#sometimes I’m a loaf

[theauthor2103]

Update on TheAuthor’s life:

I AM SHE/THEY AND TODAY I SHALL LIKE TO GO BY THEY/THEM!!!

Respect my pronouns or

GET FUCKED😛😛😛

I cannot tell this to anyone irl except for maybe like 1 person, but I can tell this to all of you so that’s what ima do

SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY SHE THEY

[museenkuss]

Hi ladies have you heard of putting garlic in dishes? Game changer.

[rosemaryfemme]

u guys . i have fresh bedding and i feel well rested and i have meals prepped for a couple days and i impulsively bought new cute shoes online and i feel like maybe . things could all work out for me this year

[peppermintspider]

I am so tired of receiving and being charged for food I didn’t order on Amazon Fresh. What the hell am I going to do with 4 loafs of bread??

[byunbaekhyunie]

sometimes you gotta eat a whole loaf of bread in one sitting

[theswampghost]

sometimes i’m normal about the hunger games and then i remember that in district 12 there’s a wedding ceremony where the couple toasts a piece of bread together in order to signify the beginning of their shared new life and then the main character and her love interest are the girl on fire and the boy with the bread and their first fucking interaction is when he burns a loaf of bread to give to her

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep. 

[amandacanwrite]

I would like to share a few head canons for Gale Dekarios being in love with tav/you. If you liked this one and have a request for another character let me know. These ones have just been percolating for a bit.

In Battle

He tries very hard to stay near you. He doesn’t like it when you go off on your own. He knows he doesn’t quite have the strength of Karlach or the sure footedness of Astarion, but he’s not just going to let you fight everyone on your own.

Sometimes he gets a little hurt that you always put yourself in harms way/take so much of the damage on the battlefield. Don’t you know that losing you would destroy him?

You have never witnessed it, but according to the other party members he goes feral if you’re knocked unconscious.

When you wake up it’s always with your head cradled in his lap as shadowheart works on the worst of the wounds.

He does this thing with his magic where he makes his hands really cold. It feels nice on your feverish skin as he gently smooths your hair away from your face, you don’t know why you feel so nauseous and sweaty after you black out but this little gesture helps you come back smoothly.

He has a hard time sleeping after a rough encounter. He keeps waking up and making sure you’re still breathing. In the end he gives up on sleeping and just reads by the fire, calming his nerves to the sound of your steady, stable breathing.

In Camp

He is hilariously fussy about what you eat.

“No, you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT subsist off of a loaf of bread, three olives and a bottle of wine. We are no longer young scholars barely SCRAPING by—“

Very resourceful when it comes to what you can scrape together out of barrels around camp. You were very skeptical when you watched him putting a variety of different bones into a cauldron as you left him back in camp one day. But you came back to a rich stew full of potatoes, some wild rice and even some cut up apple in the mix.

He likes it when you play with his hair. But he has to very pointedly avoid it if he’s in the middle of reading up on something.

“Darling, are you certain you’re not practiced in the arcane arts? I do think you’ve got some magic in those fingertips of yours, at the very least, with how quickly they can put me to sleep.”

When You’re Alone

It’s simple. He worships you. Perhaps it’s because his last lover was a goddess but it seems to come easy for him; the reverent words, the gentle touches, the utter devotion. Sometimes you catch him just… looking at you. His eyes softly hooded, a relaxed curve to his lips. It’s your favorite to ask what’s on his mind when he looks at you like that.

“Hm? Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been observing. Did you know you purse your lips when you’re reading something that you disagree with? Yes—hah—just like that.”

He loves to read WITH you. Especially loves to show you some of his favorite tomes. He’ll get you all nestled up against him and hold the book down in front of you. He reads much faster than you, so he busies himself kissing behind your ear or playing with your hair until you turn the page.

Gods does he love it when you ask him questions about something to do with magic. He loves watching the glint in your eye when he’s helped you understand something.

You love it when you get him rolling on a topic of theory that you know he doesn’t get to talk about much. Sometimes he loses you when he gets into the minutiae, but he’s so damn cute when he’s ranting about the wonder in the world.

In Intimate Moments

(Potential NSFW below.)

Of course it is not a surprise that he’s a generous lover. What is a surprise is how demanding he can be when he feels like it. He knows you are no stranger to a challenge and he loves to make things more exciting by presenting you with one.

“Of course I’m aware of our companions in camp. But it’s not as if we can afford ourselves more privacy. You’re just going to have to quiet those lovely little sounds you make while I touch you… let’s see… it was here wasn’t it? Ah, ah… shhhh, my love. Those pointy ears of Astarion’s might pick even that tiny sound.”

Gods does he know how to string words together to leave you completely undone.

Sometimes foreplay is mostly talk. He can get you going without even touching you.

“My love, I’ve not been able to stop thinking of the ways I want to touch you all day. Shall I tell you what’s been on my mind?”

His breath tickles against your ear as his hands smooth over your clothed body, telling you how he wants to take you. It’s all the more flustering when you know he always keeps his word.

Love making always starts with a kiss, deep and slow.

You feel him smile into the kiss when he slips his fingers into the front of your trousers and he feels just how aroused he’s made you.

“You are exquisite. A delicacy of the highest quality. Do you know that?”

He’s not one to bang it out for a quickie. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s stealing his time with you, or like he’s a young man again and hastily getting whatever he can before heading back to the dormitories. Every touch, every word, every thrust is slow and deliberate. He wants to relish the feeling of it all. He wants to soak you in.

Somehow, he always smells good. Like cinnamon and tea and… some earthen, herbaceous scent you cant place.

So many cuddles after you’re done.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

���That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

[tertain-the-original]

So far, and I’m halfway through the New Prophecy, the first series is still the best IMO. Don’t get me wrong, I do like the new books so far (besides the issues with The Tribe), but man.. nothing can beat the Drama and Anime-ness of the first book series, which TOTALLY feels like a murder mystery in a weird little cat world. It’s just too fun. I don’t know if anything else can top that. I want to catch up finally with all these cats!

It’s so fucking funny to me how Warriors Cats is winning this evening (Stick and FireStar) against two POWERFUL warriors (Megamind and Sans). It’s made even more funny because I JUST got back into warriors cats, have yall listened to the audiobooks? MacLeod Andrews has made me feel more for these cats than when I was a kid he reads so good.

Anyway I’ll draw some propaganda/megamind and Sans as warriors cats later today don’t let me forget. That’s a promise.

how does the series hold up? its been a fuckin WHILE, like im sure its been for most of us here, while i remember (overarching bits of) the plot fairly well i cant remember if the writing itself is still good.

anyway. dunno when you sent this message cause im slow as hell at answering but heres your fucking reminder i guess.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

How Different Is It (part 18.5)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Tim left Jason and Danny’s apartment with a tupperware of cinnamon rolls and a fresh loaf of bread after the confrontation with Danny and Jason, and shot a quick text to Dick assuring him everything was fine and Tim would share details later, and to Alfred asking about a vacation. Then he turned off his phone before they could text him back. He had had enough of emotions for today and he just wanted to go home and see Kon. To talk, and maybe spar, and try and make sense of what he had just seen.

He sped back to Titan’s tower, he could have called on Kon for a lift, and been home faster of course but he wanted to clear his head on his own. He thought it had worked, at least until he slammed the door with enough force to make himself wince. Huh, he hadn’t meant to do that, clearly he was more upset then he realized.

He winced again when he heard the woosh of air that meant the unusual noise had summoned Kon. Damn that super hearing, nothing got past him. 

“Are you okay?” Kon asked, looking over Tim worriedly. 

“Yes,” He snapped, before amending quickly. “No, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Can we just spar? I have some… stuff to work out. Only if you’re up to it?”

“Of course we can! Come on. Weapons or hand to hand?”

“Hand to hand,” Robin decided as they walked together up to the roof top sparring room. “And stay grounded please.” Sometimes Kon using some flight was a fun challenge to get up to him, today Tim would just find it frustrating. 

“I’ll keep it as no-powers as I can,” Kon promised, holding up his hand in a pledge which made Tim's lips twitch up in a smile. He loved the sincerity in Kon, it was so… sweet.

“Thanks Kon,” Tim said, his shoulders already relaxing in preparation for the fight. He tolled them comfortably, his neck to, limbering up for the upcoming spar.

He avoided common areas on the way up, except for slipping into the deserted kitchen for just a moment to leave the food, most of the time sparring was a group activity with those not in the fight cheering from the sidelines, but today Robin didn't want an audience.

They reached the sparring room without anyone seeing them and Tim hopped up onto the mats, waiting for Kon to come join him. When his… partner drifted up Robin didn't wait for the usual formalities of sparring before lunging in, immediately on the offensive. Kon kept his motions to a human speed as he dodged and kicked though it was performative more than anything.

Robin jumped over the leg and kicked back, he didn't pull his punches fighting Kon and normally would think nothing of it. This time though, he hesitated which meant he missed, an event which startled them both so badly that Tim stumbled and Kon missed catching him. 

“Robin… are you sure you're okay?” Kon asked worriedly but Tim ignored the question. He used the momentary distraction to push himself up and used that momentum to go on the attack again. He struck without hesitation this time and knew as usual that his knuckles would be now bruised then Kon’s skin. Kon barely responded, he grabbed Tim's arm and swung him around making him skid back before he ran forward again.

He forced himself not to hesitate even as he more deeply analyzed how this felt then he ever had before, was fully aware of the impact of his feet and fist on the flesh of the man he loved. Because despite what everyone thought he was aware of his feelings for Kon. It was just… complicated. 

By the time Robin finally stood still they were both breathing heavily, and Tim felt a little bit better. He sighed and ran his hands back through his fair, nodded to Kon and then wandered off the mat, sitting down on the edge of the mat and crossed his legs. After a moment Kon came and sat down next to Tim quietly. 

“So, are you ready to talk?” Kon asked after a bit of comfortable silence. 

“Ya, Ya I guess so. But you have to keep it to yourself alright? I don’t want anyone else on the team to know it’s a-” He struggled for a moment to think of what to say. “A family matter.”

“Of course. I won’t tell anyone. If you don’t want to talk about it here we can go somewhere else,” Kon offered. 

“No that’s alright,” Tim said, shaking his head. “We’re alone right?”

“Ya, we are,” Kon confirmed, he would hear if anyone was eavesdropping. 

“Alright,” He was quiet again for a minute trying to figure out how best to say this before deciding to just spit it out. “I saw Jason hit Danny yesterday.” 

“What?!” Kon spluttered, his eyes wide and confused. 

“They have an agreement, because Danny is durable and heals quickly, and Jason has anger issues Jason takes his anger out on Danny. But it looks awful, Jason is so violent and Danny still bruises and bleeds.

“Nightwing and I went to try and talk about it with them, try and stage an intervention I guess? Danny was absolutely furious and made Nightwing leave immediately but he let me stay because they feel protective of me I guess. Danny explained the bit about the arrangement to me, before that I just knew that Jason hit him.

“He said that it’s no true harm, it’s a bonding thing for them even. He likened it to us sparring. He asked if knowing I can hit you as hard as I can without hurting you really helps, if it feels good to work out my frustration on you knowing I can't actually hurt you.” He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair again. “And it doesn't.

“Is that bad? I mean, he's right, it does feel good. It looks worse that Danny doesn't fight back at all but you can't fight at your full strength either when we spar so the fight you put up is performative to make me feel better more then anything, is that materially different?

“I have a feeling that if I asked you not to fight back you probably would just let me. I didn't ask earlier because I didn't want to find out, not really.”

“Ah,” Kon sounded, looking down and to the side and rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I wouldn't, if you asked. But you're not hurting me Tim, we're sparring. It's different, it's not wrong. So I guess if that's what they're doing it's not so bad it's it?” 

“That's what I think too but at the same time I don't know if that's because it's true or because it's to painful to think about my brother being an abuser and me being like him,” Tim sighed and leaned against Kon’s shoulder who hesitated and then wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“You're a good person Rob, and so is Hood. It's okay, you're not doing anything wrong when we spar, it keeps both of us sharp and… calm, and it does help me feel closer to you,” Kon assured.

“Thanks Kon. I really, I really like you, you know?” Tim said softly.

“I really like you too Tim, and when you're ready to get past those fears of commitment you know I'm here, right?” Kon asked softly.

“Right, thank you for being patient. I think it will be soon,” Tim promised, snuggling a little closer to Kon’s side.

[solarmorrigan]

54 + 12 for steddie!

Okay, I know the prompt list says I'm supposed to describe how I'd use the tropes in the same story, but I got.... carried away. I just really love outsider POV

Fanfiction Trope Mashup prompts: 54. Secret relationship + 12. Roommate AU

cw: allusions to period-typical homophobia

-

Gladys hadn’t been sure what to make of her new neighbors at first.

She didn’t like the idea of them, to be certain: two young men living in the apartment across the way, who would probably come and go at all hours, noisy and inconsiderate as anything – especially the long-haired one she’d spotted carrying a guitar case.

A month in, however, her initial assessment doesn’t seem to have proven true; she does see them come and go at all hours, but they aren’t noisy about it, and she hasn’t heard any kind of raucous guitar playing. They seem to keep to themselves, and that suits Gladys just fine.

And then grocery day comes, and Gladys is trying to jog from the front door to the elevator before it closes, both arms loaded with bags. She spots her long-haired neighbor already in the elevator, and he spots her, and he holds the door for her before she can even call and ask him to.

He then offers to help with the bags, and Gladys unloads both of the heavy paper sacks on him with a relieved sigh; she tries to keep in shape, but she doesn’t have the strength she did when she was younger, and her joints sometimes ache like mad.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” the man says into the silence of the elevator as they ride up to the fourth floor. “I don’t think we really introduced ourselves when we moved in, but I live across the hall from you.”

“I recognize you,” Gladys says. Then adds, “Gladys Gaines.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you officially, Miss Gladys,” Eddie says with a grin. “I’d offer to shake, but my hands are otherwise occupied.”

He shifts the grocery bags demonstratively, pretends for a moment that they’re weighing him down, though he’d been having no trouble with them until then, and Gladys finds herself smiling. “Never mind that,” she says. “And it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Eddie helps her put the groceries away, and she finds him to be charming, in an animated sort of way, bursting with energy and humor.

The sink gives him pause, though, after he ducks beneath it to put away a bottle of dish detergent as directed. He watches it drip for several consecutive seconds before asking, “Is the faucet giving you trouble?”

“It’s been driving me up the wall for weeks,” Gladys huffs as she stashes a loaf of bread in the breadbox. “But of course maintenance is taking their sweet time to get to it.”

“Huh. Y’know, Steve—my, uh, roommate—he’s pretty good at home repair stuff like this. I could get him to come take a look at it, if you want,” Eddie offers.

“If he can get that awful drip to stop, I’ll be in your debt,” Gladys says.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Madam, that’s a dangerous thing to declare.”

“Oh, hush.” Gladys slaps at him with a dish towel, and the boy pretends to be mortally wounded.

Laughing, Gladys finds that she quite likes Eddie.

She likes Steve, too, when he shows up at her door the next afternoon with a bag of tools and a little wave ‘hello.’

“Eddie said your faucet was leaking?” he offers. “Oh– I’m Steve. From across the way.”

“I recognize you,” Gladys says, and she shows him to the kitchen.

Steve is a solid, steady presence that Gladys can imagine compliments Eddie’s high energy well; he’s boyish and sweet, but there’s something sharper underneath that reminds Gladys of her own Avery’s cutting wit.

Gladys finds out from Steve that he and Eddie are from a tiny, rural town; they’re new to city life, but they’re enjoying it even in their adjustment period. Eddie works full time while Steve works part-time and attends classes – he’s hoping to become a guidance counselor.

“That’s an unusual arrangement for roommates,” Gladys comments. “Eddie doesn’t mind taking on most of the bills?”

It’s a bit of a prying question—rude, some might say, but Gladys doesn’t see the point in getting old if you’re not allowed to be blunt—but Steve only ducks his head and smiles.

“No, Eddie’s– he’s a great guy. Helping me out like this,” he says before turning back to the sink. “Here, try it now.”

Gladys turns the faucet on, then turns it back off, watching as the flow of water comes to a complete stop, not a drip to be seen.

“Dear, you’re a miracle worker,” Gladys declares.

“It was nothing,” Steve says.

He turns away to pack up his tools, but not quite quickly enough to hide the smile on his face – pleased but a little bashful, like he isn’t used to being complimented like this. It’s a nice smile, Gladys thinks, and both Steve and Eddie are nice boys. She decides that yes, she really does like them.

Offering to pay Steve for his services seems a little tawdry, so Gladys invites the boys over for dinner, instead. They end up staying well into the evening, talking and laughing with her. Steve eats up all the gossip about the other building tenants that Gladys can dish out, and Eddie eggs them on.

When they say that they’ll have to have her over for dinner next, Gladys braces herself for the worst: the apartment of two busy young bachelors, Lord have mercy.

She’s pleasantly surprised to find, then, that it isn’t so bad at all. It’s a bit cluttered—particularly the desk shoved into the corner covered in graph paper and what appear to be tiny plastic figurines—but it’s quite clean.

After she’s offered to help with dinner and been politely denied, Gladys spends time looking at the photos they have pinned up on the wall. There are over a dozen, a collage of smiles and laugher featuring the same cast of teenagers in varying stages of growth, often posing with Steve or Eddie. There are quite a few of just Steve and Eddie together mixed in, and Gladys is warmed to see two such good friends.

Steve does most of the cooking that evening, but Eddie is a capable sous chef, anticipating Steve’s every request before he can even voice what he needs.

“Hey, can you hand me the, uh–” Steve snaps his fingers, searching for the word, and Eddie opens a drawer and presses a slotted spoon into Steve’s hand. “Yeah, that.”

Eddie grins and goes back to cutting vegetables.

Dinner is nice.

It goes on like this – trading favors here and there, dinners at one apartment or the other, evenings spent talking and laughing. Gladys finds that Eddie is an excellent opponent when playing cards, and Steve shares her fondness for Murder She Wrote.

Gladys and Avery never did get around to having children. At first, they hadn’t had the money, then they hadn’t had the time, and eventually – well, it had been too late. She’s never really regretted it—her maternal instinct isn’t a strong one—but she does find herself starting to think of these boys as hers. She even starts in on knitting some sweaters; the weather it’s getting cold, after all, and it’s the sort of thing you do when you want the people you care about to be protected from it.

It does strike Gladys as a little odd that she only ever sees them with each other; they’re both attractive young men, after all, and she can’t imagine why they don’t seem to go on dates. She’s never seen two friends as content in each other’s company as they are, but she supposes that’s really all that matters – that they’re content.

Things become clearer, however, one sleepless night months after the boys move in.

Insomnia isn’t new to Gladys; she’s dealt with it since she was young, and it seems like age has only increased the frequency of those nights she lies awake, staring at her bedroom ceiling.

She’s found her own ways of coping, over the years; she’ll fill the time with a good book or do some word puzzles or get some knitting in. If she’s feeling particularly restless, she might clean the apartment or even bake something.

She’s just considering whether or not the boys would appreciate some cinnamon rolls come morning (and whether or not it would top that loaf of cinnamon raisin bread Steve had made last week, not that Gladys is keeping track) when she hears the very subject of her thoughts come giggling down the hall.

The boys aren’t being loud, precisely, but they aren’t quiet, either, and there are fewer sounds in the night to swallow up their noise.

They sound happy – they must have had a late night out, coming home a little goofy and tipsy, talking and laughing and then shushing each other as they come to a halt, sounding close enough that they must be outside their own door, just across and to the left of Gladys’.

There’s a moment of indecision, and then Gladys is rising from her chair and crossing to the door. She feels a little silly, but the sight of a friendly face on a sleepless night can sometimes do wonders to soothe her nerves.

She’ll just pop out and say hello, a fellow after-midnighter, and then let them go.

She’s barely opened her door, however, just catching a glimpse of the boys, when something– unexpected happens.

Eddie is fumbling with his keys as Steve leans further and further into his space, and Gladys wonders if he’s drunker than he sounds, but then–

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, waiting for Eddie to look up, and it’s all the warning Eddie gets before Steve is kissing him full on the mouth.

Eddie drops his keys entirely, but it isn’t in shock so much as it is his apparent eagerness to get his hands on Steve, cupping his cheek in one and grabbing his hip with the other, pulling him closer.

This isn’t drunken fumbling – it isn’t even something new, Gladys realizes. The kiss is slow and gentle and lingering, the love in it so evident that for a moment an ache of longing, of missing Avery, rises up in Gladys’ chest.

Then, though he’d been the one to encourage the kiss, Eddie is the one to break it, and when he speaks, he’s properly quiet this time. Gladys can just barely hear him.

“Someone’s gonna see, baby.”

“Let ‘em,” Steve says, just as soft.

“Steve…”

Steve sighs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. “I wish I could show you off. Tell everyone how much I love you.”

Eddie in spite of his own warning, holds Steve close for a moment longer, swaying him gently. “No one else matters. I know you love me,” he says. “Come inside and show me how much?”

Glady’s can’t see Steve’s grin from this angle, but she can hear it when he says, “Yeah. I can do that.”

Then Eddie gathers his keys from the floor and actually manages to get the door open, pulling Steve in and shutting it after them and–

Well.

Gladys stands alone now, her door still cracked open, showing her the empty hallway, and–

Well.

Actually– well, actually, certain things make quite a bit more sense now.

“My, uh, roommate,” indeed.

Gladys closes her door, wandering back towards her easy chair as she thinks.

The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the two of them having the idea that they have to keep this from her. Utter nonsense.

Gladys will show them, though; her boys—and their secret—will always be safe with her.

[holdinbacksecrets]

Hi! Can you please write BTS version of the voicemails they will send hinting their feelings? Thank you 😊

thank you for requesting 🖤

voicemails from bts, hinting feelings

namjoon: “i was in a bookstore the other day and started to imagine a book you wrote being on the shelves someday. everything you do, down to the indentation of your steps, leaves behind a story. do you remember your birthday two years ago? you drank one glass too many, and it’s like the fiction unleashed. i recorded a voice memo, but i never played it for you. i want to.”

jin: “are you scared? this morning you sounded really scared on the phone. i’m sorry i didn’t say more or say enough. i was caught off guard because you’ve never showed me scared before, not like that. i’ve seen your apprehension. i’ve seen your insecure. i’ve seen your anxiety, but this was consuming fear. i’m making dinner, and i feel like you probably haven’t eaten today… if your anxiety gives anything away about your scared. come over when you’re off. i’ll greet you with a hug and bowl of soup. or two bowls. i have cheese and bread too. the good bread. the loaf you turned me on to.”

yoongi: “you used the notes app on my phone to write out your grocery list, and i’m amused. it sounds like you’re having a conversation with yourself: right now, i want rice crispies, but i’ll probably change my mind once i’m in the cereal aisle. trust your gut, or get two boxes. you’re 26. no one is stopping you. oh! get some apple juice too. i keep having dreams about twelve year old me at a friend’s house. we’d sit at the kitchen island after school with graham crackers and apple juice, and i miss her. i miss those simple conversations. you’re so pure and magnetic. sometimes i wonder where you came from, but then i’m just glad you made it here—tumbled into my life because you did tumble. you’ve always made the story sound too elegant. the tumble was charming, i promise.”

hoseok: “you’ve been sharing recipes with me, or i guess i should say the final product of your recipes has been shared with me, repeatedly, and now i’m starting to wait for the knock on my door or the ring of a text. is that bad? i wouldn’t want you to ever think i’m demanding treats, but i love… i love the time we spend together when you bring them over, and your eyes sparkle when my expression changes because of how good everything always tastes… i love that too.”

jimin: “did you say everything you needed to yesterday? i swear your lips parted and you leaned in so many times to never say anything. i know it was a busy place, and it’s not that fun sitting at a table for twelve. but i was ready to listen. i’ll be ready at 2 am too. whatever you need. there’s something to this, right? to the ease of our conversations. you trust me?”

taehyung: “do you want to sculpt clay with me? i bought a whole bag and a bunch of tools. i thought about booking a private lesson, but i wanted my record player and access to a kitchen and the ability to get my hands dirty whenever i want to—need it. do you need it too? if not, keep me company while i try to make something?”

jungkook: “can i pick you up today? this is going to sound ridiculous, but your smell used to linger in my car, and i can’t quite make out the notes of your perfume anymore. i can imagine them, but they don’t meet me when i open the door… i can’t leave this as a voicemail on your phone. can i leave this as a voicemail on your phone? i sound insane.”

bonus: “i’m calling to tell you i’m proud of you. sometimes when we were kids, i used to think our dreams wouldn’t make it higher than the trees. i thought they’d get caught in the leaves, die on branches come winter, but look at us. look at you. you’re incredible. we did it.”

[thedevilrisen]

Imagine

You were languidly perusing the back of a tomato soup tin, checking the ingredients for any allergens. It was nine o’clock on a Sunday morning which was the perfect time to be doing your weekly shop, it had become routine for Quinn and yourself. Walking up early was never a problem for either of the pair both being early birds by nature. Nor was this a rushed activity that had to be done, Sunday was rest day as Quinn rarely had practice so if he would wake up early he would let you sleep in and read his book or vice versa.

Sunday morning started slow, with a steaming cup of coffee and matched steamy kisses and sometimes more passionate expressions of love shared in the intimate space, sun streaming in through the waving curtains. This morning was akin to the aforementioned scenario in which Quinn littered dark love bites down your neck to where they disappeared down under the collar of his shirt in which you donned. Quinn’s sleep addled form ambled down the aisle holding a loaf of bread. A goofy smile adorned his face as he dropped the loaf into the trolley and leaned into you, nuzzling his head up your neck landing tender, sucking kisses onto your mouth before pulling back.

“Nothin’ left on the list now?” He murmured when he pulled back, twiddling the hair that escaped the bun you tried to entrap it in before leaving the house this morning.

“Absolutely nothing left, baby.” You glanced up at Quinn, eyes wide, filled with nothing but adoration for the man in front of you.

“I’m not on your list, darlin’?” Quinn posed, looking at you as his hand came forward to caress your cheek.

“You’re always on my list Quinn-Bear.” you whispered to only him, kissing his hand as it came near your mouth. “Let’s get outta here and I can show you how higher priority you are on it.”

[batboyblog]

https://x.com/magi_jay/status/1812914966560973238?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

This post motivated me to try something different: namely, name a good quality about the Democratic Party and its candidate.

Biden’s most admirable qualities are his general wisdom and steadfastness in the face of great challenges. While I might not always agree with EVERY choice he’s made for a number of reasons, I do think he’s shown that he’s much smarter than people give him credit for.

Furthermore, he’s very firm without being either too standoffish or trying too hard. One of the things I hated about his predecessor (I refuse to name him) was just how anxiety inducing and chaotic he was, something that sucks for me since I’m a very skittish person even if I try not to be.

Biden is steadfast and (media aside trying to make a conflict on him) has never made me feel like I’m on unstable ground. He’s like a rock in the storm:

Stand by him, and we’ll weather through the chaos.

I mean in part thats why I do my weekly lists of what Biden et al are up to, because every week, EVERY single week its something huge and transformative, for the first time in my lifetime people can write "The Case for Climate Optimism" we have a government pledged to ending hunger in this country reduce homelessness by 1/4th by next year we are doing big things in this country

a few political speeches are the pole stars of my politics, the center of what I believe in.

Harvey Milk's Hope speech "I know you cannot live on Hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living" tells me and teaches me to always be for something not just again stuff, and to always be the happy warrior, gotta give 'em hope.

Ted Kennedy's 1980 DNC speech "the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die." to always get back up and get into the ring, its not never over till you give up, the Dream Shall Never Die how ever dark it gets if you hang into it with both hands

but most importantly is Ann Richards 1988 DNC Speech, if you've never heard it, you should:

I’m a grandmother now. And I have one nearly perfect granddaughter named Lily. And when I hold that grandbaby, I feel the continuity of life that unites us, that binds generation to generation, that ties us with each other. And sometimes I spread that Baptist pallet out on the floor, and Lily and I roll a ball back and forth. And I think of all the families like mine, like the one in Lorena, Texas, like the ones that nurture children all across America. And as I look at Lily, I know that it is within families that we learn both the need to respect individual human dignity and to work together for our common good.  Within our families, within our nation, it is the same. And as I sit there, I wonder if she’ll ever grasp the changes I’ve seen in my life -- if she’ll ever believe that there was a time when blacks could not drink from public water fountains, when Hispanic children were punished for speaking Spanish in the public schools, and women couldn’t vote. I think of all the political fights I’ve fought, and all the compromises I’ve had to accept as part payment. And I think of all the small victories that have added up to national triumphs and all the things that would never have happened and all the people who would’ve been left behind if we had not reasoned and fought and won those battles together. And I will tell Lily that those triumphs were Democratic Party triumphs.

It is always worth it to fight, however hard it is, however bitter it may feel in the moment to take half a loaf or a part payment, it is always always always ALWAYS! better to take a half step forward than not to move at all, because its not chess, its not a game, its people's very lives

as to what I like about Joe Biden? I could say a lot of things, he's a guy the world has knocked down a lot of times, a lot of struggles and personal tragedies that in someone else could make them hard hearted and cold, but I see a guy who always takes the time to listen

thats who is, always to see Joe on a rope line talking to people is to understand their cares are truly his, he truly and I promise you this wants what's best for people.

and just for a second remember who he's running against, who that guy is on the most basic level, saying he couldn't have raped that woman she's too ugly

so do you want a President who stops everything to tell a kid its gonna be okay, that that kids can do anything, and gives him his phone number and calls him to help, or you want the guy who tells your kids "when you're famous they let you do it, grab 'em by the pussy" up to you.

[unabashegirl]

Different 7 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hiii, here is a new chapter. I hope you enjoy.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

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masterlist

She watched him as he lay beside her, his arm securely placed over her waist, holding her close. His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth slightly open, and his expression relaxed. She reached over and raised the blinds a bit to see better while making sure the sun didn’t wake him. Leaning in, she kissed his nose softly before carefully sliding out of bed.

Y/N brushed her teeth, ran her fingers through her hair, then washed her face before heading downstairs. She prepared some coffee for everyone, knowing they would need it.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled at Sarah, who was trying to figure out how to start the coffee machine. Sarah turned around, smiling sheepishly at Y/N, a bit embarrassed.

“Need some help?” Y/N giggled, offering a hand.

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled as she leaned back against the counter while Y/N took out almond milk and regular milk from the fridge.

“How’d you sleep?” Y/N asked as she struggled to pour the coffee beans without spilling them.

“Good,” Sarah blushed. “The bed was really comfy,” she nodded repeatedly, trying to convince her.

“You mean Mitch was comfy?” Y/N teased, causing Sarah’s eyes to widen and her cheeks to turn pink, reminding her of Harry.

“How did you know?” Sarah giggled, shaking her head, surprised that Y/N had noticed and hadn’t said anything before, especially with the boys around. Sarah liked that.

“It was easy. The way you both acted around each other. I just figured,” Y/N shrugged as she walked to the pantry. “Would you like something to eat? Eggs, avocado toast, oatmeal, cereal, fruit salad?” she offered as she looked through.

“Whatever you’re having,” Sarah replied, and Y/N nodded, taking out a few avocados and a loaf of bread.

“How was Harry?” Sarah asked, making Y/N instantly gloat. Y/N started preparing everything while Sarah sat on one of the stools on the other side of the island.

“He was good,” Y/N smiled, remembering yesterday’s events and replaying them in her mind. She nodded back and began helping Y/N make the food.

“Do you want to sit outside?” Y/N asked as she noticed how beautiful the day was.

“Yes, it looked great out there.” After the food was ready, they carried it outside and sat at a table beside the pool. Y/N could still remember her mom purposely asking the decorator for a small table outside just so they could enjoy the nice weather when given the chance.

“Do you really like Harry?” Sarah asked bluntly as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I do. I really do,” Y/N answered, then took a bite of her toast. “It’s not that hard to do so.” She took another sip of coffee to wash down the food before leaning back in her seat. “He’s just so different, so gentle, so sweet, and so carefree. I feel so comfortable around him. I find it easy to talk to him about anything, whether its about my parents or my feelings.” Y/N tore her gaze from the sky to meet Sarah’s.

“I guess I’m asking because you’re so out of his league, you know?” Sarah said. There it was again—the constant need to categorize people based on their appearance.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” Y/N explained before continuing to eat and enjoy her breakfast.

“What do you mean?” Sarah questioned, finishing her breakfast and now just drinking her cappuccino.

“Do you see this apartment? I’m sure you noticed the smiling family portraits on the wall by the entrance” Y/N cleaned the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Yet, this family is broken” She smiled. “We might be wealthy, but our family relationships and dinamics are toxic. Everyone was too engulfed in their self's interests, traveling and shopping.” Y/N shrugged as she took her last bite. “I'm thankful for all the opportunities my parents’ hard work have provided me, but I miss the simple things—like coming home to my mother, seeing my dad arrive from work every day, and having dinner as a family.”

“You’re right. We all have different types of problems,” Sarah said, nodding as they looked at the horizon and enjoyed each other’s company, the cold fresh air, and the silence. It was one of those autumn afternoons when the sun shone brightly enough to feel it burn against your skin, but it was windy and cool.

“Hey,” they heard the door from the backyard slide open, and Harry walked out with sleepy eyes, messy hair, and a confused expression across his face. “How long have you two been up?” he asked with a rough, groggy voice as he made his way outside.

“Just a few minutes,” Sarah answered as she leaned back in her chair and waved at him. He walked up to Y/N, leaned down, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the side of her head. It was innocent and soft but sweet.

“Are you cold?” he whispered, running his hands over her bare forearms. She shook her head and unwrapped herself from him.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked as she stood up in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed his chin. “Morning,” she added. He smiled and shook his head before leaning down and kissing her. Sarah coughed, and they pulled away. Harry hid his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck while they giggled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin. Sarah was laughing softly and shaking her head.

“I get it now. She’s hot and has a brain,” Sarah shrugged, getting up from her seat. “I’m going to check on the others,” she excused herself and headed inside, leaving the two of them alone.

“I thought you had left,” Harry said as he sat down on the seat Y/N had previously occupied. Y/N slowly sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck while holding her cup with the other. "I thought it had all been a dream".

“I was just hungry, and I needed some coffee. Would you like some?” she offered as she gently pulled on his hair.

“I'm not a big fan” Harry replied, and Y/N frowned and nodded. “I’m more of a tea guy. So, how is this going to work?” he asked while holding her by the waist. “I mean, us. How were we going to see each other?”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll see each other. I’ll make sure of it,” Y/N said, with a few ideas forming in her mind, though she wasn’t planning to share them yet. She wanted it to be a surprise. Harry only nodded and leaned in for another kiss, which Y/N gladly returned.

After a brief make-out session, they walked back inside where everyone was waiting for them.

“How did you guys sleep?” Y/N asked as she washed her plate and Sarah’s, placing them in the dishwasher.

“You’ve got really comfy beds,” Jeff smiled as he sat down on the last stool. “What are we doing now? I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Liam agreed, lifting his head from the counter. Y/N looked over at Harry, who was leaning against the counter and yawning.

“We could order in,” Sarah suggested as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

“We could watch a movie too,” Y/N agreed. “It’s time for lunch anyway.” They all nodded and started debating what to eat and from where. They finally settled on Taco Bell and made the order.

“I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower,” Y/N told them as they all made their way into the living room. “There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourselves,” she smiled before running up the stairs. She decided to take a quick shower, then blow-dried her hair. She settled on a burnt orange shirt, some mom jeans, and a belt. She decided to just moisturize her face and skip makeup before heading down.

Harry was sitting in the corner of the couch, curled up in a little ball. As soon as he noticed her, he sat up and reached out for her. She maneuvered her way through everyone and turned on the fireplace, noticing everyone cuddling up.

“Oh man, can this get any better?” Mitch said as he tucked his arms behind his head. Liam laughed, and so did Jeff.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mitch commented as he cuddled closer to Sarah.

Y/N sat beside Harry and leaned over to pull the blankets out of a basket. She tossed one to Sarah and Liam so everyone could share. She took one for herself and Harry and spread it over their bodies.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling her closer to him. Y/N smiled and pecked his lips before turning her attention back to the TV.

They were halfway through the movie when the food arrived. The boys ate, and then they decided it was finally time for everyone to go home since they all had classes the next day. Y/N insisted on taking Harry home, which he eventually agreed to after much convincing.

“What are you doing after class tomorrow?” she asked as she drove across town, holding his hand tightly, resting them on her lap.

“Nothing much. I thought I might just catch up on homework and study,” he replied. Y/N hummed back, realizing she was going back to an empty apartment. It had been nice having everyone over.

“Do you have practice?” he asked, dragging her out of her deep thoughts.

“I do. We have another game on Wednesday. It’s going to be a tough one,” Y/N said, still remembering Coach Mary’s pep talk on Friday. She had yelled at them for the entire three-hour practice.

“I’m sure you guys will do great,” Harry commented as he looked through his phone. Y/N agreed as she finally pulled up to his street. She stopped the car right in front of his door, as usual. He unbuckled himself and leaned over the console.

“I don’t want you to go,” Harry said, causing Y/N to smile as butterflies filled her stomach. She suddenly felt like she was in fourth grade.

“Me neither,” Y/N whispered as she brushed her lips against his. He smiled one last time before kissing her. They kissed for a few minutes until she finally pulled away.

“Go,” she pecked his lips once more before he opened the door and got out.

Y/N sat in the car for a few minutes until she saw him enter the dorm. But just before she could start the car again, Harry ran out.

“My parents are here. They came to visit,” he exhaled loudly. “My mom wanted me to ask if you’d like to have coffee and dessert with us,” he stuttered, fiddling with his hands and looking incredibly nervous about what she might say. “I—I know it’s very soon, but they would like to meet you,” he added. “You don’t have to, though.”

“Can I park here?” she asked, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous about meeting his parents. They had only spent time together a few times, but she was willing to meet them.

“Yes,” he exhaled, relieved that she had agreed. Y/N turned off the car and got out, thankful that she had dressed appropriately.