#i wish she would go back to that bottle design honestly like these new bottles are so fugly!!!!!

[brunetterightsactivist]

i got rid of a bunch of my perfumes last year and now i miss them...something wrong with me actually

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[cnidocyst]

im sooo smart i couldnt find the blank template but i have now but its fine . classic deviantart meme font.

[IMAGE ID: The fandom opinion meme, a template where you draw characters that correspond to the prompt, this one being themed around One Piece. The first one is for "favorite character" where Franky, Robin, and Usopp have been drawn. They're all close together with Franky in the back and Usopp doing a thumbs up. For "liked by everyone but me" is Sabo, whose burn scar is drawn more exaggerated. For "didn't like at first" is Orochi, who's head is tilted down a bit and is looking up, annoyed. For "would like to know more about" are Crocodile, Pudding, Kiwi, and Mozu. There's text above them reading "honestly I would love to know more about the franky family in general." For "least favorite character" is Orlumbus, who is annoyed and looking to the side. For "like the design, dislike the character" is Zeo, glaring at the viewer. Text next to him reads "unfunny as fuck but the most badass design in the goddamn shit." For "like the character, dislike the design" is a very small drawing of Usopp, as if he's standing far away. Text above him reads: "God I hate the donut lip thing." For "similar personality" are Pudding and Usopp. Pudding is grabbing Usopp's shoulders from behind and looking at him with her three big eyes and says "I can erase all scary memories." and Usopp responds: "Oh shit, fr?". He seems pretty okay with this ordeal. For "fav ship" The Going Merry is drawn in the foreground, with an expressive figurehead. She looks very excited and has a 1st place medal around her neck. And then in the background Franky and Robin are seen making out. For "least fav ship" are Buggy and Crocodile. Crocodile is blowing smoke on Buggy's face and Buggy keels over and hacks. For "would befriend IRL" is Kokoro, lazily looking at the viewer and holding a bottle of booze. Text beside her reads "would be chill as fuck". For "would not befriend IRL" is Sanji, who is laying tied up on railroad tracks while a train looms in the distance. Befriend is also spelled incorrectly, reading "befrined". /END ID]

explaining my self under the cut (EGGHEAD SPOILERS INCLUDED)

Favorite character: Franky, Robin and Usopp. Franky is my favorite but Robin and Usopp are the best characters. For Franky it's mostly that I like weird guys in hawaiin shirts and I also like inventor/engineer characters and he's both which is not fair to my psyche. And a lot of the shit he makes is so silly all those extra vehicles in the sunny all have to be cartoon animal themed and that's so cute. Silly guy making his silly machines, aww aww. I like Robin because she's a little weird a little offputting. Wish they went way further with that but I still enjoy that element of her character. And that she's the designated smart one but not in a killjoy way, and it's so sweet seeing her find happiness over time. I like that Usopp is the straight man or everyman type guy of the crew, and how most times the thing he chooses to do is the most "yeah i would have done that in this situation". I like that at no point he suddenly overnight becomes some brave boy and is a shounen anime badass now, but instead he's anxious about everything but pulls through regardless. He could have quit back in water 7 but he didn't !! New world scary as hell but he's still here having not given up or died !! There's something i really appreciate about having a character who isn't a badass or anything like that succeed too because its harder for him. And I lovee a good usopp fight, his fighting style is so fun and the usopp vs perona fight is one of my favorite of the whole series. I think it's fun that he was able to work around his fear of close combat by getting experimental. And of course the whole thing with how they make a point in Enies that Usopp doesn't have to be insanely capable and competant to have value and have his friends love him and i think that's nice. Everybody's valued on the crew even if their unique skills are more "niche" or whatever. :] .

Liked by everyone but me: Sabo. I think I would have liked him a lot more if he wasn't introduced immediately after Ace died as Luffy's secret brother he also has (anime adaptation is way worse for this because they can't even hide that Sabo didn't die !! It's so obvious !!) I know they have a whole passing the torch thing going on and the fire fruit thing is very cute but i feel it kind of takes away from the impact of ace dying to give luffy a different fire brother yknow ? either way though, he has the personality of a slice of white bread like i really dont find him endearing at all, all i get out of him is he's kind of fun to draw i like pulling a brightheart warrior cats fan design on him. as far as i can tell most OP fandom people generally like him i never see sabo slander LOL but that's just me

Didn't like at first: Orochi. Choosing him more out of what I felt was appropriate given some characters i.e. franky are clearly supposed to start off on a bad note then be likable later. Orochi never gets redeemed or even becomes particularly silly and charming in the ways many other villains do. Him being an over the top piece of shit who was also scared of everything then had beef with Kaido just appealed to me idk lol plus all the stuff with how he's doing all this out of some kind of paranoia/trauma response and like yeah fuck sure i'll take that some kind of a reason over nothing at all. he's a little like arlong if arlong was like really really lame. i think it's funny he fake dies like twice + his actual(?) death scene is honestly pretty badass that was a good ass scene. one of my more favorite villains tbh and he pleasantly surprised me because i really assumed he was just going to be another comically evil annoying lame guy in a different coat of paint. think again it's annoying lame guy but a little better.

Would like to know more about: Crocodile, Pudding, Kiwi, and Mozu. Honestly there's like 27 characters I could put here. Crocodile stands out to me because of the implied trans thing mostly but regardless, I am curious about his relationship with Robin and his run in with Whitebeard and the thing with going out of his way to stick his neck out for Luffy in Marineford. <- that was probably just Crocodile being grateful luffy busted him out of impel down and not wanting to say it, but i like to think there's some kind of "luffy reminds crocodile of himself when he was younger" type deal because yea croc wanted to be pirate king before whitebeard shat all over him, yeah? yeah i wanna know this guy's deal. and yeah what were the circumstances of him and Iva's initial meeting? Out of everyone I chose he's probably the mostly likely to get some kind of detailed backstory and such. I assume Pudding is probably going to be very relevant eventually what with the opening of the third eye or whatever the fuck. Excited as the prospect of more Pudding, really hope we do not get another hancock situation where her entire character devolves into being really obsessed with a guy. Low expectations for this one I just hope she gets things to do that uh . don't suck lol. i really like her a lot. I think I kind of already explained Kiwi & Mozu yeah, in general more of anything on Franky Family would be nice. I know they're not important like Croc + Pudding but I hope they at least get some silly mini story shit. Filler ep where Franky reminisces on franky family . i will take antyhing.

Least favorite character: Orlumbus. don't like the columbus cameo. that's it, this one isn't deep, the fact he's a character at all is just dumb to me. i do rank him lower than villains or intentionally annoying charatcers because at least characters like Spamdam you're clearly supposed to want him dead so he's doing his job as a character.

Like the design, dislike the character: Zeo. Wasn't huge on the new fishman pirates in general. Would have to reread Fishman Island to elaborate better. Zeo's design is badass though.

Like the character, dislike the design: Usopp. Looks like a caricature

Same personality: Usopp and Pudding. Only 2 I could think of that have made me think yeah, they're just like me for real on a regular basis.

Favorite ship: Going Merry. I love that the Merry is just the silly little boat that could held together by duck tape and how comically smaller she is compared to marine ships, really bringing together this idea that the straw hats are just some scrappy weirdos who have no business being alive this long- Oh. Oh that kind of ship. Okay. Frobin is like the most . Sounds like a pairing that would actually happen, makes sense for how I understand these characters to be, etc. I'm not in the camp of believing they're end game or canonically secretly in love, you just don't have to like . Conveniently forget things about either character to force it into making some kind of sense. More importantly though, I think it's fun how they're counterparts to each other. Robin is history/nature themed, Franky is futuristic/technology themed, but both are connected through the pluton thing. They're both "keys to the ancient weapon" but instead of being destructive evil characters they're more interested in building the other up. Something like that. And it's a weird girl + silly guy dynamic and I like these kinds of "met you in the worst situation but we made it out together and are now both enjoying ourselves" relationships. If I was spamdam bringing robin and franky together for my evil scheme only for them to not only both escape but end up on the same crew and become very close I would have to quit my job out of embarrassment.

Least favorite ship:Crocodile x Buggy.I don't care for most hate love type dynamics anyways but particularly don't enjoy this one because seeing Buggy in this toxic yaoi with my boss type situation doesn't appeal to me at all. (Obviously not the worst OP pairing in the world, just as far as pairings I actually see with my eyes every now and again I don't really care for this one)

Would befriend irl: Kokoro. I just like her. I would listen to her talk for a long time about whatever the hell.

Would not befriend irl: Sanji. I mean like more than half of all OP characters are people i would not stand but I have a dunking on Sanji quota to achieve.

[cryptiqish]

some quick thoughts on nerdy prudes must die

first off - this is 100% a return to form for starkid for me. tgwdlm was like. lighting in a bottle but i really, really am not a fan of black friday - so i dipped after that, and never really looked into nightmare time etc. as i'm not super into the hatchetfield eldritch lore stuff - honestly, i figured i was aging out of it. THAT SAID. holy shit. npmd is brilliant

every single goddamn song is a banger. every one. it's so rare for me to like everything at least to a little bit, but when i can interchange my entire top 5 you know it's brilliant. high school is killing me, nerdy prudes must die, dirty girl, hatchet town...all top tier starkid in general. up there w tgwdlm

angela giarratana and will branner steal this entire show. absolutely insane stuff from both of them. will in particular...oh man. it's his show and you just KNOW it

oh shit!!! oh fuck!!!! i didnt think thered be a skele'uhn here... im so fucking scared of skele'uhnz!!!

it's FUNNY

i <3 the weird anime nerd kid. rip king

jon's vocals and just. general range in this is amazing to see from tgwdlm

 i will say i wish this maintained the more straight slasher vibe of the first act all the way through but that’s just personal preference since i'm less into the overarching eldritch lore stuff as mentioned. with that in mind though, i didn't find the lords in black stuff as jarring as i thought i would (and the summoning's a banger) - so it works narratively. i think at the end of the day i prefer my standalone shows - not everything needs to be an extended universe - so i was pleasantly surprised at how relatively well this could function as its own thing.

following that - i think this is the closest starkid's gotten to like, off-broadway quality - with plot modifications i could 100% see it making the jump. the production quality - of both the musical itself and the proshot, is amazing - everything pops, it's incredibly polished and just looks brilliant (again, such a step up from BF.)

shoutout to the costume design in particular. top tier work again. ghost max looked crazy good.

for something that in actuality didn't get a lot of focus...can’t stop thinking about how the whole max jagerman grace chastity dynamic is like the absolute HARDEST thing to randomly come out of starkid. the implicit themes had absolutely no right to go that hard!!!! it’s a silly horror comedy!

devout repressed christian and a boy that thinks he’s god. and then she deals with the first sign of sexual attraction to him by killing him??

and then his ghost comes back for vengeance, viewing it as divine justice - and then she ends the musical enacting her own vengeful divine justice?? straight up with modified reprise of his song?? they’re one and the same?? the prayer motif???

“will you pray for me / when i’m gone / or is this the eternal dark without a dawn” and “who will pray for you / when your body’s gone” is like the rawest motif of all time and it’s in the same musical that has an ten minute long barbecue joke sequence unrelated to the plot

nothing sexier than the motif of killing god and god killing you, in general. i do think i loved this one because it played with a lot of my fave tropes and themes of horror - high school slasher, archetypes, coming back wrong, religion, all that

"the big game" kept cracking me up it's so dumb and yet

anyway this whole thing just felt like we've unlocked...i dunno, a new level of starkid?? i was blown away and i'm sure for those more invested in hatchetfield beyond tgwdlm it hit even more, but it's left me so excited to see what's next from them for the first time in years.

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

once again, its been one hell of a wednesday

time to unwind with a weekly tag game!

thanks for tagging me @lingy910y @juliakayyy @energievie and @jrooc

name: gigi

age: 24

star sign: full time virgo

first language: english

second language: lol i wish, my girlfriend has been trying to teach me korean the whole time we've been together and cant comprehend that my brain is just simply not wired to learn language

favorite lip product: aquaphor 🥰 and the nars laguna lipstick it was literally made for pale autumns

the best food dish you can make without a recipe? honestly most things, even when its new i like to skim and freestyle, most often i make eggs in hell and various soups, stews and stocks

if you drink tea, what kind? the only tea i drink is bottled cold green tea, and ginger in hot water when im sick

if you drink coffee, what roast do you usually get? light roast <3

favorite thing to watch on youtube right now: music videos! also watching a lot of book binding tutorials and general quiet crafting videos

favorite thing to watch on youtube in 2012: the dame herself ms. jenna marbles and honestly up until she left it would be the same answer

favorite item of clothing right now: i have a few very very cozy sweaters that have been in rotation over the last few weeks, but i am very excited to get back to soft loose blouses and pants

favorite item of clothing in 2012: a very cool 70's jean jacket that i still own and wear!

fandom

three movies you recommend: Chungking Express, jennifers body, in bruges

your favorite concert: tyler childers at radio city music hall, the queen of dancehall herself sister nancy and tune yards

have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion? not a single opinion, we can agree to disagree on things but i have unfollowed people for consistantly being really negative about everyone other than their favorite characters and just overall being a bummer

have you ever left a fandom because of the fans? Nope! every fandom I've been apart of has had really lovely people, but by far shameless is the nicest which feels a little ironic

the best tv show you watched last year: Beef by far, I don't think Ive ever resonated with a piece of media with such raw emotion (also the bear and succession but yall already knew that)

do you have a fancasting you just can’t let go of? Im not really apart of the harry potter fandom at all but sometimes marauder fancasts come on my fyp and theyre all really fun

a ship you’ve abandoned: destiel a little, i still love them that brain rot (damage) cant be undone but i rewatched supernatural last year and like, Dean is so genuinely unkind to him most of the time (/nuanced)

on a scale of 1-10 how willing are you to share your ao3 history? i mean, with who?

do you have a fandom tattoo? no tattoos

what fandom do you wish was bigger? none come to mind

has a finale ever ruined a show for you? no honestly im pretty okay with all of them, but i never watched any of the big ones that people hate

have you…

swam in an ocean? yes! I was a jr lifeguard, swimmer and water polo player in highschool, i am the safest person to visit the beach with

been vegan/vegetarian? I was vegan for three years but when i moved back home during covid i couldnt really keep it up while eating dinner with my family every night and now im very plant based but not vegan or veg

gone skinny dipping? many times lol

gone skiing? yes but i prefer snowboarding

been to a convention? only work related design conventions

tagging from my notes: @mickeysgaymom @rainbowbri @anonymous-galager @gallawitchxx @iansw0rld @mybrainismelted

[autisticandroids]

cliff notes:

- everybody loves a clown notable miss from john shiban. NOT a good ep

- i've rewatched bloodlust so i have less thoughts, however: hey amber benson and rachel miner have kind of similar voices huh 😳🥴

- oh so children shouldn't play with dead things is about the THEMES huh. love it when dean came back wrong ❤️ he's a walking corpse ❤️

- i liked simon said :) you can tell it's the first edlund because of its charm and also because it has zero grasp on consent whatsoever. sam worrying that maybe he's eeeeevil didn't even harsh my mellow that's how much i liked this ep

- i didn't hate no exit actually! the misogyny is unpleasant but the shakeup of jo being there is honestly worth it. it's really fun to see them actually hunt a case with someone else, not hurriedly inducting a terrified civilian or like, working with their dad, or teaming up for a big season ender, but just busting a normal-ass ghost with another hunter. the only other time that's happened so far is in home with missouri and it was also really good there. i would also like to have lingered a little more on the idea that john caused bill's death by screwing up. i was thinking earlier about dean saying that john doesn't make mistakes or leave hunts unfinished in something wicked and how crazy that is, the kind of deranged deification it points to. i think that would obviously have changed due to dean's new perspective on john but i would like to see it play out please. i want to sit with that, to watch him process it. oh well you win some you lose some

- HUGE fan of the usual suspects being a human perpetrator that fucks. also i wish the theme of salmondean being on the run from law enforcement had stuck around for longer in the show it was like so good. also: liked the cop lady

- crossroads blues: finally some listenable music instead of the butt rock crap this show normally pays through the nose to license. the first half is really solid, the artist who sold his soul in particular is really compelling and i wish we had spend more time with him. the creature design of the hellhounds is of course absolutely stunning, a great example of spooky spn minimalism, but my favorite part was actually the cold open where we see that from the outside, the person being ripped apart by hellhounds appears to simply be having a seizure. the guy who sold his soul for his wife was nothing though. i know it's about themes but they should have saved the artist instead. that guy's lackluster performance makes the whole back half of the episode worse, although dean interacting with the crossroads demon is INSANE. she calls him edible <3

- and lastly croatoan. i really liked it :3 it's very funny that they're worried about sam being evil when dean is just straight up murdering people. he came back wrong <3. sarge is also a standout side character for the season. his whole meeting with dean, the "what's going on with everybody" part, is like, just really really fun and a standout for me. also dean's craziness... yes babygirl kill yourself about it. they managed to cram both the sibling crazy and the general crazy into one bottle quite succintly

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

I love love LOVE Convenience (read through it a few times already) and the What If bonus chapter is one of my favorite chapters. I was wondering/hoping you’d write one with them taking care of baby girl Wayne because honestly, that is some fluff I could use right now ^_^ getting a glimpse of Bruce with his baby and his new little family is something I’m hoping you have planned!

Word count: 447

A/N: Thank you so much! I hope you like it! Also I'm going to apologise in advance for the almost 3000 words of pretty much pure angst that I'm going to drop tomorrow. Hopefully this makes up for it in advance.

Series masterlist

Masterlist

Bruce rolled over and switched the baby monitor off before it had the chance to wake Y/N. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder before climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he walked down the hall to the nursery. Grace was crying softly but he knew it would only be a few minutes before she started screaming her lungs out.

“Hey, sweetheart. You hungry?” He lifted her into his arms and made his way downstairs. He tried to shush her as he turned on the kitchen light and the bottle warmer. He pulled one of the bottles Y/N had preprepared out of the fridge and put it in the machine. He gently bounced Grace in his arms in an attempt to get her to quiet down as he waited for it to be done.

“Here you go.” He sat down at the table, Grace in one arm and the bottle in the other. She grabbed the bottle in her chubby, little hands and looked up at him with his own eyes. “I don’t care what your mom says, you’re definitely going to grow up to look like her.” He smiled and glanced around the kitchen. “Alfred’s right though, this place needs a lot of baby proofing before you start walking. I don’t think my parents designed it with babies in mind.” He looked back down at her. “I wish they could be here. I think they would definitely spoil you rotten. Not that Alfred won’t, but he has a bit more restraint.” He chuckled and set the empty bottle on the table. He threw a towel over his shoulder and shifted her up before patting her on the back.

“Right, let’s go back to bed.” He threw the towel in the washing machine and walked back upstairs. Grace’s eyes fluttered shut and she rested her head on his shoulder as he hummed to her. He laid her carefully back in the crib and made sure the baby monitor was still on before quietly walking out.

Y/N had shifted to face the middle of the bed. He smiled softly at her as he switched the baby monitor back on and climbed back into bed.

She moved forward and rested her head on his chest once he had got situated. “Everything okay?” Her voice told him she was still mostly asleep.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she threw a leg over his. “Yeah, she just needed feeding. She’s asleep again now.”

She hummed and quickly dropped back off to sleep. He pressed a kiss against her hair and did the same.

Taglist: In a separate post

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

[gucciwins]

Leather and Lace

The one where Harry goes to the Grammy's and Y/N is his date

Word count: 4,960

A/N: Hello beautiful friends! Harry at the Grammy's just blew me away, the leather look is all I want to talk about for the rest of my life.

I was feeling inspired and decided it was only fitting to continue Adore You. Part two is Three Time following nominations. So this is part three. Yes, I have a soft spot for Harry and Atticus. Will always write for them if the inspiration strikes.

warnings: smut (female pleasure), pandemic

There's been one thought running through Y/N's head for most of the day, and Harry can tell because it's nearing five pm and she has not started on dinner. Instead, she's sitting on the backyard steps that give her the beautiful view of the pacific ocean, an empty glass of wine in hand.

Harry doesn't say anything, just sits next to her, knowing she will speak when she's ready, but he also knows she enjoys the quiet moments with him.

Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath before settling down the wine glass to wrap her arms around his bicep.

"You asked me an important question."

"Wasn't that important." He shrugs.

"Harry," No nickname making sure he knows she's serious. "It is important. You asked me to be your date to the Grammys where you're opening the show and are a three-time nominee during a pandemic."

"Well, when you put it like that." He teases.

Y/N and Harry made two years of dating on February 16. To celebrate, they had dinner from their favorite Italian food place with chocolate strawberries for dessert that Atticus made for them with the help of Mitch and Sarah, who were more than pleased to take him for the night. It was a beautiful day primarily spent in bed talking and enjoying each other, reminding each other how much they were loved and would continue to be as years went on.

Two years and their relationship has been well hidden. Honestly, Jeff has been impressed at how not one word has gotten out. This may be due to only close friends and family knowing about the relationship. Also that they spent almost one entire year inside due to this ongoing pandemic.

She's not worried about others finding out about her relationship with Harry; that isn't her big concern; it is what they will say about her and Atticus. Harry is a single dad to the world, and Atticus is his first priority, and everyone knows that; she does not want to be the reason they write about how Harry is a neglecting father for dating someone so openly. She fears the backlash and how it can affect how Harry sees her.

Reasonably, Y/N knows that won't happen and that Harry sees her as his life partner as he's told her on multiple occasions. Also, the assurance that Atticus gives to her by calling her Mum more openly around their family. The constant I love you's get her through it.

"I understand if you aren't ready, love."

"Don't think I'll ever be ready, but there are lots of times where I just find myself wanting to shout it from the rooftops how much I love you." Harry smiles, knowing he's felt the exact same way.

"Yes, I'll be your date to the Grammys." She breathes out after a moment of silence.

Harry sits up straight, shifting to make her look him in the eyes. "Yeah, you will?"

"I'd be honored."

Harry's smile is breathtaking, and the next thing she knows, his lips are on hers. It's passionate and full of thank you's because she knows how much this means to him.

He pulls back but not before pecking her lips twice.

"I'm going to call Jeff." Harry rushes inside, leaving her alone once more, but a sincere smile is left on her face.

Y/N said yes because even though a part of her wanted to say no, the urge to say yes won because to be there by his side holding his hand no matter the results win her over.

She says yes because as much as she may have wanted to say no, the urge to say yes and be there by his side, holding his hand no matter the results, wins her over.

Harry comes back ten minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand, with his eyes shining bright as if he had already won the award. "Jeff said it's all set. He's going to be our third wheel for the night."

She laughs, knowing very well he loves when Jeff has to be around them without his wife now. Always teasing him, but also very happy for him.

"Pop that open then! Let us celebrate." They walk back into the house, getting glasses, when they hear small steps approaching them.

Atticus is thrilled at hearing the news about Harry performing at the Grammys. He got even more excited when he found out Harry was taking Y/N as his date. Told them that she would be the prettiest on the carpet, Harry had pouted, asking what about him. Only to agree when Atticus said no one's beauty compares to his Mum's.

Harry had asked Glenne to watch over Atticus, and she eagerly accepted. They let Atticus know, and he was over the moon excited. Atticus knew his Auntie Glenne had a hard time saying no to him.

In a different time, if there was no pandemic, Harry knows Atticus and Y/N would have been the perfect dates for what is supposed to be a joyous night.

Grammy day arrived, and Harry walked the red carpet alone.

It's something all three agreed on, not at all wanting to steal any attention when it was such a big debut for Harry. As much as Harry wanted photos with her, he knew this was the way to go; she would be sitting next to him for the rest of the night, which he was thankful for.

Harry felt comfortable and happy in his red carpet look. He was wearing a green and yellow check tweed jacket and a tartan sweater combo worn, flared trousers, and lavender boa. It was a bit different but entirely himself, and that's all he wanted.

As soon as he's done posing for photos, he has his mask back on and is ushered into his changing room to change for his performance happening very soon.

Y/N is waiting in there chatting with Sarah, and when Harry opens the door, he's taken back by her beauty. Yes, he saw her dressed at home, but she seems like a dream here in this new light. Y/N is wearing a lilac satin backless dress, a long slit going up her left leg. She's wearing gold heels that their wonderful friend Harry Lambert acquired for her. The gold primrose signet ring adorned her right-hand ring finger. A few more that she has gifts from her mother and others she bought for herself, but his attention is on the one he gives her because even as she is in a conversation with someone she's fidgeting with, she has the feel of it under her fingers.

"Clear the room, friends," Jeff announces. "Styles here has to get ready. We can start heading to the stage."

Everyone is up and out in a matter of seconds, Jeff shutting the door behind him, telling him he only has fifteen minutes.

More than enough.

"Are you going to help me or just sit there ogling me?"

She smirks. "If I help, there's no saying you'll get clothes on in time."

Harry feels a twitch in his trousers and knows she's right. He huffs, not bothering to argue, just throwing his lavender boa in her direction.

"I'll always accept a striptease."

"I should have had Jeff kick you out as well," Harry says, not meaning a single word.

Y/N pouts. "Not nice, H."

"Baby, please. No more teasing, not really a fan of going on television with a boner, especially in leather." Harry stops her before she can continue on.

"Alright, I'll behave."

Harry breathes a sigh of relief because he's always so close to caving in. She has that effect on him.

Y/N sits there, turned on by Harry changing his outfit. What she wishes she was home instead because watching and not being able to touch is absolute torture.

Harry shimmy himself into the leather pants wanting to get Y/N to laugh, and it works like he knew it would.

"Got a nice ass, Styles. Might have to take it for a ride."

Harry mutters a fuck, and she's giggling. "It's like you hate me."

"On the contrary, I adore you."

"Yeah, well, hand me the jacket, please."

Y/N gets up, the black leather cropped jacket in hand; she stands behind him, guiding him to slip in his left arm, followed by his right. It rests perfectly on his shoulders; she let her hands slide down his arms before turning him around and getting a good look at the completed fit.

She takes a step back as Harry reaches for the mint feathered boa slipping it over his shoulders before dramatically swinging it over his left shoulder. He poses a hand on his hip.

"What's the verdict?" He's biting back a laugh.

"I'm in love. You should ask for my help in designing a look more often." Y/N's gaze has not left his exposed torso. The butterfly fly tattoo starting back at her, Harry's a bit leaner, but he's never looked, fitter. Definitely, feel lucky she can run her fingers over his abs as soon as they get home.

"You recommended no shirt."

"And look how right I was. Your fans are going to go crazy."

"There's only one person I care about going crazy." He steps forward, pressing a kiss to her neck before trailing up to her lips. Leaving soft kisses, not giving her more, and she needs it. She needs him to push her up against a wall and just take her.

"Trust me, baby. I'm showing so must restraint right now. Fuck, you need to walk out now before you're late."

Harry smirks; he likes knowing the effect he has on her. She's the reason he's wearing leather, having confessed thinking he'd look really good. And right she was. "Need a good luck kiss."

Y/N nods, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, the heels adding a few extra inches making her aligned perfectly with his plump pink lips. She's gentle as she connects their lips; he wraps a hand around her waist before taking control of the kiss, slipping his tongue inside; she lets out a soft moan as he kisses her with all he has. Harry pulls away, a dimpled grin on his face. "Lots of luck in that kiss." a

She nods, still in a daze. "I'll be watching, baby."

Harry and Y/N walk out hand in hand, masks on as they find Jeff, who directs him to the stage entrance, a whispered I love you and a final kiss. He's walking towards the stage, greeting each of his band members lingering a second longer with Sarah.

Y/N was grateful she was allowed to watch the performance from a hidden side stage with Jeff by her side. Those three minutes of Harry singing, she was left in awe as she always is; he's got a way of capturing your full attention. She let out a gasp when Harry threw the boa and turned to have exposed his chest, a broad smile on her face. Jeff was trying to stifle a laugh next to her, and she knew he would be passing this information along.

She felt lucky to be loved by Harry.

As soon as Harry finished performing, Jeff ushered her to his changing room where she could watch the other performances as they waited for Harry to join them once more before going to sit at the socially distanced tables.

Harry came back, a deep smirk on his face, his mint boa now resting on Mitch's neck. "What you think, love?"

"You were wonderful; you and the band just killed it. I felt like it was my first time listening to it. Those note changes were beautiful." She hugs him, happy to have him in her arms again. "Get changed, not much time."

Harry nods, going to the clothes rack but comes back to give Y/N a kiss. She feels herself melt into his touch. She pulls away and sees his green eyes glistening. "Thank you for being here." Before she can respond, he's walked away and changing into his previous outfit.

Harry is dressed, and Jeff ushers them out. Harry leads, greeting people as they walk by, occasionally stopping for someone. Y/N falls behind, smiling at everyone from behind a mask, she laughs, remembering others can't see it, but hopefully, they feel it. She spots a women's restroom and grabs Jeff's arm to get him to stop. He turns concerned. She leans in close, letting him know she's heading to the restroom and will catch up soon.

Y/N is walking out of the restroom heading down the hall when she stops hearing her name called. She turns and finds it's her good friend Julia Michaels.

"Hi darling," Y/N greets a large smile hiding behind her mask. "You look brilliant." Julia was dressed in a black gown adorned with white patterns resembling seashells and her tattoos on full display. Y/N was in awe.

"Thank you! As do you." She says, pulling her in a hug. "Is that a bit of an accent I hear?"

Y/N laughs. "Don't know about that; I've been living in London for years now. Might be that I've been around my British friends constantly."

"That or-"

Julia is interrupted by a man calling her name. Y/N sees it's her boyfriend, JP Saxe.

"Ah, the beau is calling for you, it seems." Y/N teases.

"Oh bummer, I love chatting with you. I would tell you all about him, but I'd expect the same."

"What do you mean?" She feigns confusion, but Julia sees past her.

"Well, who's your date?"

She can feel her face warm, knowing exactly who she's referring to.

"I came with my boyfriend," Y/N answers proudly.

Before Julia can respond, Y/N feels a hand on her back and turns to find Harry behind her. "Calling for us to head to our seats, nominations up next."

"Okay, H." She smiles, knowing there was a look of concern for her hiding behind the mask.

Harry seems to remember she was speaking with someone.

"Hello, Julia, lovely music. This one always plays it around the house." Harry knocks his hip with Y/N's. "Especially this new song that's nominated, she always had it playing. Soon my son was singing it as well. It meant I had to join in. I don't like being the odd one out."

"Thank you, Harry; I'm glad you could all enjoy my music. We've been doing the same. Fine Line is a gorgeous album. Best of luck tonight." Julia tells him sincerely.

"You as well."

"One last thing between us."

"Of course," he nods.

"She's a special one; take real good care of her." Y/N has never been more thankful for a mask because it hides her face that she is slowly starting to heat up.

"I like to think I've been doing a good job, or she wouldn't have stuck around for two years so far."

Julia doesn't hide her shock, her eyes go wide, and Harry just smirks.

Y/N laughs. "We have been good at laying low. Except for this one, he likes to always be doing something new."

"What can I say? I like to keep busy." Harry shrugs, knowing everyone knows about his next film in London.

"Now we definitely have to grab dinner soon or a zoom date, I don't know. I want to hear all about it." Y/N can tell Julia is curious but overall happy for her.

With that, they bid each other goodbye, and Harry escorts her to their seats.

"Someone is very open," Y/N tells him, adjusting her dress as she sits down.

"She's a good friend of yours but also Niall's. I know we can trust her." Harry tells her honestly.

"I see. We'll see how interviews go soon." Y/N knows Jeff had told them he had to do at least one interview if he didn't win, and if he did, it would just be him addressing the virtual press room.

Harry is sitting in the middle, Jeff to his left andY/N to his right. He's never felt as safe when they name the nominees for the category.

Y/N feels the tight grip Harry has on her thigh, and his left hand is rubbing up and down his pants to dry the sweat she can only imagine is building up. She looks up at his face, but he's calm, but she knows him; there's a storm of thoughts running through his head. Y/N knows there isn't much to help ease, but she can remind him she's there for him. She lifts his hand that was resting on her thigh to her lips and gives it a gentle kiss through her mask, yes he can't feel it, but the sentiment is there. She sets his hand back, fingers now intertwined with hers. Y/N knows he's looking at her and meets his gaze reassuring him with his eyes she loves him.

Rachelle Erratchu is opening the envelope, and in the next few seconds, she will announce the winner for the best pop solo performance.

"Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles!"

Harry sits there shocked, his shoulders dropped, eyes wide, not at all able to hide the shock. He just heard his name called; he just won a Grammy.

In the next second, he's standing up, removing his mask, his nervous smile now able to be seen by the camera. Jeff is quick to pull him in a tight hug. Y/N stands feeling the happiness travel through her entire body.

Harry won.

A mask is no longer hiding his smile, and she knows if she removed her, she'd have a matching smile. Harry hugs her tight, her arms going around his waist; she can feel how fast his heart is beating. Harry is not at all ready to let her go but knows he has an acceptance speech to give.

"You did it, H," she whispers, ushering him to head up the stage.

Harry gets up, letting out a deep breath as he hears the applause continue. He picks up the Grammy for a second before setting it back down. He looks out at the audience, and he's just astounded that he's won.

"Wow, um..." Harry takes a deep breath before starting. "To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much. This was the first song we wrote after my album came out, during a day off in Nashville. I just wanna say thanks to Tom, Tyler, and Mitch, and everyone, Rob Stringer, everyone at Columbia, my manager Jeffrey who always nudged me to be better and never pushed me and thank you so much, and I feel very grateful to be here." He smiles at Y/N. "Thank you to my son, who has been the light in my life and my biggest fan. Everything I do is for him, and I hope I continue to make him proud. I love you, darling boy." Harry knows he's got only so much time left, but there is one last person to thank. He doesn't address her by name, but everyone in that room knows what he says next is for Y/N as he never takes his eyes off of her.

"Thank you for believing in me. I was not the easiest to deal with when we first met, but you're here and have been every step of the way. Thank you for helping me become a better man each day. I adore you." He chuckles, continuing on, "All these songs are fucking massive, so thank you so much; I feel very honoured to be among you, so thank you so much."

Harry walks off stage, leaving the grammy he had just won behind, eager to have Y/N back in his arms. His eyes are set on her; she's standing arms open, ready for him. He melts into her touch, hiding his head in her neck placing a gentle kiss on her exposed neck. "I love you," he whispers.

Y/N softly cradles his cheek as he leans into her touch, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "I love you, H."

Harry pulls away, letting her take a step back as Jeff hugs him tighter than before. He's so happy he places an affectionate kiss on Jeff's masked cheek.

Harry's happy; he knows he didn't need an award to let him know how talented he was, but it was an honor to have his support team by his side as he did receive the award.

Harry had taken Y/N with him to help change, claiming he needed help. Jeff knew better but let them be.

As soon as Harry ushered them into the changing room, he pushed her up against the locked door, ripped his mask off, shoving it in his pocket, kissing down her neck.

Y/n reaches a shaky hand up to remove her mask, letting it fall in Harry's waiting hand to place next to him.

"Kiss me," she breathes.

Harry, never one to deny her, brings his lips to hers. Y/N felt her whole body tingle as he claimed control over her mouth, hungry and intense as if she'd disappear if he would slow down.

Y/N laughs as her hands rest on his shoulder, letting him kiss all the skin she has exposed.

"Baby, you're a Grammy winner." A hand now in his hair as she feels his lips right above the curve of her breasts.

"Just like you."

"Atticus must be so proud," Y/N says, now lost in thought.

Harry pulls back, "As much as I love our baby, please don't mention him as I'm trying to shag you in my dressing room."

Y/N grins nodding, she pushes the plaid jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. "Sorry, did you say shag? Is that Grammy fame getting to your head?" She teases

"The only place my head is going is between your thighs." His voice rough, no longer teasing. She can see the lust building in his emerald eyes.

"Guess I'm the real winner," Y/N tells him, pushing up her dress to reveal her black lace panties, Harry's favorites.

"Fuck." Harry trails his hands down her thighs as he sinks to his knees.

Y/N holds her dress up as Harry begins to pull down her panties, letting them fall to her ankles. "Those are too hot to be hidden, baby. Fuck, knowing you had those on the whole time for me has me so hard." He unbuttons his trousers giving himself breathing space.

"Please, baby," Y/N begs, wanting him to give her some kind of release.

"Alright, darling, since we don't have much time."

Y/N has her legs spread open for Harry; her face was flushed, knowing the pleasure Harry would soon bring her. She was wet; she had been since she saw Harry perform in his whole leather outfit; she swears this look will enter her dreams when he's away.

"Love, you're so wet." He smirks, knowing this was for him, but a bit of confirmation never hurt anyone. "All-cause of me?"

"Yes, always wet for you." She breathes out, looking down at him.

Harry leans in, pressing soft kisses on her thigh, getting her to relax, wanting her to enjoy this as much as he's going to. He loves how soft her skin is; he litters kisses as he watches her, still feeling how close he is to where they both want him to be.

Y/N feels like she can't breathe; Harry's teasing always so good but not now. Not when she wants him inside her, but she settles for him eating her out. He's proven more than a dozen times how good he is with his tongue.

"I'm ready, darling. I'm ready to taste you, fuck, you smell amazing, but oh, there's something special about how you taste. Will you let me?" Harry asks, always asking for her consent, never wanting her to feel pressured.

"Yes, please." Harry always knows what she needs; she's happy to relinquish all control to him.

Harry tightened his grips on her thighs, scooting closer. He smiles at how glistening her pussy looks for him. How wet he's made her. He didn't have time for foreplay as much as he wanted to tease her have her withering under his touch. He drove right in, his tongue in between her lips, tasting her sweet juices. It was good, sweet, and just for him.

Y/N let out a moan; Harry wanted more from her; he wanted her a moaning mess. Y/n felt his tongue against her most sensitive spot and felt her knees go weak, fuck; he knew exactly how to bring her the pleasure she seeks.

Harry's eyes were closed, focusing on the noises Y/N was making and savoring the taste.

Y/N has a hand in his hair, her right hand holding up her bunched-up dress. "My winner," she moans out.

"You're always a winner. Fuck, so good." She pants.

"You are….baby" Nothing's making sense. She's lost in her pleasure. Harry was focusing on her clit; he licked at the small peek, knowing she was close.

She pulls harder on his hair, he lets out a moan against her pussy, and it brings her twice the pleasure. "Make me cum, baby." She whines, "Show me exactly why a song about oral sex deserved to win."

Harry, edged on by her words, begins to suck on her clit, letting her feel the ecstasy it brings her. Y/N lost in her pleasure, misses Harry's cursing against her.

"Harry, I'm close." She whimpers out.

"Cum for me, darling." He doesn't slow down, lapping against her pussy, taking everything she gives him. He sucks on her clit, swirling his tongue around as he brings a finger to her hole, gently pushing in, knowing it will drive her over the edge.

"Fuck, you're always a winner. This mouth is always a winner."

Y/N whines out his name, pulling him closer as he licks up all she offered him, letting her ride out her orgasm enjoying every moment. Harry pulls his hand away, setting it on her exposed thigh, drawing small comforting circles, until he's sure she's ridden it through.

She lets out a long sigh as she slides down the door, no longer able to stay standing. Harry grins, guiding her down gently as he sits back on his heels.

"Can I return the favor?" She blinks at him, lust still swimming in her eyes.

Harry blushes but not at all embarrassed. "Watching you cum for me did the job, baby."

She pouts her lips.

"Can treat me to a good time later," he promises; she eagerly nods, already knowing how she'd make him go crazy at him. The taste of him on her tongue later, something to look forward to.

"Think this was the reason you had a third outfit picked." She jokes,

Harry laughs, "Definitely."

Y/N and Harry sit there staring at each other, blissed out in pleasure, taking in the other's smile when a loud knock on the door startles them reminding them where they are.

"When you walk out of here, there better not be a single trace to what you did in there," Jeff tells them.

Harry smirks, "oh Jeffery, who does he take us for?"

Y/N is helped to her feet by Harry, who slips her panties back up her thighs. Y/N walks to the restroom to fix herself while Harry washes his face at the sink provided. Harry is quick to get out of his clothes and into the final outfit of the night. An orange blazer with a white low-cut shirt and plaid pants.

He's ready to step back out and mingle, showing off his girlfriend to everyone who approaches them. Harry stands in front of the mirror looking at the deep red mark on his neck where she left a love bite; he doesn't even remember her giving it to him.

She smirks, seeing him trace his finger over it. Y/N walks up to him, placing the black-feathered boa over his shoulders.

"I could get behind the feathered boas if it means I can leave more kisses like that behind," Y/N tells him as he swings it over his shoulder, adjusting it to hide the mark that would bruise over the next few hours.

"We'll see, love."

Y/N stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. She smooths her hands over her dress, happy with how she looks. Not at all like she was just given the orgasm of her life. Harry smiles, grateful she was here with him on an important day. He loves her, and he knows she loves him.

"Ready, love?" He stands being her, hand on her waist

She turns her head up to look at him, puckering her lips, waiting for a kiss that Harry happily gives her. "Now, I'm ready."

Y/N and Harry walk hand in hand, masks on.

Harry may not have won any more awards, but he truly felt like he had won it all way before ever hearing his name being called. With a woman like Y/N on his side who was intelligent, beautiful, and independent, constantly pushing him to be a better person every day, there was no way he would ever know what it would be like to lose.

Thank you so much for reading! I adore you. Hopefully, the future allows me to write for Harry, Atticus, and Y/N some more but for now I hope you enjoyed this continued story. <333

[writing-in-a-chipotle]

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly. 

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now.  And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look. 

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so". 

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably. 

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational." 

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous. 

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly  shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?" 

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time." 

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face. 

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know." 

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup. 

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness. 

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass. 

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?" 

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence. 

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?" 

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon. 

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly. 

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly. 

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone . 

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound. 

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?" 

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom. 

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door. 

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus. 

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again. 

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love. 

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance. 

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation. 

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms. 

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo. 

Jon was flying. 

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation. 

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background. 

For a moment everything was perfect. 

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far. 

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help. 

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor. 

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted. 

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process. 

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!" 

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened. 

"I-I think I hit something." 

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage. 

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster." 

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity. 

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-" 

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open. 

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better." 

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well. 

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot. 

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly. 

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face. 

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile. 

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches. 

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered. 

"Pardon?" 

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood. 

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did 

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks. 

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?" 

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem. 

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms. 

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish." 

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in. 

All things considered, it was a pretty good night. 

[starryeyedweeb]

Valentine’s Day with BNHA

A/N: I know it’s late for Valentine’s Day, but this is about the fifth time I’ve tried posting this because every other time it never got a single note even though all of my other stuff does pretty well??? So not to be that person, but if you see this I’m begging you to give it some love because it’s one of my favorites!

*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.

Contains: As always, sickly-sweet fluff; gender-neutral

Characters Included: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi/Todoroki Touya, Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day with...

Bakugou Katsuki

As expected, Bakugou thinks that Valentine’s Day is kind of ridiculous and isn’t too keen on celebrating

When his friends ask him what he’s planned for the holiday, it results in a bit of a rant

“Valentine’s is a shitty holiday for shitty partners to try and make up for being shitty. I take them on dates and spoil them all the time, so why should I make a big deal about a random day in February?”

But because he wasn’t a shitty partner, he knows he has to do something for you

“Oi, do you want to go hiking?” he asks shortly on Valentine’s morning, already dressed for the occasion. “We can go to that spot you’ve wanted see for a while.”

You agree- eagerly.

You honestly weren’t the biggest fan of hiking until you started dating Bakugou, who’s obsessed with it

It’s like meditation to him- one of the best ways for him to find a calm and clear mindset- and the two of you always have your best conversations when you’re out on a hike

Plus he looks amazing in his hiking clothes

The trail in question is further outside the city than most, and when you arrive, it’s pleasantly deserted

With backpacks swung over your shoulders, the two of you start down the rough path, which cuts through a thick forest

When you first started hiking, you could barely keep up with Bakugou, but you had gotten much better at it over time and are now able to comfortably keep pace with him, even holding his hand part of the time

The trail is mainly uphill, though, and periodically he will all but force a water bottle into your hands

“Get a drink. I don’t want you getting all dehydrated on me.”

When you reach the peak of the trail, which is a flat clearing overlooking the city below, Bakugou indicates for you to sit down and pulls out two bento boxes that he had packed prior to the event

Though there’s nothing heart-shaped nor unnaturally red or pink inside, the box is sweetly filled with all of your favorite bento foods

And of course, they all taste amazing

“Katsuki, this is so good!”

“I know.”

“Come on.” You playfully push his arm, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Seriously, though, thank you. Life has been so crazy lately, and this little break was perfect.”

“So you’re not upset we didn’t do anything more, I don’t know...” he trails off, furrowing his brow and running a hand through his hair, “...on theme?”

“Of course not. Stuff like that is for shitty partners who use a holiday as an excuse to make up for being shitty. They’ll go right back to their behavior the moment the day is over.” You interlace your fingers in his and hold his arm with your free hand. “This was perfect.”

Bakugou can’t resist a smirk and short chuckle at your sentiment, realizing exactly why he’s with you

“Hey, what’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Kiss.”

You reach up and press your lips to his, and his arms wrap around your body, holding you close

When you pull away, you cast a glance out at the tranquil cityscape below and reluctantly check the time.

“Do you think we should head back down?” you ask.

“No. I want to stay here a little while longer.”

Todoroki Shoto

As one of the top heroes, Todoroki Shoto is a hard man to get alone, but you have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.

On the morning of February 14, the two of you check into the luxury hotel he had booked for a romantic staycation, awaiting an entire day of activities planned around the resort: lunch and dinner reservations, a couple’s massage, seeing the hotel’s nightly show...

Only for it to all be completely foiled before it even starts when Shoto gets an urgent call about a villain incident gone badly wrong, with as many heroes as possible desperately needed to help.

“Go ahead and do everything we had planned,” he urges as he’s leaving, rushing through a parting kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

But you know that it’s not going to be as simple as “I’ll be right back.”

The moment the door shuts behind him, you can’t help but turn on the TV and flip to the news, trying to find out just what Shoto had gotten himself into

The danger of the situation makes you sick with anxiety, and you have to turn it off almost immediately for the sake of your own sanity

Trying to follow his wishes, you go through the motions of the day you had planned, but instead of reaping the intended benefits of rest and relaxation, your brain is completely clouded with worry for Shoto’s safety

Which is only amplified when the hotel lobby has the news on with a crowd of people clumped together before it to see what’s going on, and the receptionist approaches you to ask if you’re alright

Dark falls with no sign of Shoto, but your heart leaps when you get the news notification that the battle is over

You turn the news back on for live coverage of the heroes that participated being interviewed about the events, but your stomach knots once again when you see no sign of Shoto

They haven’t mentioned any casualties, you wonder, but have they missed him or something?

When a knock echoes throughout the room, a cold feeling of dread washes over your body

You freeze and merely stare at the door, sure you’re about to receive the news that’s the worst nightmare of any partner of a hero

Until the door opens, and reveals Shoto holding a bouquet the size of his torso, looking a bit battered but otherwise alright

You launch yourself across the room, and he drops the flowers to engulf you in his arms

“God, Shoto,” you sob. “No matter how long I’ve been with you, waiting and worrying never gets any easier.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs back, stroking your hair. “But I’m here now. I’m fine. I ran here the moment I could get away.”

When you finally allow him to pull away, he hands you the flowers, and you call room service for a vase and a first-aid kit

You sit Shoto on the bed and tend to his minor wounds, then order some of your favorite comfort foods for a very late dinner

Shoto is never one to discuss his missions right after the fact, so instead you just talk about nonsense things, like the most recent episode of your favorite show to watch together, and where the two of you wanted to go on your next vacation

Afterward, the two of you lay in the dark, so tangled together that it’s nearly impossible to tell who’s whom

Neither of you are tired at all, realizing fully that the privilege of getting to hold each other like you are was almost taken away that day

You feel your eyes start to well up at just how much you love the man next to you, realizing how much you need him

Shoto seems to sense that you’re going to a dark place, so he traces his fingers lightly against your cheek and breaks the silence.

“I forgot to tell you. I extended our stay here so we can still celebrate like we were planning to. I’m sorry I had to go today.”

“Shoto, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cup his cheek back, a few tears spilling out of your eyes as they meet his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”

Yaoyorozu Momo

Recently, an adorable little paint-your-own-pottery studio had opened on yours and Momo’s route home

You two had always meant to go for a fun date, but never really had the time, so when a Valentine’s event is announced, you both leap at the opportunity and reserve your spots right away

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you and Momo show up half an hour early for the event, wearing coordinating shades of red and pink

Laughing at your accidental matching, the two of you kill the time until the event begins by taking a million photos together

When the doors to the shop open and you’re finally allowed in, Momo’s eyes nearly pop out of her head in excitement, and you just know it’s going to become a regular date spot for the two of you

The shop is decorated like a romantic tea shop straight out of a cheesy movie, with lace doilies marking work stations, faux roses as centerpieces, and red, white, and pink balloons covering the ceiling

The special event involves painting spindly teacups with handles shaped like hearts, the workstations supplied with punch and sweets, all colored and shaped for the holiday

“Look at these!” She exclaims, picking up the ceramic cup at her workstation. “What should we paint on them?”

“Why don’t we do a matching design?” you suggest. “That way we can remember this even better.”

“Yes, let’s do that!” she agrees. “What design should we do, then?”

You two decide to keep it simple: paint the mugs solid baby pink, stamp tiny red hearts all around, and then Momo would use her elegant handwriting and paint both of your initials in calligraphy on one of the faces.

You ready your stations and sit shoulder-to-shoulder as you work, chatting and giggling the entire time, occasionally nudging each other playfully with your legs

“Could you hold the cup at this angle for me while I do the calligraphy?” she requests, which gives you an excuse to sit even closer to her, the scent of her rosy perfume engulfing you

“I wish I had handwriting like that,” you whine, watching her paint the graceful swirls of your initials, followed by the date below.

“I can teach you,” she offers, coming to stand behind you. “Here.”

She puts her hand over yours, and guides it along in the shape of the letters, her free arm looping around the front of your shoulders in a casual hug

“See? You’ve done it!”

“It still doesn’t look nearly as good as yours.”

“Well, my heart stamps don’t look nearly as good as yours. I don’t think I applied enough pressure.” She returns to her own seat, stares at you for a few moments, then giggles. “Speaking of, you’ve got paint on your face. Come here.”

You lean forward so she can wipe off the paint with a gentle touch, and she places a kiss on the now-clean spot.

“There. All better.”

When the two of you finish painting the mugs, you turn them into the counter so they can be finished in the kiln, then sit by the window of the shop to enjoy your sweets while you wait

“I’m very excited about these cups,” Momo says, reaching out for your hand. “They’ll be a lovely little keepsake.”

“Me, too,” you agree, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have tea in them every evening.”

“Exactly. And if there’s ever a time when we have to be separated, whether it be for hero work or some other reason, we can bring our cups with us to remember that the other is always there, waiting to come have tea together.”

Shigaraki Tomura:

Despite his villainous ideals, in romance, Shiggy is actually quite sweet, if not a little clumsy

When you first became close to him, his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of self-care worried you, so you made a habit of cooking for Shigaraki, and leaving a week’s worth of nutritious meals in the League’s fridge for him

He had never revealed this to you, but he appreciated it so much, and wanted to return the favor

When Toga mentioned something about Valentine’s Day, he knew that it was his perfect opportunity, and made his plans by ordering everyone of the League to get out and stay out for the night

He then did some research about something good to make you, wracking his brain to try and remember what you’ve mentioned liking, until he remembers a very important fact:

He can’t cook.

At all.

Has never even once tried.

Which poses an obvious problem.

He panicked for a few moments, until he landed on a new, and possibly better, idea

When you arrive for the date, dressed comfortably (because, as much as you love Shigaraki, you know that there’s no way you’ll be going out for Valentine’s Day), you’re a little bit surprised to find him standing in the kitchen

“Shiggy?” You approach the counter warily. “What are we doing tonight?”

“I can’t cook. I want to know how.”

“You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Yes. I want to know how to make your favorite meal.”

“Okay. That’s simple enough.” You make to join him in the kitchen, but he blocks your path.

“No. I want to make this for you. Just sit down and...tell me what to do.”

That proves to be quite a bit more difficult, as you never truly understood just how hard it would be to explain cooking to someone that has never used more than a microwave before

The music you had put on in the background was quickly drowned out by his frustrated swears, and you can tell that there are times when he almost loses his temper, but holds it together for the sake of your Valentine’s gift

A couple of utensils do fall victim to his decay, though, and he subtly tries to sweep the remains away in embarrassment.

At one point, his poor knife technique leaves a decently sized cut on his finger, and you jump into action, running for a First-Aid kit

“I’m not a child,” he mutters as you clean the small wound, avoiding your eyes.

“I know,” you reply lightly, pressing a playful kiss to the bandage you had just secured.

As Shigaraki comes close to finishing the meal, you raid Kurogiri’s stores for your favorite bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and setting them out on the table.

“Does this look right?” Shigaraki asks once the final timer goes off, warily holding out his creation.

“You tell me,” you answer. “I’ve made this for you before. It looks the same to me.”

When the two of you sit down and portion out the meal, Shigarki neglects his own plate as he watches you take your first bite

You fight to keep your face neutral, because honestly, it’s god awful, even though you had been right there the whole time, telling him exactly what to do

But you really didn’t expect anything more from a first time-cook, and even though the flavor is completely wrong, you still enjoy it, because you can practically taste how much this prickly mass-murderer actually cares for you

And as twisted as your situation is, you wouldn’t change it for the world

“Is it good?” Shigaraki mumbles from across the table, pulling you from your thoughts.

You take a sip of your wine. “Thank you so much, Tomura. This was such a thoughtful gift. I really appreciate it.”

“I knew it. It’s shit.” He pushes his own plate away in frustration. “I just wanted to pay back a favor and I can’t even do that right.”

“Shig, what did I just say? I appreciate this so much.” You round the table to his seat, rubbing his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Of course your first attempt doesn’t work. But that gives us something new to do together. For tonight, we’ll order some takeout, but starting tomorrow, I’ll give you another cooking lesson, and then another, and another, and another... as many as it takes until you can make a whole meal for me by yourself. Deal?”

He meets your gaze with a puppy-dog expression, placing his palms over where your hands rested on his chest.

“Deal.”

Dabi/Todoroki Touya:

Let’s just say that Dabi isn’t one to ignore traditions.

He’s one to very openly and dramatically oppose them.

You were anxious if not a little worried to see what he was going to have planned for Valentine’s Day- but, honestly, as his partner, you’re equally as unconventional in your own ideals

And he doesn’t disappoint, coming home with tickets to a ghost tour at the most haunted spot in town.

“Do they even do these on Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously. That’s when I got the tickets for.” He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a thing that people do.”

“Hopefully not very many people. You know how we hate crowds.”

“And hopefully it’s not overtly themed for this asinine holiday.” He takes your waist and whispers the next words in your ear. “The idea of a dark room and an invisible audience is romantic enough.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I just made you more excited, didn’t I?”

“You’ll have to wait until the day to find out.”

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you dress for the occasion and meet Dabi at a glamorous hotel in an older part of town

Before the tour begins, the guide allows the guests to go to the bar for some drinks, and begin to tell the story of the hotel and the paranormal activity that had sparked the attraction

Dabi seems uninterested, taking in the architecture of the historic buidling and peering down random hallways

“I’m getting bored of this,” he mutters in your ear. “I’m ready to see something interesting.”

“Shh, Dabi, I’m trying to listen,” you whisper back.

He responds by pinching your ass. “So, are you in a naughty mood tonight? Noted.”

“Stop it,” you mutter, lightly pushing him away, but your flushed skin is a dead giveaway to how you truly feel about the situation.

When the tour actually starts, you and Dabi round out the end of the group as it descends into a long, dark hallway.

Eventually, you feel Dabi’s hand leave its spot around your waist, but you’re so distracted listening the tour guide tell stories at the front to even notice.

Until cold hands grab you from you behind and give you a violent shake, growling animalistically in your ear

You let out a terrified scream, but the laugh that comes after is all-too-familiar

“Dammit, Dabi!” you gasp, doubling over to your breath and quiet your heartbeat.

“Aha.” His hands trail down your sides and squeeze your waist. “Gotcha.”

You eventually reach the main event of the tour, which is an old storeroom that had been unused for years due to the intense paranormal activity

Dabi actually stood still next to you with his arm slung around your shoulders, interested for the first time that night as the guide used the ghost box and actually got answers from the spirits that occupied the room.

Though there are a few times when you have to stop him from pulling some prank to scare the other people taking the tour, trying to convince them that they’re actually in immediate danger of possession

When the event is over, however, and the guide is ushering people back down the hallway, Dabi pulls you into a closet, igniting a small flame on his palm and pressing a finger to his lips

When the noise of the crowd filing out is gone, he presses forward forcefully and starts to bury you in deep, passionate kisses

“Wait, wait.” You pull back once you realize what his idea is. “Isn’t this a little...scary?”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”

Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day happened to fall around one of Aizawa’s busiest times at UA, and he was so tied up and tired that you had barely seen one another lately.

So, when he remembers what’s coming up and drowsily asks you what you want to do for Valentine’s Day, you surprise him.

“I’ve already made plans for us,” you reveal, handing him a printed itinerary. “I booked us a spot at a day spa. Those are all the treatments we’ll be doing.”

“Why’d you choose this? I’m curious.”

“You need some time to relax, and I want to spend time with you when your mind is on something other than which one of your students is going to get broken next.”

“Fair enough.”

On the morning of, the two of you check into the spa, and are instructed to go change into the fluffy bathrobes they provided

“Do I really have to put this on?” he complains, holding it as one might hold a dirty diaper.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, already changed into yours.

“I don’t know how I feel about my chest being out on display like this.”

“Well, I’ll like it.” You snake your hand up his shirt and rake your nails down his skin. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for our couple’s massage.”

Once Aizawa has reluctantly changed, the two of you start off your day with massages and facials

You had arranged for him to get a special eye treatment, and the small sounds of relief from his table reveals that your gift is very much appreciated.

“Are you relaxed?” you inquire as you move on from the massage room to your next destination.

“More relaxed I’ve been since I stepped through the doors of UA for the first time.”

“Well, are you relaxed enough to get a hair treatment?”

“Honestly? Bring it on.”

When Aizawa is laying back in a chair, a towel wrapped around his head and a styling cape draped over his robe, you can’t help but snap photos of the slightly comical scene

“Are you taking pictures?” he grumbles.

“Do you mind that I am?”

“Just as long as my students never see it.”

“Noted,” you reply, adding the photo to an album of embarrassing pictures you planned to show them at the end of the term.

After finishing the hair treatment- Aizawa’s hair looking better than you could ever dream yours would- and moving on to a high-tech infrared light treatment, you finished out the day with a soak in the spa’s top-rate onsen, reserved for just the two of you

You sit in comfortable silence in the hot water, bodies pressed close to each other

Shota’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and you loosely held the hand that fell across your body

When you lay your ear on his chest, you notice that his heartbeat is the calmest you’ve ever heard it

“So, did the spa serve its purpose?” you ask, tilting your head up to gaze at him.

“It did. Though I think it was less the spa’s doing, and more the fact that I spent an entire day with you.”

You hum happily, reaching up and tapping his chin. “Nice and well rested now, are you? You sure look pretty.”

He chuckles lightly, running a hand through your hair. “So do you.”

“Well, there’s still about an hour left until our dinner reservation,” you observe, noticing the clock on the wall. “Is there anything you want to do to kill the time before then?”

“We’re both sitting in hot water, naked,” he replies matter-of-factly. “The answer should be obvious.”

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2021! Below you’ll find One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​.

Happy reading!

Game Changer by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 6k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Did the doctor say what was wrong with you?”

“He thought I was pregnant,” Louis scoffs. “Told me to go home and take a test, a pregnancy test, Haz. Can you imagine the nerve it takes for him to even think that?”

Harry looks lost in his thoughts for a few seconds. “Did you? Take a test, I mean?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

OR: A couple months before playing in his first long-awaited World Cup, Louis finds out he’s pregnant. Harry’s there for the ride.

(I Was Broke) You Healed Me by @fallinglikethis

[Harry/Niall, 12k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Niall Horan is an unmated pregnant omega living on his own after his alpha boyfriend leaves him. Far from his family and friends in Ireland, Niall is stuck living in a complex for Alpha/Omega bondmates, terrified every day of being found out by his landlord.As if that isn't enough, he's suffering from touch deprivation. Luckily, Niall's doctor can at least help him with that part: she prescribes Niall some cuddle sessions. It's only a little weird that the person she's prescribing him is her brother. Or maybe that's actually a little bit perfect.

The Only Pain in Pleasure is the Pleasure of the Pain by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

[Liam/Zayn, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Liam had followed InZaynity, an artist's Instagram, for ages. Not only was the artist incredibly talented, his voice poured over Liam like warm honey on a winter's night, and his hands were the stuff Liam's wank dreams were made of. However, having Zayn unexpectedly arrive as the newest artist at his best friend's tattoo shop brought Liam's fantasies and reality a little too close for comfort.

Zayn Malik met his boss' friend on his first day at Fine Line Tattoos, and felt an instant attraction. Unfortunately, given Liam's unwillingness to even hold a conversation with him, Zayn was certain the feelings weren't reciprocal. Or were they?

When Liam's new tattoo design falls outside the scope of Tommo's talent, and he recommends Zayn do it, Liam reluctantly agrees. Surely he could manage to spend hours in Zayn's company without revealing his biggest secret, right? Right?

Blow Me Away by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Liam, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

Why Didn't We Make Out the Night We Met? by @berzerkshires

[Louis/Harry, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis and Harry meet in an alley outside the hotel Louis is staying for the weekend. Harry introduces himself as Ed, and Louis is completely clueless. They have a relationship through text messages, phone calls, shared pictures and Facetime calls. Is a cell phone being the only source of communication enough? Will Louis ever learn that he's really talking to an international popstar? And what happens when the world is shutdown due to a wide spread virus?

I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 7k, Not rated, tumblr post]

“Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?”

I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right by @lululawrence

[Liam/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Not rated, tumblr post]

Nick was a bit of a disaster, but she was used to it.

Or so she thought. She had never known how much she could struggle just to function until the new fire lady goddess angel person winked at her.

Oh, Those Summer Nights by cherrylarry / @beelou

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

“Are you okay?” He kneels down to inspect where Harry still has his hand pressed against his head.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“My name’s Louis. Can I buy you dinner or something to make up for hitting you in the head?”

Harry crinkles his eyebrows. “Me?”

Louis chuckles. “Yes, you. If you’d like?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Harry smiles so that his dimples show. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry, it's a date, then." Louis grins.

An extended scene of the beginning of the movie Grease as a larry au

people fall in love in mysterious ways (maybe just the touch of a hand) by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers, @justalarryblog / Bekita, @bluecolouredlou , @beelou / cherrylarry, @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain, @hershelsue / docklands, @foreverfanficaddict,@idolizingthelight / idolizingthelightt, @inlockets / loveroflou, @perfectdagger, @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 13k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Set in a world where meeting your soulmate causes a literal spark, Louis Tomlinson has no time for fate. He knows all too well the heartbreak that having a soulmate can bring and he'd rather avoid the whole affair. But, when a chance meeting with up-and-coming popstar, Harry Styles, causes the biggest electrical surge the world has ever seen, Louis must confront the truth that sometimes destiny knocks when you least expect it.

Somehow, Someway by @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, 16k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis Tomlinson has everything all figured out for a smooth post-graduation sailing into the perfect career in the music industry. A canceled class, a high school play, and a disarming set of dimples were not part of the plan. (Especially when they belong to a boy wearing someone else’s jacket.)

Featuring: A punk with the worst timed crush in history, that moody art kid that never shares cigarettes, the cutest pastel-pink wearing boy on the planet, and his unfortunately nice bottle-blond jock of a boyfriend.

Forts & Fortunes by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

It’s finals week at uni and Harry is struggling to find a healthy balance between studying and tending to his needs. Lucky for him, Louis is there to help him out with that.

One way to reduce tension by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows of a few ways to help Louis get rid of some pent up stress…

We Got a Call by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

[Louis/Harry, 24k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Fisher from St Peter hospital, hello. Is this Mr Tomlinson?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in concern. Why is the hospital calling him? Has someone he knows been in an accident? “Uh, yes?”

“Great. Your results are in. Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

“Pregnant?” he chokes, the word almost getting caught in his throat.

“Yes, without doubt,” the woman from the hospital confirms, her voice neutral but somehow chirpy. “I recommend promptly booking an appointment with your ob/gyn to discuss how to proceed.”

"I...Yeah, I’ll talk to my … partner.”

or, the one where Louis and Harry Tomlinson are married and Louis accepts a phone call that was definitely meant for his husband.

How Long Will We Fall (Before We Can Climb) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 860 words, General, tumblr post]

Louis' faith in Harry is unbreakable. When they get caught kissing and he is thrown out of his home forever, he has to learn to have faith in himself.

Rope, Leather and Lipstick by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 552 words, Mature, tumblr post]

Something about ropes around wrists, and tinting skin the colour of strawberry ice cream, tender and kissed by dark lips. Smudging sticky red lipstick across the slight blue shadow of veins, and assuring hands tightening knots.

Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 34k, Mature, tumblr post]

Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season: that his sister has rented a townhouse that will provide him as many of the comforts of the country life he has grown accustomed to as possible, that he will not trip and fall when he is presented to Her Majesty the Queen, and that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

Sugar at Night by @brightgolden

[Harry/Louis, 33k, Explicit, tumblr post]

With a year left before he completes his degree, a wonderful fiancé, and a baby coming soon, life is going exceptionally well for Harry Styles.

But, the truth always has a way to unravel itself, doesn’t it?

So, what do you do when the person you fell in love with is not the person you thought they were?

I got myself in a mess (and without you I'm in more) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Liam, 9k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s not desire that has his synapses firing. It’s not the urge to jump him that makes him feel jittery.

It’s the fact that everything about this man - a nice, unassuming guy on Tinder, who studied IT and who seemed like a safe choice - screams danger. It’s the fact that Zayn has been absently touching his necklace for what feels like half the night now.

The necklace. Thank God for Lou, honestly. He’d laughed a bit, at first, when Louis had given it to him, when he’d explained all about the app that it was connected to, the emergency contacts that would be notified and sent his exact location “if you just double tap the back of the charm, see” because Louis was that friend, the mom friend, but right now? Right now Zayn will gladly take the gentle ribbing from Louis if it means he won’t have to spend another moment with this guy.

I don't care if the world knows by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry is fourteen when she buys her first binder. She’s been doing cosplay videos on Tiktok for a while at that point, and it seems like the logical choice. Not that there’s anything wrong with cosplaying characters of the opposite gender and not wanting to fully look like them, she’s seen plenty of wonderful creators put their own spin on characters in a way that transcends the source material, but when it comes to her own cosplays -

She just likes it to be accurate.

She likes her chest to be flat, not soft and curvy, when she’s wearing her Crowley cosplay, or when she’s transformed herself into Loki.

It’s all about the aesthetics.

∞

Over the course of a few years, Harry explores and comes to terms with gender identity.

It’s Probably Because I’ve Got a Big Lesbian Crush on You by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry's never really concerned herself with being part of the popular crowd. But as the new girl in school the second semester of her junior year, she finds herself unwittingly competing for Queen Bee status against high school royalty Louis Tomlinson. Maybe there's more to their rivalry than it seems.

A not-quite-Mean Girls AU

Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him?

Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Nick Grimshaw, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Trust Me Tonight by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week.

Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband.

There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

Can we make it any more obvious? by LouStylesHTommo / @smolhilariousbeans

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

Aka Niall, Zayn, Liam being supportive of Lou&H sexy shenanigans.

darling just dive right in by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Louis, 5k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis can’t think of a worse place to be than at the Malik estate, attending his ex boyfriend's wedding.

Shining just for you by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @hlhome28

[Harry/Louis, 1k, General, tumblr post]

For a clumsy person, Harry danced with quite the grace- spinning around Louis, billowy light robes brushing against his firm darker ones. Despite his slightly smaller build, Louis was decivingly strong, his grip on Harry's waist tight as they performed their steps in sync. Like two opposite halves of a whole, like ones reflection in the mirror, like the sun and the moon.

Part 2 of the Prompt Generator series

crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger

[Louis/Harry, 41k, General, tumblr post]

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next. What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[heliads]

Changing Perspectives

At first, Steve Rogers thinks that the new S.H.I.E.L.D. agent darkening the hallways of Avengers Tower is nothing more than a thorn in his side. Then again, there might be more to her than what meets the eye.

masterlist

Steve hurries through the halls of Avengers Towers, ducking and dodging around startled agents if he decides they’re not moving quickly enough. Steve has a debriefing in a few minutes; he had started out with good intentions and a promise to himself to be on time for once but he got sidetracked somewhere just before leaving his front door and his head start has quickly evaporated. So much for trying to be punctual.

Steve skids around one final corner, slowing his pace to pretend he hadn’t been rushing and heads purposefully into the debriefing room. He slides into a seat in the back, next to Natasha. “You might want to be careful, Rogers,” She says, turning to face him with a grin that borders on gleeful, “I don’t think it would do good things for your All American Boy reputation if you were caught arriving less than five minutes before a debriefing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling out the case file on whatever mission he’s about to hear about from where it’s been wedged underneath his arm. Truth be told, he was supposed to have read it in advance, but he didn’t bother to make the time to do so, preferring to keep it propped insistently against the corner of his desk as if its proximity to him would encourage Steve to read it in any way.

Steve has just started to flip through the case file in the hopes of finding a quick summary when the lights dim and the speakers arrive. There are two or three of them, each dressed in the familiar dark and practical clothing designating them as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, primarily researchers. 

Steve finishes his quick scan of the case file while the researchers drone on, but even after his reading is completed he can’t quite bring himself to pay attention. Maybe it’s the dark of the room, or the monotonous voices of the agents, but Steve’s focus drifts away from the debriefing on hand and out the window next to him. The view of the New York skyline is breathtaking, as always. Sometimes it’s strange to be able to see the city like this, new technology practically bursting out of every street corner. Steve may have spent a lot of time in the twenty-first century by now, but some nagging part of him still doesn’t think it’s right to see such a modern city as commonplace.

Steve is rudely awakened from his thoughts by the sound of his name coming from the lips of one of the agents. Steve jolts back to reality, turning to face the agents as if he’d been paying attention all along. “..and that’s what we had planned so far. Are we in agreement, Rogers?” Steve glances from the projected display overhead to Natasha’s position in her case file, which is conveniently flopped open to the proper section.

“Well, I don’t see any problems there. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new policies, especially, the Paper Cards Protocol, should cover the previous breaches in security. I think the question is more how quickly you’ll be able to implement them.” Steve leans back in his chair, feeling satisfied with his answer. It’s pretty easy to fake attention- just yammer on about security and throw in a couple of keywords that he had just seen in the case files. Normally, this is enough to deter any of the S.H.I.E.L.D. researchers, as they always seem too overwhelmed by the idea of contradicting a national hero to question him any further.

The agent in front of him, however, does not appear to be cut from the same cloth. She folds her arms across her chest. “Excellent answer, Rogers. Just curious- is there anything more specific you’d like to say, or are you happy to stick with the same general statement you just read out of Agent Romanoff’s booklet?”

Steve stares at her for a moment, surprised and the agent continues on without giving him a chance to speak. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. Not to keep bashing on Rogers, but most everyone here is content with ignoring protocols and policies brought up by lesser agents in favor of sticking to what they’ve always done. Why do we need new security, and why new protocols? It’s because no one’s actually paying attention to what we already have and it makes us have to think four steps ahead instead of the regular two.”

Steve frowns up at the agent as she continues talking, unable to feel the sting of her criticism through his confusion. Steve realizes that he actually doesn’t recognize this particular agent- never seen her before, not even in passing through the halls. Yet according to the neat rows of colored insignias designating her position in the S.H.I.E.L.D. ranks, she’s actually a pretty important agent. Maybe only a few ranks below Natasha.

The agent notices his gaze. “Yes, I’m new to this area. Just returned from an international mission. Name’s Y/N L/N, but you would have known that had you been paying more attention to the debriefing at hand instead of whatever might be going on out there.” She says, waving a hand in the general direction of the window. In front of him, Natasha smirks. “Already cutting to the bone on your first day back, L/N?” Y/N’s previously cool demeanor cracks as she flashes Natasha a grin. “Maybe so.”

The two agents (and friends, apparently) share a laugh before Y/N continues on with her debriefing. Steve is left to stew in his corner of the room, biting his cheek and wishing that of all the days to not pay attention, he hadn’t chosen this one. Steve’s usually the one to be in control of the room like this, usually the one to center the conversation and prove to everyone why he’s got the reputation everyone’s so familiar with. Y/N remains aloof and in control, completely and utterly aware of the effect she’s having on him and obviously proud of it.

Steve decides that he loathes her.

Tony’s throwing some sort of party again. Honestly, Steve cannot figure out what delights the man so with wasting large sums of his money just to impress the general public, who would have followed Tony anywhere if he so much as looked at him. Yet here Steve is, uniform disregarded for some nice clothes he had to dig out of the corner of his closet designated ‘Not bloodstained, could be worn to media events.’

As he arrives at the Avengers Tower, which has been newly redecorated to reflect the festive mood, Steve begins to remember why Tony’s having this particular gala. Some new invention launched into the public, some big deal that’ll have his face splashed across the front pages for weeks. As Steve straightens his shirt collar and heads inside, he’s enveloped by the roar of noise typical of Tony’s parties.

A few hours in, the bottles are already popped and Steve wants nothing more than to leave. If you’re like him and can’t get drunk, it gets pretty hard to pass the time. Just as he’s heading to the door, though, Nat notices his escape attempt and blocks his path. She laughs at his disappointed look as she pulls him back into the fray. 

“You can’t leave, not yet. Tony’s about to set off some fireworks, and if I have to stick through his entire thing, so do you.” Steve groans, but allows Natasha to walk with him to the doors leading outside. It’s a brisk night, with a cool wind cutting the heat of the tower. There’s the sound of a countdown rolling across the dark of the night, and then the answering boom and flash of the fireworks.

Steve has to admit that they’re impressive. If there’s one thing Tony can do well, it’s another display of opulence. Steve still isn’t used to the bright colors and shapes that are typical of modern fireworks, and he finds himself standing there in awe for longer than he expected.

Then, his attention is caught by a brief flash of movement in the middle of the cheering partygoers. Everyone here is happy, celebrating, having fun, but this one figure looks panicked, and is slipping as fast as they can towards the doors to get away. Steve blinks his eyes a few times to clear them, staring at the person rushing inside. With a slight twist to his stomach, Steve realizes it’s Y/N, and she looks more upset than he’s ever seen before. It’s strange to see her usually indifferent face twisted with something that looks almost like terror.

Steve is leaving the party before he realizes, desperate to get to her. What if something is terribly wrong? He has a feeling that it’s not HYDRA or some other enemy attack, because Natasha and Tony don’t seem worried, but Y/N, Y/N is not doing very well at all.

Steve is just rounding a corner when he sees her. She’s flung herself down on the ground in a dead end of a hallway, hands clamped down over her ears and back hunched as if to protect herself. Steve hesitates where he is, just out of her sight, when he sees the tears starting to wash down her cheeks. As Steve stands there, he realizes that she’s saying something over and over again. There’s a pang in Steve’s chest as he realizes she’s repeating the same simple sentence again and again, as if by hearing it one more time she’ll snap out of whatever haze she’s trapped in.

You’re not in Kolograd anymore. You’re not in Kolograd anymore. You’re not in Kolograd anymore.

Steve recognizes the name of that city- it’s some distant town in Russia, the place where she recently completed a mission. It was supposed to be some tiny corner of the country, but it instead housed dozens of HYDRA facilities. Steve had heard rumors that the mission hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but Y/N had seemed fine and so everyone had just forgotten it. Looking at Y/N now, though, Steve realizes none of that was true. He doesn’t know what happened in Kolograd, but it was enough to scar Y/N even now, to the point where she would have to put up a front everyday and pretend she was fine.

Steve decides that he may have misjudged her.

The night is late, the curtains drawn. Most of the Avengers have finally dragged themselves away to bed, leaving behind rumpled couch cushions where they had previously sat, where the room had filled with the last dregs of conversation finally run out. Some government official had sent over a few bottles of wine and other spirits, clearly in the hopes that a few expensive gifts would spare them from checking into his history with shady business dealings. There would be no such luck for him.

However, these now empty bottles meant that the night was not as quiet as it usually was. Steve, wanting to clear his head of the drunken haze that permeated everything in the room except for himself, slipped out of the room and opened the doors to a balcony. He steps out and leans against the railing, savoring the rush of focus that the cool air brings. He barely notices the door open again behind him, and then another figure comes to stand next to him.

Steve smiles when he realizes it’s Y/N. She, of course, is just another regular agent who lacks Steve’s cursed ability to not get drunk, and Steve notes the scent of alcohol on her tongue and the slight sway in her steps that usually isn’t found among her normal balance and care. 

Y/N breathes in the cool night air, letting her shoulders sink, then turns to face Steve. “I feel like I should be envious of you and your super-fast metabolism, but to be honest it’s kind of nice to not have any worries right now.” Steve chuckles quietly at that. “I do miss it, to be honest. Every now and then, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be able to let go of everything.”

Y/N considers this for a while, her eyes still on Steve. In this moment, he realizes that the balcony is small, and the two of them are barely a few inches apart. She’s right there, just in reach, and he supposes he isn’t exactly surprised when she leans forward and kisses him.

Her lips are warm and soft against the biting chill of the wind, and Steve’s a little disappointed when she breaks away. Steve doesn’t say anything, and maybe that’s why Y/N gets this panicked look in her eyes like she’s terrified she’s ruined everything. She forces a light giggle. “It looks like I’ve had too much to drink. I think I’m going to head in.”

Steve realizes how this looks and wraps his arm around her waist to stop her from turning away. “It’s not a mistake, and you don’t have to pretend that you’re that drunk just to get away from it.” Y/N frowns at that, pausing where she stands. “What?” Steve glances down at her. “You’re afraid to really say how you feel, so you’re blaming it on the closest thing in sight. You don’t have to hide anymore, Y/N.”

She stares at him for a second, then her confused frown turns into a laugh. “You know, I thought I was supposed to be the deciphering agent who could see through anyone, but you’ve read me far too well.” Steve smiles back at her. “Maybe I’m making it up because I want an excuse.” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him. “An excuse for what?” “This.” Steve leans forward and kisses her again. This time, she doesn’t lean away. This time, Steve’s fairly sure he’s found the one girl he can finally rely on, to have his back and to keep him around forever.

Steve decides that he loves her.