#i used like three brushes because the one i wanted to use wouldn't work

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (37/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The night on the boat comes to an end.

Warnings: 18+ (female masturbation (vaginal fingering), light voyerism (auralism), mentions of: sex, oral, choking, cream pie, free use (if you squint you'll miss it)), fluff

Word Count: 4k

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A/N: happy Lando win everyone!!! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

“I think it's fantastic that you want to work with me,” Charles mumbles into the mirror as you brush your teeth in the tiny bathroom of the boat. 

It's now one o'clock in the morning, the cocktail glasses and shot glasses have been rinsed and are halfway tidily stowed away - the alcohol has put a spanner in the works when Charles accidentally dropped a glass. 

“I thought so,” you reply with a grin. “Otherwise you wouldn't have given me the contract for Christmas.” You spit the toothpaste foam into the sink and wash your mouth out with water. “But I'm also glad that you want to work with me. It really means a lot to me.”

Charles smiles at you. “Of course I want to work with you,” he replies and rinses his mouth out too. “Did you really think I'd bring someone else onto my team when my best friend is perfect for the job?” 

You look at him incredulously. “You didn't know if I was perfect for the job.”

Charles' cheeks flush a little. “Okay, you got me,” he admits. “I only knew the pictures you took for the magazine. And the pictures from Kika. But my gut told me it was the right decision.” He smiles lovingly at you. “Just like it was the right decision to share our first apartment.”

Warmth shoots into your face. Touched by his words, you look down. “I agree.” 

When you look at him again, he smiles fondly. “Best deal I've ever made.” He puts his toothbrush in his pocket and doesn't even realize how much his words touch you. “Are you looking forward to spending so much time with me?”

“Of course,” you reply, ”after all, thanks to you, I can travel the world and earn money at the same time.”

Charles rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. “Isn't my company enough for you? Isn't that enough of a reward?” he teases you and leans against the doorframe while you brush your hair. 

“That, my dear, is an incredibly nice perk.”

“Of course,” Charles grins and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You stop in front of the large bed before turning to your roommate. “Who's sleeping where?”

“You can have the big bed. I usually use it when I go out on the boat in the summer, but you're welcome to take it. I'll just take one of the small ones,” he offers. 

You shake your head vehemently, only to regret it for a moment - the alcohol has affected you a little more than you thought. “But it's your boat and your bed. You should have it.” You purse your lips. “Besides, you've had a lot more to drink than I have. You'll definitely need the whole place to sober up.” You can barely suppress the grin on your face. 

“It was maybe two or three shots more. And only because you just poured them without me being able to resist,” he defends himself. “A small bed is enough for me. Take the big one, please.”

You remember the two of you standing in front of the bed in your first apartment after spending the evening at Kika's. How you agreed to share the bed so that he wouldn't get a sore back. And you're only too happy to offer to share the bed in front of you again - but with the ulterior motive that there are still several beds actually free and you want to maintain a healthy distance between you, you can't suggest sharing the bed without it seeming strange. 

“All right,” you finally concede and smile at him. “Thanks.” You rummage through your bag looking for your sleeping clothes until you realize you've left them at home. “Shit.”

“What is it?” your friend asks, pulling a shirt out of his backpack. 

You rub your forehead with your hand. “I forgot my sleeping clothes.”

Charles laughs. “I told you there was a chance we could spend the night here.” He shakes his head with a smile and tosses you the shirt in his hand. “Here. I've got a second one with me.”

Without having to move much, you catch the shirt. The fabric is soft and warm in your hand. “Are you sure? I don't want you to -”

“Don't worry,” he interrupts you before pulling something else out of his pocket and throwing it in your direction. They are short sports shorts. “I don't have any more shorts with me, but I can sleep in a shirt and boxer shorts if you don't mind.”

You're glad that the lights inside the boat are dimmed - at least he can't see you swallowing hard to get rid of the frog in your throat. “All good,” you smile tightly and put your shirt and shorts on the bed behind you, ”thanks.”

“Not an issue,” he returns your smile and his gaze falls briefly to his clothes on your bed before he looks you in the eye again. “I - um - I just need to take a shower. I hope you don't mind.”

“Go on.” You sit down on the edge of the bed. “I don't think I'm going to fall asleep within the next few minutes. Besides, there are still a few things upstairs. I can just go and get them. Then you'll have a little more privacy.”

“Okay,” he says. “See you in a bit.” He disappears around the corner, where he then enters the bathroom. When you hear the door close behind him and the water running, you get up from the bed to change. You take off your sweater, shirt and bra and quickly slip Charles' shirt on. As his scent envelops you, you lift the collar to your nose like a woman possessed and breathe in the scent. 

You miss his closeness, the feel of his skin on yours. You long for his warmth, the pressure of his embrace. But you can't tell him that without making a fool of yourself, so you silently take in his scent and let the soft fabric fall back onto your body. It almost feels like one of his hugs - but only almost. 

You quickly change into his shorts before folding your clothes neatly and placing them next to your bag on the couch. On bare feet, you walk up the stairs and towards the sun bed. You carefully put the bottles of schnapps and wine back in the basket and try to carry them as carefully as possible. As you walk down the stairs - almost staggering from the alcohol - you can't suppress the clinking. You put the basket down in the kitchen before going back upstairs to get the cushions. 

As you step onto the last step with the cushions in your hands, you stand frozen. 

“Oh fuck” - "just like that’"- ”you - fuck - your mouth feels so good”

Shocked, you stand still on the stairs as if you've been superglued there, your fingers digging into the cushions. 

“You can take it” - "I know, mon amour, I know" - “You're so tight, mon amour”

From where you are, you can hear the water from the shower pattering on the floor. The click of a shower gel bottle being closed. And Charles' voice, panting, echoing through the rooms. 

“So good for me” - "My good little girl" - ”All this just for me”

Heat rises to your face and the blood pulses in your ears as Charles - what? Touching himself in the shower? Doesn't he know you're down here? And is the bathroom door so thin that you can hear him?

You should go upstairs, give him his space and not listen to him pleasuring himself and moaning. But you can't move - you stand rooted to the spot on the last step of the stairs and can do nothing but stare towards the bathroom door. You hear him panting, cursing and the water splashing until your heart is pounding so hard you can almost hear it. 

“Want to stay in your pussy forever,” Charles moans. Is he thinking of someone in particular? Or does he just have a piece of porn playing in his head? 

“You take me so well,” you hear the Monegasque sigh - and it's as if your legs are moving on their own. 

It feels wrong as you lie down in the big bed and slip under the covers. And it feels even more wrong as you spread your thighs. You hear a grunt from the bathroom and the sound shoots straight to your pussy.

Without hesitation, you let your finger glide through your folds and gather your arousal, while your free hand slides under your shirt to slightly pinch your nipple. You bite your lip to stop you from moaning.

„Fuck, mon amour – yes, just like that“, you hear Charles from inside the bathroom as you start to slowly circle your clit. You imagine him standing in the shower, his hand gently stroking his cock and eyes closed. 

The touch of your finger is gentle, not too much but not enough as the motion makes you squirm. You can almost feel yourself dripping on the fabric of his shorts just from thinking about him. 

You think about the dream you had of him, the way it felt so real. How he kissed your heated skin, the way his fingers slid inside you and you shamelessly moaned into his mouth. 

Your finger slides lower, playing with your opening and as Charles groans in the bathroom about „how good you feel around him“ you slide your digit in. You bite into the pillow, drowning out the moans as you pump your finger in and out, while your other hand slides down to play with your puffy clit, your chest rising with every stroke of the pad of your finger against that spot inside you that just feels right. 

You think about the way his thigh felt on your pussy, how he rocked you back and forth, his hand on your throat and his glossy eyes. Tears well in your eyes from the pleasure you’re giving yourself, your hands slick with your wetness and the shorts probably ruined. But you don’t care. All you can think about is Charles as you slide another finger inside. 

Charles, who's standing a few feet away from you in the shower. Charles, who probably fists his cock, looking absolutely devine as the water runs down his chiseled body, helping him finish off faster. Charles, who you wish would get out of the fucking shower, so he could see the mess you’re making in his clothes, on his bed, on his boat.

Charles, who you wish would take you apart, splitting you on his dick as he tells you how pretty you look. How tight you are for him. How good you feel. 

Charles, who you would let do anything to you. Whatever he wants, in any way he wants. You belong to him, body and soul. 

„Come for me, mon amour, so I can fill you up“, he moans loudly and with one last pump of you fingers you come undone, not for you, but for him – even though he doesn’t know. 

Your breathing is ragged as you try to come to your senses, your fingers still thrusting in and out of your drenched folds at a leisurely pace, prolonging your orgasm. You twitch from being on the edge of overstimulation, but you don’t care. Your mind is consumed by the moaning Charles in the bathroom.

When you hear the shower turn off, you quickly wipe your hands on your shirt and pull the blanket up to your chest. You grab your phone and scroll through a few videos on TikTok as Charles comes out of the bathroom in his shirt and boxer shorts. He rubs his hair dry with a towel and when he sees you lying in bed, he suddenly stops as if struck by lightning.

“You're already in bed,” he says in amazement and hangs the towel over the edge of the dresser. 

“Yep.” You look from your cell phone to him and try to look as relaxed as possible - and not as if you've just come to his moans. 

Charles nods curtly and swallows. “Have you - is the bed comfortable?” he asks, running a hand through his damp hair. 

“Very comfortable,” you answer curtly and smile. You purse your lips. “We should sleep. After all - um - tomorrow we shouldn't show up at your mother's too late."

“Good idea,” he agrees with your suggestion. “Do you need anything else? Do you need something to drink? Are you thirsty?”

Not in the way you think, Charles. 

“I've got everything,” you smile, ”thank you.”

“Then - uh - good night,” Charles says, scratching the back of his neck before walking over to his bed and turning out the light. 

“Good night,” you reply, before turning onto your side and snuggling tighter into the covers. Your heartbeat is still pounding in your ears and you feel like your shirt is sticking to your sweaty body. You close your eyes and try to think about something other than Charles' moans, about what happened yesterday. How he felt under you. How good he felt. 

You press your face into the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut to finally fall asleep, to not feel bad for listening to him making himself feel good. But all you can think about is Charles in the shower, his cock in his hand and the moans on his lips. 

-

When you wake up in the morning, light is already streaming in through the large windows. The headache is thankfully limited as you sit up and take a look at your cell phone. The screen shows half past ten and you sleepily swing your legs over the edge of the bed. 

On bare feet, you pad in the direction where Charles had slept, but his bed is already empty and not a single sound comes from the bathroom. Which is a good sign, no?

You slowly climb the stairs to the upper deck, where you finally catch sight of Charles. He's sitting on the sun bed with his back to you, two cups next to him on the wood and a thermos flask. He's still wearing the shirt from last night, but he's put on a pair of long jogging pants, because it is winter after all. As you join him and take your first step outside the sheltered interior, you feel the cold wind blowing around you. Long trousers would definitely not have been a bad idea. 

“Good morning,” you greet him, rubbing your eyes as you plop down next to him on the sun bed. 

“Good morning,” he replies, pouring coffee into one of the cups before handing it to you. He looks at you and points at the shirt. “What happened there?”

You look down at yourself, confused. There are dark stains on the shirt he lent you to sleep in. Stains from your orgasm - stains from your cum because you wiped your hands on the shirt. “Toothpaste,” you lie quickly, hoping he'll buy the lie. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, without mentioning the ‘toothpaste stains’.

You gratefully take the cup from him before shrugging your shoulders. “Better than expected.” As you take a sip of the coffee, it fills you with warmth and makes you feel a little more awake. “And you?”

“Like I could drive the boat into the harbor without wrecking it,” he grins. “But definitely too bad to put up with Arthur for half the day.”

You smile into your cup. “If he gets too much for you, just let me know. Then I'll come and rescue you and distract him a bit,” you offer jokingly.

“If you do that,” he says, a broad grin spreading across his face, ”it would be the best Christmas present you could have given me.” He also takes a sip from his cup before looking out at the ocean in front of you. “I don't want to go back yet.”

Confused, you look at him. “Why not? Aren't you looking forward to Christmas with your family?”

“Yes, I am,” he replies without hesitation. “But - I don't know.” He purses his lips and exhales deeply. “I have the feeling that everything is different between us when we're in Monaco. That it's so forced, I mean. And I just don't want that.”

You look at him before also looking towards the sea. “Is that why you didn't want to go back yesterday? Because you just needed some more time?”

Charles nods slightly. "I just needed more time with you before the everyday life catches up with us. Before we get back to my family and pretend everything is fine.” His voice sounds sad. 

You turn to him. “But everything is fine between us,” you reply. 

He shakes his head. “Then why doesn't it feel that way? Why does it feel like there's a whole ocean between us when we're in Monaco, but when we're here, we're best friends?”

You can understand what he means. Since your mistake the day before yesterday, the distance between you when you're together in the apartment is so palpable that you could almost cut it with a knife. It's as if the apartment is cold and deserted, even though you've only just moved in. It doesn't feel like a home, but like a place where a friendship has been broken.

“I know what you mean,” you confirm. “I just don't know how we can change that. That we can feel like we're here at sea every day.”

The brunette takes another sip of his coffee. “I was thinking about maybe me moving back to the other apartment,” he confesses. When you look at him in astonishment, he shrugs. “Maybe we're just too close, you know? Maybe - I don't know - maybe physical distance would do us good. Distance that goes a bit further than from your bedroom to the couch.” 

You can't find the words to tell him how stupid you think this idea is, which is why you just stare at him. 

“But I can't,” he continues his thought. “I can't - I don't know -” He takes a deep breath before looking at you. “I don't know how I can be without you anymore. I have no idea what happened to make me so consumed by your presence. Another reason I wanted you to work for me. So that I never have to be apart from you. And that may sound selfish, and I'm certainly crossing every boundary we've established in the course of our friendship, but - ”

“I can't be without you either,” you interrupt him before you even know what you're saying. But it's the truth, however you want to interpret it. 

Charles smiles at you as if a huge weight has fallen from his shoulders. “It feels like an invisible string that keeps drawing me back to you. I can't explain it any other way.”

You nod slightly. “Me neither.” You purse your lips. “I don't want you to move out, or for this distance in the apartment to drive us apart. I want things to stay the way they are. Like this. That we can - I don't know - get drunk and laugh in the evenings, that we can watch movies and have fun with our friends.” You sigh. “Just a normal friendship.”

Your words sound convincing, even though friendship is the last thing you want. The stains on your shirt are proof enough.

“I want that too,” he agrees. “We can manage, can't we? You and me both.”

You nod. “As long as we stay together.”

“As long as we stay together.”

A short time later, you take the boat back and Charles steers it back to its place without any major problems. He leaves the yacht first and when you step onto the wooden jetty ten minutes later, Thomas gives you a friendly smile. 

“I hope your trip was pleasant, Madame?” he asks. 

“It was wonderful. Thank you very much,” you reply and make your way to where Charles collects you again without drawing attention to yourselves. You spend the drive home in silence, but the silence is pleasant. 

“Go and get yourself ready” Charles smiles as you enter the apartment together. “We'll leave as soon as you're done. And don't forget to pack a full overnight bag this time.”

You put your bag in your bedroom and roll your eyes, playfully annoyed. “Is there a dress code for today? Do I have to dress particularly fancy?” you ask him. 

He shakes his head. “Just wear something you feel comfortable in. Maman doesn't think it's so important that we're all dressed up at the table at Christmas and behave as if we're at the prince's table.” 

“All right. I'll have a quick shower and get ready,” you say before disappearing into the bathroom, where you shower, wash your hair and get ready in no time at all, right down to your outfit. In your room, you're standing in front of your wardrobe, examining your clothes, when a dress catches your eye. It's black and comes down to your mid-thigh, with long sleeves that flatter at the wrist. You slip into a pair of dark tights and matching shoes before packing your overnight bag. When you've finished - and checked your bag several times - you leave your room.

“Charles?”

“I'm in the living room,” he calls across the apartment. When you enter the room, he's sitting on the couch. He's wearing black chinos and a white shirt with the top buttons undone. When he sees you, a smile spreads across his handsome face. “You look wonderful.” He gets up from the couch.

Heat shoots into your cheeks. “You don't look too bad yourself, considering your mom doesn't expect fancy clothes,” you joke, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

Your friend looks down at himself. “This is my chill outfit. I sit on the couch like this every night,” he laughs and reaches for the car keys and his wallet on the coffee table. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “We're ready to go.”

The rickety Renault takes you to Charles' mom's house pretty quickly, and she's already waiting for you when the both of you pull up. 

She embraces you with a smile as you leave the car. “Cherié! Merry Christmas! You look fabulous!”

You return her hug warmly. “Thank you, Pascale. You look wonderful too.”

She briefly puts her hands on your cheeks and smiles at you before turning her attention to her son. “You both look so beautiful!” She kisses Charles first on his left cheek, then on his right. “Now come on, the others are already here.”

As you follow her, you feel Charles' presence next to you. You smile up at him. “Thank you for taking me with you.”

There's a twinkle in his green eyes that makes your knees go weak. “Thank you for putting up with me here.”

Together you enter the house, where Pascale takes your bag from you. She turns to Charles. “You didn't tell me if you'd both be staying here. But Enzo has brought some good wine, so I've prepared your room. Then you don't have to drive home and can both enjoy the evening,” she smiles. "I've also made the bed."

Confused, you look at Charles, who stares after his mother as she climbs the stairs. “The bed?”

“Yep,” he replies curtly, without the slightest hint of emotion in his voice. 

“Bed - singular?” When he doesn't answer, you stand in front of him so that he has to look at you. “Charles, bed - singular?”

Charles' gaze fixes on you. He nods slightly. “Bed - singular.”

[adollrable]

Under the same moon.

✧ summary: where it's your birthday and your boyfriend is on a mission far from home.

✧ cw: female reader x leon kennedy (re4r), fluff, just him being a cutie pie and the boyfiest boyfie ever (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿

✧ wc: 1387

a/n: I'M SCARED, this is my first time writing something COMPLETELY in english so... if something looks kinda silly forgive me 😞 english is not my first language but feel free to give me feedback!

my birthday was two days ago and i kinda want it to write something so, if someone is reading this on their birthday, happy birthday!!! 🤲🏻

11:45 PM. You were pacing around your apartment. Brushing your teeth, doing your skin care routine, pulling out the softest cotton sheets you have at your disposal.

You looked at the calendar that sat on the nightstand next to your bed, your eyes drifting towards the next day's date. Your birthday.

You weren't that excited, the printed number that indicated your day of birth wasn't marked with a red marker that circled it. The date Leon would return was.

Originally, your boyfriend's absence wouldn't interfere with your birthday. He would be with you on your special day. But you thought back to the call you had with him a few days ago, with him trying to get a signal to tell you that he couldn't make it on time and that he was really sorry.

You understand. It doesn't bother you, but you wish he was by your side now.

His job was complicated, and he explained that he couldn't tell you much from it. As far as you know, he's in Spain, rescuing someone. You don't know who, but it must be someone important.

11:55 PM. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until another return to the sun happens for you.

You laid down on your bed, covered by the sheets that hugged your body. You took the pillow that Leon usually uses and wrapped both arms around it, seeking comfort to avoid missing him so much.

Tomorrow would be just another day. Sure, your friends will congratulate you, you will receive calls from your family at extremely early hours of the morning, and you will repeat "thank you, I appreciate it" like a broken recorder for each call and message.

Gifts don't matter, much less a cake, or a party. The only thing you want is for the love of your life to return soon and you can be together.

Rolling between thoughts, you were able to fall asleep.

12:00 PM. Finally your birthday.

Your cellphone vibrated with every message that one of your friends or your family sent you congratulations. The light from the device breaks into your not-so-deep sleep, since not even ten minutes had passed since you closed your eyes.

Sheet off you, you stopped hugging the pillow and with a soft grunt reached for your phone, checking notifications with squinted eyes.

You lowered the brightness of your cell phone because of that annoying burning in your eyes and now with more comfort, you wandered around the notifications you had, until one caught your attention completely.

Leon ♡: "Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much."

A smile began to form on your face, and without hesitation you unlocked your cell phone to answer him.

Thanks, Lee :( I miss you and I love you

You weren't expecting a response, after all, he must be busy, right? In Spain it must have been your birthday hours ago, but he still bothered to wait for it to come where you are.

Leon ♡: I miss you too, how have you been?

You didn't think he would have time to respond, but you also didn't want to spend three days without hearing from him, so you took advantage of the opportunity.

I've been fine... I haven't done much, just work and back home :( how about you?

Leon ♡: Tired, but all good. Missing you most of all the time. Tell me, have you done anything interesting?

Does missing you count? :[

Leon ♡: Yeah, it counts, sweet thing. I want to tell you something, okay? But let me call you first.

The fact that he was going to call you made you feel good, he may not be with you on your birthday and he is supposed to arrive days later, but one call is enough to lift your spirits.

You were going to answer but your screen lit up with your boyfriend's contact name and the buttons to answer or hang up the call. You pressed the green button and put it on speaker, placing your phone on your chest with a smile. "Hi..."

"Hello, birthday girl." His voice... You could spend hours listening to him speak, even if he was talking about the most boring topic in the world, you would pay attention from start to finish. "How's my baby doing?"

You giggled, there really wasn't much to say, your birthday had started less than an hour ago, "No crazy, exciting party... My friends have congratulated me, as has my family. My parents must be asleep at this time, so I guess when they wake up they'll call me."

"Yeah, they must be resting at this time, huh. You should, too. It's only because of your birthday that you stay up so late." He answered and you could hear his smirk over the phone, making you blush slightly.

"Of course not... I can sleep late whenever I want." And even if you wanted to, you know it's not possible. Once you get home from work and settle into your boyfriend's arms to sleep, you fall deeply into the arms of Morpheus. It's hard not to sleep well when you have a giant boyfriend pillow. "I can't sleep without you here."

"I know, baby, I know... I can't sleep without my sweet girl hugging me like a damn teddy bear." He chuckled and you did it too. Both of you fell into a small silence, it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. "Hey, baby?" He began, as you settled into the sheets.

"Mhm?" You asked, as you looked at the moon through your bedroom window. Her brilliance seeped in and was strong and radiant.

Watching the moon always gave you a certain comfort, knowing that no matter where Leon is, both of you will always be under the same moon and firmament of stars.

A laugh came through the speaker of your cell phone, the same laugh that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Did you see how beautiful the moon is?"

You smiled, humming a small "mhm" in response, before adding, "Yeah... It's full and very pretty. I wish you were here to watch it together."

Leon let out a small sigh, "Yeah, me too, what if you ask the moon for that?" You chuckled this time. It was a silly thing to do, but, why not?

"Like a birthday wish? But if you know it then it won't come true." Leon could hear the pout in your voice, and he smiled to himself. "Maybe there will be an exception this time." He murmured. "Come on, babe. Do it."

With your eyes closed, you let out a sigh, wishing with all your being that Leon could be by your side as soon as possible, and after a few seconds, you heard him speak, "Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I did... Time to wait I guess." Your gaze met that radiant crater that was seen in its maximum splendor, until something began to click in your head.

"Did you see how beautiful the moon is?" There is supposed to be approximately six hours between your location and Spain, so it was impossible for Leon to see the moon shining in its entirety, but you tried not to give too much thought to the matter, since the moon can also be seen during the day, although at lower exposure.

But if he talked about the moon... And how big it looked... That could mean that maybe he...

"The stars look very bright too." He added after.

"But, you know what I think is more bright?" He began, while his footsteps were heard on the cement, signaling that he had begun to walk.

Until he stopped.

"The brightest thing I'm going to see is your face when you look out the window."

That made you get up from your bed, phone in hand while with clumsy steps thanks to the sheets rolled up between your legs, you reached the window and realized everything.

He is here.

And when he saw that look light up on your face, he knew that the moon was nothing compared to how radiant you looked. "Hey, birthday girl."

It seems like the moon was the perfect alibi for Leon to sneak in and surprise you.

Or simply the moon heard your wishes, and fulfilled them on your special day.

a/n: OKAY... I'M STILL NERVOUS I PUT THIS ON THREE DIFFERENT GRAMMAR CHECKERS BUT I'M STILL AFRAID i suck at writing tbh but this idea was scratching my brain and i thought Hmm why not SO!!! i hope y'all like it :] i appreciate likes and reblogs annnnnd comments i love comments!!! feel free to give me tips to be better at writing or something THAT'S ALL BYE-BYE 🤲🏻

[writingforstraykids]

I feel kind of angsty today and I’m in the mood to just read something that makes me cry so hear me out.Minho/Chan or Felix argue with you because you feel neglected and such in because they are so busy and barley make time for you and you just want to feel a little affection and they are also upset because they are stressed and kind of blow up and say stuff they shouldn’t have and evereyone is upset.Maybe they solve it (or they don’t if you want to be mean).But I really need something gut wrenching.

(Also don’t rush and take your time with writing this if you even want to<3)

-🎀

I've decided to be extra mean and make this a poly mess so you have all of the boys in it😂😂 I hope you like it and I don't make you cry too hard...also if you ever wanna talk, just let me know hun🥺🖤

You don't need me

Pairing: Minchanlix x femReader | Minho x Chan x Felix x femReader

Word Count: 2391

Warnings/Tags: angst, argument, insecurities, feeling neglected, feeling left out, loneliness, chan's a little stressed meanie, Minlix is...idk🤣

bold indicates English

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho races down the stairs, cursing quietly as he drops his keys. He quickly bends down to pick them up, and his glasses, which he only quickly pushed up his nose before, fall onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" you ask, amused.

"Obviously not," he says, clearly annoyed.

"Well, can I help?" you ask gently, and Minho firmly shakes his head, grabbing his sneakers.

"I'm late; there's nothing you can do about that," he tells you, and you're about to answer, but he cuts you off. "Yongbok! I swear if you don't move your ass down here in five seconds, I'll drive without you!" he yells upstairs, making you flinch at the volume of his voice.

"Is Channie already-?"

"Don't think he slept here tonight," Minho shakes his head and grabs his bag. "FELIX!"

"Minho, for fucks sake!" Felix yells back and appears at the top of the stairs. "I swear, this man is driving me crazy. As if those five seconds would make any difference at this point, my God. It's Hyunjin, he won't kill us!" he curses as he walks downstairs, his hair messily falling around his head.

"Don't you start talking English now and think I don't know that means you're talking shit about me," Minho tells him, throwing his sneakers at him. "Put those on, we're late."

"Well, if someone wouldn't have taken so long waking up today," Felix comments and rolls his eyes at him. He looks up, startled, as you carefully brush his hair back for him, trying to fix the mess. "Not now, Y/nnie, we have to leave," he gently shakes you off.

You pull back your hand and nod gently, glancing at Minho, who's grabbing his stuff and unlocking the door. "Bye, see you later!" he shouts and waves you, stepping outside. Only two seconds later, he's back. "Felix, I swear I will kick you."

"Fuck off," Felix curses under his breath and grabs his things, waving at you and slipping outside as well. The door falls closed, and you're standing still for a moment.

"Well, good morning and goodbye to you too. I love you too," you whisper to yourself and sigh softly. Turning around you spot their packed lunch boxes still on the table. "Shit," you curse and throw your head back, frustrated. You know they barely make time to eat unless you made it. Well, maybe you could visit them later, get your kiss, and check on Chan.

You stand still in the suddenly very empty house and try to remember the last time they were all home and you've spent some quality time together. It feels like months and you soon realize it has been. One of them has always been either working or not even in the country. Sometimes it really doesn't feel like you're living with your three boyfriends but some roommates who stop by now and then.

"Oh, come on, don't be so dramatic," you shake your head and chew on your lower lip. You don't know when the last time was you had breakfast all together, you got a kiss goodbye from all of them or they came back in time for dinner. Needless to say, no one has properly touched you in weeks as well. Were you that easy to forget? Are you just another assignment to get done on their daily to-do lists? Something they could just reschedule to another day if they can't make time for it?

Sighing softly you make your way upstairs and rummage through your closet, searching for a nice outfit. You find a cute summer dress they all love and decide on that. After a quick shower, you fix your hair and make yourself presentable.

-

Only a little later, you're walking down the hallway to their practice room and gently knock at the door, letting yourself inside. Minho demonstrates some steps as Felix and Hyunjin watch him closely and try to mirror his movements. Felix messes up a step, and Minho starts laughing at him, chasing him through the room. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him against his chest, kissing his cheek. "Yongbokie, come on," he giggles softly, and Felix tries to squirm away from him.

"I'm sorry, hyungie," he laughs, eyes shining bright. "I promise I'll do better."

"Once you're done flirting, we could continue?" Hyunjin groans playfully annoyed.

Minho turns with Felix in his hold, and they face you. Surprise laces their features. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" Minho asks confused.

"Oh, you forgot your lunch today, and I didn't know how long you'd be at the company," you tell them, and Minho nods gently.

"Thanks," he tells you and lets go of Felix, walking over to his phone.

Felix stretches tiredly and watches Minho as he scrolls through his phone. "You wanna go again?"

Minho glances at his watch before nodding. "We should. We have like an hour before the rest join us." You nod gently to yourself and put their lunch down on the bench next to their stuff. "Chan's at the studio," he tells you before turning the music back on.

You watch them stunned as they continue practicing and don't really notice the compassionate smile Hyunjin gives you. Your throat tightens, and you quickly make your way outside. You're clearly not needed here.

You knock at the door, and Jisung opens the door, smiling at you brightly. "Hey, Y/n," he beams at you and pulls you into a hug. "Chan hyung, look who's here."

"Ji, I told you no visitors right now," he groans and pulls off his headphones with a heavy sigh. He spots you in the door and nods. "Oh, hi."

"Hi," you say quietly, holding on tightly to the box in your hand. "I just wanted to bring you your lunch. I won't disturb you for long."

"Ah, okay," he says and gestures toward the small table next to the door. "Just put it there, I'll eat later. Thanks, Y/n."

"You're welcome," you nod and are about to leave again but hesitate for a moment.

"Anything else?" Chan asks, not even looking at you.

"Will you be home tonight?" you ask gently, and he raises his eyebrows, still not looking over.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't yesterday," you say and see Jisung's confused frown at that.

"Hyung, you promised," Changbin sighs from his spot on the sofa, rolling his eyes at you in secrecy.

"Y/n, we've been over this before. If I get done in time, I'll be there; if not, then not," he announces, almost a little annoyed.

You scoff at him and put down the box heavily. "Sorry for asking, I guess," you spit out and open the door, stopping when you hear him groan.

"Stop being so pushy, my god," Chan rolls his eyes and looks at you for the first time today. "I'll be there. Are you happy now?"

"You know what?" you ask lowly. "You can stay here for another night. It makes no difference if you guys are there or not, you only have eyes for each other or work. Sometimes I wonder why my three roommates even need me."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Chan asks quietly and stares at you.

"You fucking heard me," you spit out with tears burning in your eyes. "At this rate, I'm just part of the interior. You don't say good morning, you don't say goodnight, you're not home for dinner, you're not there. And if you are you're busy with work or talk to Minho and Felix only. You don't need me right now, and that fucking hurts, Chan."

"Okay, that's enough delusional behavior for one day," Chan gets up with a groan and shakes his head at you. "We'll talk about this tonight, but right now, I really don't have time for this."

"Don't bother," you shake your head at him, heart breaking. "I'll take myself back out."

"Hyung," Changbin sighs a little, but Chan ignores him.

"Come on, Y/nnie, I'll take you to your car, yeah?" Jisung says gently and wraps his arm around you, pulling you outside. "He doesn't mean it. He's being dumb."

"Yes, he does; they all do," you sniffle, and Jisung frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks worriedly.

"It's been like this for weeks now. They all rush out of the house and act like I don't exist anymore," you tell him, hot tears falling down your cheeks. "I know they're stressed; I know they have a lot to do, but is it really too much to ask?"

"No, Y/nnie, it isn't," he shakes his head and pulls you into a tight hug. "I'm sure what you're describing is true. They sometimes forget everything around them when things here get rough. I'm sorry, hun," he says and soothingly rubs your back. He thinks for a moment before shaking his head and gently patting your back. "Come on, they'll never learn if they don't see what it does to you."

"No, Ji, they're busy-" you protest through tears.

"I don't care," he shakes his head and leads you down the hallway. He rips open the door to the room and pulls you with him to Minho's phone, turning the music off. "Hyunjin, you come with me. You two have something to fix here."

Minho blinks at him, confused, and his face falls, seeing you crying in his arms. "Y/nnie, kitten," he says worriedly and quickly makes his way over. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks gently, cupping your face and searching your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says softly.

"Y-You don't need me," you hiccup, and Minho frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused, and Felix steps next to you, gently rubbing your lower back.

"Babe?" Felix asks worriedly as you don't answer.

"Go get Channie," Minho tells him, eyes widening as you furiously shake your head. Chan is usually the best to comfort you when you are really upset. "No? Why, kitten? What happened?"

"Channie s-says I'm delusional," you sob quietly as Minho sits down on the bench and pulls you into his lap.

"What?" Felix asks, confused. "Did you two get into a fight?" he asks, sitting down next to the two of you.

You bury your face in Minho's chest, so desperate for such a simple gesture. Sobs shake your body as you tell them about what happened with Chan and how neglected you felt during those past weeks. It all flows freely now, and they both listen quietly, not interrupting you once. Minho's hand rubs your back soothingly, and Felix fondles your hair gently.

"Oh kitten, I'm so sorry," Minho apologizes sincerely once you're done. "I had no idea you were suffering that much because of us."

"You're right, babe, we're so busy we sometimes forget about you or act a little harsh," Felix nods guiltily and leans down to kiss your head. "I'm so sorry we made you feel like that. You don't deserve that one bit, my dear."

"I know I'm being dramatic," you sniffle into Minho's shirt.

"No, you're not," he shakes his head and rests his head against yours. You really aren't. I didn't even say goodbye properly today. Or good morning," he says, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "And...I should've told you how beautiful you look today the minute you stepped inside."

You giggle sadly and pull back. "Yeah?"

"Mhm, our pretty girl," Felix adds fondly as Minho wipes your cheeks.

"We love you so much, even if we act like idiots sometimes," Minho promises and kisses your forehead.

"I love you guys too," you tell them with a sad little smile.

"I'll go and get Channie, okay?" Felix asks softly, and you nod timidly. He giggles at the comment Minho makes and quickly makes his way to the studio. He doesn't knock at the door and steps inside. "Channie babe, we need you."

"Not now, Lix," Chan shakes his head, writing down some things for Jisung.

"Minho said if you don't move your ass over there in two minutes top he won't have sex with you for the next three months. Our tour comes up, you don't wanna risk that," Felix says with a straight face, making Changbin and Jisung crack up.

Chan glances up at him suspiciously and sees Felix isn't joking. "Oh my fucking God, fine!"

Felix walks next to him and glances at Chan thoughtfully. "Push the group back for a moment, yeah? Stray Kids doesn't matter now, she does."

Chan's face falls a little and he straightens up as they reach the door. "Yeah, okay," he says quietly and steps inside with him. You're curled up in Minho's lap on the floor by now as he's playing with your hair. Tear streaks paint your cheeks, your eyes are reddish, and you're sniffling a little. "Baby, I'm sorry," Chan sighs and gets down on the floor next to you. "I'm stressed out, I didn't sleep last night, and I took it out on you. I'm an idiot, please forgive me?" he asks guiltily and hesitantly takes your hand. He must've really hurt you if you went to Minho and Felix about it. You usually prefer to settle arguments privately.

"It's not just you," Minho shakes his head, and Felix sums it up for him. Chan nods along, and his heart gets heavier with every word leaving his boyfriend's lips.

"Oh, Y/nnie baby," he whispers with tears in his eyes. "Can I give you a hug?" You nod timidly and climb off Minho's lap and into his arms instead. Chan pulls you in tight, burying his face in your shoulder. You relax in his hold and close your eyes. No matter how mad or hurt you were, you would never deny one of Chan's healing long hugs. "I'm so sorry, you're right, we've messed up big time. I love you so much, yeah? You're so beautiful and kind, and I could never stop loving you, baby. Never. I will do better, I promise."

"I love you too," you whisper and exhale softly, your heart feeling a lot lighter now that you've told them all. Minho and Felix join your hug and kiss your hair. "You'll be home tonight?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah, we'll all be home," Chan assures you kindly and squeezes you.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland

[volturissideslut]

Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

Part 2

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Marcus is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

[nervocat]

okay idea! male reader asking to braid leona's hair because they're bored and his hair looks like fun to play with!

“Can I Braid your Hair, Leona?” (no cws -wc: 331, fluff/romantic/platonic, male reader) FEM ALIGNED DNI WITH THIS POST OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“I’m booored,” you complain, your back falling onto Leona's bed and bouncing the two of you. Leona opens an eye and looks over to you.

“What, you want me to do somethin’ about it? Not a chance,” he had already taken his hair out for the night and gotten into comfier clothes, so whatever you wanted to do, he wouldn't–

“Can I braid your hair?” and there you go, always managing to catch him off guard. He opens both his eyes, seeing that you had already sat up and looked expectantly at him.

Ears falling back and brows furrowing, he asks, “Why do you wanna do that?”

“I’m bored, like I said, and I just feel like it. Seems like it'd be a fun way to pass time.”

“You’re impossible, but whatever. Just don't knot up my hair,” he groaned, throwing you his two hair ties and telling you where his hairbrush was. You get to work when you've acquired everything.

Leona's hair was thick — really thick — but that wasn't much of an issue other than having more hair to work with. After sitting up by him and brushing his hair out a bit, you take some hair and separate it into three and start to cross the strands. Whether you're experienced or not, you finish and tie it off after a minute or so of crossing Leonas thick hair.

“There! Done with one side.”

“Not too bad, herbivore,” startling you a bit you see him smiling up at you with the smug smile he always wears. “Not as good as when I braid my own hair, but it's not the worst.”

You huff, but laugh a bit. “Whatever, Leona. Now let me do the other side,” he shrugs, letting you move to the other side of him.

“Doesn’t seem like you're ruinin’ my hair, so go ahead,” Leona quite enjoyed when you braided his hair for him, maybe he'd let you do it more. Seven forbid though he'd tell you.

[ ★ notes: this is kinda short but I'm pretty proud of it!! Surprised I got it done in one sitting. Anyways ik there aren't any masculine terms used, but this was written with a male reader in mind so I'd still like if fem aligned readers dni with this post still, pls and ty. ALSO DEVIL I'LL GET TO YOUR OTHER ONES PROMISE. Might be able to get them done quicker than I thought tho ]

[yorshie]

Hi!! I’ve been obsessed with a recent post of yours, about the tmnt turtles and the ways they would confess their feelings, it was so on point? Seriously it has been even helping me fall asleep (dreaming about it lol) on that note, would you please do a scenario or Headcanons of tmnt x reader and their first kiss? Planned? Accidental? In a burst of emotion? Floor is yours

Thank you and hope you have a good day ♥️

Bayverse turtles (separate) x GN reader, SFW (set in 2023 so turtles 24-25)

OH this is RIGHT up my alley. Thank you for the ask! I'm glad you're getting some sleep lol, it was 3 a.m. when I wrote this. Being stuck in a car brings that special kind of tired where you're still jittery, you know? Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this, and thank you for sending in an ask so I wasn't bored staring at the ceiling fan.

It's not pertinent to the idea but I'm thinking Raph's kiss is a lot longer into the relationship, simply because in my head I keep thinking I wouldn't want to kiss him until he got over his whole angsty phase. If you wanna imagine he's still angsty when the smooch happens, feel free, but hot and cold ain't fun.

MIKEY

Angelo called you on your way home from work for a spontaneous Tuesday night date, and it was with only slight trepidation that you hurried home, visions of the sunshine ball left alone with no one to distract him amid all your stuff floating around your head.

Thankfully, there was no grand chaos when you poked your head through the door, only Mikey in an apron, twirling around your kitchen without a care in the world. He was juggling between three different bowls and the stove, singing along to the music blaring through his phone.

The oven dinged as you were shucking your shoes and jacket, and Mikey brightened upon spying you, tossing his spatula to the side and holding his arms open to hurry you towards him with a raucous, “babycakes! I missed you!”

You went willingly, not quite sure if he was intending to hug you or pull you into a dance, but it ended up being a mixture of the two. He spun you into a dip, hands pulling you upright when your socks slipped on the floor with a goofy smile and a little two step before he grabbed your hips, lifting you up onto the counter next to his work area. 

He broke off mid chorus to offer you a spoonful of whipped cream with a soft, “try this, baby, tell me what you think.”

You tried it without thinking, eyebrows jumping at the cloying taste on your tongue.

“Uh. Angelo, you used way too much sugar in this.” You twisted in your spot, tossing the spoon into the sink and giving a little cheer at the satisfying ‘plonk’ of it disappearing into soapy water, completely missing the mischeiveous smile on your turtle’s face.

“Yea? Here, let me help get rid of it.” Mikey’s words were teasing, and for a moment you thought he was talking about something completely different.

You weren’t expecting the warmth of his hands sliding into your hair. You startled, blinking at him dumbly when he sidled into your space, plastron tapping against your knees and pinning your shins against the counter drawers. 

He grinned, cradling your head, thumbs along your jaw, holding you still as he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

He was warm, lips soft, moving gently against your skin. He started to churr when you reached up and tucked your hands over the strong curve of his shoulders.

Your lips glided together once again, mouth opening barely under his direction, eyes closing at the little sweet exhale he gave at the motion.

“You taste like syrup.” You murmured against him, and felt his mouth fight not to tip upwards again.

“What can I say,” Mikey moved his thumb to brush over your lips, “I like sweet things, baby.”

You weaseled your arms down between your bodies, hooking around the edge of his shell and holding him closer, pulling a shiver from him.

“Give me another,” he pushed, and you giggled into the press of his lips.

DONNIE

Your nerd was thinking.

You could practically see the steam of over worked processors from where you lounged at the foot of his bed, book tilted far enough up so you could both pretend you weren’t sneaking glances his way.

Donnie was hunched over in his chair, just barely within eyesight around the low dresser separating the main room of the lab from his bedroom. His hands were lax on the keyboard of the refurbished laptop he was suppose to be working on, glasses low on his snout and eyes clearly trained, not on his work, but at the wall beyond his desk.

You entertained the thought of calling out to him, but the chances of reaching him in this state were slim to none even if you laid a trap with coffee for the bait, so you settled back into the book, flicking curious glances his way every now and then to make sure he was still breathing.

Your patience was rewarded, eventually, when he blinked and that sharp golden gaze flickered over to your face.

“I want to try something.” He said without preamble, once he saw he had your attention, and you closed the book you hadn’t been actually reading for a while with a snap to let him know he had the floor.

“Alright.” You scooted to sit at the edge of his bed, feet crossed under you and curiosity building. “What is it that you want to try, Dee?”

Donnie closed the laptop with a soft little click, rolled his chair towards you, then left his seat to shuffle into your space on his knees when he realized he still towered over you.

You swallowed at the abrupt closeness, breathed out slow to combat your sudden nerves.

The tall turtle took your hands in his, smoothed his thumbs softly over your knuckles. “I want… to kiss you. If that’s alright?”

You nodded as soon as the request was processed, gaze skittering to watch his tongue poke out reflexively before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

And held them there. No movement, no gentle give and take. You weren’t even sure he was breathing, he was so still.

He pulled back after a moment, light eyes quizzical before they turned inwards, and you could tell you were about to loose him to whatever data he’d collected.

“Ok. Hey. Wait.” You raised your hands, tapped along his cheeks until he glanced back at you. “I want to try again.” 

You kept your words soft, and when he automatically leaned in, you stopped him. “Let me lead, Dee. Just do what I do.”

This time, you used your hands to tilt his head a little bit, and softly touched his lips with your own. Pressed short kisses against him, letting him settle before you moved your jaw and pet your mouth across his.

The steam pouring out Donnie’s ears was back, his hands tightening against your own, and he gave a shaky exhale against your cheek before he responded, mouth slipping over your lips a little roughly as he moved to mirror your grip and tilt your head a little to the back. 

When the two of you broke apart, his eyes opened, and he whispered, “again?”

RAPH

The quiet times were the best with Raphael. The moments with no pressure, no societal niceties, away from the teasings of his brothers, when he’d look at you and jerk his head in a clear ‘let’s get out of here’ invitation that you’d never be able to turn down. 

Raph would unwind enough to simply exist when it was just you and him, warm and mellow and guard low enough that only affection glanced back when you met his eyes.

You were taking advantage of the quiet this particular date night. He was loose from good food and the way your smaller form sat at his side without fear. So much so, that when you swiveled and tucked a leg over his thigh, his big hand wrapped around your knee without stuttering, grip wide and warm and content to rest on the curve of your joint.

He was still engrossed in the movie, though you caught the little flicker of his eyes as he watched for your reaction to his touch, an old gut reaction that you were happy had faded even this much.

When you simply leaned into him, he relaxed further, and you were rewarded with the slow brush of his thumb against the soft skin on the inside of your knee, as though he couldn’t help the movement.

You let him settle through a few more scenes before pushing a little further, thought the amused quirk of his mouth when you finally made your move made you realize you might be a tad predictable to the large turtle.

That didn’t matter so much though, when he made no move to stop you. If anything, it confirmed his trust, at least enough that when you pulled up to your knees to reach him, hands hooking into the upper edge of his plastron, he tilted his head further to meet you halfway.

He was probably was’t expecting a kiss, however, if the little stutter that rolled through him under your hands and the way he gripped your hips was any indication.

The press of his lips were sweet and a little hesitant, especially when how small your mouth was against his broke through even your hazy thoughts, but you tipped to the side to make up for the difference. After a beat he leaned in, following your lead of how hard to press and when to move, softly scrubbing his lips against you as much as you would allow.

His hand slid up your spine, careful and soft, and you shivered at the feeling, pulling away only to dart back in for one more small peck for luck, pulling a little flustered huff from his snout.

When you pulled back for real, he tucked his head under your chin in a fit of bashfulness, even though you could feel his grin against your skin.

“Wanna finish the movie?” You asked, loathed to quit but not wanting to push him too fast.

“In a minute.” He replied, surfacing to press his mouth to yours again.

LEO 

Story time might be Leo’s favorite part of the day. Certainly it was the part of the day where he let himself relax, as much as he was able, but he coveted these moments where he wasn’t anything more than Leo, the mutant turtle that had found you.

So he soaked it all up, the softness of your back against his chest, the way you fit yourself against him without a care. It should have had his heart hammering, the way it had for hours after the first time he had found himself in this position. But the organ beat slow and steady in his chest, soothed when a shoe didn’t drop, and he became used to all the tiny movements you just couldn’t seem to help.

You were only partially aware of all the things that went on in your turtle's head, but slowly you were peeling back the layers as Leo let himself relax around you. You knew however, that he needed these small moments, and you were careful never to question when he came tired and bruised, to simply drop a book into your hands and lean his shell against the wall. He’d tell you, when he was ready.

You turned a page of the book, barely moving your wrist so the thumb sweeping back and forth across the small bones wouldn’t be dislodged, and continued weaving the story of a small elf looking for the last bit of magic in his world. 

When Leo’s thumb slipped up to touch your knuckles, framing the back of your hand with his palm, you had a moment to wonder if he wanted to hold your hand. When a sigh sounded from above you though, a small sound of contentment slipping out in a rumble you knew you weren’t suppose to hear, you realized he already was.

You glanced up, taking in Leo’s rounded shoulders, his lowered head, his large form practically curling around you. His eyes were shut, head tilted into your space, and an urge pinged hard in your chest at the sight.

You slipped the book jacket between the pages to hold your place, and set it aside, twisting around until you faced him on your knees. Your hands found the corded strength right above his knees briefly to keep yourself from falling over.

His eyes were open now, staring at you curiously, still soft around the edges.

You cupped his cheeks, leaned up against his plastron, and touched his lower lip softly with your own, eyes half lidded to gauge his reaction.

You watched his pupils blow wide, refocused when you pulled back, almost chased you hypnotically before the action caught up. There was a moment where you could see the hesitation, an errant thought, before the decision cemented in his eyes and he closed the distance again.

This time, the kiss was longer, sweeter, and he pushed into your space with a deep rumble in his chest, enough so that you had to hold his head steady to avoid being tipped backwards, stepping in when he faltered to lead him through the movements.

[boyfhee]

✶ THINKING ABOUT. . . ft. lhs

g fluff w drinking ( he's drunk again ) wc 1.3k note for my darl @isoobie, all my hee works are for her anyway

heeseung doesn't have a high alcohol tolerance.

in fact, he doesn't have any— maybe a little bit— but mostly no, and yet still, he doesn't refuse whenever someone offers him a drink. you've been over this many times, telling him that drinking is not comparable to singing and continuing to drink probably won't improve his tolerance, though your effort is of no avail.

because if it were, you wouldn't have been standing inside a restaurant-bar at eleven pm, watching jay and jake trying to get a hold of an almost-passed-out heeseung, who, for some reason, smiles the moment you enter his currently blurry field of vision.

“we're sorry you had to come here this late again,” jake shoots you an apologetic smile, throwing one of heeseung's arms over his shoulder, making sure he doesn't fall because of the lack of sense of balance as jay was at the counter, making payments. “you know how he is, just wouldn't let us drive him back,”

which is another reason why you want him to stop drinking.

the first one being him wanting to only go back with you when he’s drunk out of his mind, pleading to you with the most irresistible pout to let him stay over at your place— it once dragged the two of you into a scandal. it’s worse since he refuses to let anyone else drive him back when he’s drunk off limits, only wanting you to pick him up even if it’s only to drop him at the dorms.

while being your best friend makes him one of your top priorities, it absolutely doesn't mean he can call you at the most ungodly hours and have you pick him up after heavy drinking sessions. and even if he does, he can at least try to be a little decent and cooperate instead of saying that you're the one who's drunk and he will drive you back to your place and even look after you for the rest of the night.

“heeseung, i don't think i'm the one who needs supervision today,” a sigh escapes your lips as you and the boys manage to get him in the back seat of your car.

“i will look after you so, don't worry,” his replies are followed by soft giggles.

then it goes quiet.

you steal a glance at him through the front-view mirror. heeseung is busy basking in the city noise and street lights. cold winds brush past the rosy dust on his cheeks, strands of purple hair dancing in the wind that make him look angelic, his ocean deep eyes telling a story of a million stars under the crescent moon, as if they're communicating in a language so foreign for the humankind to comprehend.

these are the moments when you realise that one could ask why you like heeseung, and you could give a thousand reasons why you're actually in love with him.

“we’re having another comeback,” he speaks above the blaring horns of vehicles. he’s telling you that for the ninth time— six times sober, three drunk, including this one.

“is that why you drank so much? to celebrate?” your chuckle resonates with a hint of sarcasm, words keeping up with him although, your mind is busy focusing on driving as you filter through the traffic. on other days, the roads would've been tamer, a little emptier. though, the weekends are not.

heeseung exhales heavily. “maybe,”

and it gets quiet once again.

you can hear him say a few things here and there, giggling about something amidst himself, his words too quiet to be coherent to your ears. you don’t quite remember when you and him got so close, to the point where he started calling you for help in every minor inconvenience instead of his brother. you were just a neighbour he bumped into around the dorms, voluntarily and willingly, and now you’re his best friend in just ten months.

“are you still thinking about the comeback?” the question leaves your mouth the moment you park in front of his dorms, holding the door open for him to get out of the car. “can i get a spoiler, or do you still remember the company guidelines even when you’re drunk?”

heeseung and you have been on opposite tracks ever since the day you met, and it doesn't even have to do with your zodiacs and personality— you can’t sing to save your life, while he earns off music— and, you don't know how you both got to a point where he's the person you trust blindly and you're the one he seeks for in the dead of the nights. it's something that comforts you while reminding you how you both have completely different worlds. perhaps, it's in the habits and insecurities that follow, or the simple realisation that heeseung is a star while you're just a planet revolving around.

there's a line between him and you that's stopping you from entering his world, and vice-versa.

“heeseung,” you call him again, putting an extra emphasis to get his head out of whatever comeback related thoughts he’s having, grabbing his arm to get him out of the car.

“i'm thinking about something else,” you scrunch up your nose when he speaks while practically reeking off alcohol. “i'm thinking about you,”

that’s not the first.

and then, he settles his eyes on you, one arm around your waist for support, fixating his gaze on you for a better look as if he has never seen you before. heeseung leans against your car, spending the next five minutes staring at you as you stare back at him with the same interest, or perhaps more, before he breaks into a soft giggle. “you're cute,”

that’s a first.

you don't want to overthink and assume a completely different meaning of his words, changing the trajectory of your relationship— which is actually what you want but, not this way— you decide to play along. “well, i believe i'm more than just cute for being the one to pick you up whenever you're wasted—”

“and pretty,” another first, and then follows a step that he takes towards you. “you're beautiful, smart and cute and. . .and did i tell you that you’re beautiful? i don't know what i'm saying,” a hiccup, his hand brushes against yours, it’s not an accident. he caresses your hand, looking at you with a flushed face and speaking with soft giggles, “i think i'm in love with you,”

“i think, you don't know what you're saying,” you interject with a chuckle, trying to put up a normal front while in reality, you're losing sense of everything because heeseung is confessing to you; and, it's both an honour and a shame because he is intoxicated at the moment.

“i don't,” he exhales.

heeseung falls quiet once again. there's dejection on his face along with hints of desperation to voice his exact feelings, to make sure you understand how he feels about you, and you know his words couldn't be clearer, but he is drunk. you know better than trusting saccharine words laced with the smell of alcohol, although you would've already kissed him if you were braver and he was sober.

“but i really love you,” he says again, chanting the same words to you as if those three words are the only thing that make sense right now. "we’re having a comeback,"

and heeseung also has a habit of talking pointlessly, repeating the same things over and over again when he’s drunk. another step towards, his hands brush against yours before he links his index finger with yours. you almost give in, almost, finding it hard to control yourself through the close proximity between him and you. you find yourself getting drunk on the alcohol in the breathe, or the way his lips are barely centimetres away from yours.

“i love you,” he repeats again, and you’re frozen in your stance, and he has no plans of backing out, you’re expecting him to bring up the comeback again, but he just presses his lips against yours before pulling back. “so please remind me if i forget any of this tomorrow,”

and then his lips are back on yours. 

[luveline]

Jadeee you are feeding us well today (screw those anons) if you’re still taking requests i thought the “would you still love me as a worm” prompt was funny and am curious to see Steve’s version if possible? If you’re not taking requests, so sorry!

hi! tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

Steve arrives with a shout and a loud bang. You glance up from your book, ear turned to the stairs as he hisses a swear. 

"You okay?" you call. 

He swears again. "Hey! I forgot you were coming over tonight."

You lounge in his bed in pyjamas he bought for you, your hair out of your face, completely at home. "Your bed is more comfortable than mine." 

Steve bounds up the steps from the sounds of it, mildly breathless but beaming as he passes the threshold and launches himself at you. You shriek as he crushes the pages of your book between you, his hands needling under your back and his weight on your stomach. "You're freezing!" you yelp, trying to squirm away. 

He's too determined. "God, I'm happy you're here. I'm thinking, fuck, I miss my baby, I wonder if she'll answer my calls tonight or if I'll have to beg–" 

"Yeah, because I usually make you beg to see me." You brush the hair from his face, eyes narrowed at him playfully. 

Steve shifts his weight to keep the majority of it off of you, one leg sliding between yours and the other on the outside of your thigh. His lips are as cold as his hands but gentle as he kisses you, misaligned, your bottom lip clearly catching his attention. "I would've," he murmurs between soft kissing, his nose brushing yours as he raises higher. "Would've done anything." 

"Lucky you, I never make a pretty boy beg," you say, his breath warming your lips. You stay like that for two seconds, three, eyes closed and breathing in the other.

He gives you a quick peck before settling in the curve of your neck. "This is awesome. Friday night party. Oh! And I've been meaning to ask you something so it's perfect that you're right here, Robin asked me and I wanted to ask you because I was thinking about it in the car…" He loses concentration, his hand stroking up behind your shoulder, as if to say, Hey, I got you. 

"Did you get much sleep last night?" you ask, bemused. 

"Totally…" He fakes a snore. 

"Steve. What did you want to ask me?" 

"Oh, yeah." He picks himself up from your neck. You must look squished, soft-jawed and unmade, but Steve doesn't look any less in love than usual. "Would you still love me as a worm?" 

"What?" you ask, stroking his cheek with the back of your pinky. "Do you want to shower before you go totally dumb on me?" 

"I'm serious, this is a serious question. And I only want to shower if you're coming with me, but this is important. Would you love me if I was a worm?" 

"Yeah, Steve. Of course I would." You smile as he smiles, tandem beaming that feels silly but good. "Why would you be a worm, though?" 

"See, this is what I asked Rob, and she said that doesn't matter but it doesn't make any sense. I told her I'd love her if she was a worm and she said she wouldn't love me because bugs give her the heebies. That's sick, right?" 

"Well, would you love me if I was?" you ask. 

"Are you stupid?" Steve noses at your neck, words said in tiny bursts of heat on your skin, "I'd turn myself into a worm to be with you forever."

"Now I feel like I should've said that." 

"No way. I loved how little you hesitated," he praises. Like a cat nuzzling a post, his hair tickles you. "If we were worms together we wouldn't have to work. We'd spend all day hugging." 

"Ew, all slithered together," you say, delighted. 

"Twisted around each other. Not not like this," he says, kissing your cheek sweetly. "We'd be the best worms ever. Me and you." 

You encourage him off of you to rescue your murdered paperback. Steve rolls onto his back, please smile lingering as he stretches out and sighs with relief. He needs a shower, and a shoulder massage, or a naked back rub while you watch TV. You'll order takeout, eat it with wet hair from the shower and ankles locked on the couch. 

"I'm glad we're not worms," you say, sitting up. Steve meets your eyes, his brown and dark in the dim lighting. "I really love us right now. I love you." 

You kiss his forehead. 

"I'll go get the shower running, okay?" you ask, climbing from the bed.

Steve's voice comes quiet and hoarse as he calls after you, "I love you too!"

[7s3ven]

ATHENA'S GIRL. luke (pjo) - pt 3

trailer > part 1 > part 2 > part 3

( master list )

IN WHICH... Luke has to finally acknowledge his growing fondness for Y/N while she does the opposite and pushes her feelings down in order to fit her mother’s expectations.

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you. I see you changing from how I've designed you. Have you forgotten your purpose?"

Warnings : Y/N swears a lot

—

Y/N was the talk of the town after Athena oh-so dramatically claimed her. She didn’t even have to spend a single hour in the rowdy Hermes cabin.

The H/C-haired girl turned her head, looking around at her surroundings. Her heart almost did a leap of joy when her gaze landed in the rows of books that seemed to fill the cabin up to its capacity.

“Excuse me, which bed should I take- Oh. Okay. You’re walking away. Yeah, just act like you don’t hear me. It’s fine.” Y/N watched as the young girl brushed past her without a single word, ignoring her question. Judging by the state of some of the beds, Y/N assumed the neater mattresses were the ones available.

She set her things down on the squeaky floorboards, sighing. She didn’t have much with her; only a novel and some spare change as well as her school textbooks. It looked like she wouldn’t be needing this anymore.

Y/N sat in the edge of the mattress, pressing her lips into a thin line when she felt a spring break. “Man, I hate it here already.”

Y/N felt even lonelier at meals. None of her so-called siblings wanted to associate themselves with her. She could feel their envious stares on her as they constantly whispered how they could’ve easily solved a murder case. Finally, Y/N had enough.

She placed her silverware done, tensely smiling while clasping her hands together. “Are you guys familiar with Nabokov’s work?” She piped up, catching the attention of everybody at the rickety wooden table. They each turned to each other, confused.

“He’s like… a German poet, right?” A boy replied, furrowing his eyebrows together as if Y/N’s inquiry were stupid.

She shook her head. He was the stupid one. “I found a clue in one of his books. And the nationality of the writer helped quite a bit in unpacking it. But none of you seem to know Nabokov so I doubt you could’ve solved the mystery. I solved a crime in under an hour, slayed a dragon, and easily killed a happy. What have you guys done? Made friendship bracelets?”

One of the kids hid their untidily made bracelet, thickly gulping as if he was self-conscious.

Y/N was about to turn back to her food before someone else spoke up. “Vladimir Nabokov was a Russian author, best known for his work Lolita. Or rather, infamously known because it’s quite a controversial piece.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the kid with pretty brown eyes and long, braided hair. “Three movie adaptations were made, all of them equally hated to no one’s surprise.” The younger girl added, causing Y/N to smile.

She stabbed a string bean as she shrugged, “It’s always the Russians pulling some sort of weird crap.”

“Language.” Another teenager uttered. Y/N turned her head to stare at the boy, unimpressed. She raised her brows in an almost pocking sort of way.

“Fuck… off.” Y/N tauntingly smiled, causing Annabeth to lightly snort. “Don’t you guys fight monsters? I’m sure you can take a bit of swearing. Can't you?" She leaned forward, "Listen here, you little bitch. I dealt with Castellan's shit for months. You think I can't take you and your stupid ass now?"

"Colorful language you've got there, writer. As always. You gonna use it in your next global article?" Luke placed a heavy hand on Y/N's shoulder as he quietly chuckled. "Hey, Akut," The Hermes boy turned his attention to the teenage boy, "I wouldn't mess with this one. She's fierce. And she was best friends with Clarisse for a while."

A flash of fear crossed Akut's face at Clarisse’s name. “I was only teasing. Jeez.” He grumbled to himself, shrinking back. “She doesn’t have to be such a whiny bitch about it.”

Luke clicked his tongue, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“A whiny bitch? Oh, I’ll give you a whiny bitch, punk!” Y/N grabbed her plate that still had a decent amount of food on it and slammed it into Akut’s face. “How’s that, huh?!”

“She could be Ares’ kid with that anger.” Chris whispered to Luke.

“She’s probably still adjusting to camp… you know how it is.” Luke’s gaze stayed glued on Y/N as she whacked Akut across the place with a goblet. His eyebrows raised in partial surprise but he did nothing to stop her. Akut was asking for it anyway.

Luke felt Annabeth tug on his sleeve and he slightly leaned down to listen to her over all the shouting because some other Athena kids were trying to pull Y/N off Akut. “I like her.” Annabeth murmured, “She reminds me of Thalia… a little bit. Thalia never had such strong rage, though.”

Luke chuckled under his breath as he ruffled the young girl’s hair. “Guess it’s time to finally stop this before she ends up killing poor Akut.” Luke grasped the back of Y/N’s orange shirt, pulling her back. “Chiron and Mr D are gonna have a mean jab at you, writer.”

Y/N merely scoffed as she wiped away the blood smeared across her chin. Akut had blindly punched in her direction and landed a lucky shot. “He deserved it.” She muttered, eyes flickering to Akut’s bruised face.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you cleaned up before Chiron whoops your ass. You, get Akut some nectar.” Luke sternly pointed at a nearby Ares kid before he dragged Y/N towards the infirmary. He had patched up Annabeth enough to know what he was doing.

Y/N was silent as Luke wiped her lip with a towel soaked in alcohol. She quietly winced but that was the only noise she made. Luke gently dabbed the cloth against her split skin, being mindful of how hard he pressed.

“What? Not gonna snap at me this time? I’m waiting for you to tell me that I’m holding the towel wrong.” Luke joked but Y/N simply shrugged and let him continue.

Luke’s gaze raked over her suddenly soft and deer-like features. In this moment, she almost seemed peaceful. He had seen many different versions of Y/N. The stressed one, the annoyed one, and the bloodied one. But never calm version until now. Without the biting remarks and sharp tongue, Luke couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

He heard Y/N clear her throat. She raised her brows, as if questioning why his actions suddenly halted. “Y/N… you’re pretty. Did you know that?” He found himself accidentally whispering his thoughts but the look of shock swirling around in Y/N’s eyes made it worth it. Her eyes softened slightly before she looked away.

“Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot, Castellan?” She asked, glancing at him again.

“You’re just too good-looking, writer.” Luke teasingly uttered before going back to cleaning Y/N’s small injury. “You better behave yourself after this, though. Chiron will end up punishing you for attacking Akut, even if he started it with words.”

“He just got on my nerves. Everybody does. They all whisper and say they could easily do the stuff I did, knowing fully well they probably couldn’t.” Y/N’s lips curled into a scowl, “I just got ripped away from my life, from my school, and probably from my dream of attending Harvard. How did you think I’d react?”

“To be honest, I thought you’d be less violent. Must’ve been all your pent up rage.”

Y/N’s angry eyes turned to Luke and for a moment, he was scared she’d attack him. But they softened and suddenly, Luke was aware of how close they were. He could easily lean down and kiss her.

The duo were interrupted when Annabeth walked through the open door. She took in Luke’s wistful expression and Y/N’s slightly flushed cheeks but didn’t comment on it.

“I thought I’d come and introduce myself.” She uttered, “I’m Annabeth. You’re pretty good at fighting, did you know that?”

“The orphanage was run by a strange woman… she taught us how to fight and all sorts of crazy things.” Y/N clicked her tongue.

“Well, anyway, I think what you did was your quest was impressive. Rarely any newbies can say they slaughtered a monster, let alone two.”

Y/N lightly smiled at the young girl. “Thank you.”

Luke pouted, poking Y/N’s shoulder. “How come you aren’t this nice to me, writer?”

“Because you’re an idiot, Castellan. And you merely existing annoys me.” She sent Luke a pointed look while Annabeth muffled a snicker. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Y/N hopped off the bed, “I’m going to finish Akut or whatever his stupid, hideous name is.” She walked out of the infirmary before Luke could grab her.

“Are you going to stop her?” Annabeth questioned, raising her eyebrows.

“… Nah, I kind of what to see how this ends.”

It did not end good. Akut ended up needing stitches and Y/N was dragged into Chiron’s office while Mr D and a few Ares kids betted on who would win in a fight; Y/N or a random Aphrodite girl. The answer was obvious.

Y/N lay in her bed, half asleep yet half conscious. She rolled over, hitting her forehead on the wall next to her but she didn’t bother to open her eyes.

She wasn’t sure when she ended up in a temple made entirely out of white marble with pink veins running through the slabs of stone. Fluffy clouds floated around and Y/N waved them aside to see who the two figures standing in the distance were. She instantly recognised Athena but the short woman with beautiful locks of curly blond hair standing next her was unfamiliar.

“Mom?” Y/N carefully called out, causing Athena’s head to turn.

“Back so soon, my dear?” She asked in that calming, silky voice.

“Where are we?” Y/N questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. Athena didn’t get the chance to reply because her companion, whose blond hair was now brown and pale skin tanned, answered for her.

“You’re in my temple, of course!” She joyfully clasped her hands together while Athena kept her calm composure.

“It seems you are unfamiliar with the goddess of love, my dear.”

Everything seemed to click in Y/N’s mind. “Aphrodite.” She breathed.

“That’s why she’s your daughter and not mine, even with how pretty she is.” Aphrodite let out a giggle, gracefully grinning and showing off her pearly white teeth. In the beautiful goddess’ presence, Y/N felt inferior.

“Um… if it’s not crossing a boundary, I’d like to ask why I’m here.” Y/N piped up as she stepped closer to the deity duo. “Every time I fall asleep, I end up in different places.”

“Something seems to be troubling you. Oh, is it love problems? Because I can solve anything!” Aphrodite, as gleeful as ever, beckoned Y/N forward. “It’s that Hermes boy, isn’t it! Aw, I knew you two would end up in a thrilling and cute romance!” Aphrodite jumped around as she gushed over what Y/N and Luke could possibly become.

Y/N stole a small glance at her mother only to flinch at Athena’s furious facial expression. “Aphrodite, some privacy please.” Athena uttered, lifting a hand that seemed to hush the goddess of love.

“Oh…” Aphrodite seemed to hesitate before she nodded, “Of course.” Her body faded away into a mass of pink glitter and Y/N was left alone with her mother.

“So, you and this Hermes boy?” Athena quirked an eyebrow which made Y/N shrink back.

“We’re nothing, mother. I don’t even like him that much. To be honest, he’s annoying and he talks too much.”

Yet, Athena was not convinced. “I have created a clear pathway for you, my dear. Annabeth is a bright girl but I want you to be my star pupil. However, if you choose not to follow in my footsteps, then you will merely be only another disappointment.”

Y/N stiffened. Failure was her worst fear, whether it be within a school exam or being unable to meet someone’s expectations. She had never failed and she was not about to start now. With reluctance, she turned to Athena. “What do I have to do?”

Y/N quickly opened her eyes, quietly panting. She found herself back in the cabin and a sigh of relief slipped past her lips. She lay awake in her bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. She could hear light snores coming from her siblings and while the crackling sound of fire was supposed to calm her nerves, it didn’t. Eventually, Y/N rose.

She made an effort to keep quiet as she slipped past the cabin’s front door and into the chilly night air.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

Y/N almost let out a loud shriek when she turned around only to almost crash into a certain Hermes boy. He had oh-so coincidentally been standing on the Athena’s cabin porch.

“What are you doing here?” She quietly hissed, on edge from both her dream and seeing the very boy her mother despised.

“I had a feeling you couldn’t sleep. The first few days are always the worst. You’re homesick and you’re also stuck with the realisation that you probably won’t ever go back.” Luke’s grin was visibly in the dim light coming from his lantern. “If I’m being honest, I was just on patrol duty and you happened to step out while I passed by.”

Y/N fidgeted with her fingers as she slowly sat down on the squeaky porch, wincing as it creaked. “What was the first night like for you?” She slowly questioned, staring up at Luke.

He shrugged. “Hard. I missed my mom and my friends and, well, Thalia.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side at the mentioning of Thalia’s name. “Who’s that?”

Luke paused before he glancing over at the lonesome tree on the hill. “This is going to sound stupid to you but she’s that tree. She was my friend while I was on the run from monsters. We then found Annabeth. Our satyr guide led us here but we were being chased by monsters. Thalia fought some of them off but there were too many… she would’ve died if it were for her father, Zeus, saving her.”

“He turned her into a fucking tree.” Y/N deadpanned.

Luke quietly groaned, “That’s the same ready Percy had as well. Why did the king of the gods turn his daughter into a tree of all things to save her life? I don’t know. I ain’t Zeus. Yeah, a tree is stupid but hey, at least she’s not dead.” Luke sarcastically smiled while Y/N remained unamused.

“I would rather die than become a tree.” She replied, “Imagine all your leaves falling during winter. You’re basically bald then.”

“If you were a tree, I’d cut you down.” Luke snapped back before he could still himself.

“So, Thalia. Tell me more about her.” Y/N abruptly switched topics.

“She was a little fiery and prideful but that’s expected of Zeus’ daughter. To be honest, she was a little bit like you. She seemed to have a soft spot for Annabeth. I think she preferred Annabeth over me.”

“Wow, what a shocker. I prefer Annabeth too.”

“I was young back then but I’m pretty sure I had a crush on Thalia. She could get me to do anything with one look.” Luke slowly trailed off while Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. Her heart felt unexpectedly heavy and for a moment, she thought she was sick.

“I should go to bed now. I’m feeling tired.” She stood up, stretching her stiff limbs. “See you later, Castellan.” Y/N walked back into her cabin before Luke could reply. He watched her disappear, leaving him standing alone in front of the porch.

He sighed. “Good night to you too, writer.”

Y/N was in the bathroom, washing her face tired face, when somebody else entered. They awkwardly stood behind her for a few moments before clearing their throat.

Y/N opened her eyes and wiped away the beads of water that dripped down her chin.

“You did some mean damage on Akut.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Y/N could see a pretty Ares girl with long, curled hair and a camp t-shirt a size too big. She was shorter than Y/N, not by much, but the H/C-nette still had to look down.

Clarisse had changed a lot but Y/N could still recognise that familiar glimmer in her old friend’s eyes.

“So this is where you disappeared off to?” Y/N questioned as Clarisse stepped closer. The brunette was now standing beside Y/N, leaning against the sink next to her with her arms folded over her chest.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” Clarisse uttered, her gaze looking Y/N up and down, “You’ve grown… a lot.”

“So have you, Clari. You look good.”

“You look better. You might turn me lesbian. It’s a shame you like Luke.”

Y/N paused and furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t like Luke.” She said, but it was mainly to reassure herself. She heard Clarisse laugh.

“He’s all you look at. For a daughter of Athena, you aren’t too smart on this topic.”

Y/N remained stone-faced as she calmly turned to look at Clarisse. “I don’t like him.” She repeated, this time firmer.

Clarisse hummed as if she wasn’t convinced. “He’s always looking at you, by the way. You being claimed means he sees you less and I think he misses you. But you shouldn’t care. You don’t like him.” She teasingly smiled as she applied a heavy layer of gloss onto her lips.

Y/N said nothing as she looked away, splashing another handful of cold water onto her face.

“You probably remind him of Thalia. Headstrong and stubborn.”

Y/N let Clarisse’s words sink in before she opened her mouth. “I’m not Thalia.” She quietly muttered. “I remind Luke of Thalia. I remind Annabeth of Thalia. But I’m not her. My identity is not tied to Zeus’ half-blood daughter.” Y/N clenched her hands into fists. “It was nice catching up, Clari. Next time we talk, we should tell each other about our lives after we parted.”

Y/N dabbed her face with a soft cotton towel as she walked back to the Athena cabin, almost groaning at the sight of Luke. “What are you doing here? Again?” She demanded, kicking his ankle.

“Woah! Hey, I’m waiting for Annabeth. I’m not here to annoy you. Yet.” Luke grinned as he leaned against a wall. Or he tried to, at least. He underestimated the distance and ended up falling.

“Smooth, Castellan.” Y/N sarcastically said as she towered over him.

“Thanks, writer. I try.” Luke coolly played his embarrassing mistake off while Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Luke, what are you doing?” Annabeth pushed open the door, arching an eyebrow at the boy who was sprawled across the floor.

“Y/N pushed me.”

Y/N scoffed, “I did not. You fell by yourself, Castellan. Like an idiot, might I add.” She brushed past Annabeth.

“You like her.” Annabeth blurted out as soon as Y/N was out of earshot. It was more of a harsh statement than anything else.

“I do not.”

“You do. What about Thalia? Why don’t you like her anymore?”

Luke furrowed his brows as he glanced at Thalia’s tree. “Thalia’s a tree, Annabeth. I have to move on at some point.”

Annabeth clenched her hands into fists as she glared at Luke. “I don’t want you to move on!”

Luke was confused as to why Annabeth was acting this way. He knew she missed Thalia but she had never burst into a fit. “Annabeth… I have to. You said you liked Y/N.”

“I do… but she’s not Thalia.”

Y/N woke up covered in a thin layer of sweat. She quietly panted. Her dreams were all the same now and depicted Athena ruthlessly lecturing her over and over again to the point where Y/N felt a little scared.

She heard someone shift in their bed. “Are you okay?” Y/N heard Annabeth whisper from across the room.

Y/N gave herself a moment to catch her breath before she sighed. “Yeah… just a bad dream, you know? I’m going outside for a bit.” Y/N kicked the covers off her body, shakily standing up.

“Thalia wouldn’t do that.” Annabeth muttered, “She doesn’t like going outside after nightmares.”

Y/N bit back an annoyed huff. “I’m not Thalia, Annabeth. I never will be her. You and Luke should let it go.” She walked out of the cabin, resisting the urge to slam the door.

“Oh, wow. This is just creepy. Are you sure you aren’t stalking me?” Luke grinned while Y/N sarcastically smiled. She sat down on the steps.

“Does Annabeth always go around and comparing people to Thalia?” She was straight forward and blunt. Luke clicked his tongue as he took the spot next to her.

“Not really… no.“

“Do you see me as Thalia?”

“I see Thalia in you but I know how to tell the difference between you too. Listen, Annabeth was attached to Thalia. And with new things coming to light, she’s on guard.”

Y/N turned to look at Luke, gazing at him in confusion. “New things?” She questioned.

“New… feelings.”

“… New feelings for Thalia the tree?”

Luke held his face in his hands as he groaned. “How are you a daughter of Athena? I’m giving you all the hints, writer.”

Y/N only raised her eyebrows. “I see no hints. All I see is your infatuation with a tree that was once a girl.”

“I like you.” Luke blurted out, unable to withstand any more of her obliviousness. “I don’t like Thalia. Maybe I did before but like I told Annabeth, I have to move on.”

Y/N was silent. She stared ahead while Luke awaited her reaction. Finally, Y/N said something. “You can’t like me… you don’t know me, Luke.”

“But I do! I know your favourite food and I know your favourite book. I know when people ask what your favourite colour is, you say it’s stupid to have one but your favourite colour is actually (insert)! I know you hate parties but you also want to feel like a normal teenager. And I know your favourite drink is (insert) yet the best one you’ve tried is in that cafe across from the school. I know things you didn’t know that I knew”- Luke cut himself off with a small sigh. “My point is I know you!”

“Did you mean you know things I didn’t know you knew about me?”

“Yes!” Luke quietly hissed, not wanting to be too loud in case he woke up the Athena kids. They wouldn’t be too happy about that. “And I know that you like correcting people’s grammar because the only paper you scored a B on was because you made grammar mistakes. You think you’re helping people but they think you’re a know-it-all. Though, when you explain your intentions, they realize you were only trying to help.”

Y/N stared at Luke with her lips parted. “Are you stalking me?” She murmured.

“No… yes? It was part of my quest, writer. I had to.”

“Well, that’s not creepy at all.”

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying? I just said I like you and you called me creepy.”

“You are for knowing all that information about me!”

“Okay, okay.” Luke held his hands up in surrender, “Truce. I really do like you, writer.”

“And here I thought you hated me. What was up with all our bickering then?”

“It was the only way to get your attention. And, I must admit, I did feel a little jealous of you. You were so good at everything… and I’m only good at swinging a sword around.” Luke’s gaze flickered to the ground. He thickly swallowed before lifting his head again. He quickly realized how close he was to Y/N, their foreheads almost butting against each other.

“Do you really like me, Cast-Luke?” Y/N quickly corrected herself. Luke could feel a grin stretch across his lips. Y/N had never called him by his first name before. It was always Castellan this, Castellan that.

“I do. I like you, Y/N. I really, really like you.”

“Okay.” Y/N whispered, slowly leaning forward. She was afraid of what her mother would say but when her lips met Luke’s, suddenly she didn’t care.

All that mattered were Luke’s hands trailing up to grab her waist and the smile that spread across his face like gleeful wildfire.

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[moonchildstyles]

sage

rosemary part three: harry knew the past would catch up one day. he just hoped it wouldn't be today

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

Harry forgot his books at home. 

He and (Y/N) were set to go to the library today, and he forgot his books under his bed. And, he didn't even realize until he was already parked and waiting for her outside the bakery. Because of course that would happen; of course it took seeing her smiling face coming out of the building and heading towards his car to remember each edition he still had stashed under his bed. He knew he was forgetting something when he left, but he hadn't wanted to be late or wait any longer to see her. 

(Y/N) waved at him through the window as she approached, her Flour Pot t-shirt big on her form with the ends of her favorite peach bow fluttering behind her. She rounded the front of his car until she reached the passenger side, Harry already having unlocked the handle to allow her to slip inside. 

"Hi, Harry," she chirped, brightening the melancholic space. 

"Hi," he greeted her, his disposition decidedly less sunny than hers. 

His tone had her brows pinching together in the middle, a frown turning her lips. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" 

Bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, he sighed. "I forgot m'books at m'apartment. I didn't even realize until I saw you, 'm so sorry." 

"Oh, okay. That's okay," she told him earnestly, brows still cinched, "Why are you upset?" 

His own brow furrowed at her question. Why wasn't she upset? 

"I feel bad. I ruined our plans." 

Canting her head, (Y/N)'s features relaxed even as she kept that frown on her lips. "You didn't ruin anything," she told him, her words a croon in the cab of his car, "We can just go back to your place and grab them, I don't mind. I don't have anywhere else to be, so." 

She was being too nice to him. He made these plans and now he was the reason that they would have to wait another half an hour at least before they could actually execute them. He could only shake his head, his protest to her words feeling sticky in his throat. 

In a tentative move, (Y/N) reached out, brushing her fingers against his forearm. The skin was bare of tattoos but littered with scars. If not for the warmth of her touch, goosebumps would have erupted on his skin. "I promise everything is okay. Don't be so hard on yourself." He could hear the soft smile on her face in the lilt of her voice. "Do you want to grab your books from your apartment?" 

"You're sure?" he croaked, looking at her through the fan of his lashes. 

"Of course!" she beamed, "We can head over there super quick then get to the library." 

It took an effort to ease the self-made pressure he was feeling off of his shoulders. Years ago he never would have reacted like that; a confidence used to follow him that allowed him to stay guarded and strong, even if only as a facade. (Y/N) was poking holes in that defense more than he even realized. 

"Okay," he settled on, "Thank you, (Y/N)." 

Once Harry pulled away from the curb and (Y/N) started happily chatting about her day at the bakery, a new thought struck him. He'd never had to bring anyone to his crash pad before. No one had ever seen the kinds of places he made into his temporary homes. Of course the first would be (Y/N). 

There wasn't anything inherently bad with it, he knew that. It was within his budget (and allowed a certain lack of paperwork and under the table cash payments), and he had things there that were easy to be packed up or let go of. It was a place that worked for him, even if it wasn't perfect for anyone else. He'd never had the opportunity before to be ashamed or embarrassed of his temporary homes before, but he figured that was the feeling that was brewing in his stomach. 

Maybe he could convince her to sit in his car while he popped inside. 

It was moments like this, with his mind rushing, that he was more than grateful for the fact that she was of the talkative type. It was a welcome distraction. She didn't make him feel like he needed to do anything more than listen to her. It was an easy job she gave him. 

Outside the windows, the town shifted by. The gingerbread neighbourhoods were replaced with buildings that looked like they could have fit in in their prime but were now left to the wayside. The old town square was vacant, crumbling sidewalks and signs about trespassing and no solicitation. It was hard to reconcile the fact that this place was even a part of the same town that had a bakery called The Flour Pot and a quaint library. 

That churning in his stomach returned then. Someone like (Y/N) with her gingerbread house and ribboned hair shouldn't be out here. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the turn to his complex came up. 

With a signaled turn, Harry's apartment building came into view. Only two stories with rusted stairs and wobbling hand railing along the outside hallway. The paint was a dirty eggshell, dingy and crumbling in places. Harry's was the one with the broken number plate and burnt out lightbulb above his door. 

Parking as close as he could to the stairway, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt with his eyes on his hands. "Y'can stay in here, yeah? I'll be back in a second, but I'll leave m'phone for you to play music or whatever y'want." 

It wasn't until he had his hand on the latch that she spoke up: "I can't come with you?" 

Turning to look at her, he raised his hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching at the skin in a nervous habit. "I shouldn't take very long, so I figured..." 

"Oh, okay," (Y/N) sounded, flicking her gaze out to the apartment building in front of her, "I can stay out here." 

Following her gaze, he tried to see what she might. This place wasn't very different from the other buildings he'd lived in before. Honestly, it was on the nicer side, especially with the lack of nosy neighbors. But, to (Y/N), he might see the side of the city she had been warned about. The kind of place a woman like her would need to be extra careful in, for no other reason than the fact she was a woman. A pretty one, too. And he would be leaving her alone. 

Those instincts he tried to bury flared to life. "Nevermind," he gruffly said, "Y'can come with me." 

She looked to him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, c'mon," he said just as he pulled the latch on his door. 

He waited at the bonnet of his car for her to follow him. No one was out, anyway, but he wasn't going to chance anything now that those worst case scenarios were beginning to reenter his mind. (He hadn't completely abandoned that Dracula theory, it would appear, as his neighbours suddenly had piercing fangs embedded in their gums, awaiting a moment he would look away so they could snatch her up). 

They were quiet as they scaled the rusted steps, some of the planks groaning under their feet. Harry only spoke when he warned her to watch her step, his hand instinctively reaching to settle on the small of her back until he stopped himself short. He kept her a step in front of him, his shoulders squared and features hardened as if he could scare off a threat before it even arrived. 

Harry stopped her in front of his door, a small touch to her arm getting her to halt her steps by the unnumbered door. He took in a deep breath as he pulled out the key, feeling her eyes on him as he fiddled with the sticky lock. 

"'S not anything special," he preambled, feeling restless, "But, I promise I'll grab everything fast, and we can go." 

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to respond before Harry had peeled the door open, stepping aside to allow her in first. With her back to him, he couldn't help but the wince that tightened his muscles as she stepped over the stained carpet and creaking floorboards underneath. He rushed in behind her, wanting to get this experience over as fast as he could. 

It took a hard shove against the wood for the door to replace itself against the jamb, the lock sliding in with a twist of the deadbolt. Flicking on the lights, the rest of his studio apartment was revealed as (Y/N) lingered close behind him. 

"Sorry," he murmured as he maneuvered around her, "They're jus' under m'bed." 

"You don't have to apologize, Harry. You're not doing anything wrong." She spoke to him as he dropped to his knees to dig underneath his bed, this week's editions sitting father back than he remembered putting them. 

He didn't bother to answer as he pulled one of the books out. Now he only needed the other two. 

Behind him, he could hear the floorboards under the carpet creaking as she walked through the space. While there wasn't much for her to see in the first place, the sound made him quicken his search. 

Just as his fingers brushed the third and final book he was scrambling for, (Y/N) piped up: "Is this your mom and sister?" 

His fingers tensed over the cover of the book, the plastic crackling. He almost forgot about that photo; it was hard for him to look at half the time, anyway. Looking over his shoulder, he found her standing in front of the tiny shelf he had been able to pick up for free at a garage sale when he first moved in. On top was nothing more than his favorite book and a photo of his mother and sister he was able to swipe in the rush to leave all those years ago. It was at his sister's university graduation, the two women with matching smiles and their arms thrown around each other. Harry hadn't been able to make it that day, but he was still so proud of Gemma. She'd come a long way. 

He swallowed around his dry throat. "Yeah." 

She looked at him with an adoring smile. "They're beautiful," she told him, sincerity painting her tone, "You look just like your mom." 

Gathering all of his books, he stood to his full height. His chest felt heavy when he glanced at the photo. "Yeah. Everyone always said me and my sister could have been her siblings." 

"All gorgeous, that's for sure," she beamed, looking back at the photo while Harry's eyes stuck to her profile. 

It wasn't as if he thought her to be the kind of person to spit on him for where he lived, to run away vomiting once she was welcomed into the pocket of his world, but he can't say he expected this kind of gentle reaction. She didn't stand stiffly in the corner, careful not to touch a single thing or keep her eyes to herself. She moved comfortably, taking in the few parts of him that were on display. 

This wasn't like her gingerbread house with a picket fence and a welcome mat, but that difference had no effect on her. It was as if she didn't even know that she was too good for him. 

"Thank you," he murmured, allowing a daring glance to he photo of his family. 

He wondered what they looked like now. Back then, Gemma was fond of coloring her hair in all different kinds of shades. His mother preferred to keep her hair long, even if every few months she debated cutting her tresses short. He wondered if she'd ever gone through with it in the years since he saw them. He hoped they still smiled like that. 

"Got your books?" (Y/N) asked, pulling Harry from that corner of his brain he rarely dared to touch.

"Um, yeah," he said, blinking the film from his eyes, "Sorry. We can go." 

(Y/N) followed after him as he stepped back towards his door. "What did you think of this week's batch?" 

His heart lightened at the change of subject. There was that grace she gave him—the kind he wasn't even sure she knew she was giving to him. She had no reason to be so good to him. 

As he escorted her back down to his car, he gave her mumbled explanations of his latest reads. (Y/N) looked at him with those wide eyes, listening to him just as intently as someone as kind as her would do without thinking. 

In that same dark corner of his mind, Harry wondered if she would still act the same if she knew what he'd done. 

—————

"Harryyy."

Looking up at the sound of his name, Harry found the owner of that lilting voice coming to him with an artfully plated croissant. This one was tall with its layers arching up high, and a glossy, golden brown shell gleaming in the sunlight. Tiny purple flowers and micro greens were placed around the negative space surrounding the pastry. (Y/N) walked carefully with the plate cradled on her forearms, a bright smile on her face. 

She wanted something, that much he knew from the way she sang his name. 

The bakery was rather quiet now that the Sunday brunch rush had ended, only a short line two deep was heading to the register with the case properly stocked for the time being. The vacancy allowed Harry to huddle up in the back table that was now beginning to be branded as his with the way he stuck to the spot every chance he could when visiting (Y/N). 

"Yes?" he answered her call, bookmarking his page and setting his book off to the side. 

She stopped by his table, her croissant plate close to her chest as she looked at him with a pleading grin. "Could you possibly do me a favor?" 

Her hair was a mess, pulled back as best she could manage with a crooked bow, flour and sugar almost coating her top with the fragrance of jammed fruits sticking to her. She had a busy morning, he knew that. 

"Maybe," he said as if he had any other choice but to help her. 

Letting out a sigh, he carefully set the plate on his table, pushing it towards him slowly to ensure not a single petal fell out of place. She pulled out her phone then, her eyes pleading when she flicked them up to match his, "Would you mind possibly modeling for a picture I was wanting to post on the bakery Instagram?" 

That had Harry recoiling some, falling silent at her request. Social media was a huge no-go for the life he was leading. Posting anything or having any kind of presence online would be the fastest way to find himself caught. Even before leaving, he refrained from creating any profiles for himself. There was too much pressure in his life already , he didn't want to worry about an electronic one too. Now, though, the lack of records was a survival tactic. 

(Y/N) picked up on his hesitancy right away, waving her hands out in surrender as she tried to explain. "It would just be your hands, not your face or anything! I just want it to be like an artsy, Pinterest kind of shot," she rambled out, her brows raised in earnest, "I thought you'd be good for the picture since your hands are..." She trailed off then, her gaze dropping to where his hands were folded on the table in front of them, his fading cross tattoo on display along with the scars on his knuckles and the rough skin on his fingers. Blinking, she took her gaze from his hands and back to his face, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. "They'd just look really nice in the picture, I think." 

That kind of praise settled in his chest as something warm. He hadn't thought about his hands being something "nice" ever really, especially not now with the hairline scars and the rough texture on his palms. A handful of years ago, he used to paint his nails even, but he'd stopped doing that a long time ago. It drew too much attention, took too much time he didn't have, and was something that made him feel a lot nicer than he knew he deserved. But, if she thought his hands were nice, was he really going to argue with her over the finer details? 

"Not m'face or anything?" he asked, flicking his gaze up from his hands to see her still looking at him with her pleading eyes. 

"No, no, not your face! Just your hands. I'm also putting together a few different slides, so I could put yours in the middle or something, if you wanted. I'm trying to make a post about 'customer plates' and all, so I just need some help." 

While he didn't really understand what she was talking about given the fact he hadn't used the app since he was a teenager, all Harry knew was that she needed him. It was something small, somewhat insignificant in her life, but she chose him to ask. He hadn't been—or felt—needed in years, especially not for something so innocent. 

"Please, Harry?" she tried one more time, her smile brightening with a pleading flutter of her lashes. 

His relenting didn't take a second thought before he was nodding his head. "Jus' tell me how to pose." 

Bounding in her spot, the flutter of her hair bow being seen from behind her, (Y/N)'s grin widened. "Thank you so much! This is the last picture I need before I can post it and never think about it again," she cheered, tapping away at her phone once more. With the right app up, she angled the camera towards the plate, "Act natural, like keep your hands relaxed but still try to hold the plate, you know?

(Y/N) went on to give him directions on how to pose his fingers, snapping photos as she went. Every minor adjustment had another shot being taken, different angles used and small directions for Harry to follow to ensure she got the right look. Feeling her eyes on him made Harry hyper aware of the way he posed and moved, her eyes trailing the length of his fingers and the stretch of his palm as he adjusted himself to whatever whim she had. 

It wasn't until she was reviewing a handful of her previous photos that he flexed out his hands, trying to make himself less stiff and more natural like she was looking for. (Y/N)'s tapping and swiping stopped then, the static of her gaze felt again on his skin. It took a glimpse in her direction to see her phone being ignored in favor of the live specimen in front of her. Flexing his fingers out, he saw the way she watched intently, eyes rounding. 

A short twitch had the corner of his lips curling just for a moment at her reaction. Interesting. 

Like that, she seemed to break out of whatever train of thought had entered her mind. She was back to flicking through her phone, a heavy hand pushing stray baby hairs out of her face. "Okay, I think I got one," she told him, looking up from her phone with a flutter of her lashes, "Do you want to see?" 

Pulling his hands back into his lap, Harry shook his head. "Whatever y'want, 's fine with me." 

Harry saw as she swallowed around her words, her smile a bit different this time when it bloomed across her features. "Thank you, again," she told him, voice decidedly more chipper than her demeanor, "You can have that, by the way. Payment for modeling for me." 

His eyes stayed stuck on her even when she peeked down at the croissant. He liked seeing her a little flustered; it was different than the bubbly, excitable girl she usually showed him. It was a trip thinking about the fact he could draw that kind of reaction from her. 

"Thank you," he told her. 

She left with that shy smile on her face, Harry's eyes stuck on the bow in her hair as she went back to her kitchen. 

—————

A white nail polished hand was wrapped around Harry's, the pad of a delicate thumb running along the scars on his knuckles. Under the bundle of hands was the grassy knoll he was sat on, wildflowers dotting the green with a pair of legs folded away just out of the corner of his vision. A pastel toned ribbon fluttered into his line of sight. A soft focus filter seemed to be placed on the moment, everything airbrushed as if painted with a cloud and soft like velvet. 

Just barely, he could hear a voice. She was speaking to him, Harry knew that, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. The words were too muddled, floating away with the clouds before they could reach his ears. He strained his ears as if that would help him catch what she was saying. Tugging on her hand in his, Harry tried to get closer to her. 

He just wanted to know what she was saying. 

The second he did just that, more of her body coming into view with her voice muddling through whatever film he was hearing through, everything stopped. 

Swimming to the surface of his consciousness, Harry found the grassy knoll under him was now replaced with the thin sheets of his bed. His hand was wrapped in the fabric of his comforter, his fingers tight around the folds as if it were the hand he had been dreaming of. 

Harry didn't bother to open his eyes, allowing himself to stay steeped in that inbetween land where he felt the remnants of his dream. He knew that if he unwrapped his hand from the bedding, his fingers would ache from how tightly he was clutching the fabric. It had been (Y/N)'s hand he was dreaming of, he knew that. 

And, god, he missed her. 

She was all he could think about. How badly he had wanted to be closer to her in his dream, how badly he wished it was her hand he was holding and not his threadbare comforter, how badly he wanted to open his eyes and still see her there in front of him with that ribbon in her hair. 

That wasn't ever part of the plan—this infatuation he was beginning to feel for her. 

Dreams of her weren't supposed to be the only pleasant dreams he was having of late. Those sleeps with her on his mind shouldn't leave him rested and calm when he woke. It'd been almost a year since he started craving sleep for anything other than to rest his exhausted body. Now, he had those secret hopes that when he let his brain run wild for the night, that he would meet her in that in-between. 

This wasn't ever something that was supposed to happen. (Y/N) wasn't supposed to happen. 

Even though he knew that, Harry didn't break himself from his sheets. He kept bobbing in between sleep and the rest of the world, right where (Y/N) was with him. 

He'd stop thinking about her when he woke up properly, he decided. He'd deal with that problem later.

—————

"You know, you don't have to keep walking me home." 

Despite the first hints of the rising sun, the stars were still glimmering in the sky like scattered bits of glitter. The moon had been a waning crescent through the night, but with the help of the oncoming sunshine, was slowly becoming full. These mornings had to be Harry's favorite times. Especially when he spent them with (Y/N).

Between all the jaunts to the library, hours spent lounging at the bakery, and time spent sending texts back and forth over the last month, Harry spent most of his time with her now. He looked forward to these prep shifts she suddenly seemed to be getting scheduled for more often than not. These quiet walks with only the crackling sidewalk and the sound of their footsteps and the sleeping town allowed him to settle into his skin and the space he took up beside her. 

She was the only person he wanted to be close to like this anyway. 

With that in mind, Harry only shrugged at (Y/N)'s words. "I don't mind." 

He didn't have to look at her to know that response made her smile. It was that smile, soft lipped and quiet as if only for him, that starred in his dream more than once over the last handful of weeks. It was that smile that tested his self-control—or lack thereof, as he was learning. 

It was a completely self-indulgent move to think about her before he slept. In a twisted turn of events, she was one of the only thoughts that had him calming after a bloody nightmare. He slept better when he had a dream of her, or even a calm, dreamless sleep could be achieved with the thought of her leading him. She was the first and only he'd found that was able to lull him into something that felt... normal. 

Harry knew down in his core that it wasn't fair for someone like him to attach to someone like (Y/N), but this was where found he didn't quite have as much self control as he thought. It was easy for him to forget what her reaction would be if she found out what kind of person was walking her home after her overnight shifts or browsing the shelves with her at the library. 

Especially in these moments, he could feel normal enough that he even forgot who he was. The way this place—this spot at (Y/N)'s side—had him imagining what it would be like to stay in this town was something he'd never experienced before. He'd never not been thinking about his next move. 

With her gingerbread neighbourhood in sight, Harry felt that come down approaching. He would cling to this feeling—the clean, clear, and ordinary feeling—all the way back to his car and through the drive back to his apartment. It was when he was truly alone with the few things he was able to travel with surrounding him, that he would give himself a reality check. Until then, he'd keep indulging. 

Stopping in front of the picket fence before her home, Harry turned to (Y/N) the same way he did every time he walked her home after prep. The exhaustion that had settled in his bones after a full shift at the store lessened when he saw her looking at him with eyes that rivaled the stars in the sky. 

"Text me if y'need anything, alright?" he told her, the same thing he always said before they shared goodbyes for the night. 

(Y/N) lingered as she always did. She hadn't gotten confident enough when asking for hugs, just yet. Harry liked that she still got a bit shy. 

Instead of the same question he expected to hear, he saw a pinch of concern appear between her brows. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked, swallowing as she gestured to her house, "You look really tired tonight, Harry." 

Lifting his shoulders, Harry shrugged. There was that slowed down, frozen feeling again. Another invitation into her world. 

"'S alright. 'M okay, (Y/N)," he told her, "I don't want to keep y'up."

She wasn't convinced as she pressed just a little more, the toe of her scuffed shoes scraping over the concrete sidewalk. "Are you sure? I usually make myself breakfast before I sleep, so you could come in for a little if you want?" 

His hands grew clammy where they were stuffed in his pockets. "Y'don't have to do that. I-I don't want to take from you or anything." 

It was a defense mechanism the way he began inching back, as if he could pull his presence away from her. As normal as he felt with her, in this moment, he felt as if he were fooling her. She shouldn't be inviting him into her home; he shouldn't be invited into her safe space. 

(Y/N) stopped him with a gentle hand landing on his forearm, her fingers brushing the inked photos on his skin and the raised scars underneath. "You said you like to cook though, right?" 

Harry's throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed. He nodded. 

A shy smile perched itself on her features, curling upwards like the ways of the sun on the horizon. "If you want, you could help me cook, maybe? That way it's not like you're 'taking' anything from me, you're just helping me. We'd be even." 

How was he supposed to argue with her? Hadn't he learned yet that she was the one that would get him to bend to her will, bash down his own walls, and give her everything he had in his power to give? 

Harry could only nod then, hiding the twitch in his lips with a brush of his knuckle against the tip of his nose. 

The hand she had laid on his arm squeezed, her smile growing giddy. "C'mon," she said, her hand trailing down his forearm until it was clasped in his. 

His lungs stunted at the feel of her soft palm pressed against his own. She didn't twist their fingers together, filling the gaps between his, leaving their hands to cup together like a pair of mittens for the cold. At least this way she couldn't feel how he was beginning to shake. 

He followed her like a planet in orbit of a bright star, allowing him to breach the guarding fence line designed to keep people like him out. She only let go of his hand to unlock her front door, but a moment later they were bundled together once more. Her thumb skimmed the side of his own when she pulled him inside. 

Guiding him over the threshold of her home, (Y/N) invited Harry inside despite all the red flags; despite the scars laced over his skin and the near permanent frown on his lips. 

Stepping into her tiny foyer—it wasn't much more than a small hallway separated from the rest of her home by an extra wall—(Y/N) slipped her hand out of his to double back and close her front door and twist the lock. She used the space to house a long, skinny end table against the wall, the perfect space to hang her bag from and stow her keys atop until next time. A mirror with blushed gold edging was hung from the wall above it, a sparkly pink kiss mark stamped on the bottom corner of the glass. 

"You can leave your shoes here," she offered, already shucking off her own sneakers. Her socks were revealed to be a baby blue with embroidered sheep. Of course. 

When his own Vans were placed underneath the end table beside (Y/N)'s own pink-laced white ones, she beckoned him to follow after her to the kitchen. He made a point to keep his eyes off of her hands, ensuring he wouldn't do something stupid like try to grab it again. Gaze flitting about the space, he took in the details of her home. 

The first thing that caught his attention were the pale curtains that were draped over the front window. The dead giveaway of what kind of person called this unit their home. Her furniture was mismatched, the couch a suede sage green and chair upholstered in a crosshatched fabric dyed pink. The center rug of her living room was a large white daisy, stray strings torn out here and there. Her coffee table had stacks of laundry she still needed to deposit into the correct rooms, a pair of fuzzy socks sat by themselves on the couch. All along her walls in the living room and the halls they passed through had canvas art prints, minimalist shelves stacked with books, candles, and odd items he knew had to have a story behind. Pinned to the drywall, between photos and shelves, were dried flowers. The petals were dull and curled back, frozen in time with the stems tied together with the help of ribbons. 

Tiny bits of her personality were stamped on each item. Romance books stood out to him on the shelves. A polaroid camera that had seen better days, though the damage was now covered in stickers. Coiled ribbons that were frayed at the ends. A diffuser that still smelled of a rose garden. In her kitchen, a wipe-off calendar was pinned up, all events color coded and scrawled carefully on the appropriate date. Here and there, butterflies and flowers were drawn in marker on the white board. 

(Y/N)'s home was kind. Easy and gentle; finding a version of perfect that was attainable and loving. 

Stepping around the peninsula counter of her kitchen, (Y/N) looked at him with raised brows and soft features. "I was kind of in the mood for an omelette and hash browns and all of that. What do you think?" 

Harry swallowed, standing on socked feet in the middle of her tiled floor. He was overwhelmed in an odd way. 

He was in a home—her home. The last time he'd been in a place that was loved and lived in, had to be back when he was living with his family. And, (Y/N) wanted him here; she was asking what he wanted for breakfast, even. His hands were clammy at the thought even with his frozen veins. 

He nodded. "Sounds good." 

"Perfect!" she chirped, sounding very excitable for someone who had just worked an overnight shift and wasn't used to the turnaround. 

Lingering in his spot, Harry watched as she padded around her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her fridge and tools from cabinets. It wasn't until she was reaching towards the carton of eggs that she slowed in her movements. Looking over her shoulder, she laid her hands on the edge of the counter. 

"You know, I think I remember this having been a deal where you're supposed to be helping me," (Y/N) teased, her voice lilting as she canted her head. 

While he knew she wasn't being serious, Harry still sprung into action as soon as she finished speaking. "Right, right, sorry," he told her, mumbling with his head down. 

"I was just teasing. It's okay," she bubbled, bumping his shoulder with a bright smile on her face. With Harry now sharing the tiled space with her, she lent with her back pressed to the lip of the counter, "I usually like to put basil and tomato and cheese into my omelette, but I can see if I have other stuff if you wanted something else?" 

"No, no" Harry shook his head, "That's perfect. Thank you." 

"Okay," she sounded, her voice soft like the rays of sunlight beginning to drip through the window. "I can get the eggs ready and start on the hash browns if you want to cut the tomatoes and basil?" 

As soon as he agreed, (Y/N) had him stationed in front of her cutting board—a wooden slab sanded down to recreate the shape of a monstera leaf. A pair of tomatoes were placed on the edge of the board, still taut and a vivid red. He thought he remembered her plucking them just the other night from the small produce section at the store. A few leaves of basil were bundled beside it, velveteen and vibrant. Off to the side with its guard concealing the blade was a pastel peach knife. The hardware was a gleaming rose gold—because, of course, it was.

Just like everything else in her kitchen, there were bits of her personality littered about alongside the things she most likely saw on the internet and wanted to give a try. Glass and ceramic canisters were dotting the back of the counter, lined against the wall with small labels, though some of the glass ones were clearly filled with the incorrect item. Pictures were pinned to her fridge, some with friends, others with what he could only assume was her family, and coupons to places in town littered between. Everything had color, a personality—evidence that someone who cared and truly called this place home. 

Seeing it all made Harry feel that much more embarrassed knowing that she had seen his own home, even if she hadn't acted any kind of way when inspecting his place. 

Working around each other, Harry was well-aware of (Y/N)'s presence as she moved around the kitchen. She had pans occupying the stove, drizzled with oil or a pad of butter. As he chopped the tomato and ribboned out the leaves of basil, the space became fragrant. The sound of the knife slicing the vegetable and thunking against the board meshed with the brittle snaps of the egg shells being cracked. 

There was no pressure to fill the silence. He knew (Y/N) wouldn't make him talk either; she knew him enough now. 

Harry felt settled. 

Once the ingredients were prepped, he took over watching the eggs and creating the folds. WIth his new spot, he was able to catch every time (Y/N) plucked shreds of cheese from the bag as if they weren't going into her omelette anyway. He'd remember to put extra in for her. 

Every time she needed around him, or reached to check on one of the heat dials, a small chirp of an excuse me and a bubbly smile had his heart thumping in his chest. An odd reaction to something so small, he thought. 

A warmth filled the space with the sound of the bubbling oils popping and the burners growing hot under the pans. The sun had finally broken the horizon and was beaming real light into her kitchen, the tiny curtains above her sink pulled back to allow the rays in. The buttery light poured over everything in her kitchen, including (Y/N).

Everything was so easy, so picturesque, so dreamy. Harry had forgotten what it was like to be in a home, to cook for himself, to not be just getting through it. 

He'd had dreams of (Y/N) before, moments like this accessible once he fell asleep, but they had nothing on the real thing. 

"All done?" (Y/N) asked as he flipped over the second egg bundle, this one teeming with cheese and ribbons of basil swirled within the eggs. 

"I think so," he said, lifting the pan from the heat as she grabbed a plate from her cabinet. Handing it out to him, Harry slid the omelette onto the ceramic—the same embossed pattern of flower petals on the edge that matched his own plate. 

(Y/N) did her part of sliding the crispy hash brown patties onto their plates beside the completed omelettes. Nothing was perfect—there were tears in the folds of his omelette, the edges of the potatoes were just a little too browned from when she suddenly became distracted with the dishes, and tiny imperfections in the way they dressed their entrees were apparent, but Harry doesn't think he's ever seen a breakfast so flawless.

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he tried to correct the spillage that occurred on her omelette, using the edge of the spatula to hopefully fork the cubes of tomato that had escaped the fold. He swore her gaze left a physical touch over the bridge of her nose, the bow of his lips, the point of his chin. 

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" he hummed, pausing his fingers to match her warm gaze. 

From where she stood, she was backlit from the sunshine spilling in through the gauzy curtains behind her. The sepia tones bathed her in gold with the creases in her top, lines of fatigue on her face, and the column of her throat turning into filigree. The flyaways of her hair were highlighted, messy baby hairs and all. The strands seemingly created the kind of crown he'd seen in ancient art to depict an angel. A goddess. 

His breath caught in his throat. This was going to be the vision he conjured when he needed to evade his nightmares. 

The goddess suddenly looked shy, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she hesitantly reached out towards him. For the second time, her skin grazed his with her fingertips touching at his forearm. They made soft dents in the layer of hair that covered his skin. 

Harry's heart jumped into his throat at the touch. 

Her eyes were on her hand, watching as she curled her fingers around his arm. Flicking her gaze up to match his, he saw that same golden touched goddess. She took in a deep breath, lips pillowed, lashes glittering, and baby hairs a golden cradle around her face. If not for the fact he could feel the scrape of her nails against his skin, he would have convinced himself this was a dream. 

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the middle of her small kitchen. 

She blinked, letting out that deep breath before speaking.

"Can I kiss you?" 

Though there was that smart part of his brain that knew he should think better of this entire moment, there wasn't even a second of hesitation before Harry dragged his socked feet over the tile and closed that distance between them.

He shuttered his eyes just a moment after her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks while her own hand still clung to his forearm. He didn't think his hands could ever be so gentle with the way his hands molded to the curve of her cheeks and the soft give of his lips against hers. She lent into his hold, pressing her lips against his just that much harder. On the tip of his thumb, he could feel the brush of her bottom lashes on his skin. 

Their lips slotted together as (Y/N) tilted her head, tucking her top lip between his two with a delicate kiss directly on his bottom one. She tasted of sugar and butter, whatever she had concocted at the bakery following her. Her hand on his arm tightened the longer they kissed in her kitchen, Harry's head completely empty. 

While he knew he was going to feel guilty later for letting her kiss him when she didn't even know who he truly was and what kind of trouble could follow getting close to someone like him, but that was a problem for a version of him that existed hours later. This Harry was allowed to remember everything, commit every detail to memory, and indulge in the feeling of what something soft and gentle and kind felt like. 

The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together against bounced off the tiles. Every kiss was lingering and soft, nothing urgent other than the need to show each other what had been brewing in the months since they'd met. Harry's eyes scrunched closed when he felt the dent of her fingertips into his arm—a grounding feeling as he threatened to float up to the clouds or wherever dreams were made. 

It was (Y/N) that drew away first, a large breath being taken in as he pressed her free hand to the center of his chest. Underneath her palm, he was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart. Her smile bloomed across her face, swollen lips unfurling like petals. He felt breathless just looking at her. 

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" 

(Y/N)'s smile widened, eyes becoming half-moons with the stretch of her cheeks. "Nothing. I just like saying your name." 

Harry couldn't help but to dip down and press his lips against hers once more. 

—————

Walking into the bakery, days after the kisses that still seemed to be imprinted on his lips, Harry thought it was funny remembering just how scared he was to walk into this building only a short few months ago. 

His life had changed in plenty of ways since then, but they all had a common denominator: (Y/N). 

Everything was different now. He had begun uncovering a life here he thought would never be for him. Even if there were still many ghosts haunting him, some strong enough to have made him run in the past, he felt a stronger pull to the positive these days. He could ever thank her enough for that. 

Despite that, his hands still felt restless in his pockets. While there was still a level of anxiety that rattled his body, these tremors were the result of those dastardly butterflies that had made a home in Harry's stomach. It was all in reaction to the fact he knew he would be seeing (Y/N). 

Outside of a handful of texts, this was the first time he'd be seeing and talking to her since that morning in her kitchen. He couldn't wait to refresh his memory of her—review the form of the goddess he had left. 

The bell chimed above his head, signaling to the staff they had a new client in their sparsely populated building. Behind the counter was Sabrina and a perfectly familiar bow, the pair chatting away until the bow turned on her toes with a bright smile.

On instinct, (Y/N) greeted him with the customer service version of herself. She barely got out a single syllable before her smile turned blindingly genuine and she squeaked herself silent. 

Looping around the counter, she rushed towards him with that smile on her face and bright eyes that matched the Sunday morning sunshine. "Harry!" 

The pat of her shoes over the floor matched the tumbling of his heartbeat. As soon as she was close enough, she folded him into a hug with her arms around his middle. Her cheek pressed against the plane of his chest, heartbeat just under her ear. 

"Hi," he murmured to her, burying his nose into her hair. The scent of rosemary from whatever tart she had been working on in the back filtered through his senses. 

"I didn't know you were coming in today," she said, keeping her hug on him tight. 

Harry grazed his hand over her back, palm pressing against her spine in a slow circuit. "Don't I always?" 

That seemed to be the perfect answer as (Y/N) squeezed him that much harder, her hug a sturdy thing. He didn't even have to think before he was reciprocating, the tip of his nose brushing her scalp with every strand of hair tickling his skin. 

Keeping her arms around him, (Y/N) pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I have new stuff for you to try!" 

"Yeah? What is it?" Harry pressed, his voice quiet just for her as opposed to the bright chatter she was giving him. 

(Y/N) dropped her arms from around him only to clasp her hand in his, guiding him to the table that may as well be reserved for just him. "It's a surprise," she said, giddy as ever. Once she had him settled in the tall chair, she had her hands bundled together in front of her. "I'll be right back!" 

With that, she bounced back to the kitchen. Harry had his eyes on her and the tendrils of her bow, even when he felt the eyes of Sabrina looking at him with something smug and knowing on her face. He didn't care. 

With his eyes following (Y/N) back to the kitchen, Harry didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed his features. Big and bright, he knew this was for her only, even if she couldn't see it. 

—————

Harry's bones were exhausted as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. The steps creaked under his weight, mimicking the scrap he swore he felt in his joints. Even with the fact he'd been cut early for the night, the lack of sleep the day before still clung to his muscles. 

All he wanted to do was go home and drop dead in his sheets for as long as he could manage before he woke with a cold sweat. 

Despite it all, he stopped in his tracks when he saw his door. 

Harry didn't really get mail. It was one of those things that came with being a ghost. 

So it was more than a little concerning seeing a manilla folder taped to his door, just where the gold apartment number should be. 

His name was printed in big blocky letters across the paper. The strokes of the ink were harsh and glaring, a notice wrapped in the command for him to unfold the paper and check the contents. 

With his heart rate spiking in his chest, Harry glanced around him, hoping to see a nosy neighbour peeking on. It wasn't like he was especially friendly with his neighbours (they weren't (Y/N), so he had no interest), but perhaps he had been a little too noisy with his nightmares and someone had had enough, pasting a passive aggressive note to his door telling him to keep it down.

It was a false hope, one Harry didn't believe even for a second, but the reality of the situation was still catching up with him. That was how he was able to snatch the paper from the door without shaky hands, slipping inside without a second glance around him.

He couldn't lock his door fast enough after slamming it shut, the jamb reverberating with a use of strength he hadn't intended to use. He stared for a few lingering seconds, watching as if the lock would flip itself open, all of the threats he'd been running from pouring in after him. 

His apartment was silent just as it should be. It made him even more uneasy. 

He wasn't supposed to be home now, but still no one was waiting for him. They'd found his apartment but didn't sit and wait for him—ambush him the way he knew they liked to operate. This was the long game they were playing. There were more games they wanted him to participate in before something drastic would happen. 

Harry treated the manilla folder as if it were an explosive. Gentle hands gripped the edges with fingertips sliding under the lip to unhook the flap. He worked slowly. 

Just inside was the edge of a white piece of paper—no it was thicker than paper, he found when he slipped his hand inside and tugged out a stack of the pages. The pieces were a blank, stark white, thick and heavy. 

Flipping them over, that was where all the color was hiding. 

Glossy photographs greeted him on the other side. 

Glossy photographs of him. 

Him at work. Him at his apartment. Him in his car. Every place within this town he had bothered to extend himself was in the background of these photos, while he was the muse in front of the lens. They'd seen him everywhere, for at least the last month. 

His paging halted when a new muse made an appearance in the photos. 

(Y/N). 

Photos of them at the bakery together, the library, the grocery store. A shot had even captured them leaving his apartment the one time he'd brought her over. Thank god he'd taken her inside with him instead. 

But that wasn't enough. There were a trio of photos of her all alone. They'd seen her in her home, seen her in her bedroom, seen her living her life without a thought in the world that someone may be documenting every moment from the shadows. 

A story began to form the more pages he worked through. A starry sky was the backdrop behind the pair of them, (Y/N) looking up at him as he brushed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. 

He'd been walking her home. 

In the background of the next image was her gingerbread house. Her picket fence was behind Harry's form, her yellow birdhouse a pseudo-sun in the darkness. The camera followed their steps as she escorted him inside, their hands clasped just barely in view of the lens. With the door shut behind them, the angle shifted, their photographer having found a better vantage point to spot them in the kitchen. 

Through new eyes, Harry saw the events he lived through unfold in front of him. He saw he and (Y/N) pattering through the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. He saw the way he was so nervous to be sharing the space with her until he eventually unfurled, his features visibly softening the longer he spent time with her. (Y/N) was there, with those flyaway hairs and gilded lines in her face, giving him space and an encouraging smile. He remembered exactly what it felt like to be standing over those tiles with her starry eyes placed on him.

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to see the next image. He knew how the story went, and he didn't want his recollection to be tainted by seeing it through the eyes of another. He didn't want the single joyous moment he'd had in years to be ruined. 

But, this was the life he signed up for when he left that night. A life of goodbyes and nothing that could be truly his. He knew that.

With a steeled resolve, he flipped the page. 

On the glossy paper was a photo of Harry and (Y/N)'s first kiss. He saw the crinkles by her eyes as she tried not to smile against his mouth. He saw the gentle way he cradled her cheeks. The smush of their lips together were slitted as if puzzle pieces had found their connecting slate. It was everything he remembered it to be. Buttery sunshine, gentle touches, and a moment no one could take from him.

Only this story was now shrouded in a darkness that came with the edging of leaves vignetting around the photo, the angle fudged to allow the photographer to capture this moment without their knowledge. In these photos, it wasn't a joyous moment to be documented and emulated in movies and novels. This was an exploitation of a weakness. A signal to let Harry know that they knew. 

They'd found him. 

Dropping the stack to the ground, Harry looked at his feet and saw every nightmare, every worst case scenario, every precaution he took now going down the drain. All of this running, fighting, and erasing just to be found anyway. 

It was the photos of (Y/N) by herself that scared him the most. While there was that streak of fear for his own safety striking through his heart, he felt more for her than he could manage for himself. How could he have allowed himself to put his hands on her at all, let his eyes graze her skin, her face enter his dreams when he knew very well that this could happen? 

He'd just ruined her life and she had no idea. 

Peeking out just between a pair of photos of (Y/N) getting ready to go to bed was a page from a notebook. The blue lines were smeared, water stains on the very edge. Snagging the page, Harry kept his hands from shaking as best he could so he could read the red ink printed across.

It was (Y/N)'s home address. The address of the bakery. Her full name. And her phone number. 

Every bit of pertinent information anyone would need to hurt her. It was the kind of information Harry had been given when he was sent out on jobs. 

For a split second, Harry swore the earth shattered, but only in his chest. This message was worse than any photo they could have taken of him, any chase they could have given him, anything they could have done to only him. He knew what they were planning with that information if Harry didn't do something before then. 

Just like that, everything stopped. 

The shattering in Harry's chest ceased. His breathing became centered. His hands didn't shake. Every messy emotion, every wandering thought that didn't pertain to the goal was wiped away and tucked into a box to be shoved into a corner. 

The switch had been flipped. 

While there was a suddenly dormant part of him that worried over how easy it was to turn this version of himself on again, even after so many years, that couldn't be of a single concern of the moment. 

With everything packed away, Harry could focus now. His mind was clear. A plan was forming, a list being written, that would dictate how the next twelve hours were going to go. When the time came, he'd reevaluate and add to his plan. Now was the time for first steps. 

He wasn't safe here anymore. He couldn't stay in this apartment and wait for them to come back and either force him into doing things he swore he never would again, or kill him. 

(Y/N) wasn't safe here anymore, either. She couldn't stay in her own home. They had enough information on her to make her a sitting duck without her ever being aware until the unthinkable happened. 

He needed to leave, and (Y/N) was going with him. 

WIth the photos and the page of her information left on the ground, Harry's instincts kicked in. This was just the exact reason he didn't have much of anything to lug around with him. His life needed to be packed up in as little time as possible. 

Pulling a too-familiar duffle bag out from under his bed, Harry began the process. First, clothing was to be stuffed into the bag. He'd leave his work clothes for whoever would eventually break into his apartment and find him gone. The one book he'd never leave without was next. Hopefully, Ms. Klarke wouldn't hate him for never returning the books he borrowed this week. Tucked inside the cushion of his clothing was the photo of his mother and sister. Their faces were only blurs with the way he didn't allow a second to focus on them. A stash of cash he had stuffed under his mattress was next. Almost everything he made went to keeping this emergency fund stocked and untouchable. Shoved under his bed, farthest back against the wall, were a duo of guns he quickly plucked up and stuck into his duffle. Extra ammunition was next. 

As a passing thought, Harry grabbed the photos strewn across the floor. There couldn't be a trace of him left behind. He was now nothing but a ghost that had haunted this apartment and left in the middle of the night. He was no one. 

Everything he owned was stuffed in his duffle bag along with a manila folder of photos that felt as if they could set the whole thing on fire. Dressed in a dark hoodie he'd thrown over his torso and black pants he'd worn to work, Harry stepped out into the open hallway. He didn't bother to look around, trying to find any prying eyes. 

His neighbours were of no concern to him now, and if anyone of importance had been watching him, he wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place. Shutting the door behind him, Harry placed his key atop the door frame. His landlord could find that easy enough, he figured. 

Harry didn't look back as he left his apartment behind, his duffle bag heavy over his shoulder. He wanted to be sad. If not for the fact he couldn't feel much of anything at the moment, he knew there would have been a sting over the life he was leaving behind. This was the first place he thought he could have been normal; this was the first place he saw himself as more than a simple survivor. He was beginning to be someone here. 

But as he jogged down the rusting staircase, Harry remembered he wasn't anyone. And, that was the only way to survive.

—————

Before Harry could even be sure of what he was doing, he was in front of (Y/N)'s house. He couldn't slow down to think this through—or really think at all. Even if he was fairly certain he wasn't being watched, there was no reason to slow down when he had somewhat of a head start. 

Slipping out of his car, he worked as quietly as he could. While he didn't care about his neighbours, (Y/N)'s were people who couldn't know about their next moves. He didn't want anyone else to get wrapped up in this. 

His duffle bag had been left in the backseat of his car, one of the guns he had now stowed away in the glovebox. The photos still taunted him even if he wasn't looking at them. 

Harry tried his best to keep the strength out of his urgency as he knocked on (Y/N)'s front door. It was no surprise when there was no response, not even a stirring inside. It was three a.m.. But he didn't really have time for her to wake up. 

He knocked again, a little more force given to the rapping. He barely gave a moment of reprieve before he had reached for his phone in his hoodie pocket and dialed her number. He didn't stop knocking as his phone rang for hers. 

It's on the second phone call to her and the fourth minute of knocking on her door that had her opening up. Swinging the door open, she was unveiled to be just as tired as he figured. Her pajamas consisted of a large t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. Her socked feet shuffled as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. 

She looked barely awake, as if she were trying to figure out if she were still dreaming when she squinted at him. "Harry?" 

Her voice was hoarse. He wanted to feel guilty for waking her up from such a deep sleep, but he couldn't feel much of anything. 

"We need to go," he told her, voice quiet and intense as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He was going to have to do something with that, he figured. They could be tracking him with it for all he knew. 

A harsh blink of her eyes did little to wipe the sleep from her gaze. (Y/N) ran a heavy hand through her hair, tugging away stray strands that obscured her view. "Huh?" 

Harry could feel her eyes on him as he brushed past her into her home. He stepped over the threshold with the kind of scary confidence he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonder how he was able to hide behind something as fragile for so long. 

(Y/N) didn't fight him, only shutting the door and twisting the lock after him. "What do you mean?" 

He didn't turn to look at her even when he started giving commands: "We need to leave, (Y/N). Pack some clothes while we have a little bit of time." 

Some sense seemed to be making its way into her sleep-addled brain. Her eyes cleared up as he looked at him. She blinked with a flutter of her lashes, a pinch appearing between her brows. "Harry, I don't think I understand what's going on... W-Why do we need to leave?" 

Her line of questioning went right over his head, the plan the only thing properly processing in his brain. He ignored her as he maneuvered around her to scale the staircase to the second floor. Her bedroom was down this hall, he knew. 

"Jus' pack some clothes, and whatever you think y'need. We need to leave in the next ten minutes." 

(Y/N)'s steps were decidedly softer and more cautious as she followed him upstairs. "Harry?" she tried to call for him, tone gentle, "Do you need to sit down for a second? I can get you some water and something to eat, I just need you to tell me what's going on." 

The lights were flicked off in her room like the rest of her house. That would make this job that much harder, but Harry didn't feel as if he had even a second to spare to switch on the lights. He needed a bag, that's where he needed to start. 

"Harry? Are you listening to me?" 

Did she have a duffle bag, or would he have to settle for a tote? It didn't matter much in the grand scheme, but she had too many creature comforts that he knew she wouldn't have the heart to leave behind. A duffle would allow more room. Maybe, in her closet...

Just as he grabbed the knob to invite himself into her closet, he felt her grab his arm. Her grip wasn't anything he couldn't break out of, but the fact she touched him at all had him stopping in his place. 

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You're scaring me, Harry." 

His focus shifted at her words. A point of clarity had been made in her touch and the plea in her voice. Turning to face her, Harry loosened his hold on the doorknob though he couldn't find it in himself to completely let go. 

Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. The film of sleep had been wiped away, leaving nothing but the raw fear he'd instilled there. There was a tremor in her touch he hadn't noticed before. And, he knew it was all his fault. 

A crack appeared in the steel demeanor he'd wrapped himself in. 

He couldn't crack right now, Harry knew that. He needed to be careful. 

Cracks had been appearing for months now. He was only fooling himself every time he said he was still being careful while orbiting around her. Now, look at where he was.

They couldn't afford for Harry to crack anymore. One more splinter in the ice beneath his feet and he'd be taking her down with him. 

Dropping his hands to settle on her arms, Harry ducked down, crowding around her as he matched her watery gaze tenfold. Even in the dark, he knew he was close enough for her to catch every measured breath he took, every fleck of intensity in his eyes.

"I need you to trust me, (Y/N)," he told her, his voice low just for her to hear. "Do you trust me?" 

The way she didn't hesitate to give him a small nod, even in the dark of the night with millions of questions running through her head, would've broken his softened heart if he hadn't caged it away for the time being. 

He pulsed his hands around her arms. He didn't break his gaze from hers as he spoke, "I need you to grab enough clothes to last you a week or so, and anything y'can't live without. Okay? We need to leave as soon as possible. We need to get somewhere safe." 

(Y/N) broke their eye contact, her own gaze searching his face for something he wasn't sure she'd find. Her chest rose with a lingering breath, her brows downturning just the smallest bit the longer she looked at him. It wasn't until she matched her gaze to his once more that she spoke.

"Okay." 

It was barely more than a peep, but it was all he needed to hear. 

Harry stepped out of her way as she moved on stunted limbs. She rifled through her closet for a moment only to reappear with the duffel he'd been hoping she had. She shoveled clothes in; soft sweaters, comfortable pants, t-shirts, all the things he'd seen her wear before, but they didn't look quite as sweet under these circumstances. (Y/N) was silent as she moved to the bathroom, the clanging of bottles and drawers sliding open and closed was all heard as she packed whatever she needed. 

He wanted to feel anything as he watched her. He wanted anything to take root in his chest as he watched her pack up as much of her life as she could fit in that bag, but he didn't feel anything. There wasn't any guilt, fear, or pressure. He felt numb.

After she had her phone and her charger in her bag, he started her down the stairs. She didn't protest, didn't tell him she needed to grab anything else before they left. (Y/N) only followed. 

"Put some shoes on," he told her gruffly, stopping her before she marched on out with only socks covering her toes. 

"Right," she mumbled, immediately looking towards her end table with shoes shoved underneath. She picked her white Vans. 

Wordlessly, Harry tucked her hand in his. He led her quickly out the door and down the steps of her porch. The click of her putting the lock in place did little to quell the urgency that was filling his chest now that they were out in the open for anyone to see. 

It was an odd moment of deja vu, he felt as he guided her down the steps. Her hand was warm in his, the same way it was when she had led him inside for breakfast and a first kiss. That felt like a lifetime away instead of a weekend. 

He took her bag and shoved it into the back seat along with his before he offered her the front passenger seat. (Y/N) didn't say anything as she buckled herself in, avoiding his eyes even when he slipped in beside her behind the steering wheel. 

Turning the key, the dashboard lit up. He had enough gas in the tank to take them far enough away before they'd have to stop. His chest loosened at the sight of the meter. At least they had that. 

Harry lingered in his spot at the curb in front of her house. His hands were heavy on the steering wheel, the car geared into drive, but he left his foot on the brake. The sun was still a couple of hours from breaking the horizon, leaving the only light from the waning moon and the dashboard tinting his car in a ghastly green. It was just enough light to see the tears glimmering in (Y/N)'s eyes and the exhaustion already trying to pull her down. 

She had no answers, no idea of what kind of mess he'd brought her into, but she followed him anyway. The ice under Harry's feet cracked at the thought. 

All it took was the reminder of the pad of paper with every bit of information a person needed to hurt (Y/N), all printed in slashes of red ink, to have that crack beginning to seal. She didn’t need someone who was cracking and just as scared as she was. She needed someone who would make her safe. 

"Ready?" Harry grumbled, looking away before she could catch his eyes. 

(Y/N) only nodded.

—————

sage represents wisdom; knowing when to run from the past or fight

now stuff is starting to happen!!! I would love to hear what you all think is going on and everything!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any ideas or requests or anything!

[darkmajesty-xo]

soft awkward izuku fluff

izuku doesn't do this.

he doesn't like nightclubs, finding them too loud and crowded. with his line of work he's constantly on edge, so it's seeming impossible for him to "let go" in an environment like this.

he doesnt like hard liquor, preferring to sip a beer, or two, throughout the night because he'd always been a lightweight and he'd hate to ruin someone else's night by having them babysit him. kacchan's complained about it more than once.

he doesn't like small talk, it's not one of his strong suits. he can be a bit oblivious to social cues and tends to ramble incessantly about quirks, and all might and topics much too personal for polite conversations with strangers. he always ends up stammering out apologies and turning beet red when he gets "the look".

izuku doesn't do this.

he really did not want to go out tonight.

he really did not want to put on this dress shirt.

he really did not want to wait at the bar.

he turns around to look at his friend group. they're all laughing and carrying on with models and bottle girls that are desperate for their attention. even kacchan seems to be having a good time, probably recounting his victories and relishing in the way the girls linger to his every word. it's just not like that for izuku, he's always felt so awkward.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't some cassonova, like shinsou or sero, that can have a girl leaving with them before they'd even exchanged pleasantries.

he isn't cool or funny, like kaminari or kirishima, that can laugh a girl right out of her panties.

he isn't mysterious like shoto or confident like kachaan, whose mere existence is enough to attract a harem.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't his friends.

he's just--

"deku!?"

you're pretty, so so pretty; beautiful even. your smile is radiant; it leaves him breathless. your voice is angelic; like his own personal symphony. your eyes are kind; he could stare into them for hours. your body is amazing; you look so soft-- he wants to touch you in all the best, and worst, ways. your scent is hypnotic, it compliments you perfectly; he can't stop himself from leaning in-- it's like he's in a trance.

"wow, i can't believe i'm meeting my favorite hero! what can i get for you?"

he's your favorite hero? praise all might, he's blessed. to think that an angel like you had even considered his presence was astounding. if this was a different time, he'd worship at your feet with offerings of sacrifice and allegiance. you are the embodiment of all the beautiful things in the world that he'd sworn to protect. he doesn't even know your name but he's already named your three children and decided where you all would vacation in the summers.

izuku doesn't do this, because if he did he wouldn't have said that out loud and you wouldn't be giving him "the look". and fuck if he isn't mortified. can he not be a fucking nerd for once in his miserable existence ? maybe shinsou can brainwash him into forgetting how you flipped him off and called him a creep. his self deprecating mind can't handle that kind of torment on repeat.

izuku doesn't do this… and it seems like you can tell because why haven't belittled him ? why haven't you ran in the other direction? why aren't you giving him 'the look' anymore ? why are you smiling at him ?

"do i at least get to help plan the wedding? or was marriage not on the agenda?"

a joke.

that was a joke.

you were laughing with him, and not at him.

"of c-course you could help p-plan it but i think you should give me your number first".

he can thank the vestiges of OFA for that confident delivery because he was on the verge of passing out.

you whistled lowly, then bent down to grab two beers from under the bar.

"how about we start with names and see where the night takes us, huh? cheers".

izuku doesn't do this, but with the feeling of your fingers brushing his own as you hand him the drink lets him know that you're well worth it. he doesn't like his shirt, or this club but he likes you.

"cheers"

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

HOW COME?

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you go to the Joke shop and take a look around, not realising one of the owners watching you the whole time Warnings: none?

the shop was filled with kids and their parents, looking at everything that piled the shelves, kids wanting to buy everything and the parents shaking their heads at them. you managed to squeeze through and get some room to breath

they'd only been open for a week and it was this packed, it was an understatement to call this shop a hit.

the fluorescent colours were blinding you as you turned to see a boy, his face turning green with his mum by his side.

you looked around, smiling at every item you see. not knowing you were being watched from the second story of the shop.

you always knew the twins were gonna open a joke shop, but now that you're in it, reality hit you, they had really made their dreams come true. and they were successful.

you were friends of theirs, sort of- you weren't in their group but you three definitely talked quite a bit. if there was a project for potions- they would ask for your help and if you were paired up in transfiguration they would do their part.

you made your way over to the area that was glowing with pink and saw a large stand in the shape of flowers, glowing pink and creating little heart bubbles, it made you smile.

you picked up one of the bottles and read the label. you shook your head with a slight laugh as you read love potion in a pretty font.

"I'll give you a discount for that if you want" you heard his voice from behind you

you turned to see Fred with a smile on his face

"but, then again, it would be a useless purchase" he smirked at you, stepping closer, looking down at you

"how come? do they not work?" you asked curiously

"oh they work perfectly, but you're not gonna need it" he shook his head ammused

"and why is that?" you questioned, tilting your head

truth be told, you always had feelings for the boy, he ticked all your boxes. funny, loyal, tall, confident, passionate and witty.

but he was just so popular and almost every girl you know was swoon over him

"why try to use something when it's already worked without it?" he chuckled.

Fred would be an idiot to deny his feelings for you. he never would've told you this in Hogwarts, he never would've been this straight forward with you about this before, because even THE popular Fred Weasley was self-conscious sometimes.

he sometimes just looked at you and felt as though he wasn't enough, that he couldn't give you what you deserved

but now he was a successful business man, making big bucks. when he saw you enter the shop 10 minutes ago, he knew what he had to do, he knew he could give you anything your heart desired, if you'll have him

"how so? last time i checked I've had no guy chase after me" you laughed, putting the bottle down beside you on the flower stand.

you raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response

"who knows, maybe he hasn't been around you for a while, maybe he was waiting for you to come to him" he shrugged confidently.

you knew what he meant, he never failed to make flirtatious comments, so you brushed it off, even though the butterflies made their way to your stomach.

"and who might this young man be? I should probably go find him, I wouldn't want to keep him waiting" you smiled coyly

"I can't remember his name, but I can describe him for you, maybe tell you were he is" he smirked, leaning down

"do tell" you leaned in too, eager to continue and get to the point

"well I heard he has red hair, he's pretty tall too, I heard he's 6'3. he's pretty handsome too, I think you'll like him, he comes from a pretty big family, and I'm pretty sure I see him in the shop everyday" he informed you cheekily

"wow, I never knew George felt that way about me, I should probably go find him" you snickered, looking at his annoyed face. you were only teasing.

"George? that doesn't seem to ring a bell, I'm pretty sure his name started with an F" he rubbed his chin, looking deep in fake thought

"wow" you gasped "you're not implying what I think you are, are you Fred?" you gasp in faux shock

"Fred! that's his name, he sounds dreamy, doesn't he?" he clicked his fingers

"you should see him in person" you chuckled, his smirk dropped and instead, a small smile made it's way onto his lips

"maybe you should go and ask him out, I heard his favourite place is the three broomsticks" he replied joyfully

you hummed, thinking for a second "nah, I'll let him ask me since he's so in love with me"

"I don't know, he might be nervous" he tilted his head

"then you should go tell him he has nothing to be nervous about" you leaned in and whispered to him, as if it was a secret. he smiled and looked at the ground, his tongue running along his upper teeth, tapping the wood of the floor with his boot

"will do" he answered, a sweet grin on his face

"you stay right here, I think I just saw him" he pat your shoulder, stepping away from you before coming back a few seconds later

"hello there" he said happily

"hello Fred, fancy seeing you here!" you beamed

"I know, I thought I'd pop in and see how successful the shop is" he looked around, motioning to all the chaos, making you shake your head in amusement

"it's incredible isn't it? I must say I'm very proud of the two" your comment made him blush slightly, and you could tell it caught him a bit off guard

"so, I don't know if you know this but some handsome young bloke came up to me just then and said you would go on a date with me" he responded

"only if you asked" you blinked

"well then, how would you like to go the three broomsticks with me this weekend, Saturday maybe?" he asked you

"your favourite right?" you raised your eyebrows

he gasped "how'd you know?" he placed a hand over his heart

"lucky guess" you giggled

"so what do you say? will you go out on a date with me? a successful businessman, who is -said to be- very attractive" he question sheepishly

"Saturday?" you asked "I don't know I might be busy-"

"-Sunday?" he cut you off

"I was kidding, Saturday sounds perfect" you grinned up at him

"great, perfect. Meet me here at 11- in the morning, or night, is night better?" he rambled quietly

"11 at night? bit late don't you think?" you questioned

"right yeah, morning is more reasonable" he nodded

"well th-" he started but got cut off by George

"-Fred, I need help!"

Fred looked back at his twin and back at you, sparing a kiss to your cheek

"see you then, Love" he winked before rushing to George

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

[mytragedyperson]

Wait, no, because at first when it was Cale's second day and he felt like all he'd done was eat since getting there, I just kinda shrugged it off as Cale being too hard on himself because he'd only been there a day. But realistically he's from a world that has an apocalypse so food was probably scarce and you can't tell me that Cale wouldn't either take smaller portions or simply not eat, if they didn't have much food, so that children and other people could have more because they need it more than he does all while telling himself he's just not hungry. And before that he lived withhis uncle or something, who was abusive, right? Can't imagine he got fed three good meals a day then, either. and even on the first day he misses a meal because he was writing down everything from the books. that probably happened a lot before too, him just forgetting to eat because he was so absorbed in his work. And now, he's in a new place where he's expected to eat 3 full meals a day and, if he misses one, someone will notice and come get him to make sure he eats at the next meal. And food isn't scarce for this family so he can now eat as much as he wants without worrying about the people around him starving. And he always makes sure the people with him eat as well. It's how even the small things with Cale, little things you brush off the first time you read, manage to tell you things about his character and his backstory. Because, at first, knowing nothing you just kinda see this as Cale being slightly dramatic and hard on himself, but he's not used to eating 3 meals a day, so for him, it feels like all he's done is eat

[myfeetrcolddd]

A date? (PART TWO!!)

Theo kept to his word. After leaving the cafe he took her hand in his once more, intertwining their fingers together. He walked so close to her that their shoulders kept brushing.

"D'you want to go to the bookstore?" Y/N asked innocently, batting her pretty little eyelashes at him in a way she knew always worked on him.

He pursed his lips and acted as though he was annoyed by the prospect of going there, even though he had planned to go there. After all that was the one store she had gone to consistently every time she was at Hogsmeade. "I suppose so." He rolled his eyes with a grin and she shoved him lightly.

Theo tossed their empty cups into a trash can before he held the door open for her and let her in.

Theo watched her face as it morphed into this giddy childlike expression and found himself smiling at it. A thought came to mind, a muggle phrase he had heard once, 'Happy wife, happy life' and he knew they weren't married (yet), but he couldn't help but feel as though that phrase was nothing but the truth.

He followed her around the store, listening intently as she rambled on about each book and the plotlines. He held the books she handed to him and kept track of those she lingered on but didn't pick up.

Theo was not known for his patience, or his ability to stay quite for such a long time without putting in his two cents. This was not the case with Y/N, because when he was with her he found his loud and over busy mind was calm and quite. He liked that nearly as much as he liked the girl herself.

"Are you sure this isn't too much?" She asked, as she stared at the stack of books she hadn't realized had gotten so high. Truth was that she always felt bad about spending Theos money, she never wanted him to think she was only friends with him for his money.

"If you asked I'd buy you the whole store." He said casually as he paid for the books.

She was glad he had his back to her, because if he didn't then he'd see how flustered that 'casual' comment made her. Though she imagined it wouldn't matter, nearly everything Theo said to her made her blush to some extent.

Before she could grab the bag of books herself Theodore did, he then grabbed her hand and without thinking kissed the back of it. Y/N felt as though she looked as red as a tomato right then.

He mumbled something in another language, Italian. Though she could barely hear it and even if she could hear it it's not as if she would have been able to understand.

She'd have to ask him about it later.

Soon the two found themselves walking into The Three Broomsticks. "I'll go get us a seat, you order." Y/N says, leaving no room for argument before she took the heavy bag of books out of Theos hands and going to find a booth.

Thankfully there was a empty booth towards the back, away from any prying eyes. Not that she wanted to keep this day a secret, but she had her what ifs about this day she was nearly certain was a date. What ifs that included Theo denying the day ever happened.

As she waited for the Slytherin boy to return Y/N found herself getting nervous. Pulling her out of her thoughts someone cleared their throat above her.

She turned and found one of the boys she had 'hung out' with in fifth year. It was awkward when I realized it was a date, but we kept talking and I thought I might've been able to like him. But then he ghosted me.

"Oh- Ben! Hi." She said glancing behind him to see Theodore still waiting for their drinks.

"Hey." He smirked, "Long time no see."

"Uh- yeah." She glanced back over at Theo who still had yet to notice what was happening, "What are you doing here?"

"I just saw you over and thought I'd come to say hi." He shrugged and she grew a little irritated, because this guy hadn't come to say 'hi' to her in the past two years.

"Oh well. You've said it." She said, not so subtly.

"Yes I have." He looked her up and down and it was then that she was thankful for having learned social ques, had she been in this interaction a few years ago she would think he really was telling the truth. "Listen, I think we should hang out sometime-"

"Sorry, her schedules full." Theo says from behind Ben and we both turn to him.

"Well I'm sure she can make some room-"

"Nope." Theo says, shoving past the short boy and sliding into the seat next to Y/N. He places their drinks down on the table before wrapping an arm around her, "Is that all? Or is there more we can help you with?"

"Look-"

"I really think you should leave Benjamín." Theo glares, not bothering to hide his aggravated mood.

Ben scoffs before stomping away.

Even with Ben gone Theo kept his arm around her, if she didn't know any better she'd say he actually held her tighter. Despite the mood Ben seemed to put Theo in Y/N couldn't help but be amused and let out a giggle.

His head snapped to hers, their faces closer than they've ever been, "Do you find this amusing?" He raised an unamused brow at her.

"No." She grinned, then leant forward picking up her butterbeer and taking a sip.

"Mhm." He hummed unconvinced and she kept grinning and Theo dropped the moody act, smiling and shaking his head at the pretty girl and drank his own butterbeer.

They slipped into a comfortably silence and Y/N figured now would be a good time to ask him. "So..." She started, keeping her eyes on the foam floating around her drink.

"So." Theo copied, his eyes on the side of her head.

"Are we on a date right now?" She ripped the band-aid off, turning to him and he froze. His eyes widening and his cheeks flushing slightly.

He then grinned, a wide ear to ear grin, flashing me with the deepest dimples I have ever seen. "I was wondering when you'd piece it together."

"I-what?" She spluttered and looked at him confused. She wasn't sure what she had expected his answer to be but it surely wasn't this.

"You heard me." He whispered, leaning in closer. His eyes darted from her lips to her eyes.

Y/N cleared her throat loudly and turned to face her drink once more, Theo laughed and brushed a stay piece of hair behind her ear. "I like you, Y/N." He said in a low voice that made her feel all kinds of things. "Actually, I like you a lot."

She swallowed her dry spit at his words as her face heated so much she might as well be the fucking sun. "I've liked you for a while now, a few years give or take. Personally, I thought I was kind of obvious with it." He spoke into her ear and she huffed.

Turning her head towards him once more their faces were so close their noses rubbed each other. Theo opened his mouth to say something else but she cut him off. "Theo, are you going to kiss me or not?"

He grinned before he grabbed her face and their lips met in a passionate kiss.

[the-fiction-witch]

No Girls?

Media The Maze Runner : Death Cure

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smutty / Flirty

Concept A Glade with No Girls

Smut: Sexy Discussions / Sexual Language / Semi Nudity

I sat watching the ocean shift and change with each of its little waves, the ship to the side being worked on relentlessly by anyone with enough skill to do so. I sat repairing various clothes and tent flaps that had been dropped off to me a skill I'd always used and honestly enjoyed something about sitting down with a needle and some thread was so very calming indeed. But I wasn't alone I had newt beside me one of the group A boys who had gotten cosy with Vince I got along with most of them but newt especially we had a comfort with each other I suppose he had a day off from his usual work welding and cutting metal work on the ship a task Vince trained him in as his steady hand was well suited for it. But today he was resting his ankle up sitting with me as I worked. 

"Why didn't you try a big ladder?'

"We did. Couldn't build one big enough."

"What about like scaffolding?'

"Y/n I don't know how else to explain this to you the walls were too big to do that." 

"Did you try a big stick?" I asked and he glared at me "do like a pole vault" 

"Your really just not getting how big these walls are"

"No if it's a wall it can be scaled." 

"Okay so if you could get to the top then what?"

"Walk along the top."

"That doesn't connect. And moves every night"

"Fine. Still sounds dull"

"Says the girl who lived in a shopping centre with a bunch of cranks for two years"

"I wore stylish pre apocalypse fashion, ate so many fancy candies and slept on a whole bed of teddy bears. My life was awesome" 

"Sure sounds like it" he laughed

"So how many girls again?'

"One"

"Ooohh bet you boys fought over her. Or what she just one of those free love types who'd let all of you straight boys at her"

"No, she was only in the glade a week so"

"How long were you in there?'

"Three years"

"And you had one girl for a week?'

"Yeah'

"I'm surprised she got out the box without being drowned"

"...by what?" 

"A river of goo"

He glared at me again "we didn't all immediately jizz ourselves when we saw a girl"

"Really? Cause I think sixty boys in a large maze together for three years would be pretty hyped for a girl. Except the gay guys they probably didn't care all that much. Bisexuals hyped over threewaY possibilities. Asexuals wouldn't really care either" I explained

"I mean Thomas may have jizzed himself but that's because she's his girlfriend"

"Ohh. But you really spent three years with nothing but big smelly boys?"

"Yeah, and it wasn't that bad we had showers"

"Yeah I know what boys are like you showered once in a month if your lucky"

"...true." he sighed 

"Didn't you have buckets too?'

"Yeah for klunk" 

"Did you have laundry?'

'not really. Just brush it off if it gets dirt on it"

"Ugggh I get why the one girl lasted a week she probably couldn't stand the smell, sweaty smell unwashed teenage boys who don't wash their laundry and have shit buckets, all allowed to fester and go all sour"

"Okay now you say it… we probably were disgusting" 

"You shower more now right?"

"Every other day, I would everyday but the showers aren't that private…" 

"Awwww you shy newt?" I giggled

"Shy? Don't want people seeing my dick? Whatever you wanna call it" 

"But really no girls?"

"No girls."

"Awwww poor newtie spent all the formative teen time without anything to imagine" 

"I can imagine. I have an imagination"

"But you spent all that time without comparison. From when you where a tiny baby boy to now big strong boy" I smiled leaning on his shoulder 

"It wasn't that bad"

"What did you use to do? At night?"

"Sleep?"

"Newt, you were trapped in their from what 13 onwards. Your really going to try and tell me you didn't.. you know after lights out" 

"Did you?'

"Constantly I was bored. It helps me sleep"

"Do you… still?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just… curious" he blushed "no, I uhh never really had time, or the privacy"

"Awwwwww poor newtie." I giggled hugging him tightly and immediately I noticed "hi"

"Hi"

"Be careful with that I only just repaired those pants newt" I warned him going back to my sewing as he turned bright red "newt?'

'yes?" 

"You ever seen boobs?"

"... How much boob?"

"How much have you seen?"

"I saw Teresa's in her shirt… and also a little down her shirt"

"Dirty boy"

"She was laying down it wasn't intentional!"

"That it?"

"That's it" 

"You ever touched a boob?"

"Nope"

"You ever seen ass?"

"I mean I've seen Minho. And fry. Infact most boys"

"I meant girls"

"No."

"Ever seen a? Lady area?"

"No,"

"... would you want to?" I asked 

He went bright red stuttering a lot barely able to make eye contact with me "I mean uhhh well I uhh I guess I uhh what I mean is uhh kinda"

I chuckled and finished my last few stitches throwing my finished work in the basket "you're sweet newt" I smiled moving to stand In Front of him and I lifted my shirt long enough for him to look before dropping it back down and giving his cheek a kiss even if he was basically frozen with his eyes wide in place "see you later" I laughed taking my basket and headed back to camp 

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝗱 !? ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ fluff. fluff to cure to soul.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

Seems like someone is catching feelings... how do they hide them? (...or try to)

XIAO is impossibly perplexed... both at himself, and you.

Because when it comes down to it, he's an immortal and you're merely a human, two contrasting types of beings that should never strive to coexist... alongside one... another...

...Yet, why does he wish for that possibility, with the few remnants of hope that still remain in his soul?

It's something unnatural, these emotions that are welling up in his body, but he can't bring himself to detest it. The feelings that arise when he's with you, the quickened rate of his heartbeat and the strange heat that's risen to his face... while all of it is unnervingly unfamiliar, somehow, it's comforting.

And he can't begin to explain why... but he's felt this warmth in his being before... albeit on a lesser scale. The way his eyes seem to light up, ever so slightly when you appear before him... yes, he's seen this before.

He recognizes it.

And it's what they call 'love.'

He wants to scoff at the very notion of such an outlandish topic. One that he could never even dream of experiencing... until, of course, now.

He's certainly not the most expressive in his emotions, so at first, it's almost like the atmosphere between the two of you hasn't even changed. But soon enough, it's growing more and more clear, from the way his usually unreadable facade has morphed into one of a flustered expression whenever you get too close, how he sometimes flinches when the two of you make contact... and how sometimes, he refuses to meet your eye, staying silent.

Maybe you don't notice it in the beginning, but as time goes on, it'll only become more and more apparent. More and more obvious, until...

"I think I'm in love with you." ♥

KAZUHA has heard tales of such... emotions from the Crux's drunken sailors.

But to say that prepared him for confronting such feelings himself... that was a different topic entirely. The most he'd felt of such 'love' was when his past friend was still alive... but the affection he had experienced then was nothing compared to how passionate his adoration of you was.

Needless to say, he had found himself knee deep in such a predicament. Running through his mind all of those stories the sailors had spun... tales of a beloved...

Kazuha would be jesting if he claimed that he had never imagined himself in such rose-tinted fantasies. And now that he was in one himself, he's already far too entranced to deny it.

Ah... but working up the courage to confess is much too difficult... so for now, the wanderer will tarry with his time, writing poems of professing his adoration and daydreaming about the moment as the Crux's hull is gently lulled by the waves. Perhaps one day he'll sort himself out, perhaps one day he'll find himself speaking those three words that are spoken between lovers.

Kazuha is used to hiding, being a vagrant and a wanted criminal, however, cloaking his affection is another story. The male know's he's being painfully obvious, even when he's trying to act subtle... but he certainly can't help the way his cheeks flush whenever the two of you accidentally brush hands, or the way his mouth can't help but form a serene smile whenever you laugh. And every time those moments reoccur, time and time again, he gains just a slight more incentive.

In the moonlight, his beauty is striking, but all he can think of is you.

"...I have something important to tell you.

I'm in love with you." ♥

SCARAMOUCHE denies it. His feelings for you, and no matter how easily you're able to fluster him.

Why? To be exact, he's not even sure...

Maybe it has to do with the fact that he's closed off his heart to people long before he even met you. He who killed his emotions, so that they wouldn't hinder him. In order for his past torments to end.

"Killed..." Yet somehow, he still... felt something towards you, and unfamiliar emotion that seemed to bubble up from inside him and developed quicker by the day. An affection... obsession towards you that he couldn't stop.

...Would he want to stop it at all?

Needless to say, he's head over heels... but still persists onwards like nothing has transpired within that head of his. Sure, he feels strangely attracted towards you and everything you do, but that doesn't mean anything. Means nothing at all.

Ah, but even someone as powerful as Scaramouche can't keep such pining bottled up for who knows how long... sooner or later, a confession will arrive... and he knows full well of it.

The very thought of it has him disgusted.

Is he even able to feel such an emotion as 'love'? Perhaps he's just imagining it, a delusion forged by his own mind to satiate his sole self... after all, he doesn't even have a heart. He doesn't have anything to prove that he has a single shred of 'humanity.'

Or perhaps, he did 'have' one, and you were the one who stole it.

Haha, if that's the case, perhaps he won't mind. He'll bide his time, clench the fabric over his chest, smiling to himself as he imagines his absent heart beating alongside yours.

And maybe one day, he'll understand what his love towards you means. ♥

(a/n) once again, scaramouche is the only one who doesn't confess to it. (oops)