t let you suffer, but for some fucked up reason, he couldn’t let you die just yet. He wanted to enjoy a bit of your drive, your determination, and the sound of your voice regardless of the fact you were crying out in pain. He wanted to save it to memory for a few more minutes. You, just being alive. Just a little bit longer, he thought. He couldn’t get your kiss out of his head. Had you wanted to kiss him before? He hadn’t known, nor would he after this. He looked up again to find you out of his sight, had you moved that quickly? He strained his ears to be able to hear your faint grunts. You were slowly dying and he was only dragging it on further than he needed to. He placed his hands on his knees and stood up. He glanced around your room, letting his eyes roam over everything that screamed ‘you’. To the lights, to the fun colors on your bed, to the wall of pictures, to the now bloody carpet. He looked away, feeling a tinge of sadness for turning your most sacred place of comfort into a horror scene in the span of only a few minutes. He’d been in your home for over an hour, and it only took him minutes to ruin everything good in this little home you created for yourself. He walked over to the door, shifting his eyes to a picture you hung on the wall. It was of him and you. Bemused and silly is what he would describe the vibe he felt when he looked at it. Maybe someday, somewhere. That’s what he’d hope for. With one last glance at the pictures, he tapped it with his glove and moved into the hall. You had made some distance, but it was never going to be enough. He couldn’t keep watching you attempt to crawl your way to what you hoped would be your best chance of survival. He had to put you out of your misery. It would probably be the one good thing he could grant you. 

-

Any future attempt at trying to gain the attention of anyone other than Ethan was a no-go. The first few times he hadn’t suspected much when he brought along your bracelet. Your one and only means of transportation to and from places. He threatened to leave it in his room when he caught onto your intentions. You hated how much you begged and pleaded to be let out, be ‘taken out for some sunlight’ if you will. You had become reliant and dependable on Ethan as much as you despised it. He really had been your only source of sanity, without him as he smugly liked to remind you, you’d be stuck in his room. He even went ahead and left the bracelet under his pillow just to prove a point to you. You beat on his chest when he saw you storm up to him as he entered his room. You wanted nothing more than to slap that stupid smirk off his face, so you had, and he kissed you roughly, pinning you to his door.

It was routine, and he seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and you, you just had to go through with it or you’d end up cooped up in his room again waiting for him to return, just like today, on all the days. Halloween has been your absolute favorite and the asshole left your bracelet on his night stand. It mocked you as you sat on his bed staring off into space. You thought back to your Princess Diaries costume that was gonna be awesome, but now it sat in your closet, in your apartment that was covered in blood, your blood, which was now also a crime scene, so now you had nothing to wear but the clothes on your back. You lift your head as the door to his room opens. The devil himself walks in. Ethan approaches you, leaning down to give you a rough slow kiss. His hands cupping the back of your head to bring you closer. You sigh as the kiss goes on longer than needed. A scowl paints your face as he pulls back and bites back a smile. He straightens up and looks down at you with adoration.

“Get off your cute butt, we're going out.” That made you perk up. 

“Out? Where are we going?”

“A party. It’s Halloween remember, let’s go have fun.” He smirks seeing your face contort with confusion. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic even, but his sudden mood shift put you on edge. You noticed that after days turned into weeks. How he’d be nice and touchy feelings with you, then be an absolute sociopath the next. His sudden emotional outbursts scared you. Even dead he could still hurt you. “Come on, get up!” 

“I-I don’t get you.” You shook your head. You knew better than to fuel the flame he had tucked away at the moment, but you didn’t know how to deal with his change of emotions anymore, it was exhausting when he out of nowhere felt the need to play ‘Mr. Nice Guy’. You were over it.

“What do you mean?” He stopped looking for a long sleeve to look back at you. 

“You’ve kept me trapped in your room for five days, and now, all of a sudden you’re kissing me again, and being sweet? I don’t get you, Ethan.” You look away from him. Shrinking in place when he draws near. 

“I wanna take you out, what’s wrong with that?” His shoulders slumped. “You wanted out of here, you’re getting that.” He walked over to his nightstand and picked up the small gold chain. Mocking you with it as he dangled it out to you. Then proceeded to tuck it into his jeans. “Now get up, I’m supposed to meet Chad there. Unless you want me to leave you here.” You immediately got up from his bed.

“I don’t even have anything to wear.” You gesture to your shirt and jeans that you’ve been wearing since you showed up. The red sneakers are your signature trademark. The group used to find it endearing. You wondered if they were missing you right about now. 

“Why should it matter, no one can see you anyway?” Ethan immediately tensed seeing your face fall. “I didn’t mean it like that…look how about we- we could ya know…” He trailed off then met eyes with his white bedsheets then stilled. You watched wearily and then curiously as he stripped his bed of his flat sheet. Who the hell owned a flat sheet? 

“What's with the sheet?” You raise a brow in question.

“Would this even work? I mean you couldn’t even touch your bracelet. It just went right through you.” He eyed the sheet and then walked over to you. “Can I?” He gestured to you then the bed linen in his hands. He took quick notice of your hesitance. “Just trust me.” He waved your doubts away. His words made you laugh out loud causing him to grow still. 

“Says my murderer…” You roll your eyes.

“Humor me then.” He grunts then before you can protest he throws the linen over your head and watches it drape over your frame. When it remained over you, his heart began picking up. “Holy…shit!” He backed up, his hands frozen in mid-air as he surveilled you from head to toe. “No fucking way that worked. Holy shit!” You heard him breathe out aloud. What was he so shocked about?

“I can’t see anything.” He couldn’t see it but he imagined you were pouting. 

“Oh right, sorry. Here take it off!” He pulled on the sheet until you came back into his view. Your hair was in disarray. Wild and full of static. A cute pout on your lips as you stared at him. Observing as he dug out a pocket knife and cut into the fabric. Two eyes holes from what you could tell, and then he was turning back to you, reaching forward to fix some crazy strands. The kiss placed on your lips caught you by surprise. He smiled at you and then went to throw the flat sheet over your head again. He adjusted it until your eyes were directly over the two holes he made. You could see out of it now. “Oh my god, you look fucking cool!” He ushered you to his thin mirror. What you didn’t come to realize soon enough was that the linen over your body did not go through you. Your eyes slowly widened as you began to grasp what this would mean for you. People would be able to see you. 

“Holy shit…” You gasped as you stared back at your reflection. You had a reflection. You couldn’t see your eyes, but you could see the very visible bed sheet that was placed over your frame. “Holy fucking shit!” You exclaim, excitingly. You knew what this entailed, but you realized that Ethan had yet to understand why you were so excited about the sheet being placed over you and why it didn’t phase through you like the bracelet had. You figured that he figured you were only freaking out because he thought you thought this was cool. It was, that was no lie, but you were hopeful again. 

“No one will think twice about it.” Ethan laughed at your reaction.

“It worked!” You extend your arms out and do a little spin. 

“It’s fitting honestly going as a ghost, I mean who’s gonna question the girl with a sheet draped over her head?” He chuckled. He nodded in agreement. You were though, a ghost and all. Dead or costume didn’t change that. Not one bit. You hadn’t known why you let your intrusive thoughts win in the moment. Perhaps you rushed towards him because you wanted to express how you were feeling and needed an outlet. Needing to show Ethan just how happy you felt, though you knew you had acted in such a way because your plan to try and find a way to communicate with your friends was back on track, and Ethan was none the wiser about it. You had shed the sheet and brought his lips onto yours. This had been the second time now that your initiated kiss had caught him off guard, but he welcomed the affection nonetheless. He walked the both of you backward until he fell back onto the bed, taking you down with him as the kiss grew heated and rougher. You stayed on top until he had flipped you both. The hungry gaze behind his eyes knew you were gonna be a little late for the party, but you hadn’t really been too worried about it. 

-

The walk to the frat house had been interesting. You kept turning your head towards every wandering eye that landed on you and Ethan. You bet you both looked like quite the pair. A sheeted ghost and a cardboard knight. You had judged Ethan’s look with love and some honesty. You still didn’t get it when it had to explain to you who he was. He went into detail about his inspiration from the movie Murder Party. A movie you had no idea existed until he showed you a scene in which the character Ethan was being tonight wore said costume. It felt like trivia. 

When you both walked through the door. You were both immersed in the chaos and music blasting through a speaker somewhere in the house. Bodies, bodies, and bodies all around, grinding, talking, drinking, and of course the occasional hookup. You were feeling a bit better than you and Ethan had your own pre-hookup before arriving. You knew better than to let your heart lead, but you couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he reached behind him, extending his hand out for you to grab, and you did, allowing him to lead the way around the various of party goers fully and barely intoxicated. It wasn’t long until Ethan had found Chad. And boy were you not prepared for him to finally see you. See your ghost costume. 

“And who is this unlively thing?” Chad joked but teasingly nudged Ethan over and over. You had barely registered Chad’s faint words of ‘That’s my boy’ and ‘I told you, full snack baby!’ before he turned his attention back onto you. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Oh his smile, his beautiful grin that you had missed having be directed at you. 

“This is Wyen!” Ethan introduced you. You were glad they couldn’t see the questionable expression you gave under the sheet for the very questionable name he gave you. What the fuck Ethan?

“Wyen?” Chad's brows pinched together in question as well. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such a unique name.” He shook his head.

“Yeah…she gets that a lot, just think of her name as the letters Y and N and you’ll be fine.” Ethan waved it off. 

“Why would I–” Chad sputtered in confusion. Then turned to you. “What? Is he messing with me? Please tell me he’s fucking with me?” Chad laughed your way. You shook your head and said. 

“No, if only you knew though.” You said. Ethan eyed you, but Chad hadn’t heard you one bit. 

“Is she good?” Chad leaned over to Ethan, as he took note of your lack of responses. “She's not…you know.” He gestured to his ears.

“Deaf? Oh no, yeah she’s fine, she’s just staying in character tonight. Halloween is kind of her favorite holiday.” You wanted to slap him right then and there, so you did. You reached forward and smacked him. Chad found your interactions amusing.

“Ahh okay. Well apologies, ole friendly ghost. I was in the dark of such information, but I respect your wishes to continue to haunt our youth in silence!” Chad placed a hand over his naked chest. You breathe a laugh aloud, but you realize your laugh didn’t reach his ears. It made you tear up a bit, but you concluded that the shake of your shoulders was enough for him to register you did in fact find his teasing funny because his head was thrown back as he laughed. God you had missed him. You tipped your chin down and curtsied, adding to the bit he was doing. “She’s funny too. I like you already.” He pointed at you. “Well, Ghostette and Mr. Landry, enjoy yourselves, not too much of course, but get drunk, and make out. I’m gonna go see where the girls are alright, find me if anything goes wrong okay? Anything. That goes for you too Wyen. Find me for anything!” With that, he tapped Ethan’s cardboard chest in what you assumed was approval and walked in the opposite direction. You scoff knowing that Chad considered you to be Ethan’s conquest for tonight. It looked like trying to gain their attention was going to be harder than you expected...especially since Ethan was hesitant to let you out of his sights now.

[softguarnere]

ok dove, my love, the writer I aspire to be bc your fics are actually 🤌 I was wondering if you could mayhaps appease my craving for a Joe Toye x sick reader fic? I'm quite literally dying of bronchitis and a double ear infection and I have done nothing but reread your work bc it's literally like drugs for me oml

anyway I hope you're doing okay and autumn treats you wonderfully!! <333

In Sickness and In Health

Joe Toye x reader

A/N: Hey Sky! You are too sweet, oh my goodness 🙈 Thank you so so much! I'm so sorry that you're sick, and I hope you're feeling better now 💕 Get well soon beloved, and I hope you enjoy this! (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Also, just a reminder that my requests are closed; I wrote this as part of catching up on requests that were already in my asks Warnings: unspecified sickness

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen, you can’t help but think for the millionth time today. But no, every time you think about your original plans for the weekend, the temperature of the room feels even hotter, the pinpricks of sweat on your brow and neck even more prominent, and the pain in your stomach even worse.

“Joe,” you sigh when the man in question takes a seat on the bed, making the mattress at your feet dip under his weight.

He holds up a hand, stopping your sentence in its tracks. “Don’t you dare apologize again.”

His voice is gentle, but you can’t help leaning back onto your pillow and sighing. Because you are sorry. Really, really sorry, for just about everything you can think of. The fact that you travelled all this way for your husband’s reunion with his old army buddies, only to get sick the night before; that he’s taking care of you when he should be catching up with old friends and reminiscing over memories; that he won’t listen to you when you insist that he can leave you here.

“You should go see your friends.” They’re probably all down at the hotel bar by now. Even though the reunion won’t officially start until tomorrow, some of them are probably pregaming.

“I can’t. Not when I’m taking care of you. I made a vow, remember? In sickness and in health.”

I really do have the perfect husband, you can’t help but think to yourself. How many other men would shrug it off, or sneak away once you were asleep? Strange, how the roles have been reversed here, with you insisting that he go, that you can fend for yourself.

You sigh again. “I just – I feel bad. We came all this way to see your friends, and all you’ve gotten to see so far is the inside of this hotel room.”

But Joe only shrugs. “Well, the reunion doesn’t even start until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll feel better by then. We’ll just see what happens. Besides,” he rushes on before you can continue. “A lot of the guys live in Pennsylvania anyways. If we want to see each other, we can just make the drive some other time.”

“But Joe,” you stress. “This is the Easy reunion. This was important to you.”

“You’re important to me,” he deadpans, but his eyes are soft. “I won’t be able to enjoy any of it if I’m worrying about you the whole time.”

Oh. You had been so caught up in worrying about him enjoying himself that you hadn’t even considered that. Maybe the combination of the sickness and the medicine has clouded your judgement. Or maybe just your love for him has.

“You should rest,” Joe suggests. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

You want for him to hold you, to make you feel better. But unfortunately, there are some things in the world that not even a man as strong as Joe Toye can fight off, and sickness is one of them.

The two of you have been together for quite some time now, though, and he knows you well enough to read your mind. Without even asking, he kicks off his shoes, adjusts his prosthetic leg, and curls up beside you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

“Let me know if you get too hot,” he whispers. When you nod, he repeats his sentiment from earlier. “Don’t worry, okay, (Y/N)? We’ll see what happens in the morning.”

The morning feels like such a distant time. Right now, the only time that means anything is that which you spend in his arms.  

[steviewashere]

Love at First Trim (Chapter 1/???)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Break-Up Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Set in the 2000s, Mild Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Older Eddie Munson, Older Steve Harrington, Original Child Character, Single Parent Eddie Munson, Hair Stylist Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Flirting (But it Sucks), Eddie Munson has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Dialogue Heavy, Tags May Change, Rating May Change

Read on Ao3

Single Parent Eddie Munson, my beloved.

Fair warning, I know nothing about hair care or cutting hair or dyeing hair. All of my research comes from Google. And also, I am aware that trimming Eddie's hair probably would've worked better if it was wet. It is not. Oops.

✂️—————✂️ “You wanna do what to your hair?!” Eddie shrieked.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the gall that his daughter had. She’s recently turned thirteen—the age of discovery. The age where she’s finding her footing, her style, her everything. And, Eddie gets it. He so totally gets it. Eddie was thirteen when he shaved his head the one and only time, when he began to make his battle vest, when he snuck off to a bus towards Indianapolis and saw Judas Priest in concert. So, yes, he gets what she’s doing.

“Dad,” his little girl (not so little) sighs. “I want to dye my hair. Like my friend Sarah. She’s got the most beautiful head of hair right now! Purple, Dad. Her hair is purple.”

“No—no, I got that,” he sighs himself. “But Ella, my little munchkin, my sweet angel baby; you don’t want to dye your hair with something, y’know, a little more neutral first? What if you absolutely hate having color?”

Ella shoots him a glare. So lethal, Eddie swears he feels the bullet enter his chest. “So you were cool about shaving the sides of my head. And the possibility of me getting my nose pierced as soon as I turn sixteen. But dying my hair red is where you draw the line?”

Okay, when she puts it like that, Eddie does sound a touch too protective. But his daughter’s head of hair is one of her crowning features. She’s got her dad’s curls, but her mom’s gorgeous sandy blonde hair. Maybe Eddie and Ella’s mom didn’t end on the best of terms—not that there was an ending to be seen, she had just up and left one day without a trace—but even he can admit that the sandy blonde is something other-worldly. Every single Munson has dark brunette hair, no abnormalities, no others. It’s difficult, even a bit frustrating, to what his little girl grow and change and differentiate herself. He’s excited for, absolutely, but he’s also such a papa bear by fault.

He rubs at his temples, tension building and building beyond belief. There’s no chance he’s winning this. “Okay, listen,” he mutters. Where she’d been incessantly tapping in the kitchen, several feet away from the carpeted living room where he’s stress slouched on the couch, she now falls deathly silent. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I will agree with you on this,” he states slowly, “on a few conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your hair will be dyed with something like Manic Panic—not box dye. And you will do it at an actual salon. You won’t let a friend do it. I’m not going to do it. And you certainly will not be doing it yourself, do you understand?” He looks up from his lap and into the little window over the kitchen counter. Where she looks back. The ‘tude apparent on her features. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Ella continues to stare when the silence stretches. And then she heaves an enormous sigh.

“Little lady, do not sigh at me,” he firmly scolds. And for a moment, he feels like Uncle Wayne. He suppresses the shudder at what that means for him. He’s not even forty yet, he shouldn’t be acting like his way too old uncle. “Do you or do you not understand me?”

Relenting, Ella grumbles, “Fine. We’ll go to a salon.” She rounds the corner into the living room. Eyes him for a beat before settling next to him on the middle cushion. Her left hand reaches up to his hair, tugging at the ends. His hair isn’t the best it’s been—though there isn’t much of a contest, not since he was fifteen—it’s a little wiry, with several inches of dead ends, and already greying at the temples. But it’s still got the length to his shoulders and the bangs that curl inwards right above his eyebrows. Some definition, even. It’s still objectively good, for somebody who doesn’t always care about their hair.

She tugs again. “Mm, you should dye yours too,” Ella murmurs.

He startles and whips his head to her. ‘Absolutely not,” he adamantly refuses.

“Oh, c’mon, Dad,” she whines. “It doesn’t have to be your whole head, but it’d be like a friendship bracelet or something. Just get a streak and match with me. Please?”

“Wha—Hold on. You, my thirteen year old and angst-riddled teenager, wants to match with her dear old dad? Who—keep in mind—is nearing forty years old? Who you called an old fart the other day because he was reminiscing over ‘80s cartoons and explaining how CDs seem like a waste of time?” He incredulously asks. Eyes widening further with each word. His hands reach out and squeeze her cheeks, lift up her arms, twist her head left and right. “Who’s sitting on my couch right now? This certainly can’t be my kiddo,” he murmurs.

She rolls her eyes, swatting him away. The attitude on this girl is unbelievable. He almost wants to go over to the landline and call up Wayne and apologize for how he acted as a teenager. But he just quirks an eyebrow, cross his arms over his chest, and waits. Ella shrugs. “I just…I just want to do it. And I know I can be a brat or a butthead or whatever, but I do actually care a lot about you,” she admits quietly. “And…”

Then, she goes silent. Contemplative and squirmy. As if she doesn’t want to say the next part aloud.

“And?” Eddie searches.

“And I hear you sometimes talking to Grandpa Wayne about how you…You don’t know how to ‘connect’  with me. You always sound so sad and then you sound even sadder when you bring up how Mom…Before she left, how she could get me in an instant. And I just. I don’t know; I don’t want you to think there’s this distance between us,” she murmurs. “This is me offering a bridge, I guess.”

He swallows back the golf ball sized lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly. Eddie didn’t think she heard him, considering it was always so late at night. When all the neighborhood kids in Hawkins were asleep. But he realizes teenagers are going to be teenagers, staying up past their bedtime, eavesdropping. At least she isn’t sneaking out through her bedroom window like he did.

Something in him breaks, though.

She’s thirteen and too adult for his liking.

“I’ll do it, kiddo,” he agrees gently. “There’s a salon around the corner. We’ll go there this weekend, promise. Now, go do your homework before you make your old man cry.”

“You’re not old,” she grumbles, standing. “You’re just stuck in the past,” she states, retreating to her room. And then the door clicks behind her and Eddie’s left to stuff his crumbled pieces back inside, in the jar of his heart.

——— Come Saturday, he’s got two appointments made for them. Back to back. At first, he was unsure of who should go first. Out of safety, he had wanted to, but then Ella was just a bit too eager. And he knew that making her wait would be pointless.

He’s nervous, though, even as he parks in front of the salon. With the little plastic bag from the Sally’s down the street. The little tubs of bright red Manic Panic, bleach, and toner knocking against each other. Not once in his entire life has he thought about dyeing his hair or messing with it beyond shaving, trimming, and washing it. Has never considered the idea that his daughter would be someone who’d be interested in changing up her hair, too. All this to say he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“We’re going to be late for our appointments if you wait out here any longer,” Ella, oh so helpfully, reminds from the passenger seat.

“Are you sure you want to go first? This is a big change, you know. And maybe you’ll see the dye in my hair and realize you actually don’t—“

The passenger door opens and slams behind after her. He’s left in the driver’s seat to gape momentarily. Staring at his daughter impatiently waiting on the sidewalk. She gestures to the glass doors of the salon. The Pandora’s box of doors—a portal to the world of Harrington’s Salon. (Which—where has he heard that name before?) Ella’s arms point firmer at the open sign and the doors again. “Let’s go!” She yells at him through the windshield. He has no other option but to just get out and follow her in.

Immediately, the smell of aftershave hits his nostrils. That and hairspray. The lights are sort of bright. And the chairs are each aligned to their own mirrors. What hits him hard, however, is the person that emerges from the back room. Their hair is the first thing Eddie notices. Puffed up, held in place, yet soft and bouncing with his steps. Then his face—creased with smile lines and fitted with hazel honey eyes, a straight triangular nose, and pink pouting lips. Moles on his body, a few random freckles to match. His clothes are neat, but not stereotypical douchebag neat. Pressed blue henley overtop a white undershirt of sorts, tucked into a pair of worn in light wash jeans, and some dirties older Nike Cortez’s.

But most of all:

It’s Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington from high school. From a time when they were barely acquaintances, just stranger that caught each other staring; with malice, Eddie was never sure. Except, he’s older. Grayer throughout that beautiful head of hair, where his highlights used to be. His smile lines obviously deeper.

The moment of realization hits Steve, too. Instead of looking upset to see Eddie, though, he looks immeasurably happier. He smiles wide and inviting. Steps further towards the front counter and ushers them over.

“So, you two are my twelve and twelve-thirty appointments? The…Munson’s, right?” Steve asks brightly.

Eddie splutters for an embarrassing moment. Finally, though, he takes a deep breath. Answers, “Yeah, uh—Yeah. It should be under Edward, though? Or…it might be Eddie. I actually don’t remember which name I gave, I—“ He stops himself when he catches a quick glimpse of Ella’s face. Her eyes wide and an eyebrow quirked. Hip popped and arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, Eddie Munson. And she’s Ella. She should be the one scheduled first, though for a full head dye job? We brought our own supplies, as I was told over the phone. Except, I dunno if I’ve got the right bleach and toner? I’m actually not sure if…I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly—“

Steve chuckles. His eyes squint with the stretch of his ever glowing smile. “It’s alright, Eddie. As long as you have the dye you’d like to use, I’ve got bleach and tools. Now…the question is, have we ever used bleach before? Or am I working with virgin hair?”

Before Eddie can even get the chance to take a breath, Ella is responding for them. “This is my first time. Dad’s been really strict about me ever using hair dye. It was a reeaalll hassle to convince him to do this. And an even bigger one to convince him to get a matching streak.”

“Okay, well, hopefully with my handy skills, the convincing won’t take as long. If you’re ready, Dad and Ella, I can get you guys situated in my chairs. I’ll start out with doing a test strip of bleach on your head, and if that ends up being a fail, then I can get started with using color immediately,” Steve explains. His voice stays light, despite essentially doing customer service. But he begins to walk slowly back towards one of the further most chairs, gesturing for Ella to sit down. She does, a soft smile plastered to her face, and then Steve ties an apron around her shoulders.

He follows hesitantly, sitting down in the adjacent chair, turned to watch. Hands over the bag of supplies when asked and waits with baited breath for Steve to survey his work.

“Hm,” Steve grunts. “This all looks good to me,” he murmurs. “I’m honestly so relieved you guys went with Manic Panic. This stuff is such a good first time dye and it’s not boxed. You would not believe the amount of botched dye jobs I’ve seen in the last decade or so all because of boxed colors. Honestly, those companies should be sued or something.” Eddie feels something stir low in his belly—something mixed with enamor with how Steve is genuinely excited to explain and do his work. Never, in a million years, would Eddie expect to see them here like this.

“Dad insisted on the Manic stuff. I almost made my friend smuggle in some boxed hair dye in my school’s restroom,” Ella confesses, a little breathy and nearly amused. She doesn’t look at Eddie at all, but he hopes that she feels his disapproving glare like daggers.

When there isn’t a response, Eddie drifts his sight over to Steve. Though, he isn’t concerned, instead finding him hyper-focused on his craft. He’s carefully grabbing a lock of Ella’s hair between his fingers. Checking it over to make sure it’s well hidden, in case this doesn’t work out. His tongue is poking out between his pouting lips, eyes squinted on his task, and eyebrows furrowed for the challenge. Once he finally finds a good enough chunk, he whispers, “A-ha!” And clips it to stand-out.

“So…” Eddie starts the conversation again, dragging out the word. He pats his hands down on his thighs. “How long does a test strand take?”

“For best results,” Steve mutters, now looking over the container of bleach, “I like to wait forty minutes. Just to ensure that there really isn’t any sort of reaction to the product. Longer means safer and that means I can sleep at night knowing I didn’t give a kiddo a bald spot or a chemical burn.” And then he looks over to Eddie, flashes him a quick and easing smile. He steps away for a moment, returning with an apron dutifully draped over himself, and begins mixing the product with something Eddie didn’t even grab.

“What’s that?” He asks.

Steve hums. “It’s developer. Don’t worry, it’s the same brand as the powder solution you brought. I can tell—“ He sets his little bowl of product down on the nearby counter. Faces Eddie as he puts on some latex gloves. “—That you’re nervous. I’ve been doing this for years, I know what I’m doing. Honed my craft real well.”

Eddie juts his chin up once in silent approval. And then he just sits back and watches.

This guy is an artist in his craft. He’s really undersold the whole “I’ve been doing this for years” gig. Steve is so gentle, so careful with Ella. He’s quick, efficient. Yet focused and tedious. It’s in the way he paints the mixture onto her hair, holding the hair between his fingers, how he really rubs the bleach in. In the calculated cut of foil he settles around the strand. How he puts all the utensils away, cleans up his equipment, hangs his apron up, and then comes back over to assess.

“Alright,” Steve sighs, over checking the foil. “We’ll keep that on there for forty minutes, my timer’s been set and is ticking. And then we’ll come back, rinse that out with cold water, and see how the hair reacted. If it worked, we can go ahead and bleach the whole head, same regime, and tone it afterwards.”

“And the color?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Hm,” Steve grunts again. He sticks his right hip out and places both of his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “I think,” he states slowly, “I think we should wait just a day or two for color.” He looks over to Eddie, eyes considerate and his face thoughtful. “Since her hair is new to this kind of treatment, we should take things a little easier. Usually, I’d go right in with the color after bleaching, but again—Virgin hair.”

“What about Dad?” Ella butts in. “His hair is also new to this kind of stuff.”

“Oh?” Steve asks curiously. “Really? I thought you would’ve done something funky to your hair, considering your whole…The whole aesthetic you’ve had for, what seems like, years.”

“Well,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. He shrugs. His cheeks are heated and his stomach is flipping with all of Steve’s attention on him. “I’ve always really loved how my hair’s looked. Reminds me of my mom, so.”

Steve’s gaze softens. Something like remembrance flashes over his face before settling back to a gentle thing. “Well, I’ll make sure to be careful with your hair, too,” he promises softly. “Yours should actually be done today. Considering it’s only one little strip, nothing too extravagant. I’ll test your hair with the bleach, too. Let me just head in the back and prepare another bowl of product for you. Be back in a jiffy.”

It’s weird having Steve Harrington be nice to him, considering the status he held in high school. But Eddie supposes that when time passes and circumstances change, you have to, too. And he thinks it’s accurate to say that Steve’s a changed man, with how gentle he is with the people around him. Even a person he may have never known, never gotten along with. It’s all the better when he comes back into the main part of the salon, gloves on, bowl of bleach in hand, and the softest of smiles adorning his features.

Eddie doesn’t stand a chance. Whatever inevitable heartbreak comes from this, at least he’ll know what Steve’s fingers feel like in his hair.

Ella leans over before Steve makes it to them. Whispers, “Dad, close your mouth. You’re practically drooling.”

“Wh—Huh?” He dumbly says.

She smacks his knee with the back of her hand, punctuating each word with another slap. “Stop. Ogling. My. Stylist.”

“I can do whatever I want, miss ma’am. I am an adult, mind you.”

Her eyes roll so hard, he fears they may just pop out of her skull. “Can you at least wait until after my head is bleached to do your weird flirting?”

“It’s not weird, Ells. Besides, even if I were flirting, I wouldn’t have the time. My hair’s gonna be a quick thing anyway.”

She goes to reply, but Steve sidles up beside her. Sets his bowl on the counter and looks to Eddie once more. “You ready to test this in your hair?” He asks, voice polite.

He nods like a loose spring. “Uh—Yeah, yeah, sure,” he squeaks out. “Just…Just a little nervous, is all. Like you said. Y’know. Nerves.” His palms are sweating like they may just be able to put out a damn fire. And he wonders, for the first time in ages: When did I get so out of practice? Eddie’s seeing this guy for the first time since their mutual senior year, a time when they weren’t even friends, and he can’t keep the humiliation out of his flirting. If it’s even flirting, that is.

“Hey,” Ella speaks up, “would it be alright if I sit in the waiting area with some headphones in?” She gives Steve a polite expression, but when she makes eye contact with Eddie it’s more of a: I’m Saving Myself the Embarrassment of This Reaction. He should’ve known that she’d pull something like this, she typically does if Eddie’s having a good interaction with somebody. How he didn’t spot her walk in with her Discman and some headphones, he’ll never know. But there they are, being gestured to in her lap, and her eyes gleaming softly for Steve to be tricked by. “I’ll make sure to avoid the foil in the back,” she tacks on for good measure.

And it works on Steve because her little gags always work on new people. He shrugs, smiles softly, and gestures loosely to one of the waiting area chairs. “I mean, knock yourself out. Could always sit here, but uh—“ He crouches down and leans in close, dropping his voice to a faux whisper. “—Between me and you, your dad is being a little embarrassing, huh?”

“Hey!” Eddie squawks.

Ella is amused, to put it lightly. She grins, holding back a snort. Eyes gleaming with something like mischief now. “Yeah,” she sighs as if she’s actually put out. “Guess I should just dump him on you for now. But you know what you’re doing, so it should be fine. Volume will be up, so just tap me or something.” When she walks past Eddie’s chair, he knows she’s fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He does it back anyway. Because he’ll always be the bigger child, if he can help it.

Steve pats his shoulder, his hand lingering. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice normal again, “I don’t actually think that of you. I think…You being nervous about both of you guys is actually kinda sweet.”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to save face, man. She got my attitude, she’ll use it to her advantage. If she can ‘charm’ you into dealing with me, she will. Just the ways of a teenage girl with a dad ‘stuck in the past’, so she put it a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll still be careful. Do you want me to get started on that test strip?”

He sighs, untenses his shoulders. “Actually,” Eddie begins. “I’ve been kind of eyeing myself in the mirror the couple of times you’ve gone into the back. And I was wondering if I’d be able to get a little trim? I’ll pay you for the extra work, of course! But I…God, it’s been a while.”

Above him, Steve hums. His eyes roam, calculating. He peels off his left latex glove and plucks some of Eddie’s dead ends. Thumb working over the wiry hair. “I can, of course I can. How much are you willing to take off? Might be a good…Hmm, two inches?”

“Where would that put me length wise? Sorry, I just don’t know much about hair. Let alone how many inches I’ve got to work with.”

For a moment, Steve smirks. Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said, Eddie thinks. He gently swipes up a good couple inches from the same strand he’s been working with. And his face goes serious and contemplative again. “Think that would put you right at your collarbones,” he muses. “And, if you really are nervous, I could always bleach and dye your streak when she comes in next.”

“Really?”

Steve nods gently. “Yeah. I’m practically a hair wizard, I can do anything. Which includes doing your strand on top of her full dye.”

Eddie sighs, relieved. His heart’s been rabbiting behind his ribs for the better part of half an hour. It definitely doesn’t help that his high school crush is also his stylist today. Doesn’t help that he’s making nerd references while being gentle with Eddie’s little silent freakout. But gosh does it sound nice to not go head first into this. “Please, Steve,” he murmurs, “I just need a trim today. Nothing else.”

Fingers rake from the top of Eddie’s head down to his shoulders. Steve’s left hand resting heavily on his shoulder afterwards. “Let me go ahead and dispose of the product mixture, alright? Just get yourself comfortable and I’ll take care of you.”

If something awakens in the butterfly storm of Eddie’s stomach, he’ll never say. But he does indulge Steve’s request. Leans back fully into his salon chair. Spreads his legs a little to make sure he doesn’t need to readjust himself during the trim. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And by the time they’re opened again, Steve is back with an apron for Eddie’s clothes. He lets him drape it over silently. Relishing in their slow, mingled breaths. And the brush of Steve’s warm fingers to Eddie’s bare neck.

Steve is warm, solid, and soft. His face is immeasurably cute. Tongue poking out, eyebrows furrowed, squinting at the ends of Eddie’s hair. He breathes gently by Eddie’s ear. Fingers soothing and careful. Whenever they get caught in a tangle, he just quickly detangles it, doesn’t scold Eddie or sigh at him (like some other stylists have done in the past). For that, Eddie’s even more thankful than he thought he could ever.

What really makes him nearly squirm is when Steve bends down in front of him. Putting one another at direct eye level. He pinches the ends of Eddie’s bangs. Snips them. Combs them, even. Up close, Eddie can see how deep Steve’s smile lines really go. Where his crow’s feet are beginning to develop. The fine stubble above his upper lip. Every little strand of slivery grey in his hairline. Up close, Steve’s even more gorgeous than Eddie remembers.

“You do these yourself?” Steve asks softly, his voice deep and warm.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs back, “been doing them in my bathroom since…Probably since freshman year of high school, honestly.”

A thoughtful grunt-hum. “They’re really good for somebody who doesn’t do this professionally,” Steve whispers. “I mean, I assume you aren’t a stylist.”

Eddie snorts. “God, no. I know how to take care of my hair, for the most part, and Ella’s. That’s all I do. I’m actually a mechanic nowadays.”

“Oh? You don’t do music anymore?” Steve asks, now standing back up, walking behind Eddie’s chair. His fingers rake through the bottom of Eddie’s curls again. And then he grabs the comb inside of his apron.

Eddie stops completely in his tracks. Frozen in his chair. Cheeks flushing. “How do you remember that I do music?” He asks quietly.

It finally hits Steve, too, what he said. His fingers halt and his cheeks blush and his eyes go wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “Uh,” he eloquently states. “I—Um. My best friend and I used to go to your bar shows? I-I thought you were really good.”

“Steve Harrington thought my crummy bar shows were good?”

“Well…Yeah? You were the best of the best when it came to the music lineups every night.”

“Every night?!” Eddie asks incredulously. “You were in the Hideout watching my stupid bar shows and I never saw you once? Are you pulling my leg right now?”

“No? Of course I’m not, Eddie. I used to see your Corroded Coffin posters in the halls and around town every once in a while and I thought, y’know, what if I stopped in there once? And so I did and you were really cool—I mean really good. I was just intrigued, man. I really wanted you to make it big,” Steve rambles. His fingers are still in Eddie’s hair, not stopped anymore, mindlessly combing. And his whole face is tomato red.

And even though he’s a little bit embarrassed, he’s still beautiful to Eddie.

Eddie blinks, taking in the information. Licks his lips, noticing the way Steve’s eyes follow the action. There’s tension here, Eddie can discern. The kind, he isn’t sure. “You should’a said hello, man. Maybe I would’ve done a private show for you.”

He spikes with pride at Steve’s continued flush, as it colors down his neck. Steve looks down to Eddie’s hair. Gently brushing both of his hands, palm and all, from the scalp to the ends. There’s a small smile on his face, graceful and pleased. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But I doubt it. I mean, I was an asshole, Eddie. To people like you. Even if I did change by the time we shared a senior year, you probably would’ve…It doesn’t matter.” He goes back to snipping at Eddie’s dead ends. Focused on his task. “If I were a nicer guy, we could’ve been friends.”

At that, Steve goes silent again. Combing out the trimmed, loose hair. Even as it isn’t necessary. Even though Eddie knows he’ll be going home and showering after this. But he hums. “We can be friends now, though,” Eddie states quietly. “You seem like a good guy, Steve. Even if I don’t know you all that well, not yet, I can just tell that you are. You’re good with my little girl, you aren’t being an ass about me being nervous. You’re good, Steve. We should hang out.”

When he’s finally done, Steve stands at Eddie’s right side. Scissors and comb dutifully put away. His hands are on his hips again, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression. “You’d really want to be friends with me?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure, why not? I live just around the block. And I’ve got a lot of free time after work in the week. Let’s make a statement—Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are friends.”

He gets this sweet little grin on his face. Eyes squinting with the action. “Yeah, okay,” Steve huffs. “Sure, I want to be friends. Maybe take you up on that private show some time?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Eddie says, a little too quiet. A little too real. But he smiles. And knows, looking at Steve’s matching face, that he’s entirely fucked.

✂️—————✂️ Taglist is Open for this fic! (Comment to be added, please <3)

[vallanoux]

𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟏

ps: i'm new here and idk what i'm doing, but this is the first chapter of a lucifer m. x reader x alastor fic <3

(name) (surname) was nothing special. Sure, a famous broadway star, but that was it. She was just another regular human who experienced normal, average everyday problems. A difficult “hellhole” of a childhood, a lack of love life, worry and uncertainty for the future... all of them were undoubtedly issues that everyone went through, were they not?

In this day and age, who didn’t come from some form of trauma-inducing childhood hellhole? 

The only thing that really stood out about (name) (surname) was her death. She died in a freak accident at age 28. Sent to hell by such a gruesome death––what a poor thing! Especially straight into the ring of pride. That really was the only interesting thing about her.

Or so, most people would believe. 

“Why, oh why the hell am I in Hazbin Hotel?!!” (name) cried. 

(name) (surname) didn’t die in a freak accident at age 28. No, she was transmigrated into Hazbin Hotel, an adult animated series that had its first season recently aired in the beginning of the year 2024 after its pilot a couple years prior.

(name) sighs, and she slumps down on the sidewalk. She confusedly stared at her surroundings. The buildings were all gray, either barely holding up or derelict and destroyed. The roads were all covered with some form of garbage. Feces, drugs, guts. And god, everything was painted in red. Concrete bathed under the sky of red and puddles of crimson blood and innards. 

With a rising acid reflux, and her own build up stress, she could feel her own vomit crawl up her throat, waiting for her to belch out her instant noodle and scrambled egg breakfast. All too familiar with this feeling, she pressed her hand against her chest and stopped breathing in and out. The bile manages to sink back into her stomach, and at that, (name) breathes a huff of relief. 

“I need to get my shit together.” 

Just as she says that to calm herself, she sees a familiar face, staring at her. (name) didn’t know what to feel. Relief? Fear? Excitement? She could only stare at the figure standing in front of her––the figure of hell’s head honcho, Lucifer Morningstar. She couldn’t tell what he felt. The expression on his face was too well concealed. (name) opened her mouth, her lips trembling as she spoke. She couldn’t understand why such a man was here. 

“Hello,” (name) mutters out, holding her eye contact. 

Lucifer tilts his head and thankfully, he speaks. He didn’t sound angry, but he also didn’t sound all too pleased either. “Were you sent by Father? That divine power in you must mean something.” 

“I don’t even know why I’m here. What are you talking about..?” (name) was honest with her words. She stared at him helplessly, with a tone of desperation etched into her voice. “I don’t- I..” 

(name) could feel the tears building up in her eyes. She desperately wipes away her own tears, but they would only continue to patter right out. They were the tears of a showman. A through and through famous broadway star that presented their act as thorough as a michelin chef serving a full course five star meal. A meal that Lucifer bit into with little to none hesitation. 

He looks away regrettably. The flame of suspicion that once burned in his eyes flickering into dying embers. He truly wanted to believe (name). But this situation was far too… perfect. “I don’t know what I could do for you.” He summarizes up briefly and regrettably, and he turns around. He looks away. 

“W- Wait please. Don’t leave me here. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. If you could just give me a place to stay?” She lowered her head and pleaded. 

He turns his gaze back to her and his face morphs into a troubled expression. His lips curl into a worried frown and he balls his hands into a fist, where, (name) noticed, a wedding ring still nicely wrapped around his ring finger despite his widower status. He sighs and unclenches his hands. 

“You know I could be a totally bad guy, right?” Lucifer mutters. “You shouldn’t trust the first person you meet.”

“I know that. But you just seem.. Kind.” (name) was careful with her words, painting herself in an innocent light. A light that Lucifer would feel the need to protect. 

“Kind?” He narrows his eyes briefly, unsure. Yet as always, his gaze returns to her eyes. “Sure, why the hell not. Come, stay with me. But don’t blame me if you regret it too much.” 

(name) manages a small smile and held his hand, “I don’t think I will.” 

Her expression drops slightly when Lucifer’s grip on her hands tighten. His eyes narrowed and cut through her, “but if you’re lying… I promise you’ll find yourself in a situation far worse than being in hell.”

(name) nervously and shakily nods her head. “Got it.” 

2.7 pages

883 words

status: edited

Notes:

this is a story i created for fun, so updates are inconsistent~

only lucifer and alastor will be love interests currently.

also a small reminder, don't ask for posts/updates. it ruins my motivation to publish anything. if someone comments or personally asks, i might just consider postponing an update simply because.

[angels-creative]

all that matters

Summary: "As someone who dated him for three years, he doesn't act like that. Something is wrong and, as his ex-girlfriend, if anyone would know, it'd be me." (Or, Deuce is acting strange. Clawdeen tries to find out why. Takes place 2-3 weeks after MH2)

Notes: Hi everyone! This is my first fic in two and a half years. I'm kinda nervous about it, but also had it read over twice, so it should be all good to go. Happy reading!

Warnings: Mentions of unsupportive families, talks of mental health, and depictions of stress and exhaustion.

Word Count: 2.5k

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @goldenavenger02 @ninja-go-to-therapy @the-panwitch @rejectofsociety @lostintranslaation

Ao3 Link

--

Clawdeen.

Deuce is acting weird.

Admittedly, she doesn’t know him that well yet. They’ve been going out for three months, but only made their relationship official two weeks ago. Maybe it’s just her supernatural senses. Maybe she’s just smart. Either way, Clawdeen can tell something’s up.

“Are you okay?” she asks, at their weekly student council meeting. Now that she’s a prefect, she’s actually required to be there. As president, Deuce is too, although he looks like he’d really rather be anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” he replies. He pulls out his chair and sinks into the seat next to her. He really doesn’t look good. His once bright emerald orbs are now dark and dull, splashes of crimson mixed in with the whites of his eyes. He looks absolutely exhausted. His snakes, judging by how one slithers out from his beanie and tries to bite her, seem moody, too.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he apologizes. He swats the snake away, and pulls his beanie down farther over his mop of curls. “So,” he asks, turning his attention back to their classmates gathered around the table, “what’s on the agenda for today?”

--

Heath.

Clawdeen, despite being the amazing girlfriend she is, isn't the only one to notice something's wrong.

Heath is Deuce's best friend. Him, Deuce, and Cleo go back to ghoul school, and he notices something is wrong when he's with Cleo in Phys-icks.

"Dude," he asks, his tone doubtful, "are you sure you should even, like, be here?"

Deuce, in response, jolts awake, and glares at his roommate from beneath his glasses. "Yes." He scowls. "I'm fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Hmm." Cleo, from her seat beside Heath, taps her pencil against her chin. "I don't know, Deuce. Maybe because you look oddly like my family did, after we woke up from a thirteen hundred year sleep? That could be it."

Heath rolls his eyes. He loves Cleo’s sarcasm as much as anything else, but now is not the time for it. "Or," he says, lightly elbowing Cleo in the waist, "maybe it's because we care about you? And we literally went through something super traumatic two weeks ago, and want to make sure you're okay?"

Deuce shoots Heath a disapproving ‘really?’ glare, aiming daggers at his best friend yet again. “Okay?!” he repeats, as he slams his textbook shut. “Why would I be?! Why would anyone be?! Clawdeen literally died, Draculaura nearly got killed by witches, and I took a knife to the throat! All within the first few weeks of school starting!”

“Don’t forget Toralei almost won the prefect election,” Cleo adds in, unfazed by the emotional outburst. “That was pretty terrible, too.”

“Cleo,” Heath hisses. “Knock it off.” This was not the time.

Deuce’s eyes glow a bright green, but they aren’t the shade Cleo, or Heath, was used to. Once an intense, entrancing jade, they're now transformed, dark and stormy, and, for the first time in her life, Cleo doesn’t see her ex-boyfriend, kind and calm, behind those irises of sea green.

“Cleo,” he growls, “that is literally the least important part.”

"Deuce, Heath, Cleo— is everything okay over there?" their teacher calls from across the room.

"Yeah! Everything is fine, Ms. Ziz!" Heath gives her a thumbs up, and smiles sheepishly. Then, he glances between his best friends, and hits Deuce on the shoulder, his eyes immediately dying down. "You guys need to cut it out." He breaks up the minor fight. "Cleo, you're being απερίσκεπτος, and we don't need your snarky remarks. Deuce—" He tosses over a pair of black, stone-proof sunglasses. "We're only trying to help. You need to stop being such a snake, and chillax, man."

Deuce sighs, but catches the shades nevertheless, trading them with the ones he is wearing. Heath always keeps an extra pair handy, and he knows he can count on him. He always has his back. "You're right," he agrees. He pulls his beanie down farther, before hurrying out of the room. "I- I'm sorry, I can't be here."

"…Sooo," Cleo says, spinning around in her chair, "that was weird, right?"

"Oh, yeah." Heath nods. "No doubt about it."

--

Cleo.

Cleo knows Deuce better than anyone.

It’s not really a surprise. Before attending Monster High, they’d been dating for two, nearly three, years. She knows everything about him. She knows that he has a pet rat, Perseus, and his mom absolutely despises him for it; she knows that he’s the youngest of his family, and has six sisters; and she knows that he’s always wanted to play casketball, but can’t because he tore his ACL when he was fourteen, and it never completely healed.

Thus, she also knows when Deuce is keeping secrets.

She isn’t subtle about it. She catches Clawdeen in the library later that day, her wedge sandals click-clacking against the spiral staircase. “Clawdeeen,” she calls, sing-song, “you need to talk to your boy toy!”

Clawdeen coughs, nearly choking on her meow-cha latte. “Cleo!” she whisper-shouts. “What the Kronos?! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“I would’ve just gotten Frankie to bring you back to life, it’s fine.” Cleo shakes her head and waves the issue away, dismissing it.

“Yeah, because that worked out so well last time.” Clawdeen glances down at the scars lining the palms of her hands. They’d been healed for a while and didn’t hurt anymore– but that didn’t mean they weren’t painful reminders of how her friends, Draculaura and Deuce, had nearly lost their lives. 

They could’ve died that night. 

Draculaura had nearly been killed, Zamara using her to destroy all of vampire kind, and Deuce had almost gotten his throat slit, sacrificing himself while she took on the big bad, yet again. She couldn’t keep letting them– letting him– do that, and couldn’t keep putting them in harms way. They’d endured too much, and who was she, as a leader and student representative, if she couldn’t even protect her pack?

“It still worked, didn’t it?” Cleo rolls her eyes and sits down beside her. “Anyway,” she steals a sip from Clawdeen’s meow-cha latte, “we need to talk. Deuce has been acting strange lately. He’s been falling asleep in, like, every class, and it’s something Heath and I have both noticed.”

Clawdeen raises an eyebrow. “How many classes do you have with him?” They were only halfway through the school day!

“Like, two.” Cleo shrugs. “But that’s not the point. He fell asleep in Phys-icks, and totally freaked out on me and Heath. Plus, did you even see him at the student council meeting today? He looked horrible."

Clawdeen nods. Horrible isn't the word she'd use, but Cleo was right; the bloodshot eyes, pale skin, and irritability really wasn’t a good look.

“—As someone who dated him for three years, he doesn’t act like that. Something is wrong, and, as his ex-girlfriend, if anyone would know, it’d be me.”

“Okay…” Clawdeen frowns. “Well, why don’t you talk to him about it?” As far as she knew, Cleo & Deuce were still friends. Hell, they’d known each other since middle school.

“We’re… not really on speaking terms,” Cleo explains. “Not at the moment. Our conversations are almost entirely limited to group projects and small talk.”

Clawdeen sighs. If she’s being honest with herself, she knows something was wrong, too. She just doesn’t want to admit it, because addressing the issue would make it seem real. Their relationship is still new, and she wants to keep it fresh and fun for as long as possible.

She also knows, though, that if she wants this relationship to work, she has to be honest with him. Deuce had stood by her side, helping her against Komos and Zamara, all while reinventing himself. He offered her advice on her new social media superstardom, and was one of the first monsters to actually not judge her on orientation day. If Clawdeen can’t be anything, then she can at least take Cleo’s advice and be a good girlfriend. 

"Okay," she agrees, at last. “But I haven’t known him as long as you and Heath. What makes you think he’ll talk to me, if he won’t even talk to you two?”

Cleo has to resist the temptation to roll her eyes again, the words ‘because you’re his girlfriend!’ on the tip of her tongue. But she knows that wouldn’t be enough.

“Because he loves you,” she says sincerely. She remembers how anxious she felt when her and Deuce first started dating, and she suspects Clawdeen is feeling the exact same way. “You’re his safe place. I see the way he looks at you. There’s a spark in his eyes that I didn’t see when he was with me, Clawdeen.”

She hasn’t seen so much energy in his eyes in an eternity.

“And I know,” Cleo continues, “that when we first met, I liked to cause chaos and mischief.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “But you can trust me when I say I’m being honest with this.”

--

Deuce.

Clawdeen follows through with her end of the bargain; though it takes a little longer than she likes. She finally makes it out of casketball practice and fearleading at six fifteen. It's almost seven by the time she rinses herself off with a shower, and visits Deuce in his dorm after that.

She stands at the door and raps her knuckles against the wood. She remembers Heath telling her about his plans with Abbey- so it should just be the two of them tonight. Hopefully she can actually get Deuce to open up and talk to her.

"Clawdeen?" he says, as he opens the door. He's dressed in sweats and a green t-shirt, holding the knob in one hand, and a mug in the other. If that isn't strange, Clawdeen doesn't know what is. 'Deuce doesn't drink coffee,' she thinks to herself. In fact, he hates hot coffee. If he has to survive on any caffeinated drink, it's definitely iced caramel meow-chiatos. "What are you doing here?" He takes a sip from his coffee. "Aren't you guys having that sleepover with Twyla tonight?"

"Nah." She shakes her head and smiles politely. "Twyla's trying to pass her Boogeyman exam, so she's pulling an all-nighter in the library. Can I come in?"

"Y-Yeah, of course." Deuce steps aside and Clawdeen walks into the room, her claw slippers silent against the floorboards. She's never been in Deuce's dorm before, and it's so different from her own. The walls clash with tiger orange and pine-tree green, and Clawdeen can't even count how many plants they have. 

'Amazon vibes,' she thinks to herself. 'Interesting.'

"Heath's an environmentalist," Deuce explains, and Clawdeen nods in understanding. She knew he was passionate about global warming and saving the rainforest; she just didn't know how extreme he was about it. 

Maybe she'll talk to Heath about that next.

"So what brings you here?" Deuce asks. He places his coffee on the nightstand beside him, and the two sit on the bed together. Clawdeen makes herself comfortable, trying not to stare into his captivating emerald eyes. "You miss me or something?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Clawdeen laughs, a glowing bright smile, and suddenly she's reminded of why she fell in love with him all over again. "Always,” she states. “But I’m here for a reason. Heath and Cleo said you fell asleep and kinda freaked out in Phys-icks today. I know we just took down Zamara, and no one’s really checked in with one another…”

“So you want to know if I’m doing okay,” Deuce finishes for her. “And I appreciate you for that, Clawdeen, but I’m fine. I processed everything as soon as we got back, and I am awesome. I’m all good to go.”

Clawdeen gives him a Look™. She doesn’t believe him, and she’s not having it. “Deuce, are you kidding? You’ve been a walking zombie all day, and you almost stoned Cleo in Phys-icks.” She grabs his hands and meets his eyes with her amber ones. “Talk to me, please. I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

Deuce takes a deep breath and sighs. He holds on to Clawdeen's hands, and his eyes drift over to the rug beneath his feet. He knows she isn't going to let this go, and he'd really rather not lie or hide things from her. That's not how a relationship works. "I haven't been sleeping great lately. I've been drinking coffee to stay awake. I keep on having nightmares about Zamara and Komos. It's not even about getting turned to stone. I just… I'm there, with a knife against my throat, and I see you lying there, on the floor with Frankie, and… I can't lose you."

Clawdeen offers him a soft smile, and wraps him in a hug. She's not a very affectionate person, but she's making an exception. She's also never had friends, never mind a boyfriend before, but she's already made up her mind; she's going to do everything she can to support and help them.

The only way to have a friend is to be one.

"Thank you for telling me," she says. "Have you… talked to anyone about it? Your moms or your dad?"

Deuce shakes his head, and buries himself in Clawdeen's shoulder. Her hoodie is so soft, and he could stay wrapped up in her arms forever. "I don't know who to talk to," he says, his voice cracking. "My moms wouldn't get it. They're already pressuring me to follow in their footsteps, and hate that I go to Monster High. They'll be so ashamed of me. I can't go to them with this."

Clawdeen nods, and holds him close. She's met Deuce's family before, and knows they aren't the most supportive. His bio mom, Medusa, is pretty ambitious. While that isn't necessarily a bad characteristic, her opinions consist of how gorgons should "never be nice," and "always succeed, at any and all cost."

Needless to say, Clawdeen isn't really a fan of her- despite how much she tries to be.

The two of them sit in the quiet for a while, Deuce silently sobbing on her shoulder. They stay there for what feels like forever, until Clawdeen is sure that he's asleep.

"Deuce," she whispers, "I am so sorry." She can't believe she roped him into helping her, and now his mental health is suffering from it. "But I promise we're going to work through this together. I'm with you till the end of the line, alright? We're going to fix this."

They have to fix this.

How is she supposed to fix this?

[thelargefrye]

Speaking of the kim hongjoong, I have a request. Can we get some ynjoong fluff and/or smut?

[ +18 PROMPT ] —— you visit hongjoong while he’s working in his studio and he’ll gladly take a few minutes in order to wreck you.

pairing : hongjoong x idol!f!reader (background poly ateez) genre : fluff, smut warnings : studio sex, oral (f receiving), praising kink, pet names (princess), the skirt stays ON during sex

he should’ve known it was a trap when you came to visit him in the studio. it was always a trap especially when you came to the studio in the shortest skirt possible, legs all smooth and pretty for him to drink in.

your smile is innocent, which he also knew was a trap. everything about you was a trap, too good to be true as you greeted him with a kiss. your manicured nails running through his freshly dyed hair.

hongjoong feels so enamored by you as he watches you straddle his lap as you hug him. your chest pressing into his as your grind down on him a little

“what are you doing here baby?” hongjoong finally asks as he feels you nuzzle your face into his neck.

“i came to keep you company,” you say with a smile and hongjoong is once again convinced this is all a trap.

now what trap are you planning, you might be thinking, to which hongjoong would say to get him to leave and go home to rest.

or you want him fuck you.

when you cup his face and smash your lips to his, hongjoong figures it’s the latter of what you are trying to do.

hongjoong is fine with that. he could use a break if it meant he could his stress a little.

“princess, i know what you want,” he says after you pull away from lips breathless.

“you do?” you ask with a head tilt making hongjoong smirk as he stands up with your legs wrapped around his waist.

he sets you down on the small couch in his studio as he slips between your legs on the floor. he pushes your skirt up to look at your underwear and the wet patch that’s already there.

“have you been touching yourself, princess?” hongjoong teases as he rubs you over your underwear where the wet patch is making you let out little breathy moans.

“joongie, please take care of me. i need you really bad,” you moan out to him as you run your fingers through his hair.

“i like it when you ask nicely, princess, i’ll give you whatever you want,” he said before finally slipping off you underwear. he pockets them into his pants pocket before he spreads your legs as you bunch up the material of your skirt so you can get a clear few of hongjoong eating you out.

you let out a series of moans and whines hongjoong licks a clear strip between your folds. he gives your clit a suck before giving you another lick. he enters two fingers into you as you thread your fingers through his hair and he groans when you tug on his hair.

hongjoong curls his fingers into as he continue to lick and suck.

“hongjoong! fuck— don’t stop, please!” you cry out as you arch your back. hongjoong has to remove his fingers in order to hold your legs open.

“you gonna come, princess?” hongjoong ask before giving you a slow lick and you see his lips and chin covered in your juices.

“yes, please let me come!” you beg as hongjoong starts to draw figure eights over your clit. hongjoong can tell you’re close due your moans and the tight grip you have on your skirt.

hongjoong uses his hand to intertwine with your own. he knows how much you love hand holding especially when one of them is eating you out.

“mmh, fuck!” you cry out as hongjoong dips his fingers back inside you and you immediately clench around them. “i’m close, i’m close!”

“go ahead, princess,” he says as he kisses your hand and he does one final curl of his fingers before you finally come all over his fingers with a high pitch moan.

hongjoong watches as you come down from your high before he pulls his fingers out. the two of you make eye contact as he licks his fingers clean of your juices. he leans over before kissing you and sharing the taste of yourself with you which makes you moan.

hongjoong then cleans you up before putting your underwear back on. he goes to stand, but you immediately pull him next to you, trapping him on the couch as you cuddle next to him.

the leader smiles as he wraps his arms around you, “i guess a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

tag list : @tannie13 @icyb3rry @cookiechristie @atinytinaa

[shannyh25]

I thought I would give Chapter 2 a try if my story. Please tell me what you guys think of it. I’m working on Chapter 3.

Please tell me your thoughts on Chapter 2!

Like I said, always thought Gilbert would make a great big brother. Especially if he had a little sister. This my take on what I think he would be like if he has a little sister

Please follow me for more inspiration! 💜💕

Chapter 2

Gilbert gave a deep sigh as he watched his sister fall asleep. He didn’t want to give her an injection to help her sleep, but from what Anne was saying, nothing they did to help Sarah sleep worked. They had tried everything.

Sarah fell asleep clutching Gilbert’s shirt with her tiny hand. He knew that Sarah understood why he had given her medication. Sarah wanted Gilbert to hold her while he injected her with sleep medicine and Gilbert didn’t refuse. He was actually rather surprised that she wanted him to hold her while he did the injection. He was expecting Anne to hold Sarah, but it was Gilbert she wanted, not Anne.

Gilbert didn’t realize he had been crying softly looking at his sister curled up against his chest. He felt someone touch his arm lightly and he looked up to see Anne. She looked like she has been crying too.

Anne wiped Gilbert’s tears away and curled into his side.

“I didn’t want to have give her a shot to help her go to sleep Anne-girl. I felt awful that I did. What kind of brother am I that gives his little sister a shot to help her go to sleep?” Gilbert sighed.

“A good brother and a responsible doctor. You saw how tired Sarah was once we came in. She hasn’t slept in three days. Not for very long at least. Marilla or I would always be with her when she fell asleep. Sarah missed you so much Gil. So much, she would sometimes request to sleep in your room instead of her own. She would grab your quilt that was at the foot of your bed and wrap herself up in and lay her head on your pillow. I think it was your scent that she was trying to hold onto. It got worse once your parents got sick. She wanted to seep in your room and not hers. Marilla allowed it because it gave Sarah some comfort. “ Anne said.

“Had you guys tried everything to get her to go to seep?” Gilbert asked.

“Yes Gil, we tried everything. Even to the point in asking Dr.Spencer what we should do. He told us that he would suggest giving her a shot to help her sleep, even if it’s for a few hours. But, he also told us that he wouldn’t dare go against Gilbert’s back on giving Sarah a shot. He said Sarah is your patient now and you have to do what’s best, which you did. Sarah has been sleeping some-what okay until your parents got sick. She was so worried about them. After a day of trying to take care of them, Sarah finally gathered the courage to come and get Marilla and I, which I’m glad she did. I could tell she was tired and hadn’t slept.” Anne said.

“Doctor Spencer had every right to take care of Sarah. She was her patient. I trust him on what he had to do to make Sarah comfortable.” Gilbert said.

“Doctor Spencer knew once you graduated medical school, Sarah was going to be your first patient. He didn’t want to go behind your back in giving a shot to help Sarah sleep. He wanted you to be able to make that choice.

“I noticed when I came home a few days ago, Sarah looked thinner and tired. Like she hasn’t eaten in at least a week. She knows how I feel about her eating. Especially when her anxiety acts up. I try to be firm and strict on her eating, especially breakfast. I’m sure that’s partly why she has been feeling nauseated. She has no food in her tummy and I can’t allow that. It’s my job as not only her brother, but, also her doctor to make sure she eats. I’ll force feed her if I have too. I’ve done it before and I’m not afraid to do that again. That’s my last resort though.” Gilbert said.

“Don’t be to hard on her Gil. You wouldn’t eat either if you were watching your loved ones getting sick and dying. Sarah was to stressed worrying about your parents to eat. Marilla and I tried to convince Sarah to eat just a little. We both told her that you wouldn’t be happy with her not eating but she didn’t care. She would take a tiny bite and then push her plate away. Sarah said she knows you would just give her a lecture anyways.” Anne said.

Gilbert softly groaned and looked at his sleeping sister in his arms. This child is going to give him gray hairs before he turns 30.

“I’m not going to be hard on her Anne-girl. I will be firm and give her a good talking to. I might have her write a page or two in cursive on why she needs to eat. If I don’t find her writing legible, I might have her write it again. We can’t have her go on like this. It’s not healthy. She’ll end up in the hospital and then she will really hate it.” Gilbert said.

“I see the teacher in you is coming back out. She should practice her writing anyways. Her writing isn’t the greatest.” Anne said chuckling.

“I noticed that in her letters. It’s a lot better but she could still use some work. Which her school work is something we will get back to. I want to tutor her and get her mind distracted. It will be good for her and give me something to do before I go and work for Doctor Spencer.” Gilbert said.

“I think that is a good idea. Sarah was going to school for awhile and then when your parents got sick, she stayed home more and more. I wasn’t to worried about her missing school because I could always come over and tutor her while I went over grading papers and going over lesson plans. It worked out well for awhile.” Anne said.

Gilbert gave Anne a kiss. “ I can’t thank you enough Anne-girl for looking after Sarah these last couple of weeks. It made me getting through finals much easier knowing I couldn’t be home right away.”

“You know I think of Sarah as a a little sister. I always have. It gave us a chance to bond more and we did. Sarah told me sometimes when you went back to school over spring break, Sarah missed you so much it hurt. She would go and sneak into your room and crawl into your bed. She would pull your quilt up and snuggle into. I think she missed your scent and presence. Sarah warships the ground you walk on Gil. She told all the girls, especially Stella, Macie and Rachel that her big brother was going to be Sarah’s own personal doctor. Of course the girls got jealous, just as Sarah knew they would, which is why she told them.” Anne said laughing.

Gilbert smirked too. That sounds like something Sarah would do. Of course Sarah would have second thoughts once he goes full doctor mode on her tomorrow.

“Has Sarah mentioned her sore tooth at all since I have been gone? She was begging me over spring break to look over her tooth. I told her as gently as I could that I couldn’t look at it and why. She was upset at me, but forgave me. Plus, my medical room wasn’t set up yet. I want to give her a dental exam tomorrow.”

Anne bit her lip. Sarah did complain to her recently about her sore tooth and Sarah knew Gilbert would go all doctor mode on her once he found out. Anne would ask for forgiveness later.

“Yes Gil, she did just the night before last. She begged me not to tell you. She was suddenly afraid that you would go doctor mode on her. She is scared of the medical room and if she has to walk by it, she runs. I talked to Marilla about it and she said it was a good idea that you are in your doctors uniform. Which means you’d lab coat, your smock, your surgical cap and surgical mask. You can even wear your stethoscope around your neck. That way, if Sarah ever has to go into the hospital and you’re working, she can recognize your eyes and voice as you work on her. She wants Sarah to get used to seeing you in your uniform. I agree with her.” Anne said.

Gilbert gave a soft moan and said, “Are you trying to give me anxiety or have Sarah get anxiety even more? I understand completely Anne-girl on what your saying. It makes complete sense. I just haven’t thought about fully dressing up. I guess it would be good practice for both of us. I will get the uniform out of my trunk tonight and have it ready to go. I’ll give Sarah a distraction while I put it on.”

“I think it’s best Gilbert. Go easy on her though. Tell her why your dressed like that. Sarah is going to be afraid of you and don’t feel hurt if she shy’s away from you. It will take time to see her brother dressed as a doctor. It will make her uncomfortable at first. Especially if your going to give her a dental exam and you’re dressed as a doctor and all she sees is your eyes looking down at her. Give her time to process. It will be hard for both of you, but try to see it from Marilla’s point of view and mine.” Anne said.

Gilbert gave Anne a kiss. Showing her he wasn’t mad at her. “I’ll go easy on her Anne-girl. I not only want to give her a dental exam, I want to give her a full check up too, along with a firm talking to about her eating habits. I looked up in her file from Doctor Spencer and she needs two vaccines and a blood draw, which I’m trying to decide if I want to wait for Arthur Pettibone and Felix king to come and help me with that. I was going to write them a letter tomorrow asking them to come over. They keep asking to see Sarah. Arthur just graduated this year as a doctor like me and Felix will graduate next year as a doctor. I could use their help with the vaccines and blood draw.”

Anne kissed Gilbert on the cheek. “I think you should do that. Go slow. Baby steps. I think with you giving Sarah a dental exam is a good step along with the full check up. I suggest you tell Arthur and Felix to bring their doctor uniforms too. It’ll be Good practice for everyone, especially Sarah.”

Gilbert sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. Gilbert understood what Anne was saying, and it’s better if he practiced wearing his uniform at home in his medical office were it would be less chaotic for Sarah.

“Alright Anne-girl, I’ll wear it tomorrow. Sarah has my permission to break a slate over your head if I scare her to death. You know she will come complaining to you that I was dressed as a doctor.” Gilbert said.

“Fair enough. I’ll be expecting to hear from both of you how it goes tomorrow.” Anne said.

Gilbert looked at the clock. Is it already 11:00? It seems strange that he had just buried his parents that afternoon and he is responsible for Sarah know.

“You should go home Anne-girl and get some rest. You look exhausted. You have been so busy looking after my family. You need to take care of yourself. I’m going to be studying up on childhood anxiety tonight and keep an eye on Sarah. You can come back here tomorrow afternoon.” Gilbert said.

“What if Sarah wakes up and asks for me?” Anne said.

“I’ll tell her you went home to sleep and to get some rest. She’ll be fine Anne-girl. I need you to get some rest.” Gilbert said.

Anne yawned in despite her best efforts. Gilbert chuckled.

Anne sighed and got up. “I love you Sarah. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Be good for your brother tomorrow.”

Anne gave Sarah a kiss and Gilbert smiled.

“Thank you for being so good to Sarah, Anne-girl. I don’t know what I would have done without you .” Gilbert said.

“I always have loved Sarah and thought of her as a little sister Gil. You know that as well as the whole town.” Anne said.

Gilbert handed Anne her cloak and she put it on.

“I know Anne-girl. Sarah loves you and you’re family too.” Gilbert said.

Anne had her cloak on and then Gilbert handed her her hat and gloves. Anne put them on.

Gilbert gave he a kiss in which Anne returned it.

“Be good to her tomorrow Gilbert Blythe. I’ll be waiting to hear the news on how tomorrow goes.” Anne said.

“You have my word I won’t be angry with Sarah if she has her anxiety attacks and I’ll see you tomorrow my love. Go home and get some sleep, it’s late.” Gilbert said.

With one more kiss that Gilbert gave Anne, he watched her walk home to Green Gables.

[amlao]

Day 140 Being Single for the First Second Time in My Adult Life

Covid Day 2

WHAT IS IT ABOUT NICK where every time I see him in person, I lose all common sense.

He could snap me for months, and I’m just like, ‘What do you want?’ but then I see him in person and am just like, ‘ 🤤🤤 Hnnnnggg,’

This is so dumb, but I really think it’s because he’s always way more thick in person than I picture him in my head/than his face and jawline suggest. And he’s such a combo of height and muscle and softness that I’m sure it’s hard to find clothes. And…I’m telling you…. the way clothes cling to this man’s body makes me absolutely feral.

He’s also SO tall, and you get the gist that he’s tall from pictures, but it’s hard to distinguish 6’2 tall from 6’6 tall until he’s right there towering over you.

aND THEN HE PRETTY MUCH IGNORES ME AND SULKS THE ENTIRE NIGHT BECAUSE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY IS ALWAYS THERE.

So, for whatever reason, this is just ✨The Combo✨ for me to lose my goddamn mind.

It’s like…I know he finds me hot because he’s flirtatiously drunk called me for years and still has me in his phone as “beautiful” in Japanese. When I told him I tried to make a move on him over summer of 2021, he was obviously kicking himself for being so oblivious and gave me explicit instructions to let him know I when I was single again and tell him it’s on.

I know he’s intimidated by me because he’s let me know that I make him nervous and he’s scared I’ll hurt him/reject him. Hell…I HAVE rejected him.

The timing is just always SO BAD. Like, when he was trying to hit me up in February, I was in the most rigorous part of my nursing program. I absolutely could not afford a night to come over or to get too swept away.

But now, I’m done. I’m bored. I’m single. Veronica has even now said that she doesn’t care what we do.

Like?? We could have a fling.

And I just keep thinking about the things he said to me in February when he would drunk dial me: ‘Come over and lay on me. Please? Don’t you want a nice soft, comfy body to lay on?’ Agshgjhhkkk

I also have never in my life wanted sexy pictures from a guy and I am DYING to see what this man looks like shirtless. Like, would 100% send photos in exchange to unearth this information.

And the last time he saw me at Funkytown, I was in a skintight bodysuit that perfectly formed to my butt. I’ve put back on ten of the 20lbs I lost from nursing school stress. I’ve started lifting again. My face is starting to look cute, round, and youthful again instead of ghastly and hollow. I know I looked good.

AND NOW!!! We all have covid. He has covid!! I have covid!! His whole family has covid!!

We all holed up bored af.

This is the perfect time to make a move.

BUT NO.

This man has me blocked on everything because HE wanted to be rude and I told him to never message me again.

But my dumb ovaries are exploding rn imagining us curled up on his couch watching a Ghibli movie while I sink into his heavenly, soft body and I run my hand over the curves of his waist. In-person, I can see the physical indications of nervousness missing over text: his cheeks flush, his heartbeat quickens, his eye contact shifts. As we make out, I can tell how frustrated he’s getting by his ragged breathing and desperately wandering hands, like that night in my car in 2018. I kiss his neck softly and sweetly, then add teeth and hear him gasp and involuntarily moan. We desperately grind up against each other, whispering, ‘I wanted to do this with you all night on Saturday.’

I hate everything.

[yaksha-lover]

You Vamp!Au of TWWL is lovely. Can we introduce some GenZ!Mc in there? U know. For chaos

GenZ!MC + Twst Vampire AU

cw: entirely crack, i tried to make this serious but i can’t, i’m deeply sorry but also i’m gonna have to preface this by saying if the “humour” (it’s not actually funny) is cringe it’s because i am actually a very cringe individual with the sense of humour of a 12 year old. also i’m pretty sure i lost multiple iq points writing this

“Malleus, I have something to tell you. It’s very hard for me to say but,” you pause to work in a sniffle, “I’ve been diagnosed with Ligma. I don’t know how much time I have left.”

With fake tears and tissues straight out of a youtuber apology video, you begin your torment on poor, innocent Malleus.

He’s silent for a moment. Malleus gets up, straight-faced and pulls you into his arms.

“I’m deeply sorry, child of man. I haven’t heard of this illness before but it matters not. Lilia and I will do everything in our power, scour every corner of the earth until we find a cure,” Malleus says, without breaking eye-contact.

“LIGMA BALLS,” you yell. Malleus’ arms loosen in surprise, and you’re able to run, high-five a hiding Ace who’s face has turned red from laughter, and escape to who knows where.

Malleus feels ten years get taken off his life.

-

You’re sitting on the couch with Rook, legs splayed on his lap. Vil is sitting across from you, as far away as he can presumably get, looking disgusted at Rook for associating with you. You make eye contact and blow him a kiss. Vil swerves it, clearly disturbed.

“Begone thot.”

“I don’t know Vil, that’s not what your mom was saying last night when I-“

Rook clamps a hand down on your mouth. It seems even he’s astonished by your depravity. You make eye contact with him before slowly licking his hand. He doesn’t pull away. Okay, now you’re the scared one.

Vil can feel the stress lines forming on his face. He gets up, presumably to start an extensive skin treatment.

-

Sitting in the living room with Ace, Deuce, Epel, and Jack, playing a game of cards when suddenly your next victim walks in. You put down your winning hand, forgoing your victory for what you know is a good cause, a worthy sacrifice.

“Hey, Trey. Would you mind doing me a favour?” You ask him, tone neutral and inconspicuous.

He stops his path to the kitchen, and turns towards your table.

“Of course, MC, what can I do for you?” Trey smiles in his usual friendly way, unaware of the pain that he’s about to endure, the cringe that will keep him awake at night.

Ace is quite literally dying, Deuce is covering his face with his hands, and Epel is already groaning, knowing your antics far too well. Jack, per usual, is unaffected and keeps playing the game, completely apathetic at this point.

“Well since I’m not allowed to leave the mansion, would you mind picking up something for me in town? There’s this baker Joe told me about who’s apparently amazing,” you gush, watching Trey’s face diligently. You don’t want to miss a single moment of this.

“Joe? Who’s Joe?”

“JOE MAMA BITCH,” you get up and immediately start fortnite dancing on his (figurative) corpse. Trey collapses to his knees. Life has no meaning to him anymore. Ace and Deuce are crying, simultaneously tears of laughter and pain stream down their faces. Epel is curled up in a fetus position on the floor, rocking himself back in forth to try and escape the pure agony. Jack continues playing by himself, now alone at the table.

-

You’ve had mercy on Riddle, thus far, knowing his small body can only contain so much emotion at one time. Alas, the day has come where you can no longer hold yourself back. The day that will be known as ‘the great bofa incident’.

A plan that has been weeks in the making, Riddle has no idea that he’s been perfectly set up to take the bait. With Trey as your accomplice (you told him if he did this for you, you wouldn’t target him again - a lie), Riddle’s been given a recipe that Trey’s assured him needs to be followed exactly, lest the entire dish be ruined.

Together in the kitchen, you sit on the counter while Riddle stands near the stove. He turns to you, holding Trey’s recipe.

“Trey has created quite the intricate dish. Even I haven’t heard of this ingredient. Has Trey provided you with this…bofa? Is that some kind of herb?”

If Riddle had bothered to look up as he spoke, he would see the evil smile forming on your face. Weeks of effort, all culminating into this one moment. Some might call it a waste of time, such a tedious process for such a small moment?

Those who would make such claims are those who have never experienced the pure joy, the rush that comes from a getting someone so unsuspecting with such a fantastic, ingenious even, line.

“Bofa? Yeah I’ve heard of it. HEARD OF PUTTING BOFA DEEZ NUTS IN YOUR MOUTH.”

Riddle is stunned. Flabbergasted, even. You expect some kind of reaction, maybe even anger or an outburst but he gives you nothing. You leave him alone in the kitchen, simply disappointed.

Riddle locks himself in the his room for weeks following the incident. No one knows if he’s dead or alive. He can’t even cry anymore, only capable of sitting in the corner and staring blankly ahead, trapped in an existential crisis and losing his will to keep going a little more each day.

-

Idia has been going on and on to you about his latest experience with an online troll during one of this gaming sessions. Ample opportunity is created for you to strike again, and you cannot resist your true calling.

“Who?” You say to Idia.

“I don’t know their name, it was just a stranger-“

“No, who asked?”

With this sick blow, you’ve completely shattered all of Idia’s already non-existent self-confidence. He deflates, face planting on the floor and not having the will to get up. Idia is reduced to a heap of blue, becoming a stranger to all emotions except for pure cringe. The doctors say he won’t ever recover.

“Gottem,” you say to yourself as you walk out, leaving the carnage you created behind.

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

[pingutats]

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood. 

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around. 

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again. 

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge. 

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan. 

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely. 

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is. 

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter. 

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life. 

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove. 

“Hey, Jeff,” he says. 

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it. 

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation. 

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone. 

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps. 

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends. 

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes. 

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos. 

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world. 

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her. 

He scrolls down even further. 

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera. 

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all. 

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh. 

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is. 

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying. 

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly. 

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods. 

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview. 

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries. 

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word. 

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand. 

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

hi hi~ it is I your friendly neighborhood vulture here to pick ur lovely brain ~

Ok ok so imagine slashers ( michael (ur choice of version) , asa , Billy and stu (poly) and Jesse) coming home after a long day just to tired to deal and either seeking out or allowing their s/o to comfort them ~ whether just headcanons or head cannons and ficlet I'll let u decide~

Hello my darling birdie!!! I'm so happy to see you here! Welcome to my garden hope you stay awhile just try not to pull to many flowers this time kay ^v^ And as my best vulture I did both! CW: Blood, murder in passing ,obsessives behavior ,Just the normal slasher stuff and slight NSFW, OOC slashers and Not beta read or edited

Michael the RZ version

It's been a long day first having to go shopping for the week then cleaning to get rid of all the stains still left behind meant you were tired it seemed however you weren't the only busy one. Michael had be gone since early morning a pat on the head was all you gotten before he headed out and now slightly past 1 he was back. The echo of his boot steps were purposeful as he shut the door the cling of his knife hitting the counter ever more audible before the creek of the stairs let you know what the "plan" was. It doesn't take long for him to reach the bedroom and unlike most nights where the two of you would lay down and enjoy bliss each others comfort this time it was clear another approach would have to be taken. Michael now stood at the doorway mask dyed red and breathing heavy, whatever happen was not the outcome he wanted so with slow careful steps you began step one.

Michael no matter what is not one to seek comfort or affection it is something you have to be will to initiate willing and be willing to go slow with

Bathing is a good way to make him feel relaxed and if he tired or having a bad day its what he want and its one of the few times he's quick to remove him make you touching his hair makes him very happy

After a nice bath he wants but wont say he wants cuddle's and the start of step two

Sit on his lap and just let him hold you in a soft voice talk about you day or plans for the week or just things you enjoy its a bit of domestic life that makes him warm

turn a movie on and stay close run you hands through his hair and just exists with him for a while now for the best part

Once he's calmed down two things could happen one is that he'll pull you both down to the bed curled up with you in his arms and the sound of a movie still playing in the background letting himself fully relax

Option two is less common but more enjoyable Michael will move both you and him to the table in the room covered in his craft supplies where hell being working on his paper mache mask, asking you for input or wanting you to join if you fall asleep that's fine he's more the content just having you there

Stu Matcher and Billy Loomis

Its not hard to tell when one of them is having a hard day. After a long day of classes and keeping up with everyone Billy was exhausted had told but you and Stu as much more then one and Stu wasn't much better it seemed. Any plans that had been made were canceled as you told your boys it would be a good day for a date in, some cheesy slasher flicks tons of snacks and ordering food was the new plan. Telling everyone good bye then heading back to your place the the boys are quick to make themselves at home Stu starts by ordering dinner for the three of you Billy picks out a few movies and you head to the kitchen to make the snacks. It about an hour before everything is fully ready and with the date night begins with Stu being the first to say he needs some affection after the long day. Though he doesn't say anything at first Billy is fast to act on said affection once its shown leaning over to ask for some love as well.

Its kinda hard to give them comfort together since they both need different things at first but give it some time and it tends to end with a cuddle pile

Stu prefers holding one to waist head on in your neck or on your tummy nuzzling and kiss you having you give him head pats and forehead kisses while also rubbing his back

Billy likes having you on his lap your back to his chest his head resting on yours or on your shoulder hand locked together around your waist just holding you

If they're both in need of affection and comfort its a mix of both with Stu's head on your stomach and Billy's on your shoulder Billy's holding one hand and his other is on you hip Stu is doing the same on the opposite side

Billy feeds you snacks you feed Stu and Stu throw snacks at Billy and changes the movie when needed

Cuddles last for a long time often time it end with you three falling asleep with you in the middle of the two of them

Its not hard to know when they need comfort along with the fact that Stu is open about needing it and Billy will follow his lead when he sees you dont mind

Jesse Cromeans

Jesses always enjoys having your attention even if its for something small however, when he's in need of comfort he prefers you not being around him not because he worried about things but because he's bad at asking for it so he tends to just lock him self up in work. With that its very easy to tell when he's have a bad day its getting close to him that's hard. It starts like any relaxing day a nice warm meal whether you make it yourself for him or order something he likes its a way for you to get close. Tried and angry from a day of work the only thing on Jesse's mind is getting home what he wasn't expecting was to come home to you having gotten the places cleaned up with a meal laid out in the living ready to spend time with him and well he just couldn't say no to that. Its not hard after that to get him to set work aside till tomorrow as long as its not super important and from there the rest of the night can begin.

Jesse really enjoys slow intimacy and when his days been bad and he needs to let go having you take the lead in a nice slow pace helps him let go of the chromeskull mindset whether you know about it or not

He likes to snuggle wrapped almost fully around you with you as close as possible

Kisses are a must they make him so happy many people find him scary with go reason but here you are the love of his giving him kisses as if this is a perfectly normal relationship

Like with Michael two things can happen after he relaxes and gets your affection and comfort however its based on how your feeling not him

If you keep with the soft lead it ends with you curled against his side feeding each other fresh fruit and chocolate watching movies and shows while he talks about dates he's hoping to take you on

The other option is that you head to the bedroom hell pull you on his chest arms wrapped around you hearing you talk about this and that while just ignoring the world till he falls asleep

The next day Jesse will take off work after days of needing to seek your comfort it make him acknowledge he needs a break to not burn out or not to move to fast in the work and the day will be spent with you by his side

Asa Emory

Asa has always gone by a schedule and unless it is absolutely necessary he will not deviate from it and that includes for affection and goes double for if you want to give him comfort on exhausting days. He doesn't like feeling weak and though he loves you in a twisted way you thinking he needs comfort makes him feel weak. For weeks Asa will come home tired and frustrated his class is in the mist of exams so he has tons of work and the collection isn't going well but he wont let you in on it. The best you can do for the time being is just lightly his work load at home keep things clean, make meals for him so he doesn't skip them if the dogs are at the house help take care of them and things like that its not much but he pays attention to things like that and will notice that your helping him. Seeing you working hard to help him not stress as much while still waiting for him to take the steps like usual helps him come around to the idea of letting you spoil him for a while. Once he gets to that point remember to keep things slow though rushing it after that makes him stay on edge.

For Asa slow and steady is the way to go when he's ready to let you spoil him he will tell you outright that he "requires" your attention

He wont let this happen on a weekday only a weekend where he can fully relax and rest but he leaves the rest to you and that's a big step

Setting up a nice date in is the best way to go and though he likes homemade meals on a day like this he doesn't mind ordering dinner that night

On days he can relax with you the first thing he wants to do is cook for you as odd as it might be it gives him a starting point to let you show him affection

Eating breakfast together then heading to the living room with curled up on the couch you read to him for a bit him might interject sometimes depending on what its about but he just holds you close for a while

Tacking the dogs for a walk is the next part of the day hand in hand taking a walking path and enjoy the day whether its cold or hot he likes walking time

Domestic bliss is something he adores its what he's always craved and you give him the chance to have it so often it keeps him on cloud nine

After going back home out on a documentary and snuggle up to him the dogs will be on beds near the couch and hell have you laying you head on his lap while he runs his hand along you neck and back

You'll eat later in the day and enjoy quite time he might want to rant about his class, he wants to hear about the things you've been into lately and slowly the night winds down

Given that he has no work the next day if your feeling up to it he want to end the day by embracing you its been a while and its not something he up for much but after weeks of not being around you much he craves the close touch

It might not even end with sex he just want to caress your body looking over the curves and lines feeling you fully without restrictions till your both tired and with that he pulls you close to him whispering that he's grateful for you love and thanking you for the wonderful day

Ta-da! I hope all enjoy this and a big thanks to my best birdie buddy for requesting this I had fun writing it and I hope to see here more often! To my other followers if your looking forward to the next part of My Soulmates A God then be happy its the next thing I'm working on. Have a great day and thank you for reading! - Lilly Ps you can really tell I favored Asa here huh..