#possible oneshot dunno

[generalsdiary]

Aeon!reader x Sunday where Sunday is unexplainably, hopelessly in love with the reader and likewise for the reader who actually appears in person to listen to Sunday’s troubles and prayers- but it is impossible for a mortal to fall in love with an Aeon. in an attempt to find out how this is possible, the reader kisses Sunday and finds out, it is because in his future he almost fully succeeded at becoming an Aeon which made his life nonlinear and gave him the ability to fall in love with a god-like entity. but the reader leaves him upon this revelation (which they don’t share with Sunday) and doesn’t answer his prayers for the following years until Sunday fails to ascend to Aeonhood. and then when he just needs comfort while hiding in a hotel room, away from the authorities trying to punish him for his wrongdoings in Penacony, despite the years of no answer, he utters the name of the Aeon he used to pray to, the Aeon he loves in inexplicable ways, hoping to see them and… the Aeon appears in front of him once more.

thoughts?

[joshfutturman]

"happy anniversary" 18+

oneshot - he's anxious to celebrate your one-year anniversary, but it turns out that mike schmidt is just full of surprises. (3.4k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys movie) + gn!reader tags - abby is at a sleepover, established relationship, sort of sappy sometimes, pure filth tho, mike gives you lots of hickies, mike goes down on you while you're on his dining room table, alcohol mention, he maybe pours some wine on you and licks it off :3c oops, fucking against a wall, creampie, mutual orgasm, dirty talk.

a/n - i wrote this to celebrate the ten year anniversary of five night's at freddys! celebrate with me with some good old fashioned smut :3

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

one whole year with mike schmidt, and honestly? you couldn't be happier. you and abby had grown close, mike was smiling more, eating better, sleeping better - you make each other better people. he knows he can lean on you when days get dark, you provide a safe space for him to heal after struggling for so long in his own head.

however, he'd insisted on not celebrating your one-year anniversary. something about him being 'cursed'. this was a pattern with mike, being afraid to celebrate anything good in his life, as though it would be ripped from him in an instant. you tried to protest but knew it was futile. he'd made up his mind, and you knew how hard it was to get inside that stubborn head of his.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you pretended it didn't bother you that a day spent littering mike with kisses and affection was slipping through your fingers. you could do that any day, right? but what made it special was that it was going to be your day. you pretended not to be disappointed.

pulling up outside his place, you fidget nervously before exiting your car. would he even remember that it's your anniversary? maybe he'd pushed it so far to the back of his mind that it had gotten lost there. that thought hurt. swallowing your dispirited thoughts, you make your way towards the door and pull out your key, adorned with a cute little freddy fazbear keychain abby had given you despite mike's disapproval.

but as you open the door, you're greeted with. . . darkness? the usual lull of mike's living room lights has been replaced with a soft orange illumination instead. there's a small candle on the side table by the door, and then another on the coffee table. . . and another on the tv stand. you step inside and close the door gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. what was this?

"hey," his voice pulls you from your confused thoughts, your eyes darting towards the sound of mike's low voice. it's then you see him, standing nervously beside the dining table. even more candles are carefully placed across the table, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow. there's a bottle of wine, two plates with what looks to be a home-cooked meal and. . . was that wilting red roses?

mike clears his throat, grabbing the flowers to busy his hands, but also to extend them to you, a gift. or, they were supposed to be. his eyes glance down at them, the deep scarlet petals fading. he falters at the sight of them, mouth opening and then closing again. "bought 'em a few days ago to be prepared and i guess i, uh. . . didn't really think about the fact that they'd die."

you take a few steps towards him as he continues. this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, he'd thought about this.

"i just. . . it's not that i didn't wanna celebrate our anniversary," he mumbles, looking anywhere but you, "i was. . . scared? i dunno. listen, i just-"

you shut him up promptly with a kiss, gripping the collar of his hoodie and pulling him against you. his hand instantly goes to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as he loses himself in your lips, slowly lowering the flowers in his hand as the thought of them possibly disappointing you leaves his mind.

"i love you," you whisper against his lips, snaking your hands up to cup his cheeks, "i love you." you speak it with great conviction.

between your words, he breathes softly against your lips before diving back in with renewed vigour, tossing the roses aside on the floor and placing both hands on the small of your back. his large hands grip you, fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as his tongue slips inside your mouth.

gasping, you melt as he takes you so confidently, a kiss that claims you as his, a kiss that eliminates the need for more words. the way he's gripping you. . . god, you're not sure he's ever held you like this, like he needs you right now or he'll die. tonight, he wants to spoil you.

his hand brushes down along your side to grasp a handful of your thigh, yanking it up and around his hip. you yelp a little and keep your leg firmly wrapped around him, allowing your hips to press closer to his, feeling that familiar bulge tease you. just picturing his length had you shuddering in his arms.

"fuck, mike. . ." you whisper as you pull back for breath, eyes fluttering open.

but he can't wait, he can't part with you for even a second. his lips are immediately on your neck, kissing up along the column of your throat, leaving small red marks that will only grow worse with time. tilting your head back, you expose more of yourself to him gladly. he could have all of you and ask for more, and you'd happily give it to him.

"you always taste so fuckin' sweet. . ." he purrs against your skin, tongue flicking out to soothe those hickies he's so kindly left behind. you can feel the hint of a smirk on his lips against your neck and it makes your knees weak, heat surging in your groin.

oh how his smirks and smiles were so rare, you cherish every single one, especially when they were for you, because of you.

in one swift movement, he lifts you into his arms and turns towards the table, laying you down against the glass. you look up at him in surprise, panting softly, reeling from his touches and the way his lips were so greedily dancing against your skin just moments before.

mike smooths his hands down along your thighs, admiring your soft skin below him, "think i want a taste of somethin' else, though. . ." his hands slide back up to the button of your jeans, popping it open and unzipping quickly.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, heart pounding, looking up at him as he undresses you. you love the way that lust clouds his eyes, those hazel hues growing darker in the dim light, eyes focused on you and only you. "can i?" he whispers, slowly inching your jeans downwards. of course, you nod.

slowly, he rolls the jeans down your hips and along your legs, taking a moment to kiss up along the skin that is exposed to him. his lips find your knee, then your soft calf, eyes closed as he savours every moment with you. tossing your jeans aside, his eyes fixate on the growing need between your legs, instinctively licking his lips. he'd cooked you a meal, sure, but here you were, bringing a meal home for him.

and fuck, your breathing hitches as you watch his hungry stare, suddenly feeling hotter under his gaze. you can't take much more - with shaking hands, you begin to remove your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. mikes calloused hands rest against your thighs, spreading you open a little wider for him as he kneels.

craning your neck, you keep your eyes on him all the while, desperate not to lose sight of him. you want. . . no, you need to watch him as he uses that tongue of his.

jerking you forward just a tad, your hips are drawn to the edge of the table with one pull. mike wraps his arms around your thighs leaning in to nuzzle against your core. his nose nudges you and you whine, feeling sparks throughout your body. finally, some friction.

"thought about this all day. . ." he grumbles, licking a stripe along you sloppily causing you to moan, "i miss you when you're gone." mike admits, and you're not sure what's hotter, his vulnerable words or the way he's looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes from between your thighs.

"missed you too baby, always do," your voice is shaky, body trembling in anticipation and from sheer need. you thread your fingers through mike's hair, your other hand propping you up on the table so you can watch him more easily.

he groans, eyes closing over as he dives back in, licking and sucking your sensitive skin. you love how fucking messy he gets like this, dribbling down his chin, wondering where you end and he begins. you want to watch him, but you reluctantly let your head fall back, overcome with pleasure, eyes closing as you huff into the air, back flush against the table beneath you.

"so good," you whine, moaning at each movement of his tongue. your free hand reaches out to grab something, anything to stabilise you, to ground you in the moment - but in your clumsiness, you almost send the bottle of wine flying from the table.

cursing, you catch it and mike pulls back, looking up to see the commotion. a grin finds its home on his lips as he sees the wine, "thirsty?" he asks.

laughing nervously, you settle the bottle back down in its place, but not before mike places a hand over yours, taking the bottle. swallowing hard, your eyes widen, what was he up to? he had that mischievous look in his eye, normally reserved for when he was feeling especially confident in the bedroom or when he was repressing a dirty joke.

he takes the bottle, unscrewing it as he stands, eyes locked on yours in a heated gaze. you sit there, legs spread, wet with his saliva, suppressing a shudder as the air of the room brushes against the damp spots on your skin.

bringing the bottle to his lips, his eyes still stay firmly on yours with an intensity that causes you to shiver, mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watch the wine spill into his mouth. your eyes fix on his throat, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

after a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve - good thing its a black hoodie - and speaks up, "want some?"

how can you say no? you're laying there, spread open for him, by him. you nod, maybe a little more eagerly than you'd like. but mike knew how much you loved him, how much you craved his touch. you never need to be embarrassed around him.

"alright baby, i'll give you a taste, just wait. . ." he smiles and brings the bottle down, hovering it above your core. your eyes widen, what the fuck was he-

it trickles down, the red wine coating your heat. instinctively, you gasp sharply at the wet, cool sensation, feeling it run down to your ass and along your thighs. with wide eyes, you look up at him in disbelief.

"babe, what are you-"

"shhhh. . . let me spoil you for once," he places the wine back down on the table, kneeling again as he inches closer. then, his tongue begins slowly lapping at the red liquid. he moans softly at the taste, eyes closing as he takes in the combined flavour of both you and the alcohol. he would do this all day if you'd let him, and you could tell how much he loved using his mouth on you.

the sight of him lapping hungrily at you, tongue sliding across your inner thighs, cleaning up the mess he made - it's almost too much. you're gasping and panting and arching your back against the table. "holy fuck mike," you whisper, it's all you could think to say in the moment, the words coming out automatically. it was all so dirty, head reeling at how confident mike was being today, but he was determined to make you feel good, to make up for his insecurities and anxieties of celebrating his anniversary with you.

he just wants to make you feel how much he loves you, how much he worships you.

pulling back, earning a disappointed whine from you, he trails up your body until his reddened lips are on yours, tongue immediately seeking entrance. you accept, wrapping your arms around him as he kisses you. the intoxicating taste of yourself and the distinct notes of red wine fill your senses as mike deepens the kiss, giving you the taste you asked for.

mike feels you smile against his lips, causing him to smile in turn. his cock twitches in need, he's almost painfully hard, each throb reminding him just how desperately he wants to be buried inside of you.

lifting you from the table, he turns and pins you against the wall, ensuring your legs are wrapped firmly around his. "hold on," he instructs before kissing you once more, a lazy kiss as he pushes his joggers and underwear down.

already you feel his hardened length hit your thighs and you whine. fuck, you want it so bad. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you nice and hard.

"can i fuck you like this?" he asks in a hurried whisper, panting softly as his hands return to hold you up by your thighs, pushing you a little harder against the wall. even in the heat of the moment, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

your head spins at the question, and you nod quickly, "please, fuck me."

bringing a hand down to position himself at your entrance, you gasp as you feel his slick, leaking tip against you. he does the same, hissing softly at the contact. once he feels himself easing him, he moves his hand back to your plush thighs, digits digging into the skin.

mind blank, head feeling empty, all that you can think about is how perfectly he's pushing into you, how perfectly he's stretching you out right now. your head rests back against the wall, eyes closed as you adjust to his girth. his saliva and remnants of the wine drip down against him and onto the floor, but he doesn't fucking care.

his eyes watch your expression shift with great interest, watching at every subtle shift, the way your eyebrows twitch, your mouth falls open as his cock slides deeper. . . god he fucking loves you.

"that good baby?" he asks, voice husky as he attempts to keep his composure.

you simply nod, biting your lip as he slides in all the way, his hips meeting your thighs with a soft smack. you both sigh in satisfaction, you're full of him, but it's not enough, he needs to move.

and shit, it's like he reads your mind, because he does. slowly, he begins pistoning his hips up into yours. gradually at first, keeping a slow and steady pace as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. soft, needy moans slip from your lips as he fucks you, back pressed tightly against the wall.

his name sings from your lips, gripping the base of his hair and his back. he loves how you say his name, how it drips from your lips so sweetly. he bucks his hips a little faster in response, his body moving without thinking. his stubble prickles at your neck as he groans softly against your skin, brows arching as you clench around him.

"just like that," you coo, fingers dancing through the curls that find their home at the back of his head, "don't stop. . ."

mike didn't plan to. he'd fuck you forever if he could, truly. it was always such a serene experience with you, helped his mind go blank, clear those poisonous thoughts. . . mind filled instead with thoughts of fucking you, hearing those pretty little moans, making you cum on his aching cock and burying his load deep inside of you.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing tonight.

one whole fucking year, one whole year. mike wonders how he got so lucky to have you, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he'll never lose you like he's lost so many things he's cherished.

"love you. . ." he suddenly whispers against your neck as his pace increases, slamming into you with a force that takes your breath away. the hurried shift in speed has you reeling, gripping him tighter, every thrust pushing you back against the wall.

"f-fuck mike!" you call out, gasping, "love you too baby, don't stop. . . keep fucking me like that, just like that."

he groans deeply, his voice rumbling against your neck as his grip on your thighs intensifies, growing tighter - just like you are around his dick.

you're close, he can tell, and he's not far behind either, lost in a haze of how much he loves you. your thighs begin to tremble against him, your whole body tensing as the pleasure coils and weaves in your lower body, settling across your stomach.

oh fuck, this might be the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. this angle, the way he's pumping up into you relentlessly, how can it get more -

he looks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead, mouth stained red from the wine, "cum for me." mike pleads.

oh. fuck. it got hotter.

"gonna cum-" you whimper with a nod, arching your back against the wall which allows him to go deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot.

when he hears those moans, he knows he's got you. you're gonna cum for him, gonna cum all over him just like he wants you to. he pants at his exertion, thrusting harder, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping against skin. his eyes lock on your face, watching desperately for the moment you fall over the edge.

"c'mon, baby, cum for me. that's it. . ."

and you can't hold back. the orgasm rips through you like a tornado, filling every sense, dismissing every thought, quelling every worry, until everything is just him. it's just him and the way he's fucking you and looking up at you like you're the most beautiful and perfect thing he's ever seen, like he'd go to the ends of the earth and back just to make you smile.

you're moaning like crazy, practically screaming as his dick hits that spot over and over with the way you're angled and the way he's pumping up into you. you clench around him frantically, involuntarily through pleasure, causing him to gasp and for his eyes to grow hazy - a sign that he was about to cum too.

fuck, you love the way his face shifts when he cums. the way his brows relax, mouth falls open, eyes growing distant as his cum fills you nice and deep. and you feel it, the white, hot sticky mess emptying inside of you causing you to moan even more.

you both gasp in pleasure as it overcomes the two of you, mike's thrusts faltering as he empties himself into you. your eyes lock together, watching as you unravel for each other.

as the overwhelming sensations begin to subside, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. you return the favour, chasing his lips with equal messiness - coming down from your high.

"happy anniversary baby. . ." he mumbles against your lips as you smile, swallowing hard as you feel him slowly leak out of you.

you pause, glancing behind him to the table and the meal he'd so generously and thoughtfully made for you, a slight sadness in your tone as you speak up, "shit, sorry. . . think the dinners gone cold?"

"don't need dinner, i already had my dessert," mike chuckles cheekily, kissing the side of your lips, then your cheek, then your nose and back to your lips again.

and you giggle under his onslaught of affection, "yeah, but i didn't. . ." grinning, you lick your lips and glance downwards between you, his dick on your mind again already despite him fucking you senseless just a few moments prior.

his brows raise, a smirk overtaking his features - now all he can imagine is that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around his hard cock. it wouldn't take him long to get hard again. maybe this anniversary thing wasn't so bad.

mike kisses you once more, pressing you more firmly against the wall as he allows a hand to travel up and rest at the base of your throat.

fuck, if this was your one-year anniversary, what was your two-year anniversary going to be like? your ten-year anniversary? your legs go weak at the thought of mike fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.

"happy anniversary, mike."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

[rapunzelbro]

The amount of times I have refreshed the angel dust x reader tag----Anywayyyy, I dunno if you do hurt/comfort (if not that's okay please ignore this lol) but here is a idea for a oneshot! GN!reader x angel dust where they're in a secret relationship because he's trying to protect you at all cost from his boss (reader can know about his situation or not its up to you!) but Valentino somehow found out about it and is pissed about it. You can use creative freedom to fill in the angst parts and whatever happens next, but please make it have a happy ending ^^

Imagine being in a Secret Relationship with Angel

Omg yeah I can! I wish there were more too so haha I shall provide I suppose. This is uh. Super angst. But I promise it’ll be a happy ending lmao I promise. Thank you for requesting. Just a reminder yall my requests are still open! Just give as much details and I’ll make it happen. Anywho enjoy!

Masterlist Character Taglist

Being in a relationship with Angel Dust wasn’t often easy, Well at first that is.

When you first met Angel he always had his guard up, on some sort of drug at all times, and pushed serious conversations aside with Sexual remarks to drop the conversation entirely

So when you were able to actually break his walls months later, it was honestly a shock to you. Because damn was he stubborn. Honestly you didn’t think it would be possible

He started telling you small things about himself after the first month of letting his walls down, introducing you to Fat nuggets, and watching movies with you.

After the third month, he tells you his real name is Anthony. You said it suits him and you swear you see him blush

The fourth month is when you ask him out. He is super hesitant on accepting, but you don’t push him for an answer, he later comes in your room

“Y/N.. I.. I want to say yes, but I’m so terrified ya know? I just can’t I don’t know what would happen”

“Why would you be terrified?”

He tells you everything. Everything about the man who tears him apart, the man who hurts him on the daily.

He is trying to hard to explain how terrified he is of you getting hurt, and all you can do is gently take his hands as you look at him

“Angel, nothing will happen, no one needs to know but us. If you’re scared still, I get that, I’ve been there before. But I’m not scared of that prick, and he won’t find out okay?”

He finally makes eye contact with you and he begins to calm down, hugging you as you two just sit in silence before he quietly responds

“Then, I accept”

It’s months after that when he introduced you to his Best friend Cherri. You two are super hesitant about telling her, but you eventually decide to.

She’s super super happy for you two but don’t think she won’t get super protective

Will pull you aside at the club when Angel isn’t there

“If you hurt Angel you and I are going to have a problem okay? You break his heart I break you”

Yeah she scared the fuck out of you for that. Angel never did find out about your conversation.

It’s been almost a year of hiding your relationship when it suddenly begins to turn sour

The calls from Valentino, get more frequent, more violent on the phone.

Angel comes back to the hotel limping, bruised and bloody

You practically sprint and grab him, carrying him to his room take care of him the best you can, talk to him when he is ready, or be a shoulder to cry on.

Angel doesn’t know why Valentino is being more violent, he didn’t do anything wrong, he kept your relationship so quiet that it was basically impossible for him to know about you two

Except Valentino did find out. He heard Angel talking in his dressing room to you, he investigated throughly after Angel said I love you, to you.

Valentino got Vox to look at the cameras around Hell, he saw you two together. You don’t hold hands at all, not in public, if it wasn’t for that phone call, he wouldn’t of thought anything of it

“That little whore is going to fucking pay”

You and Angel are at Val’s bar after Angel reassured you he wouldn’t be there. You two are talking when Angel stands up to grab you more shots

That’s when Valentino appears, gun pressed up to the back of your head

“I Wouldn’t move an inch if you want to live perra tonta~”

You’re absolutely frozen as can be. You don’t move a bit as he leans closer to you

“I have all eyes on you, I know you’re with Angel Dust, you’re fucking with my property. Now here’s how things are going to go down tonight if you want your precious Angel Cakes to live. You’re going to break up with him, and stay the FUCK away from him. Do I make myself clear?”

You are silent visibly shaking as he presses the gun harder as he becomes impatient with you

“Do I make myself clear!”

He sounds absolutely pissed as you quickly nod your head frantically

“Perfect, now fucking leave”

You don’t have time to explain to Angel Dust but you leave before he makes it back with your shots, Valentino is no where to be found.

“Y/n? Where did you go” “Amore mio?”

You didn’t reply to his texts, you didn’t know what to do, you were trapping yourself in your room.

You were in a panicked state as the tears just didn’t seem to stop, nothing made sense, you two were so so careful? How did you fuck up?

Angel knocked at your door. No answer. He knocked again before he eventually used the spare key you gave him, which you forgot about

Angel instantly rushed over to you when he saw you crying, which caused you to flinch

He instantly froze in his tracks when he saw you flinch, concern building

“Y/N what happened.. why are you crying”

You are struggling through sobs as you explain what happened, Angel is so fucking pissed he can hardly contain it but has to for you, he just listens as he sits next to you

“Amore mio, i shouldn’t of I left you alone I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that asshole found out but I’m not fucking this relationship up because of him”

“But he will kill me”

“Sweetie, there’s a thing called acting you know, all we have to do is play the part, pretty easy for me, as you’ve seen.”

He takes your hands with a slight smirk

“I’m not letting him fuck this up okay? Who cares what he thinks? Val is literally blind as shit, I’m surprised he even knew it was you. Probably had to have someone point you out to him”

Yeah that made you laugh, which Angel was thankful for.

For then on, you two had your ‘breakup’. You were never seen in public together, or not without disguises. You had most dates alone at the hotel together

You weren’t letting the one good thing to happen end because of a stupid fucking moth

And he wasn’t going to either.

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15 @molarloo

[unknownarmageddon]

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights. 

    Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves. 

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

      The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone. 

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze. 

     The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

      There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time. 

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back. 

        The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile. 

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again. 

    He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck. 

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets. 

“Killer.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped. 

    He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows. 

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.” 

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him. 

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied. 

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.” 

     Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him. 

    “Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head. 

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

     Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him. 

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice. 

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause. 

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot. 

“Exactly.” 

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.” 

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.  

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

       Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do. 

      Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks. 

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him. 

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

      Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

     His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. 

     But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station. 

      Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too. 

        He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there. 

        When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

           The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood. 

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated. 

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return. 

     The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights. 

     After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first. 

His eyes landed on him. 

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.” 

      Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette. 

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question. 

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.” 

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply. 

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross. 

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything. 

    Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on. 

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

     Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again. 

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

      Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap. 

      Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, andthey were taking the truck. 

      Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm. 

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal. 

     Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose. 

     They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash. 

    In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener. 

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped. 

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

     A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down. 

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,” 

“Right, past here and down that road,”

     They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming.   Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark. 

Killer pointed at the windshield again. 

They were here. 

      What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here. 

   He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed. 

———

       Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

     Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

      He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

       They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup. 

          Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued. 

     But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware. 

      Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought. 

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both. 

    Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought. 

     Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it. 

“This tastes like shit.” 

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned. 

      They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time. 

       Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

     The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night. 

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

     He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.” 

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?” 

    Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them. 

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up. 

    He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward. 

“Dude,” Cross laughed. 

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

    Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine. 

      They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him. 

      Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

       All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious. 

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down. 

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning. 

     In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently. 

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

          Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back. 

       Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”.  He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped. 

   Beside him Killer returned and he felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after. 

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd. 

     His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

      Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace. 

What a sight they must be. 

      A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

      She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was  looking at them. 

     Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well. 

   He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it. 

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

      He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova. 

      He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared. 

 His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

     Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die. 

     Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag. 

       She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared. 

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision. 

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now. 

     The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die. 

       The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger. 

     Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place. 

       At some point Killer’s jacket slipped,  leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds. 

         For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames. 

God,

He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for. 

       Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

        Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment. 

        Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist. 

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

    There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was. 

It became war.

     Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped. 

      He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive. 

      Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times. 

        Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing. 

          Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow. 

         Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder. 

      Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time. 

Someone grabbed his wrist. 

It was Killer.

     He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard. 

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

       They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

       Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage. 

       Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities. 

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

     They pulled out and ended back on the road. 

      Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

    The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!” 

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.” 

    He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster. 

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose. 

“So’re you.” 

     Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system. 

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it. 

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,” 

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently. 

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

      “You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long. 

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket. 

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was. 

      Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection. 

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped. 

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

      They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive. 

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.” 

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’” 

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

      Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static. 

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said. 

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press. 

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab. 

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.” 

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

        After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered. 

        The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired. 

         He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket. 

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there. 

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,” 

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

          After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him. 

            Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head. 

“Already?” Cross asked. 

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment. 

      ‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

      Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand. 

It sounded like it was raining outside. 

     For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.” 

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

    He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

[daydream-cement]

Beautiful Girl

Larissa Weems x Reader

Comforting Larissa so she feels as beautiful as you know she is.

Author’s Note: Short little oneshot! Enjoy!

“Sweetheart!!” Larissa held her dress by the bodice as she called out for you. The dress was incredibly fitted and there was no way for the blonde to keep it up without it being secured to her form. “I need you to come zip me up!”

You straightened your suit jacket in the mirror and grabbed your watch, beginning to fasten the wristwatch when you exited the bathroom. The sight of Larissa in the silver sequined gown caused your watch to tumble to the ground. You reached down quickly, scooping up the watch, eyes never leaving the blonde’s backside.

The headmistress was all too busy checking her hair and makeup in the mirror to even notice you becoming entranced with her body. Hearing the watch hit the floor, the headmistress knew you were now in the bedroom, so her voice rang out once more, “What do you think, darling?”

“Good- It’s good-“

“Good?” The compliment wasn’t enough to keep the shapeshifter’s negative self-talk at bay. She placed a hand to her stomach and began twisting and turning, a frown growing on her face as her eyes scanned her own body. “I just don’t know… Maybe I’ll wear something else.”

“No. You look- good in what you have on.” Your eyes narrowed at Larissa’s lack of appreciation for her own body. Your hands found the shapeshifter’s zipper, holding the frustrated blonde still and preventing her from shifting about to find minor flaws in her form.

“I’m just not- I don’t think I can pull this dress off…” The headmistress stood still with a huff, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror, "Is it too much, honey?"

"No, not at all.” In order to make your point, you began zipping up Larissa’s dress, trapping the blonde inside the fabric, the full hourglass of the shapeshifter’s figure becoming more evident. Slipping behind the blonde, you rested your hands on Larissa’s hips, giving them a firm squeeze before winding them around her middle, “You look great."

Larissa accepted her fate, adjusting the bust of the dress, teeth biting at her bottom lip as she stared at her own breasts, "I...dunno, there's- They're out there." While Larissa had grown to love her body more than ever since starting to date you, this was one of those days that she simply couldn’t shake the hatred she had for her body. Tonight her body would be out on full display, making the blonde grimace at the thought.

Your hands moved back to your wife’s hips, turning her around to get a glimpse at Larissa’s front side with your own eyes. You started from the bottom, working your way up, eyes lingering on the large expanse of cleavage exposed by the glittering gown, "Mmhm, but they look fabulous."

“Oh...” The blonde began to pout, hands coming to fidget with your suit, straightening out bits of fabric nervously, “I just don’t feel very beautiful tonight, darling...”

“I’m sorry that that is the case tonight, my beautiful girl. Is there any way I can possibly change your mind? Kiss the places you don’t feel are beautiful?” Taking Larissa’s hand and preventing her from messing with the fabric of your suit any further, you pressed a kiss to the blonde’s palm, beginning a trail of kisses up her forearm, turning your gaze to look at Larissa when you reached her elbow. “I want to show you that you are beautiful. If not to yourself, then to me. My opinion ultimately doesn’t matter, but I hope that you might believe that what I’m saying is true.”

Raising a hand to Larissa’s cheek, you continued speaking your mind, needing your wife to know how much she was truly loved, “There are days where I do not feel beautiful, and you always always make me feel like the most gorgeous in the room- in the world, even. I want to do the same for you as well, baby. Anything you need, I will give to you tenfold, you know this.”

With a shaky breath, Larissa pulled you to her, hugging you to her chest with a crushing force, “Your words helped an incredible amount, my sweet darling. I don’t know how I ever survived part of this life without you.” Pulling from the hug, Larissa’s hands came to cradle your face, pressing kisses all over, leaving lipstick marks in her wake, “I love you so much.”

You meant to respond, but you were somewhat delirious from the affection from Larissa, not conscious of the fact that your face was covered in Larissa’s lipstick. Your love struck gaze brought bubbling laughter from the shapeshifter. Before you could see her face, Larissa took your face in her hand and reached for her phone on the dresser nearby, needing to take a picture of you.

The shapeshifter gripped your chin between her thumb and forefinger, placing one last kiss to your forehead. With her voice sweet as ever, Larissa held up her phone, snapping a photo of you, “Smile for me, baby.”

Not only did those words of affirmation help, but your love struck gaze made the blonde’s heart feel so full, the frustrations of her dress began to fade. She even distracted herself by removing the lipstick from your face, the comforting proximity with you beginning to calm the shapeshifter.

The event went wonderfully. Your comfortingly possessive grip around Larissa’s waist the entirety of the social event. The blonde received more compliments that night than she ever had before, but none of which meant as much as the little whispers from you throughout the night. For once, you both even stayed until the after party, Larissa perching herself on your lap for most of the evening, your smug and satisfied smirk maintained for each second Larissa was attached to you.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife , @smutuniversesblog , @opheliauniverse, @teashock , @enchantressb , @alex-nyx , @renravens , @whenyouhaveanobsession , @scream-queenlover , @shyladyfan, @lilfartbox1, @rubberduckiesbathing , @mcufanisme , @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems , @sicklygrlsicklygrl , @lvinhs , @myzzjolanda , @principal-weems09 , @xuukoo , @brienneswife , @dumbasslesbi , @oculusalien , @sweetderacine , @giogwensversion , @milciak , @gela123 , @thevillagegay , @katiemcgrathsbitch1 , @naomi-m3ndez , @mysaviorfalsegod , @h-doodles , @salems-spaghettios , @imgayforwoman69 , @bychrissi, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic

[jesterwriting]

(for that timeloop post,, uhm this relates to the whole body horror thing ((not too much just a brief mention)) so if rn u don't wanna see that SCROLL AWAY!!! OR DELETE ME!! OK disclaimer ends here)

oh man but what if Law did say room anyway and there were impossible scars on your insides... like littered everywhere, they're not fresh but old, almost phantoms that make no sense, because if they were real you would've died. how would he react to that? maybe not when he noticed them crying but after weeks or months, dunno, where they keep skipping his more thorough check-ups (where he uses his devil fruit) since they're anxious about the pains? and think that somehow there are signs of their previous deaths and the mention of them makes it hurt more and more and they just can't do it. but they can't bring themselves to say it because who could possibly believe them? if Law doesn't, it would just feel even worse, won't it? even if they understand his point of view. maybe they even die in front of him and it gets harder to just hold all of that in,,, oh boy. if you think about continuing your oneshot i'll eat it like a starving animal!

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: slight body horror, slight gore, timeloops, suicide done to restart the loop, hurt/comfort, happy ending,

word count: 1.6k words

note: OHHHHH I LOVED THIS IDEA OH MY GOD. absolutely so smart. anon your mind is huge and i had so much fun doing this request. <33 i really hope you enjoy :33

playlist: caribou - tanya tagaq

a sister fic to this

This had never happened before. You had experienced hundreds of loops, maybe even thousands, and this was the first time Law saw fit to scan you with his Devil Fruit.

Maybe you were getting sloppy. You had a strong immune system so you never got sick, and the first time Law scanned you for your general checkup upon joining the crew, there was nothing of note. You wondered what changed, as if you hadn’t died more times since you joined his crew than you had in your entire life. Maybe it was because the more you suffered, the more reckless you became, throwing yourself into the fray with little regard for yourself. You could take a bullet for your crewmates, so you would. It was as simple as that.

There was a first time for everything, you supposed. A first death, a first breath, a first kill; there were uncountable firsts that one could experience, and you had experienced most of them.

Not this one, though.

You had tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Your captain was a man who carried burdens, ones almost as heavy as the ones on your shoulders. If he knew how many times he failed you — or how many times you failed him — you knew he would take all the blame for himself. As if you hadn’t been the one lying, and fighting, and dying over the course of countless lifetimes.

Law blinked a few times before his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. You fidgeted under his stare. If his reaction was anything to go by, he found something horribly wrong with you. While you had experienced slow deaths before, you had never experienced what it felt like to waste away from disease. Maybe you’d find out this loop, you thought, trying to feel nonchalant about the idea and not like you were about to throw up.

“Um. What’s wrong,” You tried.

Law shushed you, the blue glow from his room still surrounding you. You bit your tongue, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt to try and take your mind off of whatever he could have found.

“This can’t be right,” He muttered, one hand cradling his chin. He pointed to your chest. “There’s a scar inside of you, it looks like a puncture wound through your lungs. When did that happen?”

Three loops ago when you fell off a building and onto some rebar. That was a particularly awful death. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was Law’s panicked expression as he tried to put you back together again. There was terror in his eyes. You tried not to think about that part.

“And here,” Law continued, pointing to your abdomen. “There’s a scar running across the length of your stomach. It almost looks as if you were previously disemboweled.”

You had been. Multiple times. It was a common and very disturbing loop ender that you tried to avoid if you could. Watching your organs fall out of you in a steaming heap was never something you liked to experience, but for some reason, your opponents kept aiming for the gut. You wished they’d aim for the heart or the head more often. At least then it’d be quick.

He didn’t stop there, jaw falling open when he stared directly where your heart was. “When were you stabbed, Y/N-ya, this looks recent.” Law blinked a few times before realization dawned on his features. His eyes shot to your face, expression going from open to unreadable in seconds. “How did you survive without my intervention?”

Your mouth was dry. How were you supposed to respond? There was no way you could tell him that you had died on his watch more times than you could count. Law didn’t deserve that. Your captain was a good man, one you loved admired far too much to allow this to weigh him down. He would take your failures to heart, completely discounting the amount of times that he had saved you from having to start anew.

You must have been quiet for too long because Law was speaking again. “Answer me.”

“It’s from a long time ago,” You said.

That was a lie. It was from the previous loop. A quick death by your own hand over the cold corpse of your captain. If Law didn’t survive, there was no point in continuing, and if there was one thing you had grown accustomed to, it was taking your own life after one loss too many. You knew how to make it quick, no suffering. So with a precise hand, you drove your knife into your chest and let the timeline begin anew.

When you saw Law again, whole and alive, you vomited. You were under the impression that he believed that you simply ate some bad seafood, but from the concern that was slowly etching its way onto his features, you weren’t so sure of that now.

“Don’t lie to me.” Law’s eyes flashed, barely contained frustration needling at the corners of him. “None of this makes any sense, half of these injuries should have killed you. The other half would have needed to be treated.”

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue. You felt selfish and needlessly cruel for your desire to tell Law what was really happening. Your eyes burned, and their glassy sheen didn’t go unnoticed. Law handed you a tissue, expression softening.

“I- um.” You hated how your voice cracked. It had been a long time since you told someone about your Devil Fruit. You always died, and they always forgot. For a long time, you thought it was better that way, carrying this weight on your own. The way Law looked at you, though, it made you want to pour your soul out to him. Every pain, every loss, every death lain at his feet, and for once, you could stand unburdened. “It’d be wrong of me to tell you.”

Law’s eyebrows knit together. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. You’ll regret asking once you know. Don’t pretend like you don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don’t deserve my troubles on top of that. It’s better for both of us if you just forget what you saw.”

With that, you stood and made to brush past Law and out of the room. He grabbed you by the shoulder, not allowing you to go any farther. Though his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt. If you really wanted to, you could wrench yourself away from him.

“You’re trembling.”

Your lower lip wobbled, your resolve ebbing away by the second. “It’s complicated.”

“So tell me.” Law’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

You let out a small huff. He didn’t deserve this, but there would always be another loop. This current one hadn’t been going so well, and by your estimation, it would take at least three more before you managed to reach your next checkpoint. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Law what he inevitably wouldn’t remember. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“It’s my Devil Fruit,” You started. Law leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, attention solely on you. Your heart thundered in your chest. “I’ve died so many times.” Without your permission, your breath hitched. Law’s hand encircled your own with a small squeeze, encouraging you to continue. “It, um, brings me back, I guess. I’ll die, and then wake up in the bunkhouse days earlier, and I’ll be the only one who remembers what happened. All those scars you saw were what killed me in a previous loop.”

He was silent while he chewed on his words.

“How many times have you died since you joined my crew,” Law finally asked.

Your hand was still in his and you gave it a squeeze. “That’s not fair. I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you do it.”

Law’s shoulders slumped as he brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I believe you. It explains a lot. I noticed you cry in your sleep sometimes.”

“You watch me sleep?” The tips of Law’s ears were tinged pink while you laughed.

“I was worried so I checked on you.” With a sigh, he began to lead you out of the clinic to his office. “Come on, you’re telling me everything you can remember. We’re going to come up with a plan.”

Humoring him, you followed close on his heels. It didn’t matter how long or how hard you planned, there was no accounting for the unpredictability of the universe. This comfort wouldn’t last long. Soon, you would be dead again and the cycle would start anew. That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy sharing a space with your captain, listening to him meticulously craft tactics to keep you, and everyone else, alive.

It wasn’t until four days later you found yourself breathing, though covered head to toe in blood, with the rest of the crew. Everyone was safe and sound, and Law wouldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk on his face. When you found yourself next to him, he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I told you my plan would work.”

Just like that, for the first time in your life, you were no longer alone.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Can I please have an imagine where the reader is the younger twin sister of Meredith Grey and ends up falling in love with Addison Montgomery. The two get together and keep it a secret for awhile (because your twin sister getting with your boyfriends ex wife is kinda weird). But one day the two are caught in an on-call room by everyone. A bit of angst with a lot of fluff please?

In the Shadows and Under the Sheets !!!Light NSFW!!!

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x fem!reader

Warnings: major mommy issues, secret relationship, brief on-call room sex hehe, light angst<3

A/N: first oneshot for McMommy Addison Montgomery hope you enjoy<3

As much as you loved your twin sister, part of you resented her. Your mother had encouraged her to go to med school. Your mother encouraged her to be a surgeon. Your mother encouraged her to be amazing, one of a kind, extraordinary. 

“You’d be more suited as a nurse,” she had said before you applied to every possible pre-med program in the country at seventeen. “Or maybe dermatology.”

Straight A’s since grade school, a perfect 1600 on your SAT, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and you’d only be fit as a nurse? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Nurses are the backbone of the healthcare system. They leave and everything falls apart.

But to have your mother have so little faith in you–it hurt. It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. Maybe it was because you reminded her too much of your father–too soft, not hardcore enough for a surgeon. 

“Sometimes I wish I listened to my mom’s advice,” you mutter into the darkness of Addison’s bedroom. 

Addison, who lays beside you with her head on your chest, sits up. “What?”

“She–” you clear your throat. “She told me, before applying to med school, that I’d be better suited as a nurse–or in dermatology. That I’m too soft and that I wouldn’t make it as a surgeon.”

Addison brought a hand to your forehead, brushing aside stray hair. “You? Too soft?” When you nodded silently, she flashed a bitter-sweet smile. “Sweetheart…you are an amazing surgeon. Being soft isn’t a weakness. You need to have compassion and empathy if you’re going to be a doctor–especially if you do plan on going into pediatrics.”

The sound of your alarm startles you and press a reassuring kiss to Addison’s lips before getting out of bed and starting your morning routine.

__________

Addison sighed heavily as she scribbled down details of her most recent patient in their chart. You stare at her from afar, admiring the way her glasses sit, perched on the bridge of her nose, and the way she seems to drown out everything when she concentrates. How her skirt hugs her curves, how her hair is pinned up and exposing her neck…

“You seem stressed,” you murmur, standing beside Addison under the guise of discussing a case. 

She side-eyes you, trying to hold back a smile before going back to filling out her patient’s chart. “I’m…fine.”

“You sure about that?” you ask. “Because I have a very good way to help with stress and I think you’ll want to take me up on this offer…” You take the pen from her hand and grin, clicking it and placing it in the pocket of your white coat. “On-call room three. Five minutes.”

__________

You giggle as Addison presses kisses to your neck and removes your scrub top. You hold her close, running your hands up and down her body before unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it to the side.

“Still stressed?” you ask.

“I dunno,” she answers lowly. “If I am, do we get to continue?”

You laugh quietly, “We’d continue even if you weren’t stressed.”

Addison presses a firm kiss to your lips and you make your way down her body, placing soft, open-mouth kisses to her navel and nipping at her hips. You slowly drag her skirt down and continue with your kisses down her thighs as you toss it onto the floor.

You smile against her inner thigh and she jolts at your bites before letting out a soft moan. “God, you are gorgeous…”

She takes a deep breath and sighs as you get closer and closer to her aching core, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You wrap your arms around her thighs to hold her still, and just as you were about to get started, the worst possible thing happened.

As the on-call room light turns on, you gasp and look up. “Meredith!”

She stands in the doorway with an awkward look on her face before shutting the door quickly. Climbing out of the bed quickly, you pull on your scrub top, “You didn’t lock the door, Addison?”

Before she gets a chance to respond, you rush out the door and find that Meredith is still there–waiting for you. “Mer, I–”

“No,” she says. “Don’t. You gave me crap for sleeping with an attending.”

“I know, and I’m s–”

“I’m not done. You gave me crap about sleeping with Derek and now you’re sleeping with his wife!” 

“Ex-wife,” you mumble. 

“It doesn’t matter!” she snaps. “You’re a hypocrite! How long has this been going on?”

You thought for a moment, counting back the months of seemingly harmless flirting and innocent touches before it turned into…not so innocent touches. “Um…a couple months.”

“I’m your sister! You were the first person I told after I got back together with Derek!” There was a moment’s silence between the pair of you before Meredith spoke up again. “Are you happy?” 

 “What?”

“Does…does she make you happy?” Meredith repeats.

“...Yes,” you respond. “Yeah, she does.”

“Okay…good.”

“Good.”

Answering a page, Meredith leaves you to your own devices and you return to the on-call room. You watch with a grin as Addison buttons up her blouse.

“What?” she says.

“Next time,” you smile, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “lock the damn door.”

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

LOST IN TRANSLATION (oneshot)

(SID JENKINS X M! READER)

⋆★ word count : 778

⋆★ warnings : angst and internalised homophobia

⋆★ summary : during their trip to russia, sid and m/n are stuck sharing a room. m/n starts a late night conversation and it takes an unexpected turn when m/n reveals a little more than he intended.

⋆★ extra : me when .. me when I actually write instead of leaving my tumblr dry ‼️ （also we all know I suck at dialogue I apologise)

Sid couldn’t sleep. The old-fashioned heater in their Moscow hotel room was doing its best, but the chill in the air still seeped through the cracks. He shifted under the heavy blankets, trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress.

In the bed next to his, M/N was also awake. Sid could hear the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft sound of M/N’s breathing. It was a strange kind of comfort, knowing someone else was awake too, even if they hadn’t spoken much since turning out the lights.

Sid had never been great at sharing rooms with people. Not because he didn’t like people—he did, really—but because it felt like he could never fully relax. There was always this pressure to act normal, to not let anyone see just how awkward he really was.

“Hey, Sid?” M/N’s voice broke the silence, quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Sid replied, his voice a little rough from the cold air.

“You ever think about… you know, stuff?” M/N’s question was vague, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Stuff?” Sid echoed, turning his head on the pillow to look over at M/N’s silhouette in the dark. “What kind of stuff?”

“Like, I dunno… feelings? About people?” M/N’s voice was softer now, as if he was trying not to disturb the night.

Sid’s stomach tightened. He’d had conversations like this before, but they always made him uneasy. The ones where you had to be honest, where you had to say things out loud that were easier to keep buried. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, especially not here, in this unfamiliar room, miles away from home.

“Why?” Sid asked, trying to keep his voice casual, even though his heart was starting to beat a little faster.

M/N hesitated, the silence stretching between them. Sid could feel the tension growing, thickening the air around them.

“I… I think I have a bit of a crush on you, Sid,” M/N finally admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just… I thought you should know.”

Sid’s breath caught in his throat. His mind started racing, panic creeping in as he tried to process what M/N had just said. A crush? On him? He’d never even considered that possibility. Sure, M/N was a good friend, one of the few people Sid actually felt comfortable around, but this? This was different. This was something he didn’t know how to deal with.

“M/N, I…” Sid started, but his voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to say, how to react. All he could feel was this sudden, overwhelming need to push M/N away, to make it stop.

“Look, I know it’s weird,” M/N said quickly, misinterpreting Sid’s silence. “You don’t have to say anything, really. I just wanted to be honest with you. We can forget I said anything, okay?”

But Sid couldn’t forget it. The words were already there, lodged in his mind, and now he couldn’t unhear them. Something twisted inside him, something ugly and uncomfortable. He knew what it was—had felt it before, in fleeting moments when he’d caught himself looking too long at another guy, or when someone had jokingly accused him of being gay. It was fear, but also anger, at himself mostly, for even letting the thought cross his mind.

“What, you think just because we’re sharing a room, I’d be into that?” Sid snapped before he could stop himself. His voice was harsher than he intended, the words coming out all wrong, but the panic inside him was too strong to control.

M/N went silent, and Sid immediately regretted it. He could see M/N’s outline on the bed, motionless, and he knew he’d hurt him. But the fear was still there, gnawing at him, refusing to let him apologize.

“Sid, I didn’t mean…” M/N started, but Sid cut him off.

“No, just… don’t,” Sid said, his voice shaking. “I’m not—this isn’t me, okay? I’m not like that.”

The room fell into an oppressive silence, the kind that made Sid’s skin crawl. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. He knew he was being unfair, that M/N didn’t deserve this, but he couldn’t help it. He’d spent so long trying to convince himself he was normal, that there was nothing wrong with him, and now this was threatening to unravel everything.

“I’m sorry,” M/N whispered, barely audible. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Sid clenched his fists under the covers, the guilt crashing over him in waves. He wanted to say something, to fix it, but the words never came out.

[serialkilluh1996]

✮𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑✮

Android-König x Detective-Female-reader

Detroit Become Human x Call Of Duty

Themes: drabble, oneshot, kinda platonic, meet cute

Author's note at the end.

୨୧How you and König meet୨୧

☣Content warning☣

➛ Mentions of bombs, terrorists, hijacking, Kidnapping.

➛ König uses "die"(pronounced, dee) instead of "the".

➛ use of "☆☆☆" in place of reader's name.

contact me if I need to add more.

It wasn't easy being a detective in detroit with the whole "androids going crazy" bullshit running a muck in the local headlines. Stacks on stacks of painful paperwork revolving around someone's artificial housepet going haywire.

You could feel a migraine coming on just looking at the file in your hand. "Android terrorists, huh?" You shrug, scanning over the case. Who new robots were capable of making complex bombs?

Cyberlife, probably. It's one of the reasons they're trying so hard to keep this under wraps. They knew from the very jump how dangerous these things could be, knowing lives would be in danger the second an android was sold, but sells were booming, and morality doesn't interfere with money in this economy. The crime scene photos were awfully graphic. It made you sick to the stomach knowing that a robot did this. Then again, it is a machine made in human image, and humans certainly weren't the best people. Millenias of track records proved that.

"☆☆☆!" You wince as you hear the grouchy old voice of your least favorite lieutenant. Hank. Fucking. Anderson. That sleazy old bitch and his shaggy dog beard. You could smell the beer from across the room, too frustrated to even turn around and face him. You were NOT in the mood.

"Hey, Ms. ☆☆☆. It'd be real courteous of you to, I dunno, turn the fuck around when I'm talking to ya." Hank teases, clearly too nonchalant for your byllshit today. "Lieutenant, WHAT do you want–" you turn in your spinning office chair, going silent as you notice the massive monstrous man that he was leaned against. He was tall, nearly 7'0", all decked out in a military combat uniform, large gun held firmly in his left hand that you could only assume was locked and loaded.

He had on some sort of dark hood with red streaks around the eyes, his irises glowing a vicious shade of bold red that illuminated like lasers. "What the fuck..." your voice trailed off, a reluctant fear in your voice as you tried to stand your ground. This guy clearly wasn't hunan, but he wasn't your usual android either.

Androids were designed to look friendly and appealing to the eye. Not to strike fear into the heart of whoever dares to look. Cyberlife's usual color scheme was a gentle teal blue, one that seemed electric and hyper. He was red-themed, not as friendly nor appealing considering that the color red is confirmed to cause anxiety and unease if in large quantities, especially bright red.

And that gun. This fucker had a gun. Cyberlife had lost their damn minds. There's no way these people actually thought that they should give an android, recently discovered to have a high possibility of going rogue and causing fatal damage to the human race, a gun, especially a murder weapon like that. That gun didn't even look legal to own. And then there's Hank, without an inch of a fuck to give, leaning against him like it was nothing.

"Cyberlife wanted me to, eh, bring you this little gift." "Why are they giving it to me???" You fuss. "Well, I'm off duty, kid. The case is yours, so the fuckin' android is too." He stuffs his hands in his large coat pockets, turning to leave.

"Hank?" You call out, a subtle whine in your voice caused by the fear of being left alone with it. "Whatever questions you have, ask the big guy. Or, just...Google it like the old days." He chuckles, knowing he sounded like an ass. You grunt at his lack of concern, trying to suppress a whimper as the metal monster progressed toward you, clenching the gun tightly.

"Greetings. I'm König, Die android sent by Cyberlife." He speaks, the tone in his voice making it obvious his words were scripted. "...you don't look like a usual robot " you stagger out, remaining calm with an unbothered, cocky facade. "I'm a prototype sent from Germany. I'm die only one with my model." He responded, voice clearly created with the idea of a German accent in mind. "Why are you so..." "Big? Red? Scary? Different from die others? It's simple, really. I'm especially designed for missions involving heavy crimes such as Kidnapping, bombing, hijacking, and trafficking. Missions like yours." He raises his right hand, index finger pointed directly at your file. Twelve dead. Nine injured. A shopping center blown to bits at the hands of AI.

"My bright shades of red are meant to exert power, instill fear and imply threat. Like a big X when you do something incorrect in a game." He places his AR on the ground, letting the loud metal cling as it hit your desk. His eyes examine your face, scanning cautiously, he squints as his inner computers calculate your current anxiety.

"You are...confused. Scared. Do not fret, detective. I was sent to protect you. I will terminate any and all threats to this mission and your safety, even if that includes me." He puts a shockingly soft gloved hand to your cheek. He really was an advanced model.

They're programming them with charisma as well? What will they think of next? You roll your eyes. Pushing the hand away, you reach for your car keys, snatching the file up off the table.

"Where are you going, Detective?" "Home. I've got a case to work on." Before you know it, you feel a firm grip around your waist before your lifted in the air by König. "What are you doing?" You hit his back, wincing at how firm it was.

"Taking you home. You're car needs to stay here incase they're stalking you. They'll see it and assume you're still at die precinct." He responds, opening the door with a single hand before ducking to exit. "So, you're just- you're gonna carry me back? All the way?" "Yes, Detective."

"Don't you think that would bring more attention to me than just...driving?" And suddenly, he stops walking. You can literally hear the gears turning in his head. "So, I was lying." The admission shocks you. "What?! What the hell kinda lie is that?"

"I just wanted to carry you back. Perhaps, show off what I can do. But,...dont worry. I assure you, you'll make it home safely. Then I can show you what else i can do." König's tone is flat as he resumes his journey. Lying, charismatic robot. What. A. Day.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

Okay, so this was something that's been on my mind for a while and I'm thinking about doing more oneshots with this scenario because robot König is just MWAH🫶🏾😚😚😚 and I absolutely must have more of him.

And to everyone that has recently submitted requests, please read my pinned and rules before sending one, because a lot of these asks were.... heavily against my boundaries. Have a great day/night!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

here, have this little drabble that was totally not going to be for mine and my moots little 500 word challenge at the end of the month but was too long

steddie / T / 768 words

It was Dustin’s idea, actually.

Well...kinda.

He just wanted Steve to finally play D&D with them, but Steve was gonna take it and run with it.

What better way to show a Dungeon Master you have big sappy feelings for him other than through the game itself? What could go wrong?

The Hellfire leader was the second of the older teens to come out to the party after everything happened with Vecna (following a similar confession from Steve himself), and Steve has been floundering ever since. Back and forth between ‘Oh my god, I actually have a chance with him.’ and ‘What am I talking about, he wouldn’t go for me.’

It was Dustin’s insistent nagging, the “C’mon Steve, Eddie would freak out if you said you wanted to play!”, and a suspicious ‘Does he know I’ve got a big stupid crush on his DM?’ squint at the kid that led them all here, to Steve’s basement.

It was just a oneshot with the kids (even Robin is there, heckling them all from the sidelines), and after a grueling battle with a dragon (and math), they were conferring with their quest-giver and NPC Eddie’s been voicing, Princess Edina, about their reward.

“As for your reward Sir Stephan,” Eddie says in a goofy high-pitched voice, looking down at him from where he’s standing behind his screen. “I believe you are owed a kiss for your efforts.” he tilts his head down, “Only if you still desire one.” 

Steve seizes the opportunity.

His stomach is simultaneously wound up in tight knots and completely liquified with nerves, but he stands on wobbly knees, steps around the corner of the table, and reaches up to brush a stay curl out of Eddie’s face, the rest of his hand following the motion to cup his face.

Eddie seems to melt into the touch, swaying forward briefly before freezing completely in his hold when Steve murmurs, “That I do.”, against his lips.

Steve’s eyes fly open when Eddie shoves him backward, hard, and storms off up the stairs.

“Dude.” Mike’s voice pulls Steve’s attention from the stairs. “What the hell was that??”

Steve shakes his head and darts up the stairs to more protests and wild complaints.

“Eddie!”

There’s a chilly breeze that falls over him when he reaches the top, luring him out the still slightly open sliding back door.

Eddie’s sitting on one of the abandoned sunchairs, shoulders stiff, staring off into the woods behind the house.

“Eds?”

“What the fuck was that, Steve?”

He lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry Eddie, I get it if you hate me now, completely understandable, I just…” he trails off. There is no excuse.

“There’s no excuse, Eddie. I’m sorry. I wanted to show you I could be into your nerd things, and have the opportunity to–”

“Opportunity to what?” Eddie’s voice is sharp, his shoulders hiking up against his ears.

“I dunno, woo you? Sweep you off your feet or something.. And now all I've done is assault you in front of a herd of teenagers.” 

“And why would King Steve wanna do that, huh? What could you have possibly gained from ‘woo-ing’ the Freak, huh?”

“I just thought–”

“You thought it’d be funny to make fun of me during the one thing I really have for myself?”

“Make fun of y— No, Eddie, never! ...I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance with you unless I…played D&D with you.” he finishes lamely.

After a beat, Eddie says, “‘S’not funny, man.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie.”

The way he says it must have indicated something to the other man, because his shoulders start to fall as he slowly turns to face Steve.

“I’m being so serious, Eddie.” he repeats, stepping forward with each following statement. “I am so serious about the way I feel about you. So serious about the way my stomach turns to Jello whenever you’re around.”

Steve lowers himself next to Eddie on the lounge chair slowly, as if he’s some skittish creature. “So serious about wanting to kiss you.”

Eddie’s eyes dart all over his face, and Steve lets himself be examined. Eyes falling over every part of Eddie’s face in turn.

When he does come to his conclusion, Eddie’s hands come up to either side of Steve's face.

His hands are chilled from the wind around them, and Steve’s hands grasp onto them on instinct, attempting to warm them with his own.

“Can I kiss you, Steve?”

Steve grins the best he can, given his cheeks are squished between Eddie’s palms, “I thought you’d never ask.”

[heygirltimeformorning]

Still waiting (anxiously) on my AO3 invite, but here's a little teaser of a Buddie oneshot I've been poking around.

Title: Good Science

Summary: In which Buck develops and tests a hypothesis.

-

They don’t talk on the run. Not in a I’m mad at you and you’re getting the cold shoulder way, but in a comfortable way. Like, finally, Buck’s brain has stopped trying to fill every second with sound, and he can just give over to the way their feet sound, slapping the pavement, the easy rhythm of their breathing. After the run, Eddie gets them both water. “Why’d you come over?” he asks. “Everything alright? You need something?” and then Buck remembers. Well, he’d never forgotten, but somewhere between brain-wiggle land and the run, he’d put the dilemma to bed. Kind of. Like, for a nap. Not a permanent to bed, just a I’ll deal with you later kind of to bed.

“I’m alright,” he says, because he is. This isn’t something he’s not alright about. He’s just confused. “Do you think it’s possible to be, like, intuitive to a certain person?”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, and that’s his thoughtful face. “You mean, like, friends?”

Buck laughs. He can’t help it. “I know what friends are,” he says, because he does. He and Hen are friends. He is friends with Chimney and Ravi and Bobby and Athena (kind of). He is friends with Eddie. “I mean, like, more.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Well, Buck,” he drawls, “when you start having feelings—”

Buck rolls his eyes, and punches Eddie in the shoulder. “Not like that, like –” well, maybe it is like that, but that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? “Like – like someone you just – understand. And maybe you don’t really know how you understand them, you just do. Like they live in your brain. Like you – you were – I dunno. Meant to understand them.”

For a second, Buck expects Eddie to laugh it off, make a joke, say something like did you get into the leftover pain meds again, but Eddie’s face changes, drops the sarcastic arch of his eyebrow, the smirk, fades into something softer. Kinder. Familiar. Buck’s brain does the wiggle thing again. “Yeah,” he says finally, his voice quieter. “Yeah, I think it’s possible to be meant to understand someone.” There’s something unsaid in Eddie’s words – something that lingers, curls under Buck’s skin and rubs up against him; settles in deep.

_

Thanks for reading! More to come.

[seneon]

heyy, i dunno if you still take requests but can you make oneshot with rayne x anorexic gn! reader, how he find this and react, also how he helps the reader??

i've been struggling with ed for 2 years and still trying to recover, i guess it's going good :')

btw that's ok if you don't wanna write, i love your works, tysm <33

take it easy ──── ft. rayne ames x anorexic gn! reader.

about. rayne finds out his s/o has anorexia and tries to help them. warning: sensitive topics about ed. | 0.6K words.

notes. hi anon! i hope you're doing well. i'm actually proud at the fact that your ed is going good, keep it up!! if you need any help or just someone to talk to, my dms are always open yayyaya. ily anon tysm for requesting! also, i'm not experienced with writing ed, but i'll try my best (:

honey-coloured eyes watched in observation as e/c ones shifted around in uneasiness. your eyes were looking around the food that was on the table, served fresh and awaiting to be eaten.

what could go wrong with the freshly served food that you yourself ordered?

that was what confused rayne ames, your boyfriend, who's currently on a date with you. he hasn't gotten the time to eat or spend time with you in a while, and this was his only chance for the week. so why was he feeling a sense of uneasiness that was just . . . there the moment he met up with you? why did asking you out for a lunch date felt like it's something difficult for you to say yes to?

rayne ames didn't know the answer to that, but if his lover who looks forward to spending time with rayne at any free moment has difficulties of agreeing, he's going to find out what's wrong.

"y/n, why are you not eating? is the food not to your liking?"

ah, food. a subject that even disgusts you from the very sound of it. something you've been avoiding in a while.

when rayne proposed a lunch date, it had you right in a pinch. it was something you didn't want him to find out in the most ridiculous ways possible. something about even consuming a single piece of solid food gave you a grave fear that it might cause harm on you internally.

the fear of gaining weight and being made fun of society that exceeded the average weigh scares you so much. it scared you to the point where you viewed food as something to not be consumed, but to be portrayed as a primordial fear.

it was difficult for you to even look at rayne when he asked two simple questions. you didn't have an answer for either questions, so your lips remained sealed and your eyes adverted it's gaze to the table where you shut your nose to not inhale anymore of the food's smell.

"have you been having trouble with eating..?" rayne asked silently, barely a whisper but audible to you. his face is a sad one, full of sympathy for the worst outcome to come out your mouth.

but he listened. to your every single word. the difficulties you've been having with the people around you focusing on your image, sheer and utter fear of gaining weight, the times where you throw up each time after trying to consume even the littlest amount of food.

even as you speak about your difficulties, rayne felt his heart broken. he hasn't been there with you all this time when you were going through such a difficult time. he felt like guilty for not being there for you. it was just the weight of guilt that now rests in his very own shoulders.

rayne stood up from his seat and embraced you in a hug, a token of compensation that he wasn't there for you whenever you needed him the most. thus he apologised over and over again, telling you words that means so much to you.

slowly by slowly, as days passed by, rayne skipped out on many of his duties, telling the other divine visionaries to help him for a period of time. in that period, he tries his best to encourage you with little portions of food, telling you to eat and trying his hardest to reassure you affirmative words that was only meant for you.

it took a while to do so, but rayne always told you 'take it easy' and it always manages to make you feel at ease.

with the help of rayne by your side, you felt like you could feel most comfortable and safe as you definitely will take everything easy now.

for if you are going to bear such a heavy burden, rayne will surely do it with you.

together.

[txtmetonight]

Ms. (?)

call summary ⋆ ★ you and yeonjun since high school have had major rivalry. now you two are teachers at the same school, and your fiery bond hasn’t broken yet. but the other teachers and students make you guys the hottest ship in school. so…what’s next?

pairings *. * yeonjun x fem! reader

genre ⋆ ★ fluff, enemies to lovers (?) dunno its a little complicated, coworkers to lovers (?) again confusing...you'll see once you finish it, oneshot

warnings *. * a bit of cursing (just a pinch) :/, alcohol, a tinge of insults, bad grammar (english isn't my first language 💀 and Grammarly sucks)

featuring ⋆ ★ chaewon, taehyun, felix

call duration *. * 3.4K

It was no big secret to the whole school about the immense tension between the sweet 10th-grade Math and Science teacher and the handsome music professor that almost every high schooler (whether you were a girl or not) drooled over. You and Mr. Choi's (aka Yeonjun) relationship with each other were rather tense and complicated. You’ve known Yeonjun ever since he overtook your place in the spelling bee in High school, spelling ubiquitous right, and ending it with a humongous, ludicrous, smirk sent towards your face. And once you graduated High school with high credits that got you into a prestigious college to receive your bachelor's degree, you thought that you would never see his stupid face again. But imagine your surprise when the same face you’ve hated for years walked through the building doors, ready to greet you in front of your new classroom, the same smug smile on his face. 

“You’ve worked in this school for four years, yet you still don’t know how to properly use the printer, do you even qualify as a teacher Mrs. (L/n)?” You grit your teeth in annoyance, instead focusing on the papers that spit your worksheets for your lovely kids. “No comment?” Yeonjun jokes, pushing around you to grab his own stack of papers, yet furrowing his eyebrows once he notices that the papers he printed out were filled blank. No ink or anything, just plain white copy papers looking like they came straight from out of a newly opened pack. “Um” He tries to turn his body so you wouldn’t notice his stupid mistake but you catch on right away loudly snickering. “I think you forgot to press the side button, again” You grab your papers swiftly before quickly sticking your tongue out once his back was turned and rushing out as fast as possible towards your classroom. Composing yourself, you stick your head into your room to watch Ms. Kim who was playing hangman with your class. 

“Nope, there’s no- oops your teacher’s back” She stays seated in your chair, completing the word she was thinking about while you stride towards your desk, the class filled with groans and gasps once the expo marker marks the last letter, spelling out your first name. You notice but don’t bother as Chaewon snickers, getting up so you could whisper your gratefulness in her ear. “Thank you, god, I already feel a headache coming on” you whine all while she understandingly pats you back before a devilish smile comes upon her cunning face. “Was it because of Yeonjun…you know I saw him hurriedly running after you while you were walking towards the printer room”. You sigh and instead glare at her giggling figure, you’d prefer not to feed into her mindless delusions. She takes the hint and opts to stride out of the classroom, of course not before butting her head back in for a final goodbye “Alright then, don’t give your teacher a hard time” Chaewon finally leaves with a flourish and you could probably guess where she was heading next, ready to prey on her next cup of coffee. Which leaves you to turn back to your kids to teach.

“So who’s ready for more Quadratic Functions” you smile (still stuck on your friend’s comment earlier about Yeonjun following you), and the class breaks out in another round of cries, some even begging you to not pass out those papers in your hands.

______________________________________________________________

“Ms. (L/n)?”

You turn around to face another of your co-worker, who taught the 9th graders, just a hall over, though it was quite surprising to see him in the breakroom. “Mr. Lee, how may I help you?” you ask, politely smiling at the man who flashes a cheerful grin. “You know, it’s ok to call me Felix…I’m pretty sure you call Mr. Choi, Yeonjun, right?” The mood was a little awkward as you shuffled around quietly nodding a brisk okay and sorry, before he brushed it off with a loud chuckle. “Your classroom?”. You were hoping that you actually reminded him about his own kids to teach since he was spending so much unnecessary time with you, secretly wishing that he could leave you alone so you could eat your lunch. “We have a guest speaker who told me she could take over everything and that she was going to be fine on her own”. By now you were practically rolling on the heels of your feet, praying for any distraction of some sort. And it seems your quick prayers may have been answered because in came Choi Yeonjun with his own bento, confusedly staring at you and Felix then noticing the big empty and supposedly the best spot in the whole break room, which you were gonna sit in. 

This idiot better not. 

You clench your hands, watching the arrogant man take your place before being brought back to reality by a small cough, totally forgetting that Felix was in front of you. “Um so…I was wondering if you could- or wanted to eat dinner with me tomorrow, of course, no problem if not” He looks at your wide eyes while trying to gulp his nervousness away. “A date?” you point towards yourself, both you and Felix unaware of the angry eyes watching you two. Yeonjun looked like a ripe tomato that was gonna explode. The blonde in front of you sucks through his teeth, letting out a small exhale. “Yep” Ok now, Yeonjun was furious and one half of him wanted to confront and stop the interaction and the other wanted to stay put and see what you would do. So he decides the latter, beginning to forget his lunch and instead spreading his legs to lean back on the couch, staring intently. “You’re a great man,  but I don’t think I’m the one for you” You somehow get your words out, carefully picking them as they slip out of your tongue. “How can you be so sure about the future, when you’ve never ever even gone on a date with me before” You swallow hard, senses running all over the place, and his pitiful face definitely didn’t help. “I’m already dating someone” Your whisper was loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, making him sit upright eyebrows raised. 

This was new.

Felix looks taken aback, mouth pouting in shock. “Is that so? you should’ve told me the first time, then I wouldn’t have bothered you anymore” He bows down, ashamed of his actions. “Oh no, you’ve done nothing wrong, but please don’t tell this to anyone” Smiling he nods embarrassedly before gesturing that he was gonna stay quiet. “Have a great day!” he sheepishly skips out of the classroom and you continue waving, keeping the simple grin, it falling down right as his body was out of sight. 

“You’re dating someone?” 

Shit

You forgot that Yeonjun was in the room with you guys, tuning into your guy’s conversation. “Were you eavesdropping on us?” You already knew the answer. “It’s not eavesdropping if it was loud enough for me to hear, so are you actually dating someone?” He finally spoons a piece of his chicken in his mouth, though it was a bit weird that he actually started eating after you took your first bite out of your pizza from last night. Tired of his antics you decide to play along a little, nodding and smiling a little, a loud gasp led out by the male who was surprised by your confession. “Is he cute, or even good enough for you?” Yeonjun grumbles. You glance towards him with a huge grin “Yep he’s perfect…but don’t tell anyone though, keep it a secret between the both of us and I guess Mr. Lee” He continues to stare at you before turning back towards his meal, ears hinted with a tinge of red. The rest of the 15 minutes was quiet, except for a few bickers on the best sauce to go on a salad and the worst football team. It was almost the end of the period where you were finishing up your drink, smiling against the straw while your eyes peered at Yeonjun as he kept defending his point that when he was so into the discussion, his lidded eyes gaze at you, practically sending you into a cardiac arrest, leading you to accidentally swallow the drink through the wrong hole. 

And after Yeonjun notices he blanks out, panicking along with you. “Oh my god, are you okay!?” ‘Does it look like I’m okay’ you try to rasp but instead, you cough even more. He goes to kneel down next to you on the couch, slowly rubbing in circles into your back to calm you down and it works! Instead of full-on choking, you were left with little splutters in your throat. “Here drink some water, and try not to choke again” he grins, handing you his water bottle which you gratefully take. Taking your fill of water, you notice the close proximity between you and Yeonjun, and you could feel the red slithering up your back and neck while you turn towards him to give him your thanks. “Thank you” God your noses were basically touching, and at school too! You’ve never been this close in your guys’ workplace so it sent a shiver of butterflies down your spine. “You're welcome” He breaths and right when he looked like he was coming closer the bell rang sending you two flying apart. 

“Oh, Mr. Choi and Ms. (L/n)!” Both pairs of eyes shoot towards the unexpected intruder and you relax once you notice that it was Chaewon, her red lips tugged at the corners. “Ms. Kim '' Yeonjun immediately gets up to bow and you quickly follow, a little flustered about how your friends caught you and your coworker so close together. “I’ll take my leave, my 4th-period students are probably at my door…Mrs. (L/n), you didn’t forget about the staff meeting after school right?” He lifts his eyebrows at your gasp, entertained while watching you dive for your phone and open up your calendar. And there it was, your little reminder on how you were scheduled to overtime and drive all the way home and then back to a bar so you could catch up with your other workmates, all arranged by the principal. You take a look at Chaewon who also pulled her phone out, shrugging once she met your gaze before erupting in a small laugh. “Of course, you forgot, I thought Math and Science teachers were supposed to be smart, I guess not” He looks you up and down, letting out his squeaky laughs as he grabs his water bottle and bento, your face was frozen in shock and offense. “Bye Mrs. (L/n), Ms. Kim” He bows once more towards Chaewon and spares you a look before walking away. 

“The fucking nerve of that guy, you saw him!” She hurries towards you, slapping her hand over your mouth, not letting you speak another word. You look at her, a little startled as she pats your cheek gently. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, you need to go back to class Ms. (L/n)” She still holds your cheeks, her other hand moving your chin up and down to nod at her words. Her hands give you back your lunchbox, pushing you out of the room. “Your kids must be waiting for you, go back before they scribble something on the board again” She waves a goodbye while you cringe, agreeing with her, leading you to fast walk back to your classroom. The last time you were late to your class, the whiteboard was filled with little doodles of you and Yeonjun, each picture demonstrating romantic actions, and they had their own little actions too. The kids knew very much about the cute (in your words revolting) atmosphere that you two teachers had. And they took advantage of it. Some of the lockers were filled with small drawings of yours and his initials in a heart. Yeonjun once even got a love note that had your name on it, which he still teases you about to this day. The birth of a ship name of you two was even made and is still stuck on a water fountain in the 11th-grade hallway. But by the time you got to your classroom, you knew you were too late. The board was already filled to the brim. 

______________________________________________________________

The bar was packed with customers and through the window you tried to spy your own group, which wasn’t too hard to find. All you had to look for was a shiny bald head that belonged to your boss. Almost everyone was there already, including Chaewon who looked like she was going to die from boredom. “You’re not going in?” You turn around to face Yeonjun who was pocketing his keys. You smirk, “Nope, was waiting for you, ladies first” He rolls his eyes playfully, yet taking your offer to lead the both of you into the bar. “Haha you're so funny” You follow him through the door which you held for him, awkwardly standing next to him, watching your group. “I know”. Waving back at Chaewon, Yeonjun and you stride towards the table. “Oh my, Yeonjun and (Y/n), you’re here, we thought you’d never come” The principal slurs his words, all while checking you up and down which you grimace in disgust. “Come here (Y/n), sit next to me” Mr Park lazily smiles, pointing to the empty spot next to him (which was forcefully cleared by him). You try to refuse but before you could get a word out, Yeonjun had already sat there. “Yeonjun?!” The man exclaims, ready to scold him out. “Sorry sir, but I’m deathly allergic to shrimp and rather not sit there” Yeonjun responds, slightly dipping his head in respect. The only open seat had fried spicy shrimp next to it. “Oh is that so, that’s fine I guess” Mr Park, slumps his cheek onto his palm, staring at you take the seat across from Yeonjun and next to Chaewon who hugs you excitedly. You knew that Yeonjun was lying and for a fact was definitely not allergic to any types of seafood, but you were extremely thankful. 

“Here Yeonjun, drink” Mr. Kang pushes him a glass, but Yeonjun refuses. “I’m not drinking tonight, I have to drive back home”. Taehyun nods before turning to you, offering a drink, and you accept the glass, the bright boy (Currently a student teacher) pouring you the liquid. Conversations rise and die down but there was a lot of chattering at your table. As the night progressed so did your face, turning red and red from the amount of alcohol you were downing. Everything around seemed blank and normal until Mr. Park brought up a futile question. “I’ve noticed that Yeonjun and (Y/n) always go home together and always arrive at the same time in the morning, has anyone noticed that?”. You and Yeonjun stop breathing in shock, even more, stupefied at the murmurs of agreement that arise from your co-workers. “W-we just have the same routes, that’s all” Yeonjun stutters, his black hair sticking to his face, chewing on his lips nervously.

“(Y/n)?” Chaewon shakes you out of your ogle towards Yeonjun, who was staring back at you too, eyes flitting the entirety of your flushed face. “Yeah, he’s right, in fact, me and Yeonjun have a bus to catch, we should go”. You try to stand up but the drinks coursing through your veins makes you stumble, the world around you spinning. “I thought Yeonjun was driving? He could stay a little longer” A 9th-grade teacher pipes up, a lovesick look on her face as she looks at the man. Though instead of reciprocating her look and lightly clears up his throat before sending a formal smile towards everyone. “I have to wake up early in the morning tomorrow, it’d be better to go now”. Usually, no one would believe that very obvious lie but they let it slide, their minds under the influence of alcohol. Yeonjun walks towards your side, laughing at your attempts at walking, and swinging his arm over your shoulder to help you. Sure everyone knew that Yeonjun hated your guts but he wasn’t that heartless. After a string of goodbyes, you both slowly slump out of the building, you sighing at the fresh air. Yeonjun titters softly at your swaying before looking back to make sure no one was behind him. 

“Aww is my baby tired?” You whine into his side, comforted by his large presence, his cologne making you sleepy. “Shut uppp”. Yeonjun couldn’t blame your fatigued figure, it was certainly tiring keeping your marriage a secret. Once you two were far away (and when he couldn’t watch you struggle anymore) his hands slither down to your thighs and in a blink of an eye you find yourself dangling in a pair of strong arms. “Jun what are you-” You’re cut off to a sweet kiss and you happily take it, leaning more into his mouth, wanting to feel him more but he cuts you off from your need, instead landing you onto your feet so you could get into his car. His hands gently move the pieces of hair that stick on your face, eyes glazed with something so pure that it made you want to melt into the seat below you. He spots your squirming, turning his hand so the back of it, laid on your cheek. “Do you need to throw up?I brought plastic bags?” You smile against his cold hands, shaking a no. The silence felt comfortable, as Yeonjun decided to crouch by your seat still out of the car, still observing you with a delicate look, and his soft lips pouting at how stunning you looked. “Stop staring at me like that” You whisper, taking his other hand in yours. 

“Baby you’re the smartest woman I know, I didn’t mean what I said today at school” He snuggles into your cheek apologetically. It’s been gnawing at him all day after he said that, feeling extremely guilty even though you knew he meant it as a joke. “I don’t mean anything I say that’s rude, I swear” He continues on, giggling with you as he burrows his nose deeper, lips puckered to leave a trail of gentle kisses. “I know Junnie, I don’t mean anything like that either”. You slowly turn your face, capturing his lips in another kiss, noses brushing with each other as his touch feels scalding hot against your skin.  “I really wish you could use my last name at school” He sulks. “Me too, love” You pet his hair, threading your fingers in it, forcing him to release his (fake) glower. “Come on, let's go home” He leaves one last smooch on your nose before groaning while getting up, stretching his limbs. You reach over in the glove compartment to grab your rings, and when he gets in the car, you grab his hand to slide his on, his own fingers scrambling to slip your own ring on your hand. At last, he starts the car, and the rumbling engine almost lulls you to sleep. “You could sleep if you want, I can tuck you into bed” He looks down at your jelly figure against the leather seats. “No I want to sleep with you” He bops his head softly at you, starting to softly hum a song. But alas your eyelids felt droopy and heavy like a dozen rocks sat upon them, so you decide to close them for a second, and the last thing you heard was a little muffled but in enough volume to where it sent blood rushing around your body. 

“I love you, Mrs. Choi”

Bonus:

Chaewon walked out of the building a little after her best friend and coworker left. She wasn’t going to deal without Mr. Park’s nonsense any longer. But as she walked farther and farther she noticed a young couple, the boy carrying his girl. “I swear to god, I’m going to sleep on the highway” she groans, walking faster to her destination so she could call for a taxi. Her eyes glance towards the girl, which looked like (Y/n), and the boy that twinned with Yeonjun. But that’s impossible, Yeonjun carrying (Y/n) would happen when pigs could fly. Maybe she drank a little too much. 

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*sooo how was it? Sorry this is my first one-shot, hopefully, they'll be better and longer ones in the future :) Ask me to be added to my permanent tag list.

[lucky-bishova-42]

Hi(gh) Mama!

(oneshot that takes place anytime after Chapter 32 in Malen’kiy Yastreb)

If you asked Yelena how today was gonna go, she wouldn’t in a million years have guessed this.

It all started when Sonya had come over to visit the apartment the night before.

And let’s just say she brought some fun brownies over for her and Yelena to enjoy while they hung out.

What Yelena neglected to remember, before going to bed, was to label or move the leftover brownies.

Which led to this.

“Oh blyad!! Kate don’t eat those!!” Yelena cries as she watches Kate take a bite out of said brownies.

“What? Why?” Kate puts the rest of the brownie down.

“You didn’t eat any more of those, have you??” Yelena asks urgently.

“Just one other one right before this one, why? Are they for something specific?” Kate starts to get concerned.

“Der’mo! You had a whole one?”

“Yes!” Kate replies exasperatedly, “Now are you gonna tell me why its such an issue that I had one?”

“Those aren’t regular brownies, Kate. They are weed brownies,” Yelena sighs.

Kate’s eyes go wide as she looks down at the sweet treat she is still holding.

“Holy shit,” Kate says, realizing the situation.

“Yup.”

“Mama and Mom are gonna kill us.”

“Yes. Well, probably not you since it isn’t really your fault. But me, for sure.”

—————————————————————————

*about two hours later*

“Do you ever think about how if you never truly let your car’s tank get empty, that there might be a molecule of the original gas solution still in the car?” Kate ponders as she sits upside-down on the couch.

“No… but I think it is safe to say that the edible has finally kicked in,” Yelena replies, “What time are your parents going to be home?”

“Huh,” Kate pauses for a second, ignoring Yelena’s question in favor of staring at the dust on the light fixtures, “we should really start cleaning the ceiling… maybe Peter could help.”

“Kate,” Yelena snaps her fingers in front of Kate’s face, “focus!”

“Oh sorry,” Kate chuckles, turning herself upright, “I feel reeeeeeaaaaally spacey right now… how long does this normally last?”

“Well, you basically had one and a half… and you are smaller than me… and Sonya makes them kinda strong…”

“Lena…”

“Maybe a few hours,” Yelena reluctantly supplies, “possibly the rest of the night—“

“THE REST OF THE NIGHT?!?”

“Shh, calm down, malen’kaya ptichka,” Yelena puts her hands on Kate’s shoulders, “we will figure this out. Now, what time will your parents be home?”

“In within the hour,” Kate says, looking at the clock.

“Der’mo,” Yelena curses, takes a deep breath, “Okay, listen. This is what we are gonna do. We are just gonna pretend that you are extra tired and want to go to bed early; that way you can hide out in your room til you come back down.”

“I dunno Auntie Lena,” Kate frowns slightly, “lying to Mama is never a good idea; she always knows when I am lying. Plus, Mom can literally read minds.”

“It will just be for a few hours,” Yelena says, “plus, it’s not like it will be a full lie; I bet soon you will start to feel tired anyways.”

Kate looks at Yelena skeptically.

“Please, Kate,” Yelena pleads, “If your mothers find out they will kill me.”

Kate sighs, “Fine. But I make no promises.”

And Kate really tries to calm down and try to relax. She does.

But something about the specific strain that was laced in the brownies makes her slightly anxious and her already short attention span even shorter.

About twenty minutes later, she finds herself unable to stop bouncing her knee while her brain starts to run rampant with all of her irrational fears; specifically those fears that surround getting punished.

“I don’t think I can do this, Lena,” Kate trembles.

Yelena looks up from her phone to focus on a very anxious Kate.

“We should just come clean right away. They are gonna be so pissed. But maybe if we tell them it’s an accident they will go easy on us,” Kate’s trembling gets worse, and her eyes start to water.

“Hey—hey, Kate, look at me,” Yelena gently takes Kate’s chin and gets her to meet her eye line, “You are not in trouble. It was an accident. If your parents are gonna be mad at anyone, they will be mad at me,” Yelena wipes a single tear that escaped Kate’s eye, “okay?”

Kate nods and hugs Yelena, who tightens her arms around her as they cuddle on the couch.

“I still don’t like how I feel right now,” Kate announces after a moment, “my body feels heavy but my brain is moving too fast.”

“Ah, I get it, malen’kaya ptichka,” Yelena reaches over and grabs the remote, “I think I have an idea of what might help.”

—————————————————————————

Thirty minutes later, Wanda and Natasha walk into the apartment to find a very giggly Kate sitting on the couch with Yelena watching what seems to be one of those toddler sensory videos.

“Um…hello?” Natasha says cautiously as she walks towards the back of the couch.

Kate turns around with a goofy smile and a dazed look on her face, “Yay! Mama’s home!”

“Yeah…” Natasha replies slowly as she looks back and forth between her daughter and her sister, confused at what is going on, “I am home.”

“Come sit, Mama! Auntie Lena found the best tv show!” Kate cheers, patting the seat next to her.

At this point, Wanda had also joined them in the living room and was also very confused, and maybe slightly concerned, about what was going on.

Natasha goes and sits next to Kate on the couch. Once she sits down, Kate immediately snuggles into her side then looks up at her.

“Hi Mama!” Kate smiles.

“Hi baby—”

“Wow! Your hair looks extra red today!” Kate reaches out and begins to play with a strand.

Natasha is confused.

Don’t get her wrong, Kate is a very cuddly person, and is always a little bit more open and relaxed when snuggled with her Mama or Mom, but this seems a little over the top.

Natasha briefly looks over to Wanda, who shrugs her shoulders, before looking down at her daughter.

Natasha raises her eyebrow, but goes along with it, “it does?”

“Mm-hm!” Kate hums happily, and smiles again back up at her Mama, “like a fire truck!”

And that’s when Natasha sees Kate’s red-tinted eyes, and everything clicks.

Her eyes widen, and she whips her head up to look at her sister who looks very guilty all of a sudden.

“Is Kate… high?” she asks Yelena in a measured tone, as she starts to glare at her.

Yelena avoids Natasha’s glare and pauses before letting out a small, “maybe…”

“You got my daughter high?!?” Natasha basically growls, causing Kate to jump in her arms.

“How can you be so irresponsible?!” Wanda adds in.

“It was an accident!!” Yelena defends herself, “I forgot to put the brownies away after last night.”

“How many times have I told you to label them?!?” Natasha shouts back.

“It’s not my fault I forgot—”

“Stop fighting!” They hear a teary Kate interject.

Natasha looks down to see an upset Kate with tears running down her face.

“Oh malyshka,” Natasha pulls her in close, “it’s okay.”

“It was just an accident,” Kate sniffles, “it wasn’t Lena’s fault.”

Natasha looks at Wanda then at Yelena, and after a brief pause, decides to talk more to Yelena about this later to not further upset Kate. So she looks down at Kate with a soft smile, “I suppose you’re right. It could’ve happened to anyone… It was just an accident.”

Kate returns the smile and cuddles deep into Natasha’s arms before turning her attention back to the tv, where there are still smiling fruit bouncing around to happy music.

After a few minutes, she starts to giggle again, pointing out to her parents and aunt what things are the funniest.

Soon Natasha, Wanda, and Yelena can’t help but laugh along with Kate.

“Alright, I know this is a big accident,” Yelena whispers over to Natasha and Wanda, “but you have to admit, it’s kinda hilarious.”

Wanda and Natasha chuckle.

“You might be right,” Wanda smiles looking down at a half awake, half giggling Kate.

“Remind me tomorrow to explain to her that this won’t be happening again until she is at least 18," Natasha says.

“Oh believe me,” Yelena chuckles, “I don’t think you will have an issue there.”

[yallthemwitches]

Catch the Wind, Chapter 7: Night Moves

This chapter gives another perspective of a scene I wrote in my oneshot "Slipping Away"--but this time in Lily and James' POV. Feel free to check out that fic here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57349759

Some cute fluff and then finally some more spicy stuff by the end. Its been nice to write the yearning bit of their relationship, but I'm looking forward to the onslaught of romance to come :)

It was the last weekend before summer holidays which meant that The Three Broomsticks’ dance night was going to be well attended. Nearly every student who was capable of going was mulling around the makeshift dance floor that was created in the middle of the hall. Conjured music pumped through the room and bodies buzzed with frenetic energy. 

Lily stood with her mates in a tight circle on the dancefloor. Despite trying to take an interest in the summer plans of the other girls, her eyes kept darting to the front door every time it opened. Maybe it was just happenstance, but she had not seen James on a personal level since their run in with Snape. During classes, he seemed focused on his work and he had canceled their last transfiguration lesson–effectively meaning they didn’t fit in any snogging either. 

The door tinkled open and a raucous banter of boys entered the room. James and Sirius strode arm in arm laughing about something while Lupin and Peter trailed behind. Once inside, Sirius went up to the bar to flirt with Rosmerta while the rest grabbed a seat at a cast aside table on the other end of the dance floor.

 Lily took the drink that Mary levitated towards her and tried to act casual. All afternoon she had looked forward to the moment she would catch James, but now that it was here all she felt was a rock in her stomach and her brain going fuzzy. 

Hadn’t he just asked to stay in contact over summer? So then what is he doing? Just thinking about it made her feel frustrated. Trying to dispel her anxious energy, she bopped her hip to the side in time with the music and took another sip of Butterbeer. As casually as possible she swiveled her hips to get a glimpse of the marauder’s table. She thought she had been discreet, but the second her eyeline caught James, he stopped leaning back in his chair and matched her gaze. A smile pulled at his face. The git is messing with me. 

The song changed. It wasn’t often that the Three Broomsticks played muggle music but tonight they seemed to be making lots of exceptions. Lily jumped with excitement and made a show of snapping and singing along at her friends. 

“Merlin, Lily. You with muggle music. At least one of us finds enjoyment in something when we go back home,” Marlene snorted. 

“Just because your muggle home life sucks doesn’t mean all of it’s a drag,” Lily chided and started dancing up on Marlene, bobbing her shoulders at her playfully. “Besides, I like this song.” Marlene just rolled her eyes and gave Lily a light push. 

“Go on then. I’m sure as hell not dancing with you.” Lily stuck her tongue out at Marlene who reflected it back. After taking a long sip of her drink, she spun on her heel and headed towards the group of people who had already started dancing in the middle of the room. 

She had all the intention in the world to just dance on her own, but like a gravitational pull, she weaved herself past the dancing couples and landed squarely in front of James and his mates who all eyed her with varying degrees of surprise and amusement. James' eyes widened at her presence and his hand sprung up to his hair. 

“Care to show me your moves, Potter?” In an attempt to stave off her anxiety, she kept swaying to the beat, hoping it would come off as somewhat charming. A light pink appeared right under the bottom rim of his glasses and he shifted in his seat. On a second thought, she realized he might be taking her question in a myriad of ways.

“Uhm, I dunno…I–” She had never seen him this flustered before. Of all the bloody years that he practically begged for her to give him attention and now he’s being a timid little knob. Did he get hit with a confundus charm and forget we’ve been snogging the past few weeks? 

Despite being perturbed by his lackluster response, she continued, “ Well then, does anyone else want a go, then?” She smiled at the other three boys who side-eyed James’ warily. Sirius barked a laugh, clearly picking up on her game. 

“Sure Evans, I’ll bite.” Sirius stood up and took his hand in hers. He followed her out onto the dancefloor and very quickly matched her tempo. Without looking back at where they had left James at the table, she snaked her hands around his neck in a loose hold and felt his arms lightly hold her around the waist. For someone who had a wide reputation as an impeccable lover, he was holding an awful lot of space between them. 

“Y’know if I had known you were one for messing with James this much, we would have become friends sooner.” Sirius smirked. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lily retorted in a sing-song voice before closing her eyes and singing along with the music. She made it through the first two stanzas before realizing there was a deeper male voice matching hers. She blinked to see Sirius had begun to sing along with her. 

“Like Zeppelin, Black?”

“ Not my fault muggles make better music than us.” Lily leaned her head back and laughed. On the other side of the dance hall, Marlene and Mary caught Lily’s eye and Mary made the dramatic point to mouth What are you doing?

Lily ignored them. Sirius leaned down close to her ear and she could hear the tinkle of his earring from his movement. 

“Don’t look now, but poor James might be having a brain aneurysm.”

Lily craned her neck around to see James exactly where they had left him. He had some color come back to his face, but his hands were balled into fists on the table in front of him and she could see his breathing from all the way across the room. 

“Are you trying to teach him a lesson or something?” Sirius continued. “Because if so, this has been very effective.”Lily removed a hand from around Sirius’ neck and gave a little wave towards James and Sirius followed suit. 

Back at the table James was not ok.

 He thought he had been doing the right thing. He knew what had happened with Snape had been difficult for her. He wanted to give her space to breathe—to work out whatever she needed on her own. Isn’t that what she had always wanted from him? A little patience and thoughtfulness? So why had she come over to ask him to dance—especially when she was not keen on the idea of making their relationship more than secret at this point. And why in the bloody fuck had she waltzed off with Sirius when he had said no to her?

Maybe it was the amount of butterbeer, but James was getting a headache. He watched as Sirius leaned down to her ear. His eyes squinted at him over Lily’s shoulder with sinister intent. Lily let out a laugh at whatever he said and turned around and gave a small wave. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to wait until he is in dog form, put him in a bag, and drown him in the lake.

“Uh–Prongs?” Despite Peter poking James’ cheek for the better half of a minute, he was now just noticing. “Not to be that guy but hasn’t your dream this entire time to be with Evans? Why’d you say no mate…” 

Remus nodded in agreement and popped a cigarette into his mouth. “Sometimes I think she might be right to say you are thick.” 

James' hands curled tighter as Lily and Sirius twirled around the dancefloor effortlessly while belting out the lyrics. 

“Just fucking go over there, mate. It’s that simple.” Lupin huffed out. “You’re bumming us out.” James took a breath and nodded. He rose stiffly from the table and as carefully as possible swerved his way beside the dancing couple. Neither of them moved to acknowledge him and kept singing in unison. 

“Ok, I get it. I’m a stupid git. Will you still let me dance with you?” Lily didn’t didn’t stop singing but her lips formed into a smile. 

“Nice of you to have that little revelation, but no way mate, this is my hot date,” Sirius wagged a finger in James’ face who swatted it away. 

“Piss off traitor,” James’ hissed and Sirius threw his head back and laughed. 

“Alright, alright,” Sirius conceded. “Evans, it has been the utmost pleasure, but I’m afraid James here might murder me if I don’t depart.” Sirius made a dramatic bow and offered Lily’s hand to James. He walked backwards a few steps with a smirk before turning around to where Remus and Peter sat. 

Red formed on James’ cheeks as he stared at the retreating Sirius with slitted eyes before taking his place next to Lily. Without hesitation she raised her hands around his neck. He felt one of her fingers subtly curl its way into the bottom tufts of hair. 

“You are ignoring me,” She stated, looking up at him with an expectant glance. 

“I’m giving you space. Thought you’d want that after—” but he was cut off by a snort. 

“Space? That's rich coming from the bloke that has pestered me for years,” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

“I’m trying to be good–or at least not muck things up like I always do with you. You know, you don’t make it easy, Evans.” He lowered his eyes to hers and she blushed. 

He snaked his arms tight around her low waist and she let out a small noise. One hand was pressing dangerously close to her bum while the other’s fingers lazily stroked the exposed skin from her midriff. 

“Well if you were half as good of a dancer as your mate—” James cut her off with a whistle. 

“Low blow, Evans. Low blow.” They swayed in silence for a moment. Her fingers continued to play idly with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled her in closer to the point where she could feel his erratic heartbeat against hers. 

She angled her head up, needing to get on her toes to reach his ear with her lips. She hovered them dangerously close to his earlobe and whispered in a volume barely audible over the music.

“I hate to say it, but I’m going to miss you.” She pulled back her face to look at his reaction. His eyebrows shot to the top of his head and his eyes were wide. She wrinkled her nose and giggled. 

“Can I talk to you?” Any levity in Lily’s manner dissipated at Snape’s voice. They had been too lost in each other to notice him stumble his way towards them. His hands were clenched at his sides and he had spoken through gritted teeth. 

Lily shot a warning glance at James, whose body had tightened around hers. By some miracle, he followed her lead and continued to dance. 

“No,” she didn’t even look to turn to Snape, rather keeping her eyes locked on James in an unspoken agreement. Don’t do anything thick. Not here. 

“Please,” he tried again. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. 

Lily turned her head quickly and paused her swaying while still holding on to James. 

“Don’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my evening?” With a huff, she turned back to James and started to direct their swaying farther into the crowd, leaving Snape behind. 

Snape wasn’t deterred. He took another step towards them and then placed a hand squarely on her shoulder. 

“Lily–” She whipped herself around, finally letting go of James and stared hard at Snape. 

James took a step forward, keeping one hand around her waist and reaching behind his back to his wand with the other. 

“She said no, Snape,” James growled out. So far, Lily had clearly wanted them to be the better party, but enough was enough. After their last run in, he was shocked she was even trying to be civil. 

Snape squinted his eyes at him and started to reach into his robes, but his hand froze before forming a fist and returning back by his side. The whole room stopped moving and waited to see who was going to move first. 

“Fine. Fine Mudblood.” Snape spat and trudged to the door, pushing people out of his way. James turned to follow but Lily grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. 

“Are you mental?” She hissed at him. “We are not replaying last time. Just let him fucking go, he’s not worth it.” 

James stared back at her with gritted teeth. He seemed to be searching for something in her face. 

“Why are you still protecting him?” He finally forced out, and the question hung between them. She had never thought of it that way before.

Marlene burst through the crowd of people before standing stock still in front of them. 

“Oh, what in the christ was that about?” She put a hand on Lily’s cheek and looked on either side of her face to see if she was hurt. 

“Nothing Marlene, I’m fine,” Lily retorted. Marlene stared closely into Lily’s face for a beat before turning to James. 

“Oi, and what do you have to say for yourself Potter, what’d you do to Snape to get his panties in a knot?” James just smiled in response. 

“Just following Ms. Evans’ orders, McKinnon.” Marlene scoffed and grabbed Lily’s hand. 

“C’mon Lils’. This place is a drag all of the sudden.” As Lily trailed after her friend, Lily shot a meaningful glance at James. Before she could get pulled out of sight he saw a word form on her lips.

Tonight. 

—------------------------------------

James stood outside of the Three Broomsticks holding the Marauder’s map in his hand. His eyes swirled around the parchment before landing on Lily’s name which stayed sedentary within the Gryffindor common room. He made a quick note that Marlene’s name was elsewhere—Lily was more or less unoccupied. 

He snuck beside the back wall of Honeydukes and ducked into an open basement window.  Winding his way through the passage and out from behind a statue in the Hogwarts’ corridor, he constantly rechecked the map to see if Lily had changed positions. By the time he reached the common room, other students had wandered back from the party, and were mulling around the couch where Lily sat. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” At his voice Lily jumped. She had been reading some muggle book that looked very loved.

“Mind if I—” he gestured to where she had her legs stretched out on the couch, and she sat up to make room for him. 

He sat with his elbow resting on the back of the couch while his head cradled in his hand. Lily shifted her legs so they were touching him. 

“So….we danced tonight–in public.” He eyed her warily. 

“Yeah with a little convincing,” She raised her eyebrows at him playfully. 

“Like I said, I was just trying to give you space and anyways you seem to love keeping secrets.” His hand lowered to her thigh and started tracing patterns into her skin. Lily side-eyed the other students in the common room, but no one seemed to be giving them any interest. 

She looked down at his hand. A small blush filled her cheeks and she reached her arm to lay her hand just below his knee. James sucked in a breath. It felt like an invitation.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice lowered. She could hear each word heavy on his lips. It had been days since they snogged much less kissed and their last time had not ended in the most spectacular of ways. She glanced back at his hand now on her thigh and remembered how last time it had traveled up beyond her hemline.

She instinctively leaned forward. He had done the same and they were so close, she could feel his breath on her face. She gave his leg a little squeeze of caution.

“I’d like to do that. But somewhere more private.” James pulled back and regarded her. She could tell he was crestfallen. 

“If only you and your mates somehow knew secret passages within the school and somehow had a way of not getting caught.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Quite honestly, if you could explain that, I’d be so impressed I’d snog you right here on this couch in front of everyone.” She smirked at him while he sized her up. He contemplated for a moment, then responded. 

“Ah, Don’t hate me because I’m really lucky and observant.” She frowned. He didn’t take the bait. 

“But, I do know a nice little spot near the portrait hole if you are so inclined—unless you want to reconsider your offer and we can just get to it right here.”

Lily snorted and James gave her thigh a little squeeze. 

“Give me 5 minutes. I’ll meet you around the corner. Don’t look suspicious, Evans. You always do when you are up to no good.”

He slid his hand down her thigh then feigned a giant yawn. Lily followed him with her eyes as he got up from the sofa, ran a hand through his hair, and ducked his way out of the portrait hole. 

She collapsed back on the seat. One, Two, Three….

Once 5 minutes trickled by, she got up and walked as carefully as possible to the exit; trying not to make contact with anyone as she went. It was around midnight at this point— there was no reason for her to be leaving, but everyone in the common room seemed not to give her any thought. Out of the portrait hole, she walked quietly through the darkness until she felt a body sidle up behind her. 

“I think you owe me a kiss.” He swung her body around towards the other wall where a giant tapestry of a unicorn hung. Stroking his finger up the horn of the unicorn, the tapestry broke open as if cut and presented a small alcove behind it.

 Lily didn’t even have time to ask how he knew about the alcove. Their lips crashed together. His hands were all over her body and his mouth moved starving over hers, meeting her tongue with his and moaning into her.

He pushed her until her back was against the alcove wall and behind him she could see the tapestry sew itself back up. She weaved her hands through his hair and made little fists, tugging at the strands. He parted from her lips and moved his mouth to her exposed collar bone, mumbling a thick merlin before attaching his mouth to her skin. She took a sharp intake of breath and clawed at the back of his shirt. 

He had his chest pressed against hers, and she parted her legs slightly to let his knee stand between her. His leg pushed into her lower half and made her body start to buzz. She felt a yearning bubble from the bottom up that was impossible to describe. She pushed herself even closer to him and felt his heartbeat working hard underneath his shirt. 

He detached his lips from her collar, leaving a red mark on her skin and kissed his way up her neck and back to her lips. 

“I’m going to miss you too. So sodding much.” He breathed into her mouth. “Just having a couple days without your touch was hell.”

Lily blinked her eyes open and nipped at his bottom lip. “And whose fault was that.” He didn’t respond, rather grabbing her jaw with one hand and pressing her lips back to his. His other hand roamed under the backside of her shirt, touching her bare skin. It hesitated at her side before moving onto her stomach and then up towards her breast. 

Lily made another sharp intake of breath into his mouth and his hand jumped off her skin and out of her top. He backed up slightly, not quite pushing her into the wall anymore, and rested his hands on either side of her neck. 

“I’m sorry, I should—”

Despite his words, his eyes were closed and his breathing heady. His lips had not left a hovering distance from her own. 

“No,” she breathed out. “I didn’t mean for you to stop.” She took his hand and placed it back under her shirt. Guiding his touch, she let it slide over her breast. He made a guttural sound as he palmed her. She wasn’t wearing a bra. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” She whispered and ran her hands back through his hair. With renewed vigor, he pressed her body back against the stone wall and his fingers curled softly around her skin. He slid his thumb over the blunt tip of her breast and she moaned into his mouth. 

She couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this much heat inside her body. It felt 

insatiable. Like it was going to eat her alive if something didn’t happen and soon. 

She let go of his hair and moved her hands down to his waistline. Finding his belt, she started to tease it apart, but his hand caught hers and he placed her hand on his chest. 

Breaking their lips apart. He pulled back and his eyes seemed waterlogged with desire. 

“Not tonight. Not like this.” He choked out. She waited for the punchline, but it never came. 

“I can’t muck this up like I do with everything else about you.” He pulled her into a tight hug and placed a kiss on her temple. Despite both of their bodies vibrating with lust, the act of the embrace cooled their minds and brought them back to earth. 

He stroked her hair while she laid against him for a moment. His heart was still beating fast, and he buried his face into the top of her head. 

“I meant it, I’m going to miss you,” she said quietly into his shirt. She could feel the hum of his laugh in his chest. 

“I know.” They stood there holding each other. Tomorrow they would be leaving Hogwarts. 

Lily pulled her head up and he kissed the top of her head, then her temple before resting their foreheads together. 

“Will you write to me? Like you said.” She whispered. 

“I’d do anything for you.” And he leaned in for one last lazy kiss. 

If you want to read this fic in from the beginning, check out the rest of my tumblr or find it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57047455/chapters/145083085