#he'd probably plan for the two to have a moment alone

[323cutie]

so we've already talked abt kissing woosan... have u guys ever thought about kissing yungi.

because kissing yunho sends you to another dimension. he's more casual than sensual with his kisses, more likely to give you little pecks and smooches rather than take every kiss slow. but he's sweet -- he likes to use kisses as a form of payment. you want him to switch the laundry? one kiss, please. you want him to run and grab your favorite drink? hmm, that might cost you two... you know that he'll do these things for you anyways, but you also know that you both love indulging each other. not to say that you only get sweet, cute kisses. yunho just reserves the slower kisses for intimate moments alone with you. there's something different about him here, something that automatically commands your attention and obedience. he determines the pace, the vibe -- a hand on your neck, always, holding you steady. and, ugh, he really is a tease, the way he laughs at your little noises, murmuring to you about how bad you want his kiss. heavy, deep, half-lidded eyes watching as you chase his lips when he pulls away even just for a second... he doesn't stop you, though. and when he pushes forward to kiss you again, even harder, you don't stop him either.

kissing mingi leaves you breathless. he's just so happy to have you close to him, he'd probably do whatever you asked. eager, but not necessarily in a rush. he always, always holds you tight, arms wrapped all the way around you. even if you're planning on a quick peck, he's prepared to hold you close to him for a while. he rarely ever lets you get away with just one kiss, and if you try to pull away before he's got his fill (which is never, really) he whines. he's not above begging, either. he asks for more, wants you to stay close, wants to feel you just a little bit longer. he manages to calm himself down when you're out and about, but often he tends to back you into a secluded corner just so you can have your way with him. and you can't say no to him! it's impossible when he's giving you puppy eyes and pouting. so you indulge mingi in what you know you both want, and after he's decided that maybe he can let you go, he spends another long while pressing little kisses all over your face. it's ritual, at this point -- your forehead, your temples, each of your cheeks, your nose, then one final kiss on your lips (that always threatens to send you back to where you started). you're both giggling by the end of it, lovestruck and spineless.

[goldsbitch]

Ah...

In a world where people get born with the first sentence their soulmate shares with them tattooed on their wrist, Y/N and Oscar are probably not the ones with the easiest story to tell.

note: first Oscar fic! this is prep for a longer 1k followers celebration...i'm a little too excited for that one

warning: pure fluff

Not everyone got to meet their soulmate, and that was totally fine. Her parents weren't soulmates and they still managed to have an amazing life. Why waste time waiting around and looking for a guy who's first word he'd ever say to her was suppose to be "Ah."

"Ah."...? What was that about anyway? Stupid wrist tattoo, marking her forever with a word so unimpressive.

During her teenage years, it became an inside joke between her and her best friend. A word to overuse so much it could truly mean anything. Ah.

Her boyfriend was definitely not her soulmate. He was blessed with having a full sentence on his wrist - but in French, a language she did not speak. The hot, dark haired boy was too obsessed with studying physics to take the whole concept of soulmates seriously, so when they met in university, it was a no brainer to follow the path set by hormones rather than fate and date together.

Only after they graduated she realized just how soul-crushing it was to spend time with him. When the social circles broke down and they were left alone, it was more than clear they were not a good match. But it's hard to see the tornado when you're standing inside of it.

The vacation was suppose save the relationship. Instead, their fights were laced with her running away and him having his eyes wonder around any girl walking by.

Only two more days, she said as she walked hastily around a garden adjacent to the villa they were staying at, once again. It was like a dance - they'd fight, she'd run away, he'd search for her and they'd go back to their room for a night of silence. On repeat for the whole vacation organized by the devil himself. The plan was to turn her life upside down once she arrived back home. Start fresh. At that moment, she had no idea just how fresh that would be.

She stood in the middle of a pathway leading to dimly lit swimming pool, tired and impatient. By this time her boyfriend would usually be on his way to get her back.

Finally, grass cracking sound that followed any footstep in this garden. She closed her eyes, unable to do this dance anymore.

"I want to break up," she whispered and turned around.

Oscar did not plan on speaking with this woman standing in the middle of the way back to his hotel room. He was just coming back from his late evening swim session.

When she uttered those words, it was like each of the syllable burned on his skin. Hundred questions answered and thousand new on the table.

Absolutely baffled, yet in his typical stoic style of keeping it together on the outside, while exploding internally, he couldn't bring himself to a more than..."Ah."

//

Oscar fully believed in the concept of soulmates and had no doubt that he would meet his, that's why he refrained from dating anyone who did not have the specific, very strange, words on their wrist.

"I want to break up"...? Why would this be the first thing you ever say to someone?

Over the time, he figured it would just be him overhearing the words. Or that he was one of the lucky ones, having a soulmate who has a special catch phrase they use when introducing to anyone new. He imagined his soulmate to be clever and cunning. And like the dreamer he was, he already had several versions of their meet up in his head, usually followed by their whole life together playing out. Oh, what a bliss when the moment would finally come.

But when it came, it took him totally of guard. Somehow, in all the scenarios he thought about his whole life, he missed probably the most realistic one. He was only trying to get back to his room and this girl was standing in the middle of the only clear pathway, as if it was nothing. She spoke with her back turned to him.

"I want to break up."

And when she turned around, after mistaking him for someone else, he saw a beautiful face, all puffy with smudged make up. And obviously in a really bad mood. He was, as they say, too stunned to speak.

"Ah." He said bluntly, too quickly for him to even notice it, processing the fact he just heard that one specific sentence, the one that should define the rest of his life.

She stared at him, as if he just offended her entire family. "What?!"

He felt..nothing. She couldn't be his soulmate. No way. Most likely because he had his response to "I want to break up" rehearsed his whole life. It was supposed to be "Worry not, now I am here." A lovely sentence to walk around with, right? He wanted his soulmate to wear the tattoo proudly, not with - what was it he even said? Did he even say something? He didn't, did he?

"Worry not, now I am here," he tried, feeling like he had nothing to loose. The words came out clumsily, as if they tripped over one another.

He was sure her face was already the most confused one could make, but she proved him wrong, quickly.

"Sorry, I'll leave you to it. This was obviously a misunderstanding," he said, trying to be polite and took few steps ahead to get going. She reacted and stepped right into his way.

This surely couldn't be it. But, emotions were running high, she thought she was addressing her boyfriend and was somehow trying to comprehend the fact she nearly broke up with him. And then she hears an "Ah." "What did you say?" she shot at him, no filter whatsoever, watching him with fascination and some flavor of anger.

Oscar was beginning to regret ever engaging in this conversation. "Worry not, now I am here...There, now, is that tattooed on your wrist? I imagine not, so, apologies and I'll leave you to whatever you're doing," he said, without giving her much space to respond. He felt slightly guilty about leaving an obviously distressed woman alone there, but his social awkwardness won this round and he just wanted this to be over.

"No, you didn't," she said, not intent on moving anywhere. Determined look replaced her sorrow.

"I'm pretty sure I did."

"And I am sure you didn't," she said, raising her wrist all the way to his eyeline. "You said this, didn't you?!"

It was not a tone of playful or even hopeful realization. Her delivery was spiced with unresolved anger that grew inside. He squeezed his eyes, having hard time seeing the small letters in the light of the nearing night. "What's that?"

She put her hand down, having a really hard time believing this was actually happening. It took him by surprise the speed with which she reached for his own hand, but his racer reflexes kicked in and he managed to avoid her.

Annoyed sigh left her mouth. "Will you show me your hand? I've already had a pretty shit day without you making obstructions."

He looked deeply in her eyes. This was a lot of emotion battling each others, little too much for Oscar.

"I'm pretty sure we're not soulmates," he said dryly.

"Tell me what's on your hand and I'll let you fuck off from when you came from."

"I'd actually like to go the other way-"

"Show me your hand!"

Visibly taken back, almost offended by her shouting, he reveled his wrist.

Time stopped for Y/N for few seconds. She was staring at the words she uttered just a minute ago. Decided to take a deep breath before she looked in his eyes once again. "Sorry for...screaming. We're almost definitely soulmates...You said "Ah." It felt good to finally know what kind of tone this sound was spoken with. End to the endless possibilities.

The irony of the fact that Oscar had a hard time remembering if he had actually said something so stupid dwelled on him. Did he? Knowing himself, he probably did.

"Ah," he repeated with a much heavier, slightly bitter, undertone.

"Yeah."

They just stood there, staring at each other. Was this suppose to be it? The moment he longed for and the one she already mourned? Just now she noticed that he was a gorgeous guy. Heavenly actually. Such a kind smile. Innocent look with a hint of spice. But she believed in love, not necessarily soulmates. Even if she did, this was the worst moment to do this. Little, almost invisible, tears started rolling from her eyes.

"Can I take a photo of you?" she asked, with defeated smile, wanting to walk away with a tangible evidence for her lonely evenings in the future.

Oscar was still processing. "Sure," he replied to a sentence he heard thousand times each month. Very automatically his body moved for a classic hug with a fan - which she rejected and just snapped a photo of his face.

"Nice to meet you. But I have my shit to deal with. I'm not good for you anyway," she said and sprinted back to he hotel room, to her current boyfriend and a deadend life. He just stood there, unable to comprehend. When he finally did, she was gone.

//

"Mr. Piastri, you understand that I can't just give you a room number to someone who you don't even know by name," the receptionist said, not backing down to his urgency.

"But she is my soulmate! She just passed by, surely you would know which one of the guests she is," he said, both hand on the counter, towering the poor reception lady.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop this request or we might be forced to cancel your stay and remove you from the premise."

He rolled his fingers into his first, mad at himself the most out of all the people. "Yeah. Great. Understood."

//

Y/N didn't sleep for a minute that night. When she returned back without a word, her boyfriend didn't even look up. She didn't really care.

"Let's just get through these few days," he said and she just nodded.

Mind racing around new set of eyes she memorized from the photo she had, not having a clue that he in fact was a racer.

//

Breakfast. Oscar's chance to take destiny into his own hands. He was the first one to arrive and planned on being the last one to leave. And should she miss her breakfast, he'd move into the lobby. Determined to talk to her at least one more time. Sat there, drinking his juice and bouncing his leg up to the point it annoyed even him.

//

He'd probably be at the breakfast, she realized as her sleep deprived body walked towards the elevator. A stolen glance at her partner. They hadn't said a word to each other the whole morning. To think she once thought one of them would bury the other after a nice full-filled life. Coffee and croissant was her only hope now. And of course the guy from yesterday was there. Sitting at a table, alone, very obviously finished with his breakfast. Arms crossed and eyeing all the entrances. She couldn't help but smile and light up when she saw him. He sat there. Waiting. Was there even a possibility he'd be waiting for her? Like a soulless ghost, she followed her current partner and sat down to the table he picked.

Oscar was a secret over-thinker. He spent every minute going through every possibility of what could happen. So of course he was ready, in theory, for her entering with another guy or a girl. However, the whole nature of her first sentence to him was about breaking up. And you don't say that in a healthy relationship.

It was now or never for him. He watched the pair grab a seat few tables away from him. God, she was gorgeous. Seeing her walk in, summer dress proving the internet was right once again, made him weak in his knees and unable to look away. She paused upon noticing him, eyes shyly flashing back and forth, absolutely no plan or idea what to do. Awkwardly put her things down the at the table, fumbled around aimlessly and proceeded to walk over the breakfast bar. As she walked, she could almost feel his eyes piercing through her back. For some reason, it felt as if he knew something she didn't. she had to actively convince herself to act normal, as if this was her first time having breakfast at a hotel. Copy others. Oscar did indeed stare at her as if there was no tomorrow. Eyes glued to her back, cosplaying as the worst private detective this planet ever produced. He found himself getting up and approaching the bar she was standing by, the guy she came in long gone from her close proximity.

Oscar gulped before speaking, standing right beside her, pretending to be interested in a stack of apples. Her eyes flashed to her left, but she already knew who was standing next to her. It was as if she could hear his energy, something divine, intoxicating and most importantly - inevitable.

"Morning....I hope you've had better night than when you left yesterday," he opened with, desperately trying to break the ice. He was absolutely hopeless with small talk. His tone created a small smile on her face. This sort strange and unique tonality, which was exceptionally hard to decipher, mixed with his Australian accent. Again, so many questions popping up in her head - her body wanted her to find out everything about this guy.

"I'm not sure that's the case. But thank you for asking I guess," she said and leaned over his hand to reach for a fresh peach. It was not her conscious decision to brush his hand, but it definitely could have been avoided. Neither party mattered. Two shy smiles were created at that moment.

"Would you mind sharing your name with me?" he asked, as she glanced over to his wrist, to look at his tattoo once again.

She answered, slightly hesitantly. "Y/N."

"Uuh,"

"Are interjections the only language you speak?" she whispered, still not over the whole "Ah." thing and finally stopped pretending to be interested in the breakfast bar. She did the best she could to meet his eye while not turning around and becoming too obvious.

Oscar was having trouble processing his body's reaction to this girl being so close now. "No, but I am happy you seem interested to know that."

It was impossible to fight of the smile. "I'm not, you're the reason I'm walking with this my whole life," she said, lifting her wrist once again.

He fiddled with some apples, trying to keep his hands busy. "I'd like to object that in this pair I'm the one who lost"

"Don't say the word pair," she said in a tone so unserious even she couldn't pretend to believe it.

"Why, does that idea make you nervous?" he clicked his tongue, feeling more confident with every second she stayed there with him.

"I have a boyfriend," she stated, lying to herself anyway.

He smirked. "Apologies, must have misread my own hand."

"I can't break up with someone on a holiday," she responded, reaching for straws, not even knowing why. She took two steps to the coffee line and to no surprise, he followed.

"You didnt seem to think as such yesterday," he said in more serious tone. "Look, I don't know you-"

"No, you don't," she jumped in before he continued.

"-But...let me present my hypotheses, so that we can test the whole soulmate thing. Does that not make you at least a bit excited?" he said, trying to hide his own excitement, which was something he did not have to do often, so he was not really good at it.

She found his confidence mixed with clumsiness so intoxicating. "It's overrated," she argued, perhaps trying to see how much he's willing to defend it.

"I'm so much looking forward to proving that theory wrong." There is was. The point of no return.

"Well before you do," she bit her smile, accidentally leaving a pause for him to fill.

"Ah, so you believe that I will," he said sith his signature "I won" smile.

"Again, with the interjections, you gotta unlearn that," she said, happy he couldn't see directly into her face, as she felt the blush spreading.

"Teach me."

"Stop it...." she froze, searching in memory a moment when he'd introduce himself.

"Oscar."

She finally paused and dared to look at him, or more specifically stopped resisting her wondering eyes. Her mind rushed through all the Oscar's she had the pleasure to meet and absolutely none of them did justice to the name. His kind eyes, while somewhat giving shy guy vibes, pierced through her fearlessly. So sure of himself, et somehow humble. An impossible enigma she could see herself deciphering for the rest of her life.

"Nice name," she said, in a completely new tone, one he hadn't heard yet. Calm, kind and intrigued.

"Thank you." They stared at each other for few more moment, utterly inappropriately for two strangers in a coffee line. Taking in the little intricacies about the other, as if memorizing for a test.

"You said you had a hypotheses?" she broke silence, not quite sure they were at the same planet as their surroundings anymore. All around them sort of blended together into an unclear, totally unimportant mush.

"I do. Hope I don't overstep."

"I think that does not matter now," she said, walls crumbling down one by one.

"Good. I think you don't want to break up with your current boyfriend now that you'd met me," he said boldly.

"Astonishingly obnoxious," she teased, unable to believe he caught her.

"Fair. But, yesterday you wanted to. Now, it serves like a perfect excuse why run away from this," he said and stepped just a little bit closer to her.

"I don't want to be a slave of some destiny bullshit," she said, while absolutely agreeing with destiny this time.

There was no way back for Oscar. Looking into her eyes was making him drown in lands never explored before. "Yes, but why reject it before we even get the chance to discover if we like each other."

"I don't even know you."

"Your parents didn't know each other at one point," he said matter-o-factly.

The reality was creeping into her mind. "I hardly know anything about you! Like where you live, what you do..."

He was not letting her go. "All over the globe, I am a racing driver. You?"

How come it seemed so easy and obvious for him? "Oscar, I'm..I'm scared." Intimidated was the word she wanted to use, but it felt a little bit too much.

"Of what?"

"I dunno...? Of this working out?"

"Do you realize that sounds quite ridiculous."

"...Yes".

"Well, I believe this is going to be great fun. Listen, it's not socially acceptable for me to bother you for longer. But I desperately hope this is not the last conversation we share," he lowered his voice, parting ways with her being the last thing he actually wanted to do, but his intuition told him, that he had to give her some space to come forward to his, her decision.

Y/N's head was a mess, truth slipping through, passing all the filters that seemed to have stopped working. "I am afraid it's not."

He smiled. "Good. Now, I'll leave you to your life - do whichever you think is right. But please give me your number."

"No, you give me yours so that I can call you when i want to. You know, boundaries," she ordered, trying to keep some control in her hands.

He trusted his gut. "Fair."

//

"Lady, I can't tell you where's Oscar's room." It was a different receptionist that Oscar had dealt with, but probably with the same training.

"But it's a suprise! Look, I have his number an everything."

"Why don't you call him?"

"You're familiar with the concept of a surprise?"

//

Unlike Oscar, she managed to convince the reception into giving her Oscar's room number. It was all the way up at the last floor. Fancy, she thought. It's impossible to convey the energy and adrenaline cocktail that Y/N was on when she was on the way to knock on his room and announce that she actually went though with the break up and the guy was on his way home, cutting the vacation early. It was unhinged, reckless, addictive. She had to stop herself several times, as the excitement mixed with fear was making her put on faces very strange to anyone who should pass by. If music was on, she'd dance for hours. Hell, she had no idea what was suppose to happen now. And that had never felt so exhilarating before.

With one last breath before her life changed for good, she knocked on the door.

After the longest few seconds ever experienced on this planet, he finally opened the door.

She physically couldn't hold it anymore. "I broke up with him," she blurted out the moment their eyes met.

Oscar tried to take in the image of his soulmate, standing there in front of him, flustered and ready to take the leap with him, once again, having trouble holding his smile in.

"Ah."

[lulunothulu]

Hii! Could you do a story (either with hangman, Tyler or glen) where him and the reader are in their early stages of relationship but other girls don’t repeat her and just flirt with him. And she’s insecure and wonders If he even wants to be with her? Angst but of course a happy ending :) love your stories!!!

Omg! Hi!!! I'm so sorry I'm just seeing this. I can definitely write this! Thank you for sending this in! (Let's do Glen bc I feel like he'd be the one to really reassure us that we're enough for him.) For the sake of this fic, he's promoting a Top Gun 3 movie.

"You're all I want"

Glen Powell x Reader

Glen said this would only take an hour, maybe two, to do and then you could go to the hotel room and relax.

It'd been weeks of going on talk shows and talking about the experience of storm chasing, flying planes, and working with Tom Cruise. And every time you were back stage, happy to see your boyfriend in his element. What you didn't like was when you both went to local bars with the rest of the Top Gun 3 cast and girls would throw themselves at him. They'd push you aside and even ignore the fact you were there.

No, this wasn't the glamorous part of this life...of being with Glen.

Glen always made a point to pull you back into a conversation, but after a while, you felt like he really only did it out of pity.

The girls that would go up to him were gorgeous. Models, actresses, etc. And even though you knew he was with you, it still made you feel less than them.

What could he want with me? He could have anyone else, but he chose me?

Cut to now, you're sitting at the bar, watching Glen talk to a gorgeous woman from afar. She's slender, tight dress outlining the curves and obvious toned abs from where you sit. Her long jet black hair makes her eyes pop and she's got a hand on Glen's arm, laughing at something he's said.

I remember when that was me.

You sadly sip at your drink, rubbing your temple with your other hand when you lean on it. From behind you, you feel someone tap your shoulder and smile when you see your bff smiling at you.

"What're you doing over here all alone?" she asks.

You sigh. "Just drinking."

"Mind if I join you?"

You nod, gesturing for her to join you. You know she's saying something, but you're eyes and focus are locked on the model and Glen. They're so close and in (what looks like) an intimate conversation, they look like they're together.

They look better together than you and him do.

"Hey," she says, touching your arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." You look down at your phone, 12:45 AM. "I think I'm just gonna head back to the hotel."

"What, are you sure?" she asks. "I can come with you."

"No, you stay. Enjoy the party." You look at Glen who's smiling and laughing with a group of girls now. "Enjoy it more than I am."

She follows your eyesight before shaking her head and taking your hand. "He loves you, you know."

"I'm sure he does," you say sadly. "Let him know I left, okay?"

She nods, smiling at you sadly before turning to where Glen is. You don't stick around long enough to see what happens next. Instead, you walk out of the bar/club and hail a taxi to take you back to yours and Glen's hotel.

The whole drive back, you feel your phone vibrating like crazy but you don't care. You don't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. The feeling of dread and a deflated sense of self-love courses through your veins and all you want to do is get to the hotel.

By the time you reach the hotel, you're exhausted but you push yourself to pack everything that's yours around the room. You planned on flying back home tomorrow and Glen would be too tired to notice you've gone.

Maybe that's what he needs. To see you gone so he can be with those pretty models.

You pick up all the clothes that are yours, stuffing them in to your suitcase before walking into the bathroom. The tears are flowing freely down your face now. Nothing and no one could've stopped them from falling.

He probably didn't even notice I left the bar.

"How could I be so stupid?" you mutter to yourself.

You felt like the world as you knew it was spinning out of control, nothing was going right, not even the one constant in your life.

Glen.

You hear the door to the hotel open and wipe the tears away from your cheeks. You look in the mirror when you hear footsteps approach you.

"Y/N?" Glen soothes. "Why'd you leave? Are you crying?"

"I'm fine," you lie, stuffing your toiletries in your bag. "Just tired."

"Where are you going?" he asks, watching as you finish packing your things.

"I'm leaving in the morning."

"Where?"

"Home." Your voice is firm, almost harsh. You knew it would feel like a slap in the face for Glen. God, you hated feeling like this.

"Why, darling?" he asks, walking toward you. You try to push past him but he takes your arm, pulling you to his body in a tight hug. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"Glen, I don't want to talk right now because I'll cry. So please, just let me go."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong. I don't care if you cry. Just please," He starts, now growing worried. "Please talk to me."

You look up at him, his handsome face painted in full on worry. You hated seeing him like this.

"Am I enough for you?" you ask quietly.

"Why would you even ask that?" he asks, pulling you in for a hug again. His head rests on yours when he says, "Of course you're enough for me. What brought this on?"

You sob then, shoulders shaking and voice cracking. "I'm just tired of feeling like you don't care if I'm around. I feel like you'd be better off without me around."

"Never. I'd never be better off without you around, Y/N." Glen tells you. "You're my biggest supporter, the woman I look for when I need to calm myself. I never want you to leave."

You scoff before muttering, "I'm sure the girls that fawn over you would appreciate that."

Glen pulls you back at that. His green eyes search yours, hurt and recognition fills them. "Is this what all this about?"

You nod. "Partly."

"Go on, baby. Tell me what's wrong."

You sigh. "I just feel like with all of these gorgeous women around, you'll look at me and think you can do better. I'll never be one of those models or actresses. I'll never look like that."

"And that's why I love you," he says.

"You think I'm ugly?" you cry out.

"No! No," he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug again. "I mean, they may be pretty, but you are who I chose. I chose you not only because you're gorgeous, but because you have a good heart. Those other women, they may be pretty on the outside, but on the inside they're ugly, materialistic, and vain."

Glen pulls you back, cupping your face in his large hands before kissing your lips softly.

"Y/N, you're all I want," he tells you. "All I'll ever want, and all I could dream of. You're beautiful, smart, and funny."

He smiles down at you. "All of those other women, are nothing compared to you. And do you know why?"

"Why?" you hiccup.

"Because I chose you. Not them. You," he tells you. His whole body screams genuine, hell, even his eyes are a changing color to show how much he means it. "So don't leave. Stay, be by my side for the rest of this tour. After, we'll go on vacation and just be together."

"Okay," you tell him, nodding softly. "Just, please don't forget about me."

"How could I?" he smiles. "You're not only my calm, but my reason to breathe. I can't go anywhere without you."

"I love you, Glen."

"I love you more, Y/N."

Whew...don't mind me. I need to stare at a wall and imagine Glen holding me.

[grievedeeply]

I really love your first kiss hcs with dammon and rolan request! Can I request first kiss hcs with Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Zevlor?

sorry these are short! i didn't want to be too repetitive with them but i hope you enjoy anyways and thanks for the request! (and sorry this took forever to do lol)

gn!reader/tav | no tws

first kiss hcs with astarion, gale, wyll, halsin and zevlor

astarion

kisses aren't a big deal for him most of the time. he doesn't think of them as anything more than something you do with someone else. he'd done it plenty of times.. but not with someone like you

he really feels something for you, something real and genuine. he'd be lying if he said it didn't scare him, but it's just the truth

he wants his first kiss with you to be meaningful

it's not going to be in some sort of grand setting. it's probably in the middle of the woods somewhere and completely unplanned, too

but that's the beauty of it. a kiss so in the moment it comes naturally to the two of you. it's soft and gentle and warm.. things astarion isn't used to in kisses

he's used to fervor— intense moments that aren't exactly intimate. but this.. this is something special and it's beautiful. he doesn't ever want it to end, but it does, eventually.

but that's alright, because he'll start it all over again

gale

kisses have always been something intimate in his eyes, and he doesn't give them away lightly

he has to feel really genuine about someone for him to even think about wanting to kiss them, and he feels that way towards you rather quickly

you're kind and understanding, helpful and compassionate. all amazing qualities and when added to your incredible personality.. you are someone he sees himself having something real with

he'll take you on a date first. it's nothing fancy but it is special to both of you. it's probably a picnic under the stars.. somewhere where it can be just the two of you alone

he'll caress your face and stare into your eyes before he kisses you, making it very clear on what he wants before actually doing it

it's a sweet kiss, short but filled with everything he wants to say. he doesn't make a big deal about it in front of you, but he does have a giddy smile on his lips for the rest of the night

wyll

similarly to gale, he believes kisses are something special— something intimate

he wants his first kiss with you to be perfect. he'll probably have the entire day planned out. a nice dinner or a picnic or something similar, and spending the evening under the stars

in truth, your first kiss with him is far from planned and happened solely because it felt right

even if he wants it to be perfect, he's probably the one initiating it. he just saw you and couldn't resist

while it's not the scenario he pictured in his mind, he doesn't care. any moment shared with you is perfect and one he wants to enjoy for all it is

it's not what he envisioned, but it's perfect because he shared it with you

halsin

also wants his first kiss to be perfect in some aspects, but he's more focused on the special part of it than anything else

he's with you. does the moment feel right? does it look like you're into whatever situation you might be in with him?

he's definitely going to whisper, "can i kiss you?" while looking hopelessly into your eyes like a man so deeply in love the only thing he can think of is you

the kiss is lovely and everything he wanted it to be because it was with you. you could be completely inexperienced and he wouldn't care, or the opposite, solely because it was with you

halsin is very sweet and very open about his feelings on things, so he'll be letting you know how nice the kiss was

i think he's probably had a few first kisses with other people in the past, but none of them even come close to the moment he shares with you

zevlor

zevlor has to get over his anxieties first to be able to accept how much he wants to kiss you

assuming that he's older than you, he has to talk himself out of not liking you because of his age, even if you make it very clear that you like him in that way

when he finally jumps over that hurdle, kissing you is all he can think about whenever he's around you until the exact moment it happens

definitely very impromptu. wasn't planned at all and he completely kissed you on impulse because it felt right and because he would back out later on

it's special to him and means a lot when you don't pull away. the man is so anxious.....

he thinks about it a lot. it might not have been the ideal place but it was perfect because the kiss makes him realize just how much you like him

it makes him feel good, honestly <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

fooling ourselves

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'fool' (don't you worry folks, i plan on being a fool and doing the silly prompt too)

454 words | rated t | no cw | tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, first kiss

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve was fooling everyone.

At least, he hoped he was.

He might be failing.

Steve practically begged for time alone with Eddie. It was embarrassing.

It's just that in the group, Eddie was loud, put on the same show he always did at school, in the hospital when he was recovering and trying to keep smiles on everyone's faces. He fooled everyone except Steve.

When they were alone, Eddie was more reserved, thoughtful, touched him more.

Steve was touch starved, okay? Every time Eddie placed his hand on his knee or ran a hand through his hair, it was like an electric shock jolted his body to attention.

He wasn't looking further into it.

Except for when he did, which was nearly every night over the last two weeks, right after Eddie had told him that he started seeing someone in Indy.

In the moment, he congratulated him, asked a few polite questions that any friend would, and found a reason to go home.

He'd avoided being alone with Eddie ever since.

Actually, he'd avoided Eddie entirely until today.

The kids were having a movie night and attendance was mandatory.

The movie was scary, something he knew he couldn't watch, but showed up for anyway. Robin made an excuse for him to sit outside, said he'd been dealing with a migraine all day and the flashing on the screen wasn't helping.

He owed her.

The Henderson home had a small back porch, but it was the perfect place for him to sit and get some fresh air, clear his mind from the thought of Eddie sitting inside. He'd been with Frankie all day.

That got shut down, but probably wouldn't be for much longer, not if they got serious.

"You okay out here? Need a drink?" Eddie's voice shocked him from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine."

"Robin wanted me to come check on you. Said you wanted to talk to me?" Eddie sat down next to him on the back step.

"She did?" He apparently had not fooled Robin.

Eddie nodded.

"Oh. I'm good."

"Really? So you wouldn't care if I said I'm not seeing Frankie anymore?"

Steve turned to see a shit-eating grin on Eddie's face.

"You aren't?"

"Nah. I think I liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than I liked him."

"Oh."

"I think I was really just trying to move on from someone else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, kinda failed at fooling myself, though."

Eddie's hand settled on Steve's thigh.

"How's that?" Steve asked.

"This guy I like, he's kinda new to this. I finally realized I'd have to be the one to make a move."

"Yeah?"

Eddie's answer was a soft kiss to his lips and a whispered, "yeah."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Secret Romance

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Secretly dating The Radio Demon himself and sneaking around so the other hotel patrons don't get suspcious.

A/N- WARNINGS??- Alastor being flirty? Kissing? Anyways hope y'all likeeeee... <3

You and Alastor had been secretly seeing each other for months, slipping away whenever you could to be alone. The thrill of sneaking around was intoxicating; it honestly made you feel young again... even though you were both grown adults. The secrecy, however, made things complicated—especially because the Hazbin Hotel was filled with eyes and ears. Alastor, the Radio Demon, had always been charming, but no one would suspect he could have a soft spot for anyone, let alone you.

Tonight was no different. You had been helping Charlie around the hotel all day, but it was later, when the night had grown darker and everyone was winding down in their separate rooms, that you made your way through the hotel's now dimly lit corridors. You tiptoed past a few residents' rooms.

When you opened the door to a room that was still in renovation mode—just as Alastor had mentioned in the note he'd left for you—you found him already waiting, his back to the window, his hands casually behind him as he hummed a jazzy tune. The soft glow of his red eyes locked onto yours as you entered.

"Ah, darling," he purred, "Right on time." You closed the door behind you, the faint creak of the hinges reminding you just how secretive you had to be. No one could find out. It would cause too much drama, especially with the way the others saw Alastor... dangerous, unpredictable, and manipulative. But you, you saw a different side of him—one that made your heart race.

“You make it sound like I’m late," you teased, stepping closer, your fingers brushing his arm. Alastor chuckled and took your hand, pulling you gently toward him. "Perfection, my dear, is always punctual." You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, but you couldn’t deny the warmth you felt every time you were near him.

Being around Alastor was like dancing with danger, but you loved it. In moments like this, the world faded away, and it was just the two of you.

"So," you whispered, looking up into his eyes and leaning in slightly, "what's the plan this time? Sneak out through the window? Or do you have some other trick up your sleeve?”

In the beginning, when the two of you first started seeing each other privately, Alastor wasn’t really great at physical affection—he wasn’t a good kisser and didn’t know how to place his hands on your hips or engage in physical contact beyond linking arms or holding hands occasionally. But over the months, he'd gotten much better.

Alastor grinned, a wicked spark lighting up his features. "As tempting as it is to whisk you away into the night, I’m afraid we'll have to settle for a quieter meeting. The others have been... suspicious lately.” He leaned in slightly, causing you to raise an eyebrow. "Suspicious?"

"Mm-hmm." He added as he spun you around with such grace. You let out a small giggle as he slowly dipped you, then pulled you back up and closer. The smile that possessed his face never seemed to falter. “But no need to worry, my dear. They’ll never catch on. After all, they don’t expect someone like me to fall for someone like you.”

There it was—the vulnerability behind his usual confidence. No one expected the Radio Demon to have romantic feelings. And for him to reveal them to you, of all people? It was a secret you both treasured, making these stolen moments even more precious. You reached up, resting a hand on his chest. He didn’t flinch, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his sharp suit. “They won’t find out,” you promised softly. “We’re too good at this.”

Heck, yeah, you two were. You were like ninjas at this point. Alastor's smile widened as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Oh, I know, darling. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Should you two stop? Probably. But the truth was that you had feelings for each other, and the excitement that filled you was unbeatable. For a while, the two of you just stood there, bathing in the moonlight that shone through the window behind you. The silence between you was comfortable, even as Hell's usual chaos carried on outside. In the Radio Demon's arms, you felt safer than in any other relationship you'd been in.

But, as always, the time came for you to part for the night. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away, already missing the warmth of his arms around you. “I should go before someone notices I’ve been gone too long.”

He nodded in understanding, though he felt the same as you. "Yes, yes, we can’t have anyone getting suspicious, can we?” he said quietly. You gave him a playful smile before heading to the door, but just as you reached for the handle, Alastor's voice stopped you.

"One more thing, dear..."

You turned, and in an instant, he was in front of you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so sudden yet so sweet that it took your breath away. When he pulled back, his smile was softer, more genuine than usual.

“Until next time,” he whispered.

You gave him one last glance before slipping out the door, your heart racing as you made your way back to your room. The thrill of the secret affair lingered long after you left, knowing you’d soon be sneaking off again for more stolen moments with the man who had captured your heart.

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him; Ignihyde

Summary: Yandere Idia x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

A/N: okay, here's the thing. I know technically Ortho is one of the first year crew now, and thus, he is technically as old as we are. However, in my head he has been ten years old for so long that it's hard for me to see him that way. I tried to think of a way this could work platonically, and I came up with nothing for this prompt. So no Ortho for this one. Sorry friends 🤷🏼‍♀️ also, I know this is not an 18+ blog, so some of you are minors, in which case, I am not judging you for liking Ortho, if that is the case. I'm just saying it's a no for me.

CW: tranquilizer darts, minor character death, yandere stuff

Other Parts: Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

You couldn't help but be…. suspicious. Idia had only grown smarter, and more creative over the years, which made you wonder…did Idia build your son? Flaming blue hair wasn't common.

But he aged normally. So he couldn't be an Idia creation. So maybe it really was a coincidence?

Not something you could worry about right now as the two of you hid from S.T.Y.X robots. 

The fact that you'd made it a year was pretty good, if you were being honest. You didn't have clearance to leave the Isle of Woe, but a scorned ex employee of Idia’s had let you stay hidden in his home. He didn't even make you pay rent because, in his words, keeping that pretentious bastard's favorite things away from him was payment enough. Aside from that little spiel, he was a sweet guy. Which is probably why he was fired. 

But someone must have ratted you both out. You'd heard a shot downstairs, followed by his pained groan. A groan that was only as loud as it was for the sole purpose of alerting someone hiding upstairs.

You were hiding under the bed, with your son. The man had lined the beds with materials the S.T.Y.X bots couldn't scan through. You didn't have much faith though. Not that you had a plan if you did manage to hide from the bots. Either way, this was probably game over for you.

But you'd rather game over didn't come from Idia.

You stayed quiet under the bed, as you heard the bots start wrecking rooms. One particularly loud crash woke the baby. You hurriedly rushed to calm him, but he started crying. You couldn't blame a kid for being a kid. 

Bots rushed to your room, and threw the bed you were hiding under across the room. They all pointed their tranquilizers at you, as one of the bots stomachs displayed Idia’s visage.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please come home,” he cried. You didn't even know how to respond to that. You would have thought he'd be angry, but that would have been out of character for him.

“I know, I'm the absolute worst, but I'll be better for you! Please don't keep my son from me!”

Bargaining. Nice.

“I'll let you go outside for an hour a day. I'll buy you whatever you want. Please, please,please, please, please.”

“Oh my God! Idia! What I want is fucking freedom!” You snapped as you continued to try and calm the boy.

“I…I can't…”

“Yes you can!”

“I need you!”

“Well I don't want you!”

His eyes widened for a moment, completely taken aback. Then they narrowed, as he bit his lip in disdain. 

“Fine.”

One of the bots hit you with a tranquilizer dart. You cried out, but were quickly distracted from the pain as a bot took your son from your quickly numbing arms.

“No,” you groaned, reaching out as quickly as your body would let you, which was not very fast.

Your eyesight was darkening as the bots began to leave the room, leaving you alone with the bot projecting Idia.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your vision faded as you were left alone in the room, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

[lucilleslore]

lovesick snow really really really scratches a part of my brain that i cannot have the words that explain it and have to go the library of babel to find it. he'd be more easy to manipulate in that state, especially how vulnerable he is to you and how willing he'd do anything for you. like you said in one of your first posts, i'm in love with the idea of it of how powerful the reader is if you want to add more backstory to them.

ok so i went with your idea and gave manipulative!reader and snow the backstory they deserve for the little au we have going here!! i hope you love it <3

➸ so as a kid i see manipulative!reader as a bit of a daydreamer and what do lots of little girls dream about?? their wedding. for you though it wasn’t necessarily about the day, not even the fancy dress or the colour scheme but the person. let’s just say you’re already from quite an influential family but it’s not enough - you want more.

➸ you wanted a husband that’s powerful, motivated. he had to be important and charismatic - someone who could really get you what you wanted from life. you weren’t completely unbothered by the idea of romance though and hoped that’d you’d manage to get them utterly devoted to you, willing to do anything to protect you and make you happy. it’s not a hard thing to ask for, right?

➸ you’d always been aware of coriolanus snow but there always seemed to be better candidates for your attention. then he comes back to the capitol and you can sense the change in him - the unhinged, power hungry aura that seemed to surround him and as he quickly started making a new name for himself, you thought he could be the one.

➸ coryo would never be an easy person to get close to however. so you had to subtly start placing yourself in his life. it was a slow process but you were diligent. ‘bumping’ into him just outside his apartment, having the same social calendar as him, even showing an interest in the games so someone would set up an appointment between the two of you to discuss.

➸ then there was one moment. one that not even you - seemingly the mastermind of your own life - had planned out. it was raining that day, pouring and you were alone rushing back to your apartment. you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and when you stepped out onto the road you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of screeching tires or horns. or for the strong grip that wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

➸ coryo was there just as drenched as you were but with a kind of frenzied, panicked look in his eyes. ‘you should watch where you’re going,’ he’d urged. it was the way he said it, the way his hand squeezed at your wrist that had you thinking maybe he’d been noticing your efforts after all. he’d tugged you closer to him as if you’d be safer there and it was probably the most genuine moment you’d had in years, as you blinked up at the blonde man who’d just saved your life.

➸ honestly after that you decide to back off, feeling a little guilty about your scheming but seemingly the universe wanted the two of you on the same path. or maybe coriolanus did. suddenly he was there at family functions, taking meetings with your father, charming your mother at all costs. he’d come to dinners hosted at your families estate and his eyes would never leave you from across the table even when he was in a conversation.

➸ so when your family told you about the marriage proposal you weren’t that surprised, just giddy. everything was finally falling into place. you knew you’d have to be careful. to you snow was charming, doting in a sense but you’d heard the rumours. he could be dangerous and you’d have to make sure you were never in his firing line.

➸ in the beginning of your marriage you try and play coy, let coryo take the lead in things. you like to let him know how you rely on him, always holding onto his arm in public and letting him speak first. basically just playing up to his male ego but something about seeing you feeling so safe with him and letting your guard down has him letting some walls down too. which is exactly what you want.

➸ he’d start to confide in you after a while because you’re just such a good little wife! bringing him drinks in the evening in your pretty dresses, loosening his shirts and playing with his hair. it isn’t his fault he ends up telling you things about his past, things he plans to do in the future - a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t tell you especially since you’ll remember each and every one.

➸ kinda dark but i love the idea of you being able to read people really well and always hyper aware of who coryo surrounds himself with, always sussing out their intentions before he does. you give it a little while but if he’s still not catching onto them you’ll simply make something up. maybe they’re giving you dirty looks or maybe their gazes are just lingering a little too long for your liking, in places they certainly shouldn’t be looking. maybe they’ve flirted with you, maybe they’re making nasty digs but you have coryo eating out the palm of your hand by this point and he’s possessive, protective in a mad, feral way. you’re flat out lying but he eats it up and whoever you want gone doesn’t last much longer after that.

➸ maybe that’s how you get your power. by simply having his ear. people know that they can get what they want through you and by the time coryo is president you have people visiting you nearly everyday. hoping you’ll let them into your inner circle, offering you things in exchange for a word whispered in his ear.

➸ and maybe coryo comes to rely on you this way. you’re a capitol darling, their perfect first lady but behind closed doors you’re separating the good from the bad. the people who can help your husband and the people who’re out to damage what he’s built. people begin to see you as a powerhouse in your own right, someone with a good side they need to be on. or else.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Drama King // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Already used to Max's shenanigans, Y/N finds out that Charles with the flu can be quite a challenge.

Warnings: None, this is fluff, fluff and even more fun. (Only one paragraph about homophobic Jos Verstappen)

Author’s Note: Gees, there's nothing worse than a guy with the flu. Also, there's a little introduction of Max and Y/N's parents and the relationship they have with their children. Rate: PG

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

She was used to Max being a drama queen, after so many years being friends, she already knew how he could turn a minimal problem into a world-ending alarm. His computer froze for 5 seconds? It was probably broken. He couldn't find his phone? He probably lost it forever. He was hungry? He couldn't function until he ate. She had fun with that, because Max's little drama stunts were never something that came without a good laugh for her. She would watch him run around the room looking for his phone, or quickly throwing a tantrum when his computer'd go slower than he'd like it. Charles was a lot more composed, which was also funny because he was the one that go into serious trouble more often. He set his dinner on fire? It wasn't that bad, he's not afraid of fire. He's at the police station because he tried to jump the fence when he forgot his keys? Just a little inconvenience and he made new friends! He hurt his hand trying to fix the toaster he just broke? Well, he has a lot more blood in his body, nothing to worry about. Sometimes she wished that Charles would take the bizarre situations he got himself into a little more seriously.

But she takes that wish back, dear God, she takes that back.

It all started with winter break, they were off season and they had been together for a year now, their first anniversary on the 26th of December. Charles, who loved to spoil his partners, decided that they deserved a week for themselves, before they all had to part for New Year's celebrations with their respective families. Plus, they knew that Max was less than happy to have to spend the holiday with his father, so the idea of chilling together, somewhere away from the world was more than appealing. The Monegasque made a reservation at a very private cabin complex, where they could be alone in the middle of nowhere, in Germany. From the 25th at night all the way to the 31st at noon, they would turn off their phones and ignore the rest of the world. Max was more than happy for that, he needed to recharge batteries before facing his father, and Y/N knew that this little trip was perfect for her to sleep all the hours she missed that season. It was the perfect plan, and it went amazing. They relaxed in the woods, lit a bond-fire, swam on the lake, and the cabin even had a jacuzzi, which they used every day. But, when they finally went back to reality on the 31st, happy memories weren't the only thing that Charles brought back home with him.

"Tu es pâle, mon garçon". (You look pale, my boy). Pascale, Charle's mother, said when he arrived at her door for New Year's dinner.

"Je vais bien, ne t'inquiète pas, Maman". (I'm fine, don't worry, Mom). She wasn't convinced, and she was proven right when Charles started coughing in the middle of their meal. The poor man started his new year with a fever.

Arthur called Lando, who made up an excuse and called Max. The Red Bull driver was supposed to spend a week with his father, Jos, the two of them going on a "healing" trip to "help Max outgrow his queerness". The moment he got the call from Lando about "Sassy being sick", he canceled his plans with his father and flew back to Monaco. His father was more than displeased with that, and didn't believe a thing his son told him, but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He had an already difficult relationship with his father, coming out as having two partners and having to tell him that they were his rivals was not something he needed to do at the moment. Jos Verstappen hated Y/N with passion, and it was a mutual feeling. He believed that the girl wanted to distract Max on purpose, to take advantage of that on the races. He also believed that she was trying to get into Max's pants to "trap him" with a kid. But, he would rather have her as his daughter in law than a man. He had never been as mad as when he discovered that Max was bisexual, the idea of having his son dating another man was his worst nightmare. He made it his life goal to "cure" Max and his son knew that if his father ever knew that Max was skipping his trip with him for Charles, he would straight up force Max into an asylum. Jos disliked Charles the most, after Lewis Hamilton, so if he didn't like the idea of Max dating a man, he would probably lose it with the fact that he was dating Charles.

Max made it back to Monte Carlo on January 2nd, but he called Y/N to let her know that he could take care of Charles and she should enjoy her time with her family. She had a big one, and she didn't get to see them much, he didn't want her to miss that chance. He could deal with Charles for a week, how hard could it be? She thanked him and let him know that she could fly back if he ever needed her, but he assured her that they would be alright. At the airport, he was welcomed by Lando, who coincidentally came back home from England to prepare everything for his New Year's party, a tradition he started two years prior and that was the most awaited event of the grid. The brit offered Max a ride and, together, they made their way towards the apartment that Max shared with his partners. Lando lived just a block away and offered to help out if he and Charles needed anything. He also let Max know that Oscar, Alex and George were flying to Monaco on the 4th, to help him out with the party, so there were going to be some extra hands. Max felt grateful, even if his father was not there for him, he had his grid family that loved him for who he was.

"Charlie? I'm home!". He called out when he opened the door. Usually, Charles would drop whatever he was doing to greet him and ask about his day. He was an active listener and enjoyed asking people things, but this time he was greeted by the faint sound of a cough and the pets, Pete, Charles' golden retriever, and his two cats. He dropped everything he had in hand and quickly walked to the bedroom followed by Pete. "Hey, Poepie, how are you feeling?". (Sweetie),

"I think I'm dying". Max had to actively do an effort to suppress his laugh. Charles was on the bed, the blanket up to his neck and his voice was barely over a whisper, but he was definitely not dying.

"I think you're doing pretty well!". Max said with a smile and sat on the bed next to Charles, but he pushed Max away. Pete jumped on the bed.

"Don't get close!". He yelled as loud as he could and then coughed again. "You'll get sick too and this is a nightmare".

"Charlie, it's only the flu. I'm Dutch, I'm used to cold weather and never get sick". He placed his hand on Charles' forehead and noticed that his boyfriend was burning up. "Don't worry about me".

"At least you got away from your dad". Charles said as he did the best he could to sit up. Max helped him a bit.

"Yeah, your stuffy nose definitely saved me from that". Charles smiled, his eyes shining in a mix of sadness and fever. He hated Jos for everything he put Max through.

"I'm your knight in shining armor, even when I'm sick". Max laughed out loud and Charles followed, but started coughing again.

"Okay, Sir Charles, let's make you some tea to warm up that throat".

The first night was terrible, Max didn't sleep, not even one second, Charles turning around and whimpering all night, uncomfortable and bothered by the fever. He was cold and hot, all at the same time, so he was pulling at the sheets constantly. Max wanted nothing more than to go to sleep on the couch, but he couldn't leave Charles alone. He turned the Monegasque around and spooned him to keep him from moving too much. They slept through the morning hours, until the pets woke them up asking to be fed. Max got up at lunch time to feed them and make some soup for Charles. He had two big black spots under his eyes and every now and then, a yawn would escape his mouth. Y/N texted him, asking about Charles and how he spent the night. Max didn't want her to worry, so he told her that Charles slept like a baby. It wasn't exactly a lie, never specified which type of baby, he slept like a possessed baby. Charles' fever went down through the day, but he still felt like he didn't have any strength. The medication was doing its magic, but he was probably going to get a fever again at night. And Max was right, Charles' fever came back the second night, sentencing Max to another sleepless night.

"If I die, I leave my sim to Y/N and my underwear to you". Charles told him at 3 am as they were cuddling. Max snorted, almost offended.

"I'm the one taking care of you and I get the underwear while she gets the sim?". Charles looked up at him in the dark, his eyes narrowed. "Make your own soup tomorrow, traitor".

"My underwear it's all Ferrari!". Max already knew that. "It's really important to me. I don't know what you're complaining for".

"It's a good thing you're not dying". Max chuckled and they fell silent for a few minutes.

"If I die and you don't wear that underwear, I'm haunting your ass". And he knew that Charles meant every word.

On the 4th, Lando called Max to let him know that the boys had arrived and offered to stop by and help out a bit. Charles was in a good mood, after Max promised to use the Ferrari underwear if he died, meaning that the visit was a good way to keep up his good spirits. While they waited for their friends to arrive, Max called Y/N to give her an update. She scolded him for refusing to wear the Ferrari briefs, and then she thanked him again for taking care of Charles all on his own. She was convinced that it was an easy task, Max was the drama king after all, but she was grateful anyways. Max decided not to tell her how much of a pain in the ass Charles could be, he would rather have her believing everything was alright. He took Pete out for a quick walk and then went to feed his little demons again, Sassy and Jimmy already planning on eating Charles if he let another minute pass without feeding them. Lando arrived with Oscar, George and Alex, and they all ran to the bedroom to say hi to Charles, but he had a fever again, and what they found was anything but festive.

"You look like shit". Lando said without thinking, and Max hit the back of his head.

"You don't, Charlie". But the Monegasque was already mentally writing his will.

"It's okay, dying must be the only thing that doesn't look good on me". Max rolled his eyes.

"We should help you get better". Oscar added, willing to help. The other three looked at him with their noses scrunched.

"I think we're all more useful at a safe distance". Alex looked around the room as he made the comment, looking for a place he could sit down and not get too close to Charles.

"It's just the flu, stop acting like he's got a deadly disease". But they all ignored Max as Oscar organized them to cover all of Charles' needs.

"Alex, you'll make the food. George, you'll bring Jimmy and Sassy, since Pete's already here. Lando, you'll pick a movie. I will gather all the blankets I can find. And Max...". Oscar looked at him, unsure of what Max could do. "You'll comfort him, but please, keep it decent".

"I'm not doing that while you guys are here". Max said, annoyed.

"Just making sure!". Lando laughed as he remembered the situation in the hotel room.

Oscar's plan was kind of chaotic, as always. While Max laid on the bed with his sick boyfriend, he could hear Alex fighting with the kitchen, George chased the cats around the house and Oscar opened every closet in the apartment looking for blankets. To add to that, Lando just couldn't pick a movie, going through all the streaming platforms and genres. Charles still acted as if he was dying and even though Max loved every person in that house, he was too sleep deprived to tolerate the chaos. After an hour, George walked in with Sassy and Jimmy, his shirt covered in holes and wearing kitchen gloves. He placed the cats on top of Charles and they both snuggled on his chest, purring and relaxing against their Papa. Max looked at George worried, as the brit just kept a wary eye on the cats. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation, Sassy and Jimmy were the most loving cats in the world, but they loved to drive people crazy. Alex brought to the room the worst soup Max had ever tasted, but Charles was so sick that he couldn't even taste anything, so it wasn't a problem. Oscar placed all the blankets on top of Charles and, even though Max thought Lando would never pick anything, he actually did, and they all sat in the room to watch it together. Charles was finally asleep after 30 minutes and Max had never felt more relieved.

Around 6 pm they all left and Max took the pets to their beds. Pete slept on a pretty fancy bed that Charles had brought for him, it had Ferrari's emblem all over it, still, the dog loved his Red Bull toy, no matter how many times Charles took it away from him. Max gave Pete the toy and the dog curled up on his bed, ready to sleep, hugging the toy. Jimmy and Sassy had high beds, ones that Max had attached to the wall so they could sleep as up high as possible. He told them to go to bed, in Dutch, since it was the only language they understood, and they both obeyed instantly. If there was something that Max loved about their pets was how well behaved they were, George might not agree with that, but that seemed like George-problem to Max. After everyone was on their beds, Max went back to his room and lied next to Charles, his little snores making Max smile. Maybe they could finally sleep for a few hours. But they didn't. Charles' fever came back and he started moving around again. At some point, Max even heard him crying.

"Charles, are you okay?". Max asked as he turned Charles around to look at him and see if he could find what was hurting. "Does anything hurt?".

"I don't know!". Charles said, already done with being sick. "I just feel like shit and I'm tired and my head hurts... and... and my throat is sore!". Charles complained in between sobs. "And my nose is so stuffed! I just want to feel better and do my things, like training and going out. And I miss Y/N too".

"Charlie, it's okay". Max tried to comfort him, ignoring his own tiredness as best as he could. "Be patient, you'll feel better soon. I promise".

But Charles kept turning around all night again, coughing, mumbling, sighing loudly, blowing his nose. Max was close to losing it. There is so much time one can spend not sleeping and Max was close to his breaking point. At 4 in the morning, he got up and decided to call Y/N. She was in Buenos Aires, so it would be around midnight there, she was definitely up, no one slept early in Argentina. He felt terrible calling her to complain about their boyfriend, but Max just couldn't take it anymore, he needed to sleep and their friends were too loud and energetic to actually help. He confirmed that the day before. So she was his last resort. He sat on the toilet with the lid down, looking at his phone and re-thinking about calling her or not. She was having fun, spending some time with her family, people she missed all year round, he didn't feel comfortable ruining that, but he didn't know what to do. He heard Charles cough from the room and dialed his girlfriend's number. It rang a few times, then, he was met with the sound of music and people speaking loudly.

"Hey, Maxie, it's everything alright?". She greeted him. He could hear her friends mocking her, saying "Maxie" over and over again, her grandmother scolding them, and Y/N laughing at the situation. "Wait! It's like 4 am there. Max, is Charles alright?".

"YES". He quickly reassured her when he noticed how worried she was. She sighed in relief. "I just...".

"What is it?". He heard the noise turn down, she had probably moved away from people so they could talk better.

"I lied to you. Charles has not been easy to deal with. At all! He's terrible, and I miss my sleep and we miss you and he's coughing all the time and the guys came by and it was a mess...". He kept rambling about how the last few days had been horrible for him and she patiently listened to him. It was bad that Charles was still with a fever, that wasn't normal, since he was taking medication for that, but Max was also someone who could escalate a situation pretty quickly, so it was hard for her to know exactly if the situation was that bad. Nonetheless, she let him let it all out, once she noticed that he was done, she offered a solution.

"Listen, Amor, give me two days. Tomorrow I will say goodbyes and then I'll be on the first plane I can catch, okay?". She heard him let out a breath he had been holding. "We'll take care of him together".

"Thank you, Schat, thank you so much". He said, feeling a lot better.

On the 6th, around 8 pm, Y/N finally got back home. She slowly opened the door, Pete went to her to greet her. She patted his head and scratched the back of his ears, earning a little huff of approval from the dog. Sassy and Jimmy went next, rubbing against her legs and meowing, showing their Mamá how much they missed her. She tried to shush them, noticing that Max and Charles were probably sleeping. Quietly, she dropped her suitcase by the door and took off her shoes, walking around the dark apartment towards the bedroom. The door made a minimal cracking sound as she pushed it open softly and she cringed about it, but she discovered that her boys were wide awake inside, completely unbothered by the sound of the door. Charles was in a semi-awake state, his eyes glossy and forehead shiny with sweat, probably still with a fever. Max was next to him, his eyes tired and the bags under them prominent, like he hadn't slept in days. The Dutchman's eyes light up with her presence, the tiredness still there but now mixed with relief.

"Schat!". He jumped up and ran to her, picking her up and spinning her a few times, before he set her back down and kissed her, like his life depended on it. Maybe his sanity did. "You're here!".

"Yeah, how have you guys been?". Max was frowning at her instead of answering her question. "What?"

"Weren't coming back tomorrow?". She was the one frowning now. "I told you we could wait, I can't believe I made you leave your family so soon".

"No, Amor, I said two days, that was the day before yesterday". She went to the bed and sat down, placing her hand on Charles' face and caressing his cheek.

"No no, today's the 5th, Schat".

"Max, it's January 6th". She took her phone out of her pocket to show him the date. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...". Y/N looked at him, worried, taking into his pitiful state. Charles was still out so she got up and dragged Max to the living room. They sat on the couch and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You should sleep here tonight, I'll look after Charlie". He hummed in agreement. "Did you guys eat already?". Max nodded. "Good, then lie down and rest".

"Thank you, Schat".

Max lied down and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Y/N walked back to the room, changed for the night and got into bed with Charles. He had the flu, how bad could it be? Really bad, she discovered that night. The Monegasque spent the night complaining, she wasn't able to close her eyes for a minute. Between Charles' never ending turning and how tired she was from the trip, she was wishing she could go to the living room with Max. When the morning light came, she was still awake and extremely tired. Charles was the most annoying patient in the world. If he was complaining like that for the flu, what would he do for a stomach bug? They were lucky that Charles rarely got sick. Max went to the bedroom around 11 am, better rested and ready to treat his girl better than last night. But she was looking just as miserable as he did the past few days. Charles was finally asleep, so she got up and the two of them went to the kitchen for breakfast. Max, with more energy than her, made some Stroopwafels, while Y/N just rested her head on her hand, slumped over the table.

"I think it's time for Charles' meds, Amor". She told him after a few minutes in silence. "Where are they?".

"First drawer, my nightstand. It's a bottle that says-"

"Paracetamol, I know, my mother's a doctor, remember?". He noticed the pain in her voice, under the tiredness, but he chose not to keep up the conversation about her mother, she was not rested enough to talk about that woman. She walked back to the bedroom and opened the drawer, the bottle being the first thing she saw.

"Here's a glass of water". Max told her as she walked up to him, the bottle in her hand.

"Have you been giving Charles this?". She showed him the bottle.

"Of course, every 8 hours". He proudly answered.

"It's expired, Max". His smile dropped instantly. "This expired in 2020".

"You're fucking with me". He took the bottle from her and inspected it. "It can't be expired".

"This is so old I wasn't even in F1 when it stopped being useful". She ran her hands down her face and sighed. "I'll run to the pharmacy and buy a new one. Of course he's not feeling better, the meds don't work once they are expired, it's like giving him nothing".

Y/N brought a new bottle of medication and Charles was already feeling better that night. They all finally got some proper sleep. The next morning, Charles was a new man, back again with his good spirits and big smiles, as if he hasn't been the most over dramatic person for the last few days. Max and Y/N were still exhausted as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

"I can't believe you flew all the way back here just for the flu, Amour, it wasn't that serious!". He told Y/N as he took a bite of his Stroopwafels. "And I took it like a champ".

"Yeah, sure, Corazón". She said, condescendingly.

"Get sick again, Charles, and I'm personally burring you with your Ferrari underwear, you fucking Drama King".

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

This one is pretty long, but i had fun writing it! Hope you guys like it!

[reiyaus]

 to be young and in love ( MHA )

warning cursing death mentions death mention lowercase not proofread spoilers genre gn!reader romance fluff pre and est. relationship

crush and confession scenarios with the 1A duo! ( MIDORIYA, BAKUGO )

MIDORIYA IZUKU

you met on the first day of school, he sat behind you so all you could really hear during class were his murmurs and (extremely) loud pencils clacking onto the paper.

the two of you only started talking properly as friends during the start of the quirk apprehension test. your blunt compliments about how far he threw the ball put him in a flustered state― where you had to shake him in order to bring him back into the real world.

a moment that you thought was quite cute just made him want to dig a hole and cry inside.

as your friendships with uraraka and iida started to bloom, you and midoriya got even closer. if not, closer than the others.

your classmates started noticing how midoriya wasn't as shy around you anymore, and how you both leaned on each other for support during training sessions.

your shoulders would be squished together, his hands hovering above your back just in case you somehow fell, your fingers tapping on his arm while he writes down on his notebook― practically everything screamed 'I LIKE YOU!'.

did izuku actually like you? yes. very much. infact, he's liked you since the day you complimented him (but that's mostly from the fact you were one of the first girls to talk to him), and he's grown to like you even more throughout the year.

he'd stalk research about your quirk and give you pointers on how you could improve. silently dying inside after you call him a 'great friend'

the confession would probably be sudden.

it was the two of you alone in the field, practicing with your quirks with one another when you perfected the move you'd been working on for months. you were both ecstatic (probably him more than you), and it just slipped out.

"you're so amazing, y/n! your quirk, your brain, everything about you is so perfect-!" he pauses. his head snaps in your direction to see your reaction. you, bearing an amused smile with lightly blushed cheeks, were slightly shocked by his extreme train of compliments.

midoriya, in return, froze in place― internally beating himself up while he reddens up by the second. his thoughts are scrambled and he desperately prayed this was all just a nightmare.

"thanks?" your voice snaps him out of his stupor. "you don't have to over compliment me, midoriya."

"w-wha-? no! i wasn't overcomplimenting you, i swear!" midoriya shakes his head in retaliation. "you're strong, everyone likes you, and even heroes think you're cool! you're also always complimenting and helping me so i guess that's why i really like you and why you're still so cool but-" he rambles on, letting the embarrassment take control once again.

he's so caught up in his trance that all sorts of words come spiraling out his mouth. words that you can't bring yourself to believe.

you blink. "wait― stop for a minute. you like me?" midoriya goes silent, turning his head away from you. your feet make their way to his figure, head turning to try and meet his gaze. you let out a breathy laugh.

"midoriya. come one, look at me. you can't just say that and expect me to ignore it," you shake his shoulders lightly, yet he still refuses to look at you. "you know, people usually don't give silent treatment after confessing."

an incoherent sound comes out his mouth, groaning at your teasing. sure, he was planning on confessing one day, but not like this. his confident vision of him bringing you flowers and expressing words of affection crumbled in front of his own eyes. instead, you're teasing him for his not-ideal way of confessing.

you, on the other hand, knew of his fondness for you way long ago. but hearing it come from his mouth was different. it felt intimate in a way. it felt genuine. who doesn't like that?

your hands squeeze his shoulders from behind, giggling at his flustered state. "if it makes you feel better, i also like you. and i think you're cool too."

"y/n!"

BAKUGO KATSUKI

he was in class 1-A, you were a student from a different department, class 1-H.

during a fight with the LOV, his grenadier bracers were damaged from the recklessness of his actions– so, as a student of the support department, it was your job to help the future heroes of the nation be 100% with their gears.

even if that means enduring the brash attitude of katsuki bakugo.

refusing the urge to bark back while you continue on adjusting his bracers, his voice complaining in the background about how 'he can fix them himself'.

no matter how he hard he tried to talk-down your revisions, he knew how much better you made his gear. how you made it just like he wanted. of course, he didn't say that out loud.

now, skipping to the aftermath of a practice with pro-heroes disguised as typical villains- his bracers broke. again. another reason to be pissed off.

however this time, instead of directing him to class 1-H, Aizawa sent him to the main support department where the actual tech support engineers worked. people he didn't know at all.

so what did he do? he went to your class instead.

simply because he doesn't trust the others enough to ensure they wont fuck up his gear (totally).

and he continued this routine whenever his costume or bracers got messed up.

pretending like he's walking to the engineer lab when he's really on his way to yours.

instead of a highly-professional labratory of engineers with 20 years of experience, he preferred your little cubicle with coffee-spilled papers and a little light bulb to shine over it all.

for multiple weeks to months, bakugo didn't even realize how frequent his visits were starting to be. almost everyday after class, he'd find himself consulting with you for something as small as a scratch on his gear- just to see your face, how it lit up while u explain to him your new gadget, lips curved up and body relaxed.

"it even has a cord here so i can connect my laptop into it! soon enough, all the resources i downloaded yesterday can be programmed into this little card- right here,"

you turn to urge him forward, but pause when you make eye contact with him. nearly 3 feet apart yet the sudden intimacy made you feel like your bodies were pressed together, cramped up in a small closet. when you werent.

"...bakugo?" he looked up at the repeating calls of his name, finding you staring up in concern. “you good? you’ve been spaced out for so long i almost thought you died standing. hah.” katsuki playfully nudges you after your attempt to joke.

“nothing can kill me,” he shifts in position. “better be the same for you…”

you tilt your head at the last sentence. the turn of his head made his voice come out as muffled, blocking your eyes from fully hearing what he said. “can you repeat that?”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “i didn’t say anything. just focus on fixing my gear, you damn nerd.”

“okay- okay! just give me a minute,” you laugh. it takes a while to clear up your desk for his grenade, but way faster with his help.

‘help’ that he claimed was just because you were too slow.

but you knew better. you’re sure you were moving way faster than he was. and definetely more efficient. you also knew that nothing can kill him, while he’ll never let anything kill you.

ps. the red blush on his face gave it away.

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[yandere--stuck]

Imagine: Familal Yandere Stanford AND Platonic Yandere Bill, who are both obsessed with Dipper and Mabel.

REAL AS HELLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

---

“Isn't this great?” Grunkle Ford asked, taking a seat beside Dipper on the Living Human Flesh couch. 

Dipper ducked away from a six-fingered hand attempting to ruffle his hair. “That's certainly an adjective you could use to describe this situation.”

“WOW!” Bill shouted (as if he had any other means of emoting.) “A three and four-syllable word in a row! He really is a chip off the ol’ block, Sixer.”

Dipper could feel Grunkle Ford Stanford's eyes on him, practically beaming at the thought that he and his grand nephew were so alike, so much so that they could be considered father and son. Never mind that it was said by an interdimensional demon.

An interdimensional demon that also happened to be currently braiding his sister's hair as they sat in front of a fireplace in the ‘penthouse suite’ of the Fearamid.

One might even think it a sweet moment between an odd family. Two great uncles, one attempting connection with his nephew, the other lounging in a recliner and trying to pretend everything was normal. And his sister, being doted on by what was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, if not every universe. Mabel might have looked happy to anyone looking in from the outside, but Dipper knew his sister better than he knew himself. If she were truly happy, she'd be grinning ear-to-ear, gabbing a mile a minute, talking to Bill about all the hair styles they could try and how he should manifest himself some hair so she could braid him next.

But no, she simply sat in silence and let Bill work through her locks. She forced a smile and stared into the fireplace, flinching whenever Bill moved too fast.

It made Dipper sick.

And maybe, maybe all of this could have been passable if this were something Stanford had been forced to do in the heat of the moment. Something he'd regretted. And that's what he claimed.

But Dipper knew. He knew Stanford was lying. He was enjoying all of this too much for him to regret it. How stupid was Dipper to think that the biggest con artist in their family was Grunkle Stan when it was the guy grinning in his face, yucking it up in the face of destruction and tragedy just because he got to play house with Bill - his so-called mortal enemy.

He wanted to believe that this wasn't Ford's plan all along. Wanted to believe that his great uncle had been corrupted or mind controlled or tortured past the point of sanity. That this wasn't what he'd set out to do from the beginning. But Dipper didn't know what to believe anymore. 

“WA-BAM!” Bill snapped a full-length mirror into existence, allowing Mabel to see what he'd done to her hair, “Whaddaya say, Shooting Star?”

A simple French braid, with little glittery stars woven into her hair. In any other case, Mabel would have been ecstatic. But now, Mabel simply looked up at the demon, an unsure grin forced onto her face.

“Thanks, Bill,” She managed, not able to look him in the eye.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Bill waggled a finger in her face. “Try again.”

Mabel's face sank momentarily and she locked eyes with Dipper. The look in her eyes… It was like she was trying to scream so many things at once through expression alone. It felt like forever, the twins trying to communicate to each other in silence, but it was probably less than a second. If seconds even existed anymore.

Then, Mabel looked up at Bill and put on her best smile. “Thank you, Grunkle Bill, I love it.”

‘Grunkle Bill.’ Ugh. Dipper couldn't help the disgusted grimace that made its way onto his face. He thought he'd hated the triangle when he was actively trying to kill them all, but that was so much worse.

“See that, Pinetree?” Cipher whipped around, floating above the boy. “Why can't you be more like your sister?”

“Oh, Bill,” Ford waved him off with a smile and roll of his eyes. No malice, no contempt, just exasperated fondness.

“I'm just sayin’! We're trying to do family bonding over here, but Pinetree and Fez are being a coupla sticks in the mud!”

“He and Stanley just need more time,” Ford replied, speaking as if either of them weren't there.

Dipper felt sick. Sick from anger, sick from betrayal, sick from utter disgust. Bill's actions were understandable from the perspective that he was a creature from a different dimension. A monster without any need to identify with human morality systems. But Ford was human. A human with family and people who loved him and trusted him and counted on him. A human whose world had been destroyed because of his allegiance to a monster. Because of his feelings for a monster. And he just expects them all to be okay with this? To smile and clap and nod along and pretend everything is okay?

Mabel spoke up, drawing Dipper from his thoughts. “Well, um, Grunkle Bill, if we're doing family bonding time… Would you wanna meet me and Dipper's parents?”

“Say, that's an idea,” Bill turned to Ford. “Whaddaya say, Fordsie?’

Dipper whipped his head back to face his great uncle. He bit his tongue, holding his breath. He felt himself screaming from behind his eyes, trying to will his uncle with his gaze, hoping his expression was enough to implore him to say yes, to be merciful, to at least give him and Mabel their parents back. 

“I…” Ford breathed. “No, I don't think so.”

“WHAT?” Dipper couldn't control his outburst, his shout loud and sudden enough to make his great uncle jump.

“Sixer, c'mon,” Stan spoke up.

“You said it yourself, Stanley, the only ones you count as family are the children.” Ford countered. 

“That was- I didn't mean it.”

“Still,” Ford crossed his arms. “I have no loyalty to them. This is for the best,” Then, the old man turned back to Dipper. “You'll understand one day.”

Dipper glared up at his uncle, baring his teeth so hard he would have sworn they would have broken. But then, a noise broke his concentration.

He turned to see his sister, her sweater pulled over her head as she rocked back and forth, sniffling and surely crying underneath. 

“AWW, now look what you did, Pinetree,” Bill chided, daring to pet at the bit of hair that peeked out of Mabel’s sweater. “You made your sister cry!”

“Me?” Dipper balked, incredulous. 

A six-fingered hand came down to Dipper's shoulder for a comforting squeeze - and the boy bristled with rage, wrenching himself away and off of the couch. Every inch of Dipper's body was over one with disgust, with anger, with hatred. Just looking at Stanford made him sick.

“I hate you,” Dipper spat, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “You're a monster and you're not my uncle anymore.”

Just for a brief moment, Dipper felt satisfaction at the look of absolute hurt on Stanford's face. Then, he all but dove into his Grunkle Stan's hold, burying his face into his jacket. Stan held him protectively, one hand holding the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing circles into his back. And for a few moments, Dipper can pretend he and Mabel were back at the shack and he'd had a nightmare or something and needed reassurance from his uncle. Something he should have grown out of, something Stan would give him shit for later, but even still, Stan would have let him settle into the recliner and drift off to sleep to the sounds of Gravity Falls’ public access TV.

“Please, he didn't mean it,” Mabel's voice was barely above a whisper as she pleaded. “Don't be mad at him.”

“He's just scared,” Stan added, holding Dipper tight. “We all are.”

“There's no reason to be,” Ford insisted. “Dipper, please, look at me. You're my s- my, my nephew and I love you. None of this is meant to hurt you.”

He sure had a funny way of showing it.

He could hear Bill let out a frustrated groan. “Alright, I think this has gone on LONG ENOUGH.”

In a flash, Dipper was suddenly back on the flesh couch, cuddled up next to his not-so-great uncle Ford. He couldn't bear to look at him, simply staring ahead. At his sister. At the fire. At Cipher.

The triangle spoke. “Now, kid, I get this is a big change and all, but the only reason Gravity Falls and all your little friends have been left untouched is because of your uncle here. I think you should be a little more grateful. That is… Unless you don't want your friends to be safe?”

A sneer overtook Dipper's face. All of the anger boiling inside him threatened to burst out in the form of calling Bill every curse word he knew - and even the ones he didn't. 

But he knew better. Dipper gritted his teeth. “No, I do.”

“Then, I feel an apology is in order!”

“Sorry,” Dipper mumbled noncommittally. 

“Not to ME, Pinetree,” The demon laughed. “Though, I appreciate the thought!”

Dipper let out a shuddering sigh. Slowly, as though just looking in Ford's direction took great effort, he managed to meet his great uncle's eyes. And he had the gall to look condescending. As if Dipper were just a child throwing a tantrum.

He hated him. He hated him more than anything. He couldn't believe he ever believed in him, ever obsessed over his work, ever thought he was great, ever thought he was a hero, ever thought to leave behind his sister to follow someone like him.

“...I'm sorry, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper spoke robotically. “I didn't mean what I said. I don't hate you. You're still my uncle.”

“ANNND?” Bill egged him on.

“And. I love you.”

Ford had the audacity to smile. To open his arms wide. To ask, “How about a hug?”

Dipper felt he had no choice. As he was wrapped into a hug by the man who'd betrayed his family, betrayed the world, betrayed the universe, Dipper let himself bury his face into Ford's turtleneck. At least he could hide his tears now.

For a second, it felt as if his hat had disappeared from his head. A four-fingered hand ruffled through his locks affectionately. Then, his hat was back in place.

Dipper fought not to be ill.

“Say, how about an ‘I love you’ for your Grunkle Bill, huh?”

…

“Not now? Eh, that's fine! We've got an eternity for you to come around!”

[watermelonlovershigh]

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: so after writing part 1. to this, i knew i needed to continue it somewho and this is what i came up with. if you haven't read the previous part, please read that first but it's not mandatory to understand this one. just a recommendation. i hope you enjoy and yes i plan on writing a part three to continue this part as well. make sure to send me your feedback and how you enjoyed it. thank you and enjoy. xoxo

This story contains: smut, one-night stands, arguing (angst), confessions of feelings

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 2,097

After not being able to take one more night of hearing you and your one-night stand have fun in your room, Harry angrily leaves until you're done which leads to apologizing and confessions the following morning.

Ever since your last period a few weeks ago where Harry had to help you in the middle of the night from the amount of pain your cramps were causing you, there has been this lingering tension in the house. You don't know if its from Harry having seen you in such a vulnerable position that night. Or maybe that moment where you could have sworn Harry was thinking of leaning down to kiss you after you shared your gratitude for what he'd done. Either way, the tensions are high and you hate it.

For instance, two Saturdays ago you went out to the club with some friends and end up bringing a guy back home. Harry didn't really care if you brought friends over or people over for a one-night stand as long as they left his stuff alone. That was until he caught feelings for you that you're unaware of.

Anyways, Harry was sat on the couch watching some television show with his cat Pixie in his lap when you came stumbling in the front door with a man by your side. Now you don't always bring home men. You don't sleep around too much but, you dabble here and there when you get just tipsy enough and you're in a desperate need of some real cock.

Harry looked up from the tv screen with an annoyed face. One you've never seen him portray before. Usually when you brought men home he smiled and joked, saying stuff like, "Be safe and make sure you have him wrap it up." Or, "Not too loud, kids. I've got work in the mornin'." Right then, if looks could kill, they would.

To try and have a good rest of your night, you didn't linger in worry over the look Harry gave you and dragged the man you met at the club to your room. Once the moans started, Harry stands from the couch, turning the tv off, and quickly went into his bedroom so he could bury himself under his covers to hopefully drowned out the sounds.

The only reason Harry never tells you to go to their house for the one-night stands is because he feels safer knowing you're here. He can hear if something was to go wrong and you needed help. Otherwise, he would tell you to go back to their house.

When you first moved into his house, Harry never had a problem with hearing moans come out of your room during your one-night stands. He'd drowned them out and move on to what he was doing. But the longer you lived here and the closer you got to one another, the more painful it is to bare. It physically makes him nauseous to think about how another man is making you feel good. Touching you. Fucking you just right. He wished upon anything that it was him.

Seeings as you brought a stranger home, you obviously don't feel the same about him. Or so he thinks. But in reality, you like Harry just as much as he likes you. And the only reason you have one-night stands is you're afraid to share your feelings to Harry because if he doesn't reciprocate, the tension in the house would be ten times worse and you'd probably have to move out. Which means you'd have nowhere to go because he's the cheapest option right now.

Little does Harry know though, everytime you bring a guy back home, as he's fucking you into the mattress, all you can picture is Harry. You picture that guys hands as Harry's hands. You picture that guys dick as Harry's dick. Even the guys face, you close your eyes and imagine it as Harry's perfect face. You're surprised you haven't moaned out Harry's name yet on accident. That would be embarrassing.

You have a feeling Harry doesn't like you in any other way other then just friends too because well, he also has frequent one-night stands over. He invites both men and women to his bedroom to enjoy for the night. You have to sit and suffer as you hear the moans that come out of his room. Just like Harry, when you first moved in it wasn't a big deal. But now, months after living here and the closer you get, the more painful it is.

You wish more than anything you were the people he had in his bed. The one he had under him, or, the one on top of him. Little did you know though for the past few months, every person Harry's slept with he imagines them as you. Whether he has a girl for the night or a boy. Especially when he sleeps with other women because well, you're a women so picturing her as you is easy. With a man it's not as easy but he still subconsciously pictures them as you.

-------------------------------

Currently it's Friday night and after meeting this very hot man at the bar and chatting it up, you decide to take him home with you. You know you should cool it down with all this sleeping around you've been doing recently but the more your feelings grow for Harry, the more you find yourself having one-night stands. Probably to try and ignore those underlying feelings you have towards your housemate.

As you enter the front door with an attractive man in your arms, giggling about something he whispered in your ear, you notice Harry in his usual spot on the couch. His cat Pixie in his lap. But something's different about him tonight. Usually he tiredly smiles at you and jokes around about the things you're about to go do in your bedroom.

Tonight though, he has a deep frown on his face and stands up quicker then you'd ever seen. Grabbing his keys out of the dish by the entryway, Harry spits in a sour tone, "Let me know when you're done, yeah. I'd rather not be here while you're getting fucked by some fuckin' stranger." With that, Harry's out the door in a flash and makes his way to his car in the driveway.

"What's his problem?" your one-night stand questions.

Standing there in shock at how Harry just reacted, you answer just as confused, "Um...... I.. I donno. Usually he's cool when I bring people home." Wanting to at least try and enjoy the rest of your night, you grab the man's arm and drag him towards your bedroom.

This is your first one-night stand that you can say was truly an awful experience. It wasn't so much the guys fault as it was your's. The whole time he was fucking you into the mattress, all you could think about was Harry and how him leaving like he did didn't sit right with you. You hate when people are mad at you and Harry's reaction made it seem like he was very angry with you tonight.

Towards the end of the sex, you became less wet and the sex became more painful. You just weren't turned on at all anymore. You should have told the man to stop but he looked like he was close to coming so you just laid there emotionless until he came in the condom. The man did attempt to make you come by rubbing on your clit but his technique was all wrong and his fingertips felt like dry sandpaper.

Once he pulls out, you stand up to put your clothes back on and as politely as possible request your one-night stand to leave. Most of the time you'll let them stay and you'll cuddle until you both fall asleep but tonight, you didn't want that.

The man leaves in a hurry and as soon as he's out the front door, you text Harry.

To Harry-

he's gone. you can come back home now. going to sleep. night.

From his car, Harry reads the message and makes his way back to his house. He didn't go far. He literally just drove around the neighborhood in circles until you were done. As he pulls back into the driveway, guilt floods his system. He should have never reacted that way. But he just couldn't bare another night of hearing your moans.

Funny thing is, though he now knows you own several sex toys and he assumes you use them from time to time, he's never once heard you masturbate. He'd almost rather hear you moaning from your vibrators then some duchy man.

Harry quietly opens the front door and wishes you weren't asleep right now. He wants to talk to you and properly apologize but he reckons it'll have to wait until morning. He turns all the lights out in the kitchen and living room before going into his bedroom and getting into bed. He hopes he can get at least a little sleep but as of now, his mind is wide awake from guilt and also coming to terms with the fact he actually does like you but not knowing when or if he should tell you that.

-------------------------------

The next morning you're up before Harry and decide to make some coffee. As you're pouring the dark liquid in your cup, Harry walks in the kitchen with a yawn. You turn around and notice how tired he looks. Like he didn't get much sleep last night. "Mornin'." he mutters while scratching his belly.

With a tight lipped smile, you reply, "Morning." to him as well.

Sitting down on a stool at his kitchen island, Harry begins, "Look, I want to apologize for how I acted last night. It was uncalled for. I...."

"No, I get it." you cut him off, "This is your house. I should ask before I bring people over. I just assumed since you've always been so cool about it before that you never had a problem with it. From now on I'll request to go to their house."

"Y/n, that's not it at all. And please don't go to a strangers house. I'd rather you did bring them here so at least I know you're safe when you have one-night stands. But, I'd rather you not have any at all."

Frowning, you bite back, "Then what is it, Harry? You don't want me going to their houses yet you dislike when I bring them here. I've gotta find pleasure somewhere since I don't have an actual boyfriend."

"Why not just use one of the many sex toys I know you have?" Harry comments without thinking and your eyes go wide.

"Wha...What? How do you know about those?"

Giggling arrogantly, he answers, "When you asked me to get you your pain medicine out of your bedside table drawer a few weeks ago. Seen three in there. Classic place to hide them, Y/n. Real classic."

Stuttering, you speak, "I..... I um, it's not the same, Harry! And I could say the same about you. Why don't you just use your hand instead of bringing people over, hm?"

"I use my hand and still bring people home, Y/n. I'm a horny guy. What can I say." You've never seen Harry be so cheeky with his remarks and it's kinda turning you on.

"Okay, so..... like why don't you get yourself a boyfriend or girlfriend?" you question curiously. Ever since living here with Harry he's never had a partner. Just random hook-ups here and there. From your more vulnerable talks, you know he's had partners in the past but he said they never lasted more than a few months and you didn't know the reason.

Breathing deeply, Harry nervously shifts in his seat before spilling, "Because I think I like someone and havin' a girlfriend or boyfriend would make me feel like I'm betraying them."

You notice how nervous Harry appears now. His chest heaves more as he inhales larger breaths. His hands fiddle with the one ring he has on his middle finger. His legs are bobbing up and down. You're scared to ask your next question because depending on his answer, you could get your heart broken.

"Who do you like, Harry?"

"Um..." he starts, "well, she has brown hair and hazel eyes. Very beautiful hazel eyes. Perfect pink lips and an amazing body. She's about 5'5 in height and loves watchin' rom coms on my couch."

Harry is literally describing you but you don't want to assume. Because if it wasn't you, you'd be so embarrassed you guessed yourself. "By chance, what's her name?"

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

[telleroftime]

"Vessel" doesn't seem like a word to me anymore... anyways Sukuna is very OOC me thinks, but happy comfort means everything to me ,,,

Warnings: Mentions of the general effects of depression; implied eating disorder, insomnia, self deprecating thoughts, self sabotage. (Nothing caused by Sukuna)

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where, for one reason or another, you are forced to consume some of his fingers. Maybe it was a dare your friends threw at you or maybe it was an order from the the Jujutsu higher ups. Either way, you consume them. Of course, Sukuna thinks you're going to be an easy person to take over and control. A measly human? You're not that strong and yet your soul is just a little too hard to overpower.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he tries to sabotage you. One way or another, he wishes to weaken you. He will take over your body... or so he thinks. He tries to mess with your sleep but you already had it pretty bad. He tries to mess with your eating but you already weren't doing too great. Nothing works because you were already sabotaging yourself before Sukuna came into the picture.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where your soul still isn't giving in and he cannot afford to switch vessels. No one had caught his eye as worthy enough and with the fact that he can't even force control onto you, he has no way of switching anyway. So now he has to desperately try and keep you functioning. At least long enough for a solid plan to form.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he forces you to eat and drink and sleep because he'd be damned if your body gives out on him. He'll try and tease you into it, but when he notices that doesn't work he'd come up with some sort of excuse. He's not a liar, he's never been a liar, and yet he's barking out a "I need to eat too" like he's a desperately starved dog. "Let me have a taste," "cook me something," "there's two of us so eat it." It's so demeaning for him to have to say that, but you will live for his sake.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he originally made your dreams a living hell, suffering is his forte after all, but now he feels your body weaken. He can feel your hazy mind, your sluggish movement, your tired eyes. He doesn't like it. He'll stop the nightmares if it means you won't break.

"Oi, wretch, sleep if you're so tired. I ain't dragging this body to bed for you." // "You'll just torment me so what's the point?" // "Would you rather I tuck you in? Sleep."

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he's been watching you long enough he ends up picking up when your thoughts end up bothering you. He hates it. The way you just stop and freeze? He finds it such a troublesome 'weakness' and so incredibly dull. Your misery isn't caused by him and he has to watch it regardless? He nags you so much that you have no time to think of anything negative.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he keeps on using the excuse of needing an adequate host. "I have no use for someone so weak, so eat/drink/breathe to not disappoint me". In reality, he has started to fret over you. He's worried, especially as the only place he can truly look you eye to eyes is when he personally drags you into his soul. Where you see him through a reflection of yourself.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he finally finds a different body. Someone far more befitting his needs. Someone far more adequate to house his soul. Not you. It happens right at the moment that you let him in too. Where the eventual banter you two share is far better than the memory of his terror. You know you shouldn't, but have grown to like his company. Which is what allows him to finally take over your body and switch.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where the King of Curses has taken a liking to you and comes back to stay, at least for a little while.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where your head feels suddenly so... empty. He's gone and you know it and everything is just so quiet. Unbearably so. You probably would have gone back on your bad habits too if it weren't for him. Your soul was alone, yes, but he didn't leave. He came back, like a dog to its owner.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he's so much firmer now. It was one thing having his voice in your head but now you see him in front of you, a body other than yours. His gaze is firm and intense as if even beyond your mind he can still hear your thoughts. Bringing you food, tossing you things. Indifferent in everything but his actions.

[lenaellsi]

I've never understood what people mean when they say that Crowley is hiding the truth of Heaven and God's cruelty from Aziraphale to protect him or spare his feelings. That's like...the complete opposite of what Crowley does.

Crowley spends all 6000 years of their time on Earth together making snarky comments about Heaven and God at every opportunity. It's his opening line in Eden, and even before Eden, he meets Aziraphale and two minutes later goes on a rant about how unfair it is to end the world before it’s really started. "What's the point of making an infinite universe if you're only going to let it run for a few thousand years?" He's been forcing Aziraphale to grapple with God's plan literally since the moment they met. Those moments make up like half of the S1E3 intro, and it happens again in every single S2 minisode. "Same God that wants me to whack the kids?" "Tell her that poverty is ineffably wonderful and life is worth living. Go on!" "That's the trouble with you lot. You tend to see things in black and white." Like. Crowley's not trying to hide anything! He thinks Heaven sucks! He thinks God is playing a fucked up game! He tells Aziraphale that all the time!

Crowley sharing or not sharing the minute details of Aziraphale's failed execution is, honestly, a nonissue, and it's kind of frustrating to see it constantly brought up. We don't even know for sure that Crowley never told Aziraphale exactly what was said. Crowley says Aziraphale "doesn't remember it either," when he's talking to Jim--not that he doesn't know, just that he doesn't remember, because he wasn't physically there. But regardless of whether Aziraphale knows the exact words, he absolutely knows that Gabriel "tried very hard to cast [him] into Hellfire and destroy [him]." And he already knows Gabriel is an asshole. That's not news.

And I'm unconvinced that Crowley wouldn't have shared what he learned in Heaven about the Second Coming and Gabriel's trial over breakfast at the Ritz if things hadn't gone completely to shit. Here's my hot take: in the fifteen minutes he and Aziraphale had alone after he got back, he had other things on his mind. Would it have been helpful for Aziraphale to know? Eh, maybe. But honestly, Aziraphale is already aware that Heaven 1) is fully on board with the end of the world, and 2) has no problem punishing angels who try to stop the end of the world. Because, you know. They tried to kill him about it last time. And regardless, I don't think this is an issue of Crowley hiding things--I think he genuinely just forgot, because he was busy getting broken up with. If he'd thought about it, you bet he would have weaponized that to get Aziraphale to stay. And he kind of did! "When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it."

And then there's the Fall, and yeah, fair enough. Crowley probably hasn't shared what the Fall looked like for him, and I think that's information Aziraphale could benefit from. Aziraphale clearly doesn't understand it--if he did, I can't imagine that he would have asked Crowley back to Heaven.

But that's still not Crowley trying to hide the truth about Heaven to protect Aziraphale's feelings, or whatever. He just doesn't want to talk about it! Because it fucking sucked! Crowley's communication problems stem entirely from his reluctance to grapple with his own emotions, and his reluctance to be vulnerable. Bitching about Heaven doesn't make him vulnerable; talking about his Fall really, really does.

Crowley has never once shied away from telling Aziraphale exactly what he thinks about Heaven, or the archangels, or God. He's constantly challenging him, forcing him to consider the people hurt by policy decisions like the Flood, the Crucifixion, Job's trials, or the "virtues of poverty." That's a huge part of their dynamic. Sure, he sucks at telling Aziraphale about himself--he doesn't communicate why he wants holy water, or that he's been living in his car, or anything at all about the Fall (as far as we know)--but when it comes to God? He is painfully honest. That's why Aziraphale is so unsettled by him. Crowley is generally very good to Aziraphale and conscious of his happiness, yes, but he's also not afraid to push him. It's baffling to me that people think that all he does is coddle him when we spend about half the show watching them bicker over this exact issue on screen.

[rendy-a]

Here it is! The winner of the reverse trope poll: Accidentially kidnapping a mafia boss! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you enjoy it as well!

An Accidental Deal

'Think of the puppies and kittens,' you tell yourself sternly. You stand outside of Ramshackle Shelter and try to psych yourself up for this confrontation. Countless affirmations run through your head. You can do this! The question still remains in your head; when they arrive, will you be able to do it?

The news has been tremendously shocking to all the volunteers: Ramshackle Shelter was all but sold to an entrepreneur to build a branch of a popular ocean-themed cafe. You'd heard of Mostro Lounge but never dared go to such a place. Not because the cafe wasn't nice sounding, no, it was due to the owner. It was an open secret among the residents of your city that the sly restaurateur Azul Ashengrotto was, in fact, mafia boss Don Azul. And now that scummy bastard was this close to shutting down your shelter.

You'd protested at city hall to block the zoning (failure), written to the paper to get the community to object (failure) and tried to raise funds to buy the place yourself (failure). Now, you were down to extreme measures only. So, this was it; you were really going to kidnap someone. You pat the pocket of your jacket where you have a cloth soaked in chemicals to knock someone out. Just one small thing stands in your way, abject fear.

Don Azul was terrifying. You'd expected an aura of danger and power, but when you saw the teal-haired gentleman step from the limo and adjust his hat, you realized you'd grossly underestimated him. He looks like he could bite your arm off... and would probably enjoy it. By contrast, the silver-haired fellow who emerges next in plain shirt sleeves seems far more kidnappable. 'Why can't you be Don Azul?' you think sadly. You watch from your alley hiding spot as the formidable Don and his secretary(?) head inside to inspect the building.

You hurriedly cross the street and slip into the side entrance. You had all the access codes from your years of volunteering, so it was easy for you to navigate the halls quietly and arrive behind the little inspection party. The two men were talking, and the secretary was gesturing in a way that made you feel like they were discussing how to set up the space. After they threw you and the animals out. You grit your teeth and scowl silently at the figure of Don Azul and pat your pocket again; he'd get what was coming to him soon enough.

Then, in a moment that takes your breath away, Don Azul looks up and into a mirror on the wall. For a moment, you think you meet his mis-matched eyes. You feel your heartbeat race as you enter panic mode. Then the Don sneezes, which breaks the illusion. You back your way down the hall and into a storeroom. Maybe you couldn't do this after all. There was no way you could face down that man when you couldn't even stand to meet his gaze.

You need a Plan B. Fast. The adrenaline causes you to shake and you rest your shivering form against a wall to think.  What can you still do in this moment? You tap your pocket with the cloth, all set up to abduct someone. Well, that's a waste. Or was it? Your mind strays from the intimidating Don Azul to his companion, the secretary. Was a mafia secretary worth anything as a hostage? You consider the possibility that he might know a great deal of Don Azul's secrets.  Maybe that was enough to negotiate for them to leave this place alone?

You hear barking from beyond the hall and guess they've opened the door leading to the dog kennels. In this moment you are decided; for the animals, you can do this. You were kidnapping that little secretary of Don Azul’s. The barking intensifies and then fades to a dull drum. You figure they've gone in back and closed the separating door. It's the perfect time for you to get into some sort of position out front for an ambush. You creep into the entrance room and jump back when you nearly bump into Mr. Secretary. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His light blue eyes flicker to the door where the frightening Don had disappeared.

"Didn't go in with the boss?" you mutter softly. "The boss?" he questions quietly before his eyes return to the door, and he puts it together. "Ah, yes. I'm sensitive to the dirty, ah, I mean, delightful animals." You scowl at him, "They aren't dirty. And they are a lot more charming than you."  The mild man gives a shrug of his eyebrows as though to say, ‘If you say so.’  He seems tired as he sighs heavily and gives you a once over.  You’d guess he’s done this any number of times while by the Don’s side.  He is experienced and appears to have sized you up in one simple glance.  “I take it you were affiliated with the location’s prior business?”  This rubs you the wrong way and you whisper shout back, “Its not ‘the location,’ its Ramshackle Shelter and I’m not so sure it’s a prior business either!  I’ve got some points to talk over with your boss!” 

The man gives you a pitying smirk and another sizing glance.  You appear to have been found wanting as he replies, “Is that so?” in a condescending tone.  You frown hard, both angry and embarrassed at the interaction.  “Anyway, it’s not up to you.  I’m not here to make deals with some nobody secretary,” you tell him mockingly.  His eyes widen for a moment and then you see the visible effort he makes to hold in his laughter.  Ok, this has gone on far enough.  Plus, you need to make sure you leave before the evil Don returns.  You approach him in what you hope is a decent appearance of menace, “You better just come along quietly.”  Finally, he appears to take you seriously as you see his chest expand to take in a large breath before a shout.  Unfortunately for Mr. Secretary, you prove faster and thrust the cloth from your pocket over his mouth before he can sound the alarm. 

It works like a charm and the small man is very easily knocked out.  You run to the storage room and drag out a flat-bed cart used to haul animal kennels back and forth between the entry and back.  On the cart is a large and empty kennel big enough to hold a great dane, so you figure one skinny secretary will fit pretty well too.  Except, passed out mafia secretaries are significantly more difficult to shove in a kennel than a dog.  You heave and shove his limp form until you mentally decide he isn’t so small after all.  Fortunately, you manage to get him marginally concealed in the kennel and out the back before you hear the barking of dogs that signals the Don’s return.  Time to hustle this cart down the back alley and into the waiting warehouse. 

After getting your (not so little) secretary back to the warehouse, you look at him laying limp in the kennel and decide that’s a little too cruel for your taste.  So, again, you take the effort to haul his limp form from the kennel and get him settled in what appears to be a reasonably comfortable position on a chair.  Then you take a seat in another chair to wait for him to regain consciousness.  Plus, you need the time to plan.  Before, all your ideas had stemmed from having Don Azul as your hostage.  Now that you only had his secretary, you were no longer sure how to even let him know that.  Can you just call up the mafia and ask to speak to the Don?  That…didn’t feel like a real thing. 

You were pondering your options when a groan brings your attention to your hostage.  You wait for him to open his eyes, place a tentative hand to his head and groggily ask you what happened.  “I kidnapped you, of course,” you cockily reply.  He holds up his unbound hands in front of him, “Shouldn’t you have at least tied me up then?”  You feel your mouth fall open as you look forlornly at the hands held out for you to see.  “Are you going to keep gaping like that?  I might mistake you for a guppie,” he states in a cold tone.  You slam your hand against a crate and shout, “Better watch that language or I’ll have you singing with the fishes!” 

He gives you a startled look and then starts to laugh, “Singing?  I think you mean sleeping.”  Ok, this could be going better, but you can’t back down now!  “I said singing!  Maybe I want to hear you sing me a little song, beautiful.  I’ve got to get the most out of my little captive princess before I turn her back over to her family,” you finish with a mocking leer.  The barest hint of ‘beautiful?’ can be heard coming from the secretary’s mouth.  You point at him and declare, “You’ve got two options; stay over there and start talking or walk your pretty little self over here and sing me a song.  What’s it going to be, Princess?” 

The man gives you a look from deep beneath his long lashes and says, “Those are quite the options.”  Then he flushes and gives you another one of those sizing up looks.  This time, it takes him several minutes to make up his mind, which you suppose is an improvement.  Finally, he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “Very well, if that’s how you’d like it,” and stands.  You don’t quite know what to do when he marches over and sits in your lap.  Then he looks at you coyly and whispers, “Did you have any requests?”  This certainly wasn’t in your plan.  You shrug helplessly and finally from the depths of your throat you hear, “Row, Row, Row your Boat?” emerge from your mouth.  The corner of his lips curl up momentarily before he schools his expression, “Of course, as you wish.”  Then he begins singing. 

You feel silly for having requested such a childish song but, to his credit, he gives it a serious effort.  And he sings amazingly.  You listen attentively and when he finishes, you apologize, “I’d clap but I’m afraid that would knock you from my lap.”  He smiles for a moment before replying in a serious tone, “That is an important point to consider.  Perhaps you could join me in a verse instead.”  Then he runs his thumb along your bottom lip with a coy gaze and breathlessly starts another round of Row, Row, Row your Boat.  You feel a bit silly, but it would be rude to refuse after all that, so you timidly join him.  When you finish, he smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  You suddenly remember that he is The Enemy and frown sternly.  “Come now,” he chides playfully, “I’m just pointing out that I’m not that difficult to work with, Angelfish.” 

“If you lot were so reasonable to work with, then why is my shelter being closed down!” you shout with tears forming in your eyes.  You hate this feeling, like you are the vulnerable one when he is the one who is kidnapped.  He looks deeply into your wavering eyes and finally sighs, “That place is really important to you, isn’t it?”  You look up at him and answer passionately, “Not just for me but for all the animals.  They have nowhere else to go.  No one to look after them.  If we turn them away, what will happen to them?”  You can’t stand to look at his sympathetic gaze and turn to look at the floor instead, “Your boss’s café could go anywhere.  Why take this from me?  From them?” 

The man, who you decide is far more gentle than you originally thought, appears to genuinely be considering your argument.  For the first time since you met him, you give him one of your friendly smiles, “I know it isn’t your fault.  You aren’t the boss.”  Then you pat him gently on the back.  “Don’t worry about it too much.  I’m going to fix this somehow.”  His breath catches and he whispers, “You just might at that.”  You give him a grateful look, “At least someone has confidence in me.  I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess up all day.”  The gently man is having none of this, “I don’t know what you mean, Angelfish, you seem to be doing quite well from my perspective.”  You laugh and give him a grateful smile, “Well thanks for that.  I think I needed some cheering up.” 

The kind (you’ve upgraded him to kind) man gives you a small caress on the cheek, “Is there anything I can do to help?”  You look deep into his beautiful eyes and remark, “I wouldn’t mind another song.”  He brushes a stray hair from your forehead and begins to sing again. 

And that is when they find you.  An amused chuckle from the door alerts you to his presence and you stop your duet immediately to turn, horrified, to face Don Azul.  You fearfully meet the eyes of the lovely man in your lap and stammer, “It..its Don Azul, he found us.”  Your statement causes the intimidating man to open his mis-matched eyes wide.  Then, he bursts out into an unhinged laugh.  Your fear compounds exponentially when you hear another voice emerge from the unguarded back entrance, “What’s so funny?  Go ahead, I’m in the mood for a joke.”  You turn your head and can’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit, there’s two of them!”

Your companion gives a resigned sigh and stands up, “Jade, Floyd.  Come along.  We’re leaving now.”  You look up at him, entirely overwhelmed.  He meets your eye and then smiles sadly, “In case you aren’t quite finished with me yet.”  Then he reaches into his breast pocket, retrieves a small case and extracts a business card.  He slips it gently into your hand and then walks confidently past the intimidating man (Jade?  Floyd?) and out the door.  The frightening twins give you amused (and terrifying) smiles as they silently turn and follow him out the door.  It is several minutes before you regain your senses enough to turn over the card in your hand.  It reads in flowing script: Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Lounge.

-Several months later-

You sit at your desk and page through another document.  In the background, the sound of barking dogs is almost soothing to your ears.  Then, a nervous volunteer practically runs into your office, “Director!  Someone is here.  I…I think he might mean to tear up the place!”  You calmly look up from your desk, “And then serve you tea afterward or burn the place down?”  The volunteer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.  A moment later, a fearful comprehension crosses their face as they mutter, “Oh my god, there are two of them!”  You nod, so, it’s both. 

 When the pair of twins saunter into your office, you smile welcomingly, “Jade, Floyd.  How nice it is to see you today.”  Floyd comes around the desk to drape an arm over your shoulders, “Hey Shrimpy, bossman sent us to pick you up.”  You nod agreeably, “That’s right.  Its opening night.”  Jade places a palm to his chest, “The newest branch of Mostro Lounge will be most delighted to have the Director’s patronage for this special occasion.”  You nod and direct them to wait out front as you finish things up back here. 

When they leave, the fear struck volunteer questions you, “Who were they?  They look like the mafia!”  You shrug, “As far as I know, they are just employees of Mostro Lounge.  As far as I know.”  They give you a look, “Isn’t that the place that nearly shut us down a few months ago?”  You grab your long purple jacket and give them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yeah but we’ve come to an agreement since then.”  The volunteer gives you a considering look and backs a half-step away, as though suddenly wondering if they’d misjudged the familiar Director of Ramshackle Shelter.

You understand, you’d been there before, so you pay them no mind.  Brushing past the volunteer to flick off the light, letting them hide in the darkness of your office.  Then you head out and wave to your waiting escort, “Come on boys.  I’ve got a date with the princess.  Time to make him sing for me.”  Your inside joke never fails to amuse them, and they laugh appreciatively. Your relationship was a complicated thing.  You weren’t sure who was supposed to be the hero or the villain in the whole story but, you supposed, you didn’t really care.  Floyd held the door of the long black limo for you, and you stepped inside.  You could ponder the morality of the whole thing later; you had your Princess waiting for you tonight.  And, if you were lucky, you’d have Azul sing your song for you again.  Ah, life was but a dream.