#the three faces of phoebe

[futuristicson]

[movieslover05]

THIS MAN LOOKS LIKE HES DYING AND THEY CANT TELL SOMETHING IS WRONG??

[cherubunie]

daddy please ~ daddy/dom gojo x sub! reader

since the beginning of your relationship with gojo, he's known something was off about your sex life. the distant look in your pleasure filled eyes whenever he would talk to you a certain way in bed, the way you spoke to him while he was fucking you deep into the mattress, the way you acted- it was all something he knew of and had suspicions about, but didn't want to speak on it until you were either comfortable enough to share it with him, or it slipped out. lucky for you, he had the same problem on the opposite side of the scale

Word count: 5000

Daddy/dom! gojo x Sub! reader. sub + dom headspace / dynamic. sweet talk, choking, soft to rough sex, fingering, oral sex, overstimulation, orgasm control, daddy kink, humiliation, heavy cnc, heavy breeding, degradation, praise

DISCLAIMER: this work shows slices of subspace as well as domspace. Sub/domspace is NOT pedophilia, and the usage of the nicknames "daddy" among others' will in fact be used. if you're confused as to what sub/domspace is; google is free. if you haven't read my rules, I highly suggest you do, because I do in fact write about deep, hard kinks and smut. any and all hate will automatically lead you to my block list. other than that; enjoy - phoebe ♡

Gojo knew something was off with you when the two of you first started dating. the way you act, talk, and hold yourself gives him suspicions, not bad ones, of course, just ones of confusion. Don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves taking care of you; financially, physically, and especially when you're having sex. that's when you're the most odd. its like you're entire demeanor shifts; giving gojo every peace of you to protect, being able to go absolutely braindead as he takes care of you in all the ways mentioned. the foundation of your relationship is built on trust, which is what you have given gojo in total.

here you were, standing in the middle of your room in the cutest outfit he picked out for you a couple days ago while shopping. a cute little skirt and lacy top, adorned by the most precious white lace stockings that stop right below your mid-thigh. you look into the mirror, twirling your skirt as you giggle to yourself.

you're not really one for skirts, but this one makes you feel good about yourself. you don't dress up in these types of clothes this often; preferring to wear gojo's clothes instead, especially since you spend most of your time inside the house, lounging around participating in all your little hobbies, or with gojo himself whenever you want to go out for the day. you don't go anywhere without him. he takes care of you and loves you, and you get to be the pretty little housewife that receprocates that love. that life is perfect for you, especially since as of recently, you've found yourself at home a lot more often than normal because of his line of work, but you can't complain because most nights, he's coming home to you, and that's all you care about.

"y/n, baby come here, lunch is ready" you hear gojo's voice call from the other room. today is his day off, so he decided to make you lunch to show you how much he appreciates you cooking three meals a day for him, every day. you trot into the kitchen, gojo's lean and tall figure hovering over the stove as he cooks you your favorite lunch.

you walk over to him and hug him from behind, your arms wrapping around his waist as you kiss his back.

"thank you for cooking for me, you really didn't have to" you say to him, squeezing his body in your hold with another kiss to his back. He lovingly snickers at your words, turning around in your arms. he cups the side of your face, a couple of his fingers in your hair, his thumb on your jaw as he looks into your eyes.

"hush, I don't mind. you take care of me just as much as I take care of you, let me do this." he says, kissing your forehead, then your lips before turning back around to gather your food onto a plate and walk over to the dining room table, setting your plate down for you as you happily walk over and sit next to him, eating your food with the silent comfort looming over the table as you face your boyfriend.

gojo notices your outfit, looking at you in wonder and admiration. He smiles at you as you do to sit down, smiling back at your boyfriend.

"that outfit looks very pretty on you baby, I knew it would" he smiles at himself this time, a proud look on his face as he juts his nose in the air. you laugh at him and roll your eyes, shaking your head eating the yummy lunch he's made you.

After eating, gojo finds himself taking a shower to freshen himself up as you sit in the middle of your shared bed, scrolling back and fourth through Pinterest and a few online shopping apps on your phone. checking the time, its around 5:00 now, so you huff and get up off the bed, walking over to your closet and pulling out a couple pairs of pajama shorts and a cute little top.

you start taking off your clothes, starting with your skirt and top, but to your dismay, your bedroom door opens. You squeal and cover yourself with your hands, only to realize its gojo and his appearance makes you want to fall to your knees.

A towel wrapped around his waist, another in one of his big hands, towel trying his hair. small drops of water drip off of his hair and down his chest and abs, your face heating up as you dart your eyes anywhere but him because you're nervous you might actually drop to your knees.

"hi baby- oh?" he takes note of your appearance; cute pink lacy panties and bra, white lace stockings going up your thighs you have yet to take off. gojo eye fucks you from the doorway, a small smirk gracing his lips as you squirm under his gaze. your arms are still hiding your body from him, but he can still see nonetheless.

"I was- changing.." your voice trails off and you look down at yourself, then back up to gojo, your cheeks still slightly pink. He smiles at you and walks over to stand in front of you. he tosses the towel into the dirty clothes hamper and places two of his hands on your wrists.

"let me see" his command is soft, making you almost float away. he pulls your hands down to reveal yourself to him fully, your pretty nipples showing through the thin cloth of your baby pink bra. your hands fall to your sides as gojo lets them go, one of his hands coming to wrap around your waist, the other gently using his index finger to lightly brush over your nipple, a very silent whine forcing its way out of the back of your throat.

He uses his finger a couple more times to brush against the soft skin of your breast before letting your body go, walking backwards to sit on the edge of the bed. he leans backwards onto one of his palms of his hands holding him up as he pats his lap with the other, his legs spread and inviting you in.

"come here sweetheart." you listen, shyly walking over to stand in-between his legs, looking down into his lap. his hand comes to stroke your hair, cupping the side of your face, his thumb dragging down to your bottom lip, caressing the plump skin. his thumb grips your chin, gently forcing your face up to look at his, your doe eyes round and big as you look into his eyes, making him want to fuck you dumb.

"can- can I please, hmmm-" you cut yourself off, suddenly too shy to say anything to him. Satoru tilts his head to the side, wonder written on his face as you stare at each other.

"use your words, pretty girl" you gulp, nervous to tell him what you want, but you do so anyways much to your objection.

"can- can I make you feel good.. please.." your hands fidget with the towel he's wearing around his waist, whining out your question. gojo shifts in his spot, smiling at you proudly.

"of course you can baby, such a good girl for asking so politely" your chest fills with love at his compliment, fingers still fidgeting with the towel. you move to start taking the towel off of him, revealing his half-hard cock.

gojo's hand leaves your face as you slowly sink to your knees, coming face to face with his dick. you grab the base of him, tightening your fist around his length, slowly pumping. his moan is raspy and deep, his abs still a little damp from his drying hair. you pump him a couple more times before kitten licking his tip and swirling your tongue. his free hand comes to stroke and carress your head.

you put his tip into your mouth and hollow out your cheeks sucking softly, humming at his familiar taste. one of his hands comes up and finds its way to the back of your head as he ushers you to take him deeper, so that's exactly what you do. you start bobbing your head up and down his length, your tongue rubbing on the under side of his cock, your cheeks still hollow.

a string of curses leave his mouth, throwing his head back as you take him so pretty. your eyes are up, watching all the thigh-clasping reactions he gives you.

"s-so good, you- you're so fuckin' good baby" his hips grind into your mouth, making you choke slightly, but neither of you care. your tough swirls around his cock, feeling him grow completely in your mouth.

you take him out of your mouth, and gojo looks down at you in confusion. you make eye contact with him as you stick your tongue out, letting your saliva drip off your tongue straight down onto the tip of his dick, making its way down to his balls.

gojo sucks in a breath at your actions, wishing he could take a polaroid of you in this exact moment its driving him so fucking mad how sexy you look. He grips a handful of your hair, forcing you to stand up with a yelp dripping off your lips. he sits up, using both of his hands to spin you around so you're back is facing him.

he pulls you into his lap, your back flush against his front as he scoots the two of you back farther into the bed. his still-hard cock pressing up against your back, but he doest care, all he wants to do is make you feel good.

"t-toru" you question as he uses his hands to spread your legs, one hand resting on your inner thigh as the other comes around to your throat, holding you in place. his face is right next to your ear, his breath fanning you.

"don't squirm around, 'kay love?" is all he says before the hand that was resting on your thigh comes to your heat, pulling your panties to the side. his middle and ring fingers press against your clit, massaging gentle circles on your bundle of nerves. you let out a whimper, signaling for him to continue.

satoru kisses up your neck, his hand coming down to fondle with one of your breasts underneath your bra, pinching and pulling your hard nipple, earning yet another sinful moan to drag out of your mouth.

his fingers work their magic, your wetness increasing to dampen your panties as well as his fingers. you turn your head to the side, burring your face into your boyfriends neck muffling your pretty sounds right into his skin.

you jut your hips forward into his hand, and gojo takes this opportunity to slide one of his long fingers inside your tight cunt, earning yet another moan from you.

his thumb moves to replace his index finger on your clit, fingering you.

"I said, dont squirm around, love" you nod your head, trying your best not to grind into his hand. he slides another finger into you, pressing his fingers upwards just enough for him graze your sweet spot instantly.

the moan you let out is louder than normal, telling him he hit the right spot. of course he knows that, he knows your body like the back of his hand.

his digits pump inside you, wet squelching sounds coming from just below you as his fingers graze your sweet spot repeatedly. your hands fly up to grab onto satoru's biceps, digging your nails gently into his arms.

his fingers pick up pace, rutting inside you fast, the wet sounds coming from your pussy getting louder. you dig your heels into the mattress below you, pushing yourself farther into satorus chest, your head shaking from side to side.

gojo can tell you're close, so he lifts his head up to your ear and whispers

"you close sweet girl?" he asks and you nod your head.

"y-yes dadd-" your body instantly freezes as does satoru's, stopping himself from fingering you further. his ears perking up at your words.

"sweetheart?"

"no, no no no" you shake your head, embarrassment filling your entire body as you try and get away from your lover, but his fingers exit your hole, his arms wrapping around your waist, turning you around to face him instead.

he grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, but you divert your gaze onto anything else- not wanting to face the man in front of you.

"baby look at me" you shake your head with an embarrassing whine.

"honey, look at me please" much to your avail; you look at him.

"im- im sorry I didn't mean to-" he interrupts your sentence, shooting you a loving smile.

"sweetheart, its okay for you to call me that. you don't have to hide yourself from me, okay? I love you so very much" you shake your head, not believing his words.

"it- its so embarrassing." you're face turns even redder at his words. he shakes his head at you.

"oh baby, its not embarrassing in the slightest. there is no need for you to feel embarrassed my love" he pauses, kissing your pouty lips before continuing

"no need to be so shy in front of me, let daddy take care of you" now its your turn for your ears to perk up, your eyes getting wider at his words.

"I- I love you too..." you speak softly. gojo shoots you a soft smile, his lips find yours once more. picking up where you left off, this time more gentle; he moves his body to where his hands can slide down your waist, pushing you back against the mattress, his body hovers over yours as his hand retakes its place, coming down to slide under the hem of your underwear, his fingers instantly finding your clit.

you groan into his mouth, grinding your hips forward into his palm. he pinches and rubs your clit before sliding two fingers into your sopping wet hole, once again finding your sweet spot as small, while your hushed whimpers echo off the walls of satoru's skull

satoru breaks the kiss, moving towards your neck to leave deep purple bruises on your skin. your breathing is heavy as he plays with you.

his lips make their way down to the center of your breasts, using his teeth to bite the material and slide it up and over your boobs before gently licking your nipple. you whimper at his actions, still grinding into his hand as yours find their way to his white locks, gripping his hair as he sucks on your hardened bud. he lets go with a wet 'pop' and kisses down towards your stomach, getting onto his as he makes his way down.

he's now face to face with your pussy. while he takes his fingers out of you; you "hmph" in protest.

"shhh, angel. daddy's gonna make you feel even better" he says as he hooks two fingers into your underwear, pulling them down below your ankles and throwing them into the dirty clothes hamper, you lifting your hips to help him.

he spreads your pussy lips apart with two of his fingers, blowing cold air into you. you whine at his teasing as he does it again and again. satoru eventually darts his tongue out, licking a dot onto your bundle muscles. you attempt to grind your hips closer to his face, but one of his hands come up to your abdomen, pushing your hips down onto the mattress, keeping it there.

"don't move."

you obey. he darts his tongue out again, this time licking a strip up the slit of your cunt. he does this a couple more times before his lips eventually wrap around your clit, sucking gently.

your moans pick up volume the more he eats you out. your fingers lace into the bedsheets, grounding you from floating too far out of your body, but it happens anyways, instantly slipping.

his teeth drag against your clit before his tongue laps at you, your pussy beyond drenched now, but neither of you seem to care as he feasts on you like a starved man. his sucking gets harsher as his free hand slips two fingers into you, slowly pumping in and out of you.

the sounds of pussy eating and moans echo off the walls of gojo's house, good thing you live pretty far away from other people- or you would be screwed, because you're so loud.

so fucking loud as satoru fucks you with his fingers and tongue.

he's working fast, lapping at your cunt in quick, steady strokes. your entire body goes limp, and your moaning turns to babbling sobs, not a thought in your skull as you feel the knot in your tummy quickly unravel.

Gojo's crystal eyes look up at you once he senses your change of vocals. his mouth detaches from your clit and he hovers over your figure, his fingers still working inside you, his rhythm never faltering. the hand on your abdomen comes up to cup your cheek, looking deeply into your fucked out eyes, he speaks gently

"you gonna cum, little one?" he asks, his fingers never slowing down. you nod your head with a small, barley audible whimper.

"hold it." you shake your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, overstimulation overcoming your entire body as you shake in his hold.

"oh yes pretty, gotta' hold it for me, doin' so good" you feel like you're about to burst from the seams and he's telling you to hold it? you can't anymore, so you do the last thing you can in order to gain his permission.

"please, please please please daddy I can't" you squeal, begging him for your release as he chuckles from above you, a smirk forming on his lips as you beg.

"who owns you? who owns this pussy?" he whispers in your ear, his hand on your face coming down to your throat with a squeeze as a reminder.

"daddy does, daddy owns me!" you thrash under him, the cord in your belly snapping.

"that's right, daddy owns you. you can cum now sweetheart, im right here, daddy's got you" the nickname he refers himself as makes you melt- feeling so much more loved as you orgasm all over his hand, squirting so much your head begins to feel light while tiny babbling bubbles from your throat and off your lips. gojo can't help himself as he praises you, giving your forehead kisses as his fingers slow, helping you through your orgasm. your back arches into him and your head shifts to the side as his huge hand on your throat moves to caress your collarbones.

"my precious little baby, such a good girl, takin' my fingers so well" he praises you

"good f' daddy" you repeat to him, your voice small as you blush

"yes pretty, very good for daddy" he kisses your nose before pulling his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on them with a hum

"such a sweet taste from such a sweet girl" he compliments you, coming down to kiss you deeply. you can taste yourself on him. your hands wrap around his back, pulling his body into yours with a small huff.

he pulls away, looking down at your appearance. your lip tint smeared, your hair disheveled, and your eyes clouded over with lust.

"you wan' daddy to use you baby? stuff you full of his cock until you're beggin' me to stop?" he tilts his head, almost as if he was taunting you.

you nod yours, quietly begging as you speak

"yes please sir, please use me, need you so bad please" your eyes begging to be fucked deep into the mattress, and its driving satoru insane with every passing millisecond. he sits up, adjusting himself as he grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. he positions his thick, pale tip at your entrance, slowly pushing himself in as you whine at the stretch.

no matter how many times the two of you have sex, it feels as though you never get used to how big his cock is, stretching you out every. single. time.

he leans down onto your legs more, your thighs pressing up against your body now as he forces you into a mating press. your hands make their way around his neck and towards his back, your fingers digging into him as he slowly pushes himself in. he can tell with the progressively growing distant look in your eye, he's losing you.

and he absolutely fucking loves it.

he adores it when you slip into being completely submissive, giving him full control of your body and trusting him completely. its almost like he's falling in love with you all over again.

and you love being able to provide that euphoric feeling for him. you two were absolutely made for each other.

his balls smack the flesh of your ass as he bottoms out inside you, you let out a choke as he does so, the breath being knocked out of you. he's just so fucking long.

he pulls out almost completely before thrusting his entire length back inside you, a mewl spilling from your lips. his thrusts begin at a steady rhythm, skin slapping and tiny sounds filling the room. both of your guys' bodies become hot, sweaty and sticky. its so disgusting that it turns you on even more. your arms loosely dangle from his neck as your boobs bounce with every thrust.

satoru moves his head down so his forehead is pressed against yours. he pecks your lips before his speed picks up to one that's animalistic, causing your breath to hitch and a loud squeal being ripped from your throat. his hands grip the mattress next to each side of your head as he fucks you into the mattress, throwing his head back while his Adams apple bobs up and down as a result of his loud groans hitting your ears, you taking pride in being able to give him such a reaction.

as your hands fall down onto the bed and your entire body feels like jelly; your orgasm approaches, sneakily and quick. you moan louder at the tight feeling in your abdomen, signaling to him that you're close, but he doesn't seem to care as he looks down at you, a smirk on his face.

your moans only make him go faster, and with his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust, you scream out in pain and pleasure.

"h-hurts, daddy sl-slow!" you beg, but when he clenches his jaw, that's when you tell he's also completely slipped.

"you can take it darling, 'm not done usin' you yet" he says to you, a low groan, sinister and deep shivers its way through gojos entire body, escaping out of his throat directly into your ears.

your pussy flutters around his cock as he fucking you through your second orgasm of the night, squirting all over his abdomen, but he doesn't care, his hips never falter his quick pace that assaults your body. tears well up in your eyes with how well he's fucking you. gojo takes note of your teary eyes and pouts.

"you look so pretty when you cry baby, can't help myself when you're squeezin' me so tightly" he can feel himself getting closer. your breathing is heavy and your eyes are distant, mewls and small babbles are the only sound coming from you. rough skin slapping sounds from satoru's hips snapping against your ass fill the room as your legs begin to shake once more.

Gojo looks down at you, the pout returning onto his lips as he speaks

"look at me little one" he says, one of his hands unlaces from the mattress and grabs the base of your jaw, and you literally can't disobey as your eyes find his.

"you gonna take daddy's cum like the good little girl you are? wanna be stuffed with me so full?" he looks down, noting the slight bulge in your tummy every time he fucks his cock back inside you.

"f-fuck" he curses at the sight.

you nod your head, incoherent begs spilling from your whiney lips.

"speak up sweet girl, can't hear you honey, tell daddy what you want" he says, the tears finally spilling from your eyes as you feel your next orgasm about to spill over you.

"y-yes sir, please use me please, c-can't, so close!" your eyes close, more tears spilling down onto your warm cheeks.

"such a good little princess you are, cum with me sweet girl, you can do it, daddys right here I got you" is all he has to say before you cream all over his cock once more. gojo's hand comes down to press on your lower abdomen as he thrusts himself into you, shooting his cum deep inside your tummy. his head flings back as he moans quite loudly, his lower lip coming between his teeth.

its a good thing you're on birth control

he can't stop himself when he thrusts softly into you again, you wincing as he does so.

he also can't stop himself when he puts your legs down onto the mattress, keeping one of his hands on your thighs to keep them spread as he loses himself again completely, thrusting up into your pussy as you squeal, attempting to scoot yourself back on the bed to get away from him.

"you can't run from me pretty, 'm gonna fuck my cum into you, make sure you know who owns you" he chuckles, his free hand coming up to take both your wrists in his hand, holding them up above your head as you squirm in his hold, trying to get away from him.

of course you know what the safe word is, as does he. but you don't use it, and the both of you know its because you're just such a desprate little whore who can't help enjoy being used in such a way, and it makes gojo absolutely feral.

"s-stop, please! it- it hurts daddy please!" you scream, wiggling around trying to get free.

"you know the safe word pretty girl, you can use it any time..." he pauses.. looking down at you

"you want daddy to stop breeding your cute little hole, hmm?" you shake your head from side to side, embarrassment coursing through your entire body as you do so.

"please, no dont"

"then stop beggin' for me to stop, because you know no matter how much you do, it wont save you." his thrusts pick up speed, making sure his cum seeps into every single crack and crevice of your insides, marking you his.

"you're gonna take my cock wether you like it or not, slut" his hands let go of your wrists, coming down to your face in order to shove two of his fingers down your throat. your lips close around his digits, sucking on them. you collapse on the bed, your body going limp as his eyes meet yours. droll begins to fall out of the corners of your mouth and down your cheeks and the both of you reach a maximum high.

you clench around his cock, tightening around him as he feels his dick twitch inside you.

"cum with me baby, doin' so good, cum for daddy yeah?" is all he says before you're gushing around him, his cock shooting ropes of cum inside you once again as the both of you moan in unison, a pretty melody only the two of you can create in such a perfect way.

it takes gojo a minute to cool down before he's pulling his softening cock out of you. it takes him one glance at your demeanor before he's rushing to cup your face, realization hitting him like a brick.

"baby? im so sorry did I go too rough" your breathing is heavy as you try to gain composure from the earth-shattering orgasms he just gifted to you, but your silence worries your lover

"honey talk to me please" he says, pulling out of you and moving to hover his body over yours while he cups your cheek with one of his hands, making your eyes meet his as he stares at you lovingly. You continue to try and regain your composure, but it takes you longer than normal, so you decide to whimper out short words

"thank you" you whisper and gojo's chest tightens at your words.

"oh baby, you don't have to thank me for taking care of my pretty little girl, its what I do sweetheart" he leans down and kisses your forehead before pulling back to look at you again

"are you okay angel, did I hurt you at all or go too rough?" he asks in the most sincere tone you've ever heard. you nod your head with a smile as you start to regain yourself

"no, you didn't hurt me, perfect" your broken sentence somehow makes sense to your white haired boyfriend.

"I love you my darling girl, I'll be right back" he says before exiting the room, only to renter not soon after with a clean rag.

he cleans you up gently, making sure you have to do little to no movement as he takes care of you once again. you can feel the love radiating off of him when he helps you slip on one of his lose shirts before he crawls into bed with you, getting lost in each others warmth for any more words.

[yanderemommabean]

Oh, oh, oh! Yandere virus, but it one day coming into school, the girls who normally bully you are acting strange. When you see them in the hallway, you are expected to be laughed at or shoves to the ground. However, you didn't expect to be shoved against the wall as they stare you down with a dangerous and lustful glint in their eye, telling you about all the plans they have in store for you. They force you to wear matching clothes and make sure everyone knows who you belong to and not to even try anything. Maybe you're forced to live in the house. Bonus if the other hold you down as the ring leader eats you out, as the others tell you how cute you are uwu

“Ah ah ah. You aren’t going anywhere” A voice chirps in your ear. You wince, sighing as the three surround you once again as class is dismissed and everyone heads to the dorms for the evening. Honestly, if you were perhaps a bit stronger, a bit less self conscious, you might spit in their faces and make a run for it. Sadly, you aren’t some badass (and admittedly, one dimensional) character and are frozen in place as they wait for the others to leave. 

They don't intervene. They know better. These young women have power, wealth, and beauty in their arsenal, and aren't afraid to use it to get what they want, and to silence anyone who complains. Phoebe, Sadie, and Naomi, all from powerful families who more or less run this college and the town. You don't doubt they paid the administrators and dean to get into this place, while you had to work hard and prove yourself. 

None of that matters at the moment. Currently, Phoebe was twirling her fingers in your hair like you two were close friends or even dating, smiling almost wickedly at you as her eyes, usually hazel, now with an odd pink ring, stare at you like you were some prey about to be eaten and devoured. Usually they just shove you around and make fun of your clothes, but today…Something's off. Very very off. 

“Isn’t she so cute you guys?” She says, sickly sweet, you want to say mocking but no, it's like there’s something more flirtatious with it. “Oh definitely, I just want to sink my teeth in her, you know? Make her whimper” Naomi adds on, hand to her cheek as she stares at you like one would a puppy being precious. Oh god hearing that made you think they were about to hurt you or humiliate you in some way. 

Sadie just sighs, not in your direction, looking over her shoulder to make sure the halls were clear, and once they were truly empty of everyone else, she made sure the grip on your wrists were tighter. “Listen up. We have some new rules set in place, and you, adorably obedient as you are, are going to follow them”. Oh wow. The audacity. Then again you never really put up a fight so, are they really wrong? What other choice did you have anyway? If they wanted to, they could make your family kicked out of town and their jobs nonexistent. It’s best to just grit your teeth as best you can. 

While you tried to listen, Phoebe made sure she got closer, her hand on you as well, but more exploring, sliding up and down your sleeve and trying to dip her fingers into the hem to feel your wrist, dragging them up and down softly as Sadie began to speak again. “You’re ours. Simple as that. No more avoiding the lobby when we’re there, no more trying to get little study dates away from the school library, no more trying to hide from us”. “I'm sorry what-” “Ah ah, she’s not finished cutie” Naomi says with a gentle touch slowly sliding to your waist, her cold fingertips acting like they wanted to slide under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, her brown eyes also having that odd pink ring in her iris. “Go on Sadie, she’ll be good and listen. She always is” 

You felt your cheeks grow impossibly hot, words failing you as all three of these girls began to more or less feel you up and tell you that…That you were theirs? Whatever that could mean? Sadie just sighs, more playful this time as she cups your cheek and makes you look at her, the same weird coloration in her eyes. “You’re ours. No more private study dates, no more drabby clothes, no more avoiding food when we’re in the commons or cafeteria, just a lot more rules and a lot more dress code for you. Tsk, I can’t tell if I want you in a skirt, or if I'd stab any bastard who’d look at you when you wear one. Maybe some cute pants? Ugh they’d still lay their eyes on you either way, makes me want to just call mom and have the banks foreclose their houses”. 

“Please Don’t-” “Ah ah, don’t even try it. You’re ours, if we want to punish people for looking at our puppy, we will” Phoebe comments, her fingers moving to hold your hand and give the top of it a gentle kiss. “Speaking of puppy” Naomi mentions, nodding her head towards the others, and before you can blink you’re turned over, face to the wall. You hear Sadie murmur something as she rummages through her bag for a moment, and you feel her hands slide around your throat before something clicks behind your head, and your eyes widen in horror.

“There we go! I made sure it wouldn’t be too tight, the guy who made it for me was such an artist about it, I love it! If he would’ve said no, you know I’d have his business ruined” She mentions casually, getting a few soft giggles in agreement. 

“Here sweetie! Have a look at how cute you are when you show that you belong to us” Naomi says, handing you her phone as a mirror. You feel weak and shaky as your fingers come up to touch the bright pastel pink leather, a metal heart in the center pressing against your throat. You reach around to feel the back and feel a harsh shock to your fingers, making you yelp. 

“Oh, sweetheart, don't try and take it off! It was so expensive but I got a cute one to work as a shock collar. Shower safe but anytime you take one, one or all of us will be with you, so you won't have to worry about taking it off yourself. We’ll talk more about the rules later in our dorm”. You shiver, unable to think of how to talk. What in the fuck could you even say? You just had a designer shock collar put on you by your bullies! Who are now acting like you were their chew toy or pet no less. “O-our dorm?”.

Phoebe nods, gently stroking your hair “Yeah, duh! How else will we keep a better eye on you? Cameras are fine and all but I prefer to make sure you’re warm with one of us sharing a bed with you. Plus, it’s easier to kiss you good morning faster”. “K-Kiss?!” You almost shriek, only for Naomi to softly hush you with a finger to your lips. “Now now, don’t get loud! We don’t need that just yet”. She pouts, hearing her phone going off and checking the time. “Well, we have to split for now, I have a dinner with mom and dad. You two take her to the dorm and tell me how she acts! Don't do anything more pretty please? We said we’d share her”. 

You don't get much out before Naomi heads off, Phoebe and Sadie gripping your arms a bit too firmly to lead you, talking back and forth like you weren’t making a practical death march down to their dorm room. 

Oh God what’s going to happen once that door is shut?

-Mommabean (Hiya! Sorry for lack of smut but I am proud I wrote this much at least lol. If you beans want i can do a part two! Wanted to try and flesh this out before anything too intense ya know? Anyway I hope you like! Lemme know if you do!)

[ange11icyuri]

❝ PICK A PILE ❞

Pick an icon that you feel more connected with that is your pile and message of today. (How do people perceive you?)

PILE 1 ⋆☀︎ ⋆

For those who chose pile 1 people may see you as subtle but sexy. You draw attention but in the most calmest way possible. People kind of like that about you. You can be crazy and free sometimes you do whatever you want but because you’ve been a good girl all your life you could care less what anyone thinks of you and choose to live your life on the wild side you choose to be adventurous and connect with nature while still being subtle and sexy, kind of like Lana Del Rey. Crazy young wild and free but you do what you do and people like that because it’s you duh.

PILE 2 ⋆☀︎ ⋆

For those who chose pile 2 people think your cold because of the way that you look..maybe you are quite intimidating to others and people may not exactly feel friendly energy from you which is why no one bothers to approach you but deep down your a sweetheart. You care for your family and your friends your just a quite person with a cold harsh face so people assume that you’re mean because of it but you could be really nice once someone gets to know you. Like people say don’t judge a book by its cover..you could look really mean and yet be the nicest caring person ever! Just like Phoebe Tonkin!

PILE 3 ⋆☀︎ ⋆

For those who choose pile 3 you give off absolute mean girl energy and you may be a mean girl just because you like to joke around and wish for people to like you because you think that you’re funny (maybe your a little cocky) and that’s just your personality. Some people dig it and some people don’t. You kind of give off Blake lively vibes..just make sure not to be mean to anyone intentionally. Jokes are fine but know when to keep your boundary and when to cross the line. Other than that you seem cool. Your friends and family still care about you but can be butt hurt by your personality sometimes. Being close to you is not for the weak and anyone sensitive probably shouldn’t intervene.

If you enjoyed this pick a pile and would like to book a private reading dm me! Enjoy! Bye!

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 1 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, breeding kink and lots of it, fingering, oral (f! receiving)

WC: 2k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 1998

Your head rests on Eddie’s thigh, cheek pressed against the cotton sweatpants serving as his pajamas. His fingertips dance along your shoulder in comforting circles, the other hand digging into a bag of peanut M&Ms and dropping several into his mouth at once. 

Harris is sleeping in bed, his little eyes having drifted closed halfway through his second bedtime story. You’d laughed softly, kissed his forehead, and closed the door as quietly as you could. 

On the TV screen, Phoebe Buffay prepares to give birth to triplets while Joey’s learned that his sympathy pains are actually kidney stones. 

The candy shell crunching ceases as Eddie speaks over the characters’ dialogue. “You ever think about that?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the monitor. 

“Having three babies at once?” You wrinkle your nose, tugging the fleece blanket up a bit higher. You adjust your position so you can see his chocolate-smudged lips. “Only in my nightmares.”

Eddie laughs, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his doe eyes. “N-No, just, like…having a baby?” His front teeth scrape his lower lip nervously while he awaits your response. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean, I definitely want to have kids with you. And I know Harris is dying for a sibling to play with,” you add teasingly, though your words are true. He’d come home from school last week claiming that his friend Joshua’s mommy was having another baby, lamenting that it wasn’t fair because Joshua already had a sister. “I can’t wait to add some more Munsons to our little family.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie nods, swallowing thickly. “So, um, what exactly are we waiting for?”

The question makes you sit up, pushing yourself with your palms, so you can look him in the eyes. “We’ve only been married for a few months…” you trail off, unsure what to say next, but it doesn’t matter because Eddie leans in and silences you with his lips on yours. Tiny, passionate kisses, his smile rendering him unable to draw them out longer. 

“I’m ready whenever you are,” he murmurs, nose gently bumping yours. Four fingers are tucked behind your ear, his thumb delicately grazing your cheek. “There’s no rush, ‘kay? No Baby Munsons until you’re totally on board.”

“What if I’m ready, too?” You kiss him, body buzzing with nerves just from having this conversation. An excited giggle slips out, and you drape your arms over his shoulder to straddle his waist. “What if I want to start trying?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs; he swears he’s hit the jackpot with you. “Then I say…to hell with those pesky birth control pills.” He kisses you again, peppering them all over your face and neck. “C’mon, Sweetheart. Let’s make a baby.”

It’s a few weeks later when Eddie breezes through the apartment door after work, kicking off his Reeboks in the general direction of the hall closet. His weary expression shifts to a joyous one when he sees you walk out of the bedroom with a knowing grin on your face. 

“What’s that little smirk for, hmm?” he teases, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him. An autumn chill sticks to his leather jacket; you shiver as the cold fabric brushes your bare arms. “And where’s the other troublemaker?”

“Harris is at Wayne’s for the night,” you tell him, stepping back slightly and briefly lacing your fingers with his before grabbing something from the back pocket of the jeans you immediately changed into after work. “This little line means that I’m currently ovulating,” you quickly explain, not wanting him to confuse it with another important test. 

Eddie’s grin could split his cheeks in half. “So…so that means…” his eyes shine bright with anticipation. “It’s baby-making time?”

You giggle at his phrasing. “Yes, Eddie,” you confirm through peals of laughter. “It’s baby-making time.”

Eddie’s lips crash onto yours in an instant. He groans into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing your ass to pull you closer. Your own fingers grasp his jacket by the zipper teeth, tugging it off of his body and letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously. His hands snake underneath your sweater, eyes widening when he touches supple skin rather than the underwire of a bra.

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod, gasps of pleasure caught in your throat as his thumbs brush against your nipples, giving them a small tweak. He grins at your reaction, more than satisfied to be catching you off-guard. 

“Y’know,” he muses, not straying from your breasts, “I won’t be able to be so rough with ‘em once I knock you up. They’ll be extra sensitive, and I gotta take care of my girl.” The sweater is a hindrance, burying the treasure he so desperately desires, so you shed it without a second thought.

He stares at your bare torso for a moment, enthralled with your body even after all this time. Like a vampire lusting for blood, his teeth sink just below your areola, nipping and sucking sloppily until the underside of your breast is dripping with his saliva. “C’mere,” he growls, taking a breath and leading you into the bedroom.

You’ve never seen Eddie this hungry for you; his lips and tongue and hands trailing along your curves and leaving goosebumps in their path. It’s as though he can’t decide where to touch you and with what.

All articles of clothing–both yours and his–are long gone by the time your bodies tangle in the bedsheets. The only word you can manage is his name, so you whisper it over and over again. 

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

His body towers over yours, middle finger gliding up and down your folds, gathering your slick and rubbing deliberate circles on your clit. Your trembling legs fuel his own passion, his erection flush against his tummy and leaking pre-cum. 

“You need me inside you, Sweetheart?” Eddie coos, letting his finger drift down towards your wanting hole. When you nod pathetically, unable to string together a sentence, he laughs. “I’d normally make you beg, but seeing as you’re gonna be carrying my baby, I’ll let it slide.” He lays down, hissing at the glorious pressure against his cock. “In fact, I’m gonna make sure my girl gets everything she needs tonight.”

Soft lips wrap around your swollen bud while his middle and ring fingers stretch you deliciously. You buck your hips, using his face to draw you towards what you suspect will be your first of multiple orgasms. 

The only sound lewder than your wanton moans is the schlick of his fingers pulsing in and out, soaked with your arousal. You let yourself float away, relishing in the comfort of his control. 

“F-Fuck, Eddie…” you sputter, arching your back and hooking your grasp into his curls. He smiles against your pussy as you clench around his fingers. 

“Thassit, honey.” He breaks his rhythm for a split second to encourage you, resuming his pace like he’d never stopped. Maybe it stems from his musical prowess, or maybe he simply knows your body that well. You love this man, and you swear you’ll do anything to give him a baby.

You come undone moments later, taking everything you need without hesitation. Eddie lowers you from the high and kisses down your thighs, your arousal smeared on his pursed lips.

“Need you to do me a favor,” he says, shifting his body so his eyes gaze directly into yours, pupils blown out with lust. “Need you to bend your legs and hold onto your knees. Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?”

You nod, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them tight. Eddie’s breath hitches, taking in the view of you, glistening and on display just for him.

“Fuckin’...perfect…” he groans, running his hardened length along you, slowly pushing in. “Gettin’ to watch your pretty pussy cream my cock…shit…’s my favorite fuckin’ sight, I swear.” He grips your hips so tightly that it pinches a bit, pain indistinguishable from pleasure.

He’s entranced in a way you haven’t seen before, despite the multitude of times he’s already had you in this position. Your eyes fill with emotion when the realization hits: you and Eddie could make a baby right now. A little being that’s half-him and half-you. 

“��S everything okay?” he asks, one hand moving from your waist to gently brush away a rogue tear slipping down your cheek.

“Mhm,” you answer, laughing and crying at the same time. “I’m just really happy that this is for real. No more pretending; we’re actually doing this to expand our family.”

Eddie swoops down to kiss you, a few soft pecks punctuated with a long, intimate embrace. “I love you so much.” He says it as a promise, not a simple statement. “You’re mine and I’m yours, and I never want you to forget that.” He resumes thrusting, pulling almost all the way out and leaving just the tip inside you, before sinking back in. The movement draws a whine from deep within you, and he wears it as a badge of honor. “That’s my girl, my sweet girl, gonna have my baby.”

Sweat trickles down the bridge of his nose and drips onto your chest between your breasts. He bites his lip in determination. “Shit, ‘m close already,” he mumbles, smiling as he adds, “kinda wish I didn’t have to cum so we could stay like this, but, uh, that would defeat the purpose, huh?”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you giggle, which only further spurs him on. “You get tighter when you laugh, fuck, babe.” But he’s laughing with you, stopping for a second to get his bearings. “I gotta stay focused! Trying to make a baby over here!” His palms flex on your knees before gripping them again.

“I’m sorry!” You’re not, and neither is he, the two of you soaking in the comfort of being with the person you trust completely and love wholeheartedly. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, wiping perspiration from his brows with the back of his hand. “Let’s get back on track.” His thrusts resume slowly as he once again grows harder within your walls, gradually quickening in pace. 

Everything is overwhelming; the way he feels inside you, the sweetly possessive hold he has on his legs, the unexpected comedic interlude, the potential to create a new life. Passion sweeps you up into its embrace and you come with a strained cry of your husband’s name. 

“Want your baby, Eddie. Please.”

Eddie’s brown eyes shine at your desperate plea. He nears his own climax, hair sticking to his forehead and his guitar pick necklace thumping against his chest. “‘M right there, Sweetheart; you’re milking my cock so good.” His biceps tremble as he gives a final few pistons of his hips, spilling into you harder than he ever has before. “Fuck, gonna give you a baby, take it.” 

You shiver when he growls the last two words, savoring the movements until they abruptly stop. With panting breaths, Eddie slides out of you. 

“Don’t move,” he gently commands, holding up one finger and using the other hand to hold his softening dick. He scrambles for a free pillow and tucks it underneath your hips. “Helps ‘em swim faster,” he sheepishly explains. “Or, like, hit their target a little better.”

“Hit their target?” You ask through a bemused grin. “Is that the proper medical terminology?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, returning to the bed and nuzzling into you. His frizzy curls tickle your chin when he rests his head on top of one breast. You both lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. 

“Can’t wait to see if it worked,” he muses while fighting a yawn. “Whatever happens, it felt special, y’know?”

You know. Your hand flutters over your abdomen; Eddie drapes his over yours soon after. The two of you fall asleep wrapped up in one another and an intoxicating blanket of hope. 

--

[writing-intheundercroft]

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties.  You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.  

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages.  Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons.  Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded.  So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day.  You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching.  It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people.  You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.  

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”  

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose.  “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch.  I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly.  It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow.  At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another.  You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson!  Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.” 

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit.  He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion.  Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel.  He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice.  It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out.  And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years.  The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work.  You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.  

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine.  It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her.  “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think.  You’re at the top of your field.  You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you.  The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy.  Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom.  It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital.  It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes.  Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains.  Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline.  Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward.  Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames.  A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth.  There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information. 

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful.  Lost a few–even more are bleeding.  It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them.  Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name.  Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain.  And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them.  The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.  

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects.  His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them.  They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love.  You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath.  The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the  blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.  

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised.  Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year.  You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars. 

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting.  He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to.  Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest.  You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut.  The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later.  In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.  

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done.  From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included).  Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital.  But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them.  Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring.  They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened.  You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you. 

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest. 

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied.  Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps.  She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.” 

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.  

“How is Sallow?  The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you.  Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door.  It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!” 

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you.  He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns. 

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really?  I’ve lost five damn years in my head?  What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.”  Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed.  Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie.  Was it a lie?  You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back.  “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay.  We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?” 

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water.  Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel much better,” you assure him. 

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes.  He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere.  But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period.  It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.  

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body.  With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him.  The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso.  Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.  

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy.  He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room.  You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago.  You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered.  Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.  

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off.  His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union.  You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you.  You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.  

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch.  Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her.  She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here?  It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you.  I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth.  That we ended amicably.  That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt.  Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde.  It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact?  Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home.  Visitor hours are over.”  you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry.  I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours.  I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks.  Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart. 

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave.  You’re finally able to start your rounds.  Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward.  Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week.  Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in.  Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep.  He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart.  Nothing particularly new, and no memories back.  He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies.  It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell.  A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops.  You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving. 

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.” 

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian.  Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me.  Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that.  I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again.  You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably.  One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.” 

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely.  You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles.  It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child.  It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”  

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.  

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.  

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully.  Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning.  Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean.  It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound.  You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue.  His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me.  I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that.  I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve.  Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.” 

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him).  “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument.  “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer.  It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters.  You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl. 

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it.  She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him.  He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me.  Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian.  You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else.  Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him. 

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind.  Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable. 

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice.  That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.” 

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold.  I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?” 

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies.  You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).  

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron.  When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man.  He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles. 

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face.  The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful.  Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable.  And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore.  In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen.  He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights. 

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight.  You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname.  And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room.  But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you.  At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes. 

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily. 

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them.  Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars.  They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart.  I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure.  That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have.  You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that.  So I packed my things and left.” 

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back.  After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work.  Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted.  Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love.  He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley.  Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror.  A damn good one.  The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others.  I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you.  We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks. 

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement.  A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it.  But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged.  It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight.  And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay.  That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly.  “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him. 

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t.  And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him.  From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger.  And that’s good–it’s good for us now.  It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy.  I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man.  That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you.  But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly.  You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love.  You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest.  I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together.  The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy.  Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat.  Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration.  At least he was when you were younger.  Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even.  The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.  

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.  

The words replay in your mind.  It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years.  That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.  

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened.  That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself. 

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room.  You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion.  Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual.  Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.  

This is it.  This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed.  It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red.  You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan.  There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives.  The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings.  You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs.  Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included.  Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group. 

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head. 

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin.  He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon.  For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door.  Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub.  Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.  

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers.  You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one.  Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker.  It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room.  He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).  

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night.  He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life. 

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him.  I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life.  He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs.  The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk.  Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face.  He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.”  You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin.  The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine.  You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done.  That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.  

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you.  You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place. 

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.  It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years.  You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer.  His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think.  So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving.  You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body.  He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest.  Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past.  But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.  

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week.  And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

[daisyblog]

We Made It

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry's unexpected suprise.

For a week or so, Harry had noticed some changes with YN. She was crying at pretty much everything, like the other night tears were streaming down her face because they’d ran out of her favourite chocolate. 

In the last few days Harry had noticed that YN was saying she was tired a lot, almost sleeping the minute her head hit the pillow. She was complaining of having headaches and feeling nauseas. 

At first they thought it may have been a bug or something and her body needing a break. But something no one else would have noticed, but Harry knew YN’s body better than he knew his own, was that her breasts looked bigger. And that’s when the thoughts started swirling around in his head. 

At first he thought he may have been over reacting, but as the days passed and the symptoms had only gotten worse, he had a feeling he was right. 

Harry and YN had just finished packing for their weekend trip up North to watch Louis’ shows in Sheffield and Manchester. YN practically collapsed on the bed, complaining how tired she was, despite the fact that they hadn’t done much knowing how busy their weekend was about to be. 

Harry was in the en suite, and as he finished washing his hands at the sink he quickly looked to see if YN still had the tests in the cupboard. He was hesitant to say anything but it had been on his mind for a while, and he needed to know. 

“Hey babe!” Harry walked into their bedroom, with the test in his hand. “I think you need to take this.”

Harry held the test out towards her, but YN froze at the sight of a  pregnancy test. “What..why-why do-“.

“Babe, you’re feelings sick, you’re struggling to stay awake” Harry began to list the few symptoms, before adding another with a cheeky grin “And…those” he gestured towards her chest “are fucking massive”.

Even in this situation, YN couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s cheeky comment, a loud giggle leaving her lips. “Do you really think I could be?”.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “There’s only one way to find out”.

After peeing on the two sticks, YN sat them on the counter in front of them both. Taking YN into his arms, Harry left a soft loving peck to her temple. He had deja vu from when they had been in this situation before, waiting for the results of their future.

Breaking the silence, Harry’s timer on his phoned buzzed, letting them know that the three minutes was up. Not being able to wait any longer, they both reached for a stick each.

Both not believing what they were looking at, their eyes found each others. Eyes wide, mixed with excitement and nerves. “I’m pregnant”.

“We’re having a baby!” Harry pulled YN into his arms, holding her tight and covering her face with kisses, giggles leaving her lips as he did.

Almost like all the emotions had hit her at once, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “I feel so overwhelmed.” YN admitted as she wiped the tear that slipped down her cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay…it’s normal to feel all these emotions.” Harry reached to wipe her cheek as another tear appeared. “I am so so happy…but I am absolutely fucking terrified”.

“You don’t need to be, you’re going to be the best Dad to this little one” YN complimented, his dimples appearing at her words. 

“And you’re going to be the best Mum.” Harry spoke, moving a loose piece of hair from her face. “Because you literally had the best.”

At his words, the tears poured. YN always knew how hard it would be if she were ever to become a Mum without her own by her side, but the reality of it had it her suddenly. She remembers Lottie feeling the same way and Phoebe, who too was currently pregnant. But now she see’s how Lottie’s light is back on and that’s all down to Lucky. 

For the rest of the night, Harry and YN laid together under the sheet, talking, crying and wondering who the little life was hiding away in her tummy. 

They had discussed wanting to keep it a secret until they had been for their scan and knew their little one was healthy and how far along YN was. But they had agreed on telling one person each about their news. It hadn’t taken them long to decide on who their person was going to be.

---

YN would have loved nothing more but to run to her Mum and share the news because again, her Mum would have been the best Nana. She had seen first hand how much she loved Freddie but sadly she accepted that would never be able to have that moment. She knew her Mum was by her side everyday, she could feel her and she knew she had sent her this little baby. 

So who else would YN turn to? Louis of course. Louis was not only YN’s brother, but her best friend too. They were one of a kind for siblings, growing up they bickered like any brother and sister would but as they got older they realised how important they were to each other. Louis protected her and YN worshiped the ground he walked on. Louis was the person YN looked to for advice, or to share an achievement with and the person who she wanted to go to when times were good and not so good. 

They had decided to share their news with Louis at his Sheffield show. They had travelled up the morning of the show and stopping at her grandparents house because that’s where they were staying that evening. YN found it hard not to let their little secret slip to her Nan, especially after she hugged her and the older woman said “There’s something different about you…you’re extra happy.”.

To be able to see Louis before everyone arrived, Harry and YN headed to the arena before the rest of her family as they were still waiting for Lottie, Lewis and Lucky to arrive. 

They had found Louis in his dressing room enjoying a few moments of silence, before the busy night ahead. The sound of the door opening caused Louis head to turn and his smile immediately showed.

“Oh here they are, c’mere” Louis stood from his place and motioned for YN to him. Wrapping his arms around her, swaying slightly, telling her how much he’d missed her. “Well someone’s chirpy today.”

“Fook off Lou” YN laughed as she sat down in the seat that Louis was just using. Louis and Harry sitting down on the sofa opposite.

“Excited for tonight?” Harry asked Louis, knowing exactly how he was feeling. But it was a nice feeling knowing Harry got to be apart of the crowd tonight and a fan, instead of the one entertaining. 

“I’m fookin’ buzzin’ man…just can’t wait to get out there.” Louis spoke quickly, the excitement surrounding him and evident in his tone.

“I have the best idea!” YN announced, emphasising the word best. Both boys turning their heads with unimpressed expressions, wondering what she was going to suggest. “You should both sing a One Direction so-“.

Louis interrupted her idea before she could finish. “And this is the reason why I kicked you out of the group chat you made for us”.

“Yeh that was fookin’ rude.” YN bit back, Harry shaking his head knowing that this could go back and forth all day. Instead picking up the gift bag that they had brought with them. “Babe, why don’t you give this to Louis?” He suggested, trying to change the topic. 

Taking the bag from Harry, she passed it to Louis with no further explanation. Louis looked between the pair, a frown written all over his face because he didn’t understand why they were giving him a gift. “Whot’s this for?”.

“Just open it!” YN smiled, encouraging her brother to open the box. She was excited for Louis’ reaction, but at the same time nervous because his opinion meant the most to her.

Louis reached in the bag and lifted out a plain white box, still looking at his sister and Harry with a frown. As he opened the box, he was met with a card and what he knew was a plain beige baby grow. Louis stared at the words, YN and Harry eager for his reaction. 

“No fookin’ way!” Louis eyes found YN. “You’re not!”. 

YN nodded softly, “I am”.

“I can’t believe it…fookin’ ‘ell Nan and Grandad need a bigger house for Christmas’ don’t they?” Louis joked at the realisation that their house was already full, and now two of his sisters were pregnant. 

“Are you happy?” YN asked, a spot of nervousness in her voice. Something Harry or Louis didn’t see often. 

“Happy…I’m fookin’ buzzin’ Tiny!” Louis was quick to wrap his arms around his sister once more. “You’re gonna be the best Mum and you deserve this more than anyone!”.

At his words, YN hugged Louis tighter as the tears ran down her cheeks. Those words meant the most coming from Louis because she knew it was from the heart. 

“And you c’mere man.” Louis gestures towards Harry, both pulling each other in for a brotherly hug. “Congratulations man…it’s the best feeling in the world and you’re gonna be the best Dad”.

“Thanks mate” Harry squeezed Louis and tapped his hand on his back, again appreciating the kind words.

---

It was no secret that Harry was a mama’s boy. Anne absolutely adored her children and vice versa. She always showed so much love, thought and kindness to everyone around her. Anne was the person that Harry turned to for everything, from happy times to sad times, she was his go to person. Since the passing of her Mum, she had taken YN under her arms like she was one of her own, giving her the motherly love she dearly missed. So obviously Harry wanted to tell his Mum the exciting news.

After watching Louis show last night, they had all hung out backstage eating pizza and very much enjoying some family time. But the next morning, Harry and YN travelled to Anne’s to spend the day with her, and to tell her the news, before they headed to Manchester to Louis’ show, Anne included. 

Anne greeted them both with a warm cuddle, as she opened the front door, welcoming them in. Like every time Harry came home, he went straight to the fridge to see what he could find. Anne made them all a cup of tea whilst they chatted. 

As they all sat in the cosy living room, the fire burning in the background. Anne looked at YN with a soft smile. “Are you alright my love, you look exhausted?” Noticing the dark circles that sat beneath her eyes.

YN glanced at Harry, knowing that this would probably the best time to tell her the news. Harry coughed into his hand, clearing his throat as a smile threatened to appear. “Uh, Mum, we’re…we have some news”.

Anne looked worried, especially because for once she couldn’t read Harry or YN’s expressions. “You’re scaring me”.

Harry and YN smiled at each other, knowing that once the words are spoken, Anne was going to be ecstatic. “Well… you know how Gemma’s pregnant?” Harry spoke the words casually, a smile threatening to show.

“Yes?” Anne’s eyes flicked between Harry and YN. “Wait…are you?”. At the realisation, her hands covered her mouth, hiding her shocked expression. YN and Harry laughing and smiling at her reaction, already knowing how much love Anne was going to give to their baby. “Are you…you’re pregnant?”.

With a smile on her lips, her cheeks hurting from the action, YN nodded. Anne got up from her seat and pulled YN into her arms, as tears ran down both their cheeks at the special moment. After hugging Harry and getting emotional again at the thought of her own baby with his own baby, Anne sat down in her seat as she rubbed underneath her eyes. 

“Oh I’m so happy, I can’t believe it” Anne repeated throughout the day, still in shock that she was not only going to be a Grandmother, but a Grandma to two little babies. Although she had agreed to keep the news to herself, she knew it was going to be difficult not to shout it from the roof tops.

Harry had always been protective over YN since they began dating, especially when it came to being out in public. But Anne doesn’t miss the way he’s right behind her on her every move, as they walk through the back entrance of the arena. The way he hold her hand a little tighter or how tense his shoulders get when someone hugs YN a light too tight. Anne can only put that down to the precious cargo YN is currently carrying. 

But what brought a tear to Anne’s eye was when she saw Harry’s hand discreetly on YN’s tummy, as he hugged her from behind whilst Louis sang “‘cause we made it”. 

They really had made it, and now it was their turn for a little happiness. It was a bittersweet time for Anne because she wished a special person was standing by her side to share this special moment with. 

Tag List: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Chapter Three

Scott's Street Phoebe Bridgers

Peter Pettigrew x Reader (Platonic) / Sirius Black x Reader (Ambiguous-Past) / Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous) / James Potter x Reader (Platonic)

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is still having dreams of her past, while McGonagall convinces Dumbledore to remove the curse on her.

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Jealous/Jerk Sirius, Fights, Smoking, mentions of death (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 2238

Remus was leaning against the railing of the transfiguration courtyard, looking over at the calm night. You were beside him, sitting atop the railing and looking down the hall, the very hall you two were supposed to be patrolling. 

Being a Prefect was lovely, of course, it was even better considering most of your routes were shared with Remus or Lily. The quiet walks spent chatting with the two were your favorite part of the day, or better, the night. Your green badge shining in the backdrop of the moon as you leaned back, just enough to dangle towards the yard but not enough to fall. You swayed your legs and Remus gave a low chuckle at your behavior. “You’ll fall.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and straightened yourself back up, turning to look at Remus as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. He opened it and pulled out a cigarette, offering over the box before you shook your head. “You know, we really should be finishing up our patrols.”

“What, don't like spending time with me?” He teased as his scarred hand lifted the stick to his lips. He snapped his fingers and the end suddenly sparked with a warm glow. It gave his face just the perfect amount of light, especially when he breathed in the toxin. His lips, slightly parted, quirked upwards as his eyes flicked to yours. When you made eye contact, you realized you had been staring at him for far longer than would seem normal. You gave him a playfully sour look and held out your hand. He gave a fake gasp of shock and handed you the cigarette that you quickly took a drag from. “My my. What a rebel.”

Remus always got more confident around the full moon, it was a bit intimidating. He was much easier to handle when he was meek and well mannered. Clicking his tongue as he leaned his head back. He gave a low groan and held out his hand to you. You handed the cig back and he finished it off before putting it out against the railing and tossed it towards the grass. “Want to skip our patrols today?”

You gawked at him and slowly, your lips curled into a bright, delightfully surprised smile. “You’re joking, right? Remus, usually I'm the one getting us into trouble, what has gotten into you?” You teased, jumping down from your perch and smirked up at him.

He gave a shrug and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. “Maybe Sirius has had some influence on me lately.”

“Oh? .. Oh.” You lit up with a mischievous look and Remus looked at you, confused.

“That's never a good sign.” He muttered and tilted his head before you clicked your tongue.

“Think about what you just said.”

“What?”

“Humor me.”

“I... want to skip patrols with you, and it's because I have been hanging out with- Oh.. OH.”

You doubled over and held your sides in laughter as the flustered boy tried to explain himself. Stuttering and stammering over his own words as you held the pillar beside you and leaned back against it. “Merlin! Help! I can't breathe!”

“Don't be so dramatic!” He tried to scold you but his red cheeks and narrowed eyes only worked against him to make you laugh harder. Remus slowly covered his mouth with one of his hands and the other went to his hip, doing his best to stifle his now growing laughter.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash that rang out from the hall before you two. You gave a small yelp of surprise and snapped your attention towards it. Calming your laughs you stood up straight and fixed your uniform. “Well, Remus, our little ditch night will need a rendezvous.” You teased and he thinned his lips.

“We could still-”

But you were already hurrying down the hall. Remus cursed himself and followed after you, watching with a sigh as you turned the corner, considering you were shorter than him, your scurrying figure sure was moving fast.

When you did turn the corner, you were met with three very familiar faces, walking your way with a bundle of what seemed to be muggle spray paint, ribbons, empty potion containers and glitter. You didn't even want to think about what they were up to, let alone the mess it would make when they did it. Dye a classmate's hair? Fine. Jinks a broom or two? All in good fun! But the muggle hell that was glitter? No, they crossed a line.

Your eyes met Sirius’s first and you frowned, his lips turning upward. “Oh look, buzzkill is here.” He hummed and James looked up from where he was gathering some of the containers he dropped. Lighting up with a bright smile as he stood up. “Vix!”

“W-we can explain-” Peter squeaked up, before Remus finally caught up and turned the corner with a calm stride. “I couldn't stop her.”

You gave a gasp. “You! You… double agent!” You declared with a gawk towards Remus.

You quickly turned your attention to the other three. “You! I expected better from you.” You gestured in your playfully stern voice to Peter, who had enough sense to hide his smile. “You, now, I expected nothing from you, truly.” You gesture to James before you land on Sirius and shrug. “And I guess you're here as well. If you must, at least try to act meek or apologetic.”

“I don't think I could pretend to be apologetic towards the likes of you, bird.” He snarked and you gave a scoff. 

“I’ll show you a bird! Right between my ring and index finger!” You gasped.

Remus laughed and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, taking the hand you jerked upward. “Settle down.” He snickered to you, not noticing the look Sirius sent him at your proximity. Sirius rolled his jaw before it tightened and his eyes locked on the two of you. Then, like a child, he walked up to you and opened one of the containers of Glitter. He wasn't really thinking, his body just suddenly.. moved.

You just looked back from your playful argument with Remus to see Sirius chuck a handful of glitter at both of you. You took the brunt end of it, and looked up at Sirius with a slack jaw and pure anger in your eyes. “How DARE you, Black!” Your voice bellowed before you grabbed his wrist and began to tussle with him in the halls.

~~

“After he threw the glitter at me, I don't exactly remember what happened.” You mused and pressed your tongue to your cheek as Sirius scoffed from his seat next to you. His lip was cut and he was absolutely covered in red and gold glitter.

“You lying snake!” He scoffed and you faked a gasp, 

Professor McGonagall gave a firm sigh and looked to the other three boys who stood off to the side, Also seeming to have been caught up in the whirlwind that was their fight, covered in Glitter, and smiling nervously at the professor. 

“Potter, what happened?” She asked, James opened his mouth but with a sharp look from both {Y/N} and Sirius, he shut his trap. “I- there was so much glitter, ma’am, I couldn't possibly-”

The professor sighed and turned to Peter who put his head down, the last attempt was Remus who just gave a soft, “Nope.”

The professor sighed and looked back at the two students in front of her, who quickly turned back around to face her as she grimaced. “Fine, since none of you will speak up, 10 points from slytherin for the fight!”

“What!?” You exclaimed, trying to hide your amusement. Black snickering.

“I’m glad you find it humorous Black, 10 points from Gryfindor for the fright.” Black pouted, slowly opened his mouth before she raised her hand. “And 20 points from all three of you for being out past curfew!” She declared and Black’s jaw went slack. You lit up and smirked at him, stifling a laugh quickly.

“Were you going to say something, {Y/N}?” McGonagall snapped her eyes to you and you quickly hid your smile with a bowed head. “No, Professor.”

“Good! Now if you would all kindly, go to your dorms!” She scolded.

You quickly got to your feet and thanked the professor, walking to the door as you passed the boys with your chin in the air. Your steps slowly faded out into faint echoes before your eyes shot open wide.

Another weird dream, it seemed. You sighed and looked at your clock, it was past midnight. You looked around the room to see what could have possibly woken you, before you heard it again. A knocking from down stairs. Who would possibly want to get into your shop this late? No one needed flowers this bad!

You got out of bed and wrapped yourself in your robe. Walking over to your window and narrowed your eyes at the two figures in cloaks at your door. Oh hell no.

~~

“Albus?” Professor McGonagall called into the room, stepping into the Headmaster’s office, knocking on the door before she walked in fully.

“Minerva.” Dumbledore greeted her warmly, fixing his glasses on his face and leaning back into his chair as he set his paperwork aside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just some things to run past you, shouldn't be longer than a moment. I hope I am not interrupting something important.” She fretted with a small smile and Dumbledore merely made a face and waved his hand. 

“I would always prefer your presence over the ever alluring siren song of paperwork. Now, how can I help you?”  He cheeked.

“It's about Lupin, Harry has asked him to teach him the Patronus charm.” She smirked at Albus leaning forward slightly with her hands folded.. He gave a thoughtful nod, slowly smiling. “I would love to see how that goes then.”

“I will tell Lupin the moment I see him then.” She mused and began to slowly walk across the room, standing by the empty portrait Dumbledore had purchased for himself. Still unfinished, with splashes of indignant color staining the parchment and shel frowned. Dumbledore gave a sigh and stood to his feet. Walking over to stand beside her, hands clasped behind his back.

“Has it been that long already?” Minerva mused after a long moment of silence before she lifted her hand to run it under the name plate below his frame. Mouthing his name as Dumbledore simply nodded. “I am getting older, Minerva.” He turned from where he stood and walked back up  the steps. “I don't have many regrets in how I lived my life. Do you?” He pried, trying to fish out just what seemed to be under her skin.

“In this school? No, I don't think I have.” She mused and turned to face Dumbledore.

“But?” He pushed and she sighed.

“In our war, that is another thing.”

“Ah.” He announced and paused in his steps to the bookshelf beside his desk, running his fingers along the spine before he picked one up, a light blue binding covered in dust. “I take it this is about our project Vixen.”

“She's remembering more and more by the day.” Minerva grimaced, knowing what that really meant. Dumbledore was growing weaker, and thus, the spells and charms he cast were losing their hold. He was losing his touch, and day to day she begged him to slow down and he refused.

“She has been remembering for months now.” He dismissed and Minerva felt herself growing frustrated.

“She said Harry’s name yesterday.” She tutted and he fell silent, opening the book and walking over to his desk.

She suppressed a scoff and walked up to him. “Did you hear me, Albus?”

“Did I ever tell you why I did what I did that October 30th?” He asked and Minerva tightened her lip in slight annoyance. 

“No.” 

He gestured for her to sit and she sighed, sitting in front of his desk as he sat across from her and began to scan the pages of the book.

“{Y/N} {L/N} was not marked for death by Voldemort as I had said all those years ago. She was marked for capture,” He began and Minerva narrowed her eyes. “I only learned this from a certain whistleblower, who begged me to do something. To save both her and Lily.” 

Minerva’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

“This whistleblower gave me information and promised his loyalty in exchange for both of their safety. She had been outed by a rat of sorts, for conspiring with one of Voldamort’s own to.. Well, I am not entirely sure but I have my theories.” He waved his hand as he found what he was looking for in the book. Setting it down and pushing it over to Minerva. A step by step breakdown of how to reverse Obliviate. 

“I did what I thought was necessary at the time. Here I find I may have over done it.” He mumbled and Minerva couldn't hide her bitter laugh. Twelve years. Twelve years since he sent the girl away, and after all of that he was finally ready to admit, maybe he had gone too far?

“Well.” Albus cleared his throat and stood. “Let's go get our Vixen.”

[bellarkeselection]

You're Good Together, Man

Anonymous request - Joey's friend comes to town, and everyone's shocked that Joey doesn't like her in a more than friend way. When Chandler gets nervous during a conversation and leaves upset, the reader follows him to see what's wrong.

Tags @lover-of-books-and-tea @rosie-posie08

Walking up the stairs in the building I finally found the right apartment door knocking three times on the door until it opened, revealing Joey, my best friend. "Hey Joe, I finally made it."

"Hey y/n. I can’t believe you could come this weekend. Oh you've got to meet my friends across the hall." He told me closing the apartment door behind him.

Nodding my head, yes I followed him across the hallway. We entered the apartment seeing a few different people all hanging out on the couch. There was a blonde girl, another with black straight hair and finally a third girl with light brown hair. I saw there was one guy that was wearing a bright blue shirt but had similar hair to one of the girls meaning they were siblings. “Hey guys this is my friend Y/n from school.”

“Hey everybody.” I raised my hand with a smile.

The girl with dark black hair came over to me. “I’m Monica, so how do you two know each other?”

“We met when he was first looking for acting jobs. My father was holding auditions when we met. And this guy knows how to have fun watching movies and ordering pizza.” I shrugged my shoulders nudging Joey.

The girl with light brown hair came up and hugged me. “I’m Rachel. So Joey, have you two ever dated or anything?”

“Me and Y/n.” Joey started laughing.

Covering my mouth I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Joey and I had never considered being in a relationship together. Hitting my hands on my knees I was still laughing. “We would never work out. He’s like a brother to me. Always has been always will be.”

“Yeah. How you doin’ don’t work on her.” Joey replied with a cheeky smile.

The guy that was wearing a blue sweatshirt and sat on the couch spun around joking. “Was it because of your snoring or was it because you're crazy enough to not go out with your friend.”

“I’m not afraid of asking her out.” He replied to the other guy.

Clasping my hand together I sit down at the table. The last guy that looked like Monica came over to me suggesting a nice offer. “Hi I’m Ross, Monica’s brother. Well how about I take you out to dinner while Joey is at his audition.”

“No! You’re with Rachel or whatever is going on between you two.” Joey pointed his finger.

Ross throws his hands away from his side. “What’s wrong with me taking her to dinner.”

“Because you are with Rachel.” He said.

Rachel made a face. “Joey, we’re not together now. I broke up with him a few weeks ago.”

“But then you 're telling us how much you missed him after a few glasses of wine.” The blonde named Phoebe teased her.

Rachel started getting nervous and I could tell there was something going on between them. Joey had told me that he had two friends who had an on and off again thing. “Guys, I don’t like Ross anymore.”

“Sure that’s what they all said before you wake up in the middle of the night and scream oh my gosh I love Ross.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “Not helping Chandelier.”

“Oh sorry I was talking about pizza.” Chandler chuckled at him.

I smiled, shifting my gaze over to the Chandler guy. It had been a while since I had been on a date. Since my father was an actor most of the guys that seemed interested in me were ones who wanted a part in his shows or movies. If they didn’t get the part then I wouldn’t see them again. “Chandler, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh no I prefer being alone and horny.” He answered my question by rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anybody or just pining over Joey?”

Joey throws his hands up. “Stop hitting on her.”

“You’re just denying your feelings for her.” Phoebe smiled.

Joey stomped around the apartment pointing fingers at his two guy friend’s being all dramatic over their teasing on whether or not we had feelings for one another. “There’s nothing going on. You aren’t dating her and you aren’t dating her.”

Chandler got up from the couch walking up to him. “Wait why me. I get Ross but me. Am I so crazy that no girl would go out with me?”

“You and Ross repel women all the time.” My best friend explained before I watched Chandler move past him and shut the door quickly behind himself. Watching the door for a second I don’t know what came over me but I get up to my feet slipping through the door and across the hallway.

Shutting the door quietly I noticed that Chandler was laying on the couch and there was half of a pizza missing from a box on the floor. “Hey, are you open to sharing some of that pizza with me?”

“Actually Joe, I want this pizza for the rest of my life.” He sat up hearing me laugh at his comment. “Y/n, oh sorry sure.”

Kicking my shoes off at the door I went over to him I plopped down on the couch beside him. We ate pizza in silence until I remembered what he had said earlier. “So is this how you get all the girls to your apartment huh. Mistake them for your best friend and then apologize with pizza?”

“Actually, no. I have decided that I would rather die alone.” He replies to me.

Shaking my head I nervously smiled. “You joke a lot.”

“Yeah sorry I started using jokes as a safety measure after my parents got divorced. It works on the ladies at first but here I am sitting with you shoving my face with pizza.”

“Oh you mean like this?” I throw pepperoni at his face.

He shakes his head smiling and throwing some at me. I leaned forward trying to grab a full on slice and throw it across his face. But I fell off the couch when he tried to catch me and we tumbled to the ground together. “Oh geez Y/n.”

“Awe sorry for the mess.” I apologize seeing that we were both covered in red pizza sauce and cheese now laying on the floor with him on top of me. “Crap it’s late and I have to take two different trains to get home.”

Chandler focused his attention onto mine and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date you. You had a fun side that was easy to get along with. You didn’t find his nervous joke gag weird. “You could stay here tonight if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your apartment.” I sat up where he offered me his hands helping me to my feet.

He laid down on the couch with open arms telling me to lay down with him. “I live with Joey. Trust me your company would be less crazy. I’ll even stay up with ya till you fall asleep.” I nodded laying down with him on the couch curling up on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist so I wouldn’t fall on the floor and we remained that way until we fell asleep together.

A few hours later the apartment door opened again and Chandler lifted his head up quickly waking up seeing Joey was back. He panicked feeling Y/n fully asleep on his chest so he couldn’t run away like he wanted. “Joe, it’s not what it looks like. I’m not messing around with her I swear.”

“Shhh you’ll wake her up.” Joey raised a hand to his mouth.

Chandler eyed his roommate confused. “Aren’t you mad after you said we couldn’t date her?”

“Nah man. She has been through some bad relationships in the past that’s why I said no to Ross.” Joey smiled reassuringly seeing a smile on your face when she snuggled up against Chandler more. “You two would be good together.”

Chandler went to move his arm shocked that he said the words. In such a short time he had found himself wanting to spend more time with his friend. “You’re not gonna be mad if I ask her out?”

“Ask away brother. Don’t wake her up now..” Joey crossed the room pausing outside his room before leaving the pair alone. That next morning you were more than happy to say yes to a date with Chandler.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[nyxshadowhawk]

Hellenic Gods Fact Sheets and Hymns: Hecate

Other Names: Trivia, Brimo

Epithets: Anassa eneroi  (queen of those below), Aidonaia (lady of the Underworld), Amibousa (she who changes), Atalus (tender, delicate), Borborophorba (she who feeds on filth), Brimo (angry, terrifying), Despoina (mistress), Eileithyia (of childbirth), Enodia (of the roads), Epaine (dread), Euplokamos (bright-tressed), Khthonia (of the Underworld), Kleidouchos (keeper of the keys), Kourotrophos (protector of children), Krokopelos (saffron-robed), Liparokredemnos (bright-coiffed), Nycteria (nocturnal; of the night), Nyctipolos (night-wandering), Perseis (destroyer/ daughter of Perses), Phosphoros (light bearer), Propolos (guide), Propylaia (the one before the gate), Scylacagetis (leader of dogs), Soteira (savior), Trikephalos (three-headed/of the crossroads), Trimorphos (three-formed), Trioditis (of the three ways), Trivia (of the three ways).

Domains: Witchcraft, magic, necromancy, ghosts, nightmares, death, initiation, the crossroads, gateways, passage between worlds, and the night.

Appearance: [My UPG] A tall (over 6’) woman, neither young nor old, with waist-length black hair, pale skin, prominent cheekbones, a heavy jaw, and intense green eyes. She is usually dressed in black folds molded into a simple dress or robes. She has a severe expression and an intimidating presence. She speaks with a low voice.

Sacred Days and Festivals: Eleusinia (22 Metageitnion). Nemoralia (August 13th-15th). Deipnon, last day of each (lunar) month.

Symbols/Attributes: Torches, keys, daggers, strophalos (iynx wheel)

Sacred Animals: Dog, polecat, serpent, horse, frog.

Sacred Plants: Yew, cypress, garlic, willow, hazel, black poplar, aconite, belladonna, dittany, mandrake, hemlock, asphodel

Elemental Affinity: Darkness, light, fire

Planet: Moon

Colors: Black, saffron, silver.

Crystals: Black onyx, hematite, obsidian, black tourmaline, moonstone, smoky quartz, agate, amethyst.

Incense: Myrrh, almond, cypress, camphor, saffron, mugwort, pomegranate.

Tarot Cards: The High Priestess, The Moon, Death

Retinue: Empousai, ghosts of the dead, dogs, Lampades (torch-bearing underworld nymphs)

Associated People: Witches (and other magic-users), the dead

Offerings: Bread, eggs, honey, garlic, menstrual blood, graveyard dirt.

Syncretized With: Artemis, Diana, Persephone, Eileithyia, Selene, Nephthys, Ereshkigal, Nicnevin, Heqet

Hymns to Hecate

Orphic Hymn to Hecate

Hekate Enodia, Trivia, lovely dame, Of earthly, watery, and celestial frame, Sepulchral, in a saffron veil arrayed, Pleased with dark ghosts that wander through the shade; Daughter of Perses, solitary goddess, hail! The world’s key-bearer, never doomed to fail; In stags rejoicing, huntress, nightly seen, And drawn by bulls, unconquerable, monstrous queen; Leader, Nymphe, nurse, on mountains wandering, Hear the suppliants who with holy rites thy power revere, And to the herdsman with a favoring mind draw near.

Hecate’s Hymn to Herself

I come, a virgin of varied forms, wandering through the heavens, bull-faced, three-headed, ruthless, with golden arrows; chaste Phoebe bringing light to mortals, Eileithyia; bearing the three synthemata [sacred signs] of a triple nature.  In the Aether I appear in fiery forms and in the air I sit in a silver chariot, Earth reins in my black brood of puppies.

(From Porphyry’s lost commentary on the Chaldean Oracles, preserved by Eusebius of Caesaria in Praeparatio Evangelica. According to Porphyry, this hymn was composed by Hecate herself.)

Magical Invocation to Hecate

Approach, you of the netherworld, of earth, of heaven, Bombo! You by the wayside, at the crossroads, light-bearer, night-wanderer, Enemy of light, friend and companion of night, Rejoicing in the howl of dogs and in crimson gore, Lurking among the corpses and the tombs of lifeless dust, Lusting for blood, bringing terror to mortals, Grim one, Ogress [Mormo], Moon – you of many forms, May you come gracious to our sacrificial rites!

(Preserved in Refutation to All Heresies by Hippolytus)

Invocation to Hecate from PGM IV 2708-84

Come, giant Hecate, Dione’s guard, O Persia [daughter of Perses], Baubo Phroune, dart-shooter, Unconquered Lydian, the one untamed, Sired nobly, torch-bearing, guide, who bends down Proud necks, Kore, hear, you who’ve parted / gates Of steel unbreakable. O Artemis, Who, too, were once protectress, mighty one, Mistress, who burst forth from the earth, dog-leader, All-tamer, crossroad goddess, triple-headed, Bringer of light, august / virgin, I call you Fawn-slayer, crafty, O infernal one, And many-formed. Come, Hekate, goddess Of three ways, who with your fire-breathing phantoms Have been allotted dreaded roads and harsh / Enchantments, Hekate I call you

[…]

O Hekate of many names, O Virgin, Kore, Goddess, come, I ask, O guard and shelter of the threshing floor Persephone, O triple-headed goddess, Who walk on fire, cow-eyed BOUORPHORBE PANPHORBA PHORBARA AKITOPHI ERESHKIGAL / NEBOUTOSOUALETH Beside the doors, PYPYLEDEDEZO And gate-breaker; Come Hekate, of firey Counsel, I call you to my sacred chants.

[whencyclopedia]

Hecate

Hecate (Hekate) is a goddess of Greek mythology capable of both good and evil. She was associated with witchcraft, magic, the Moon, doorways, and creatures of the night like hell-hounds and ghosts. Hecate often carries a torch in her connection with the night. She has three faces for her role as the goddess of boundaries and the guardian of crossroads.

Hecate's Family Relations

According to Hesiod in his Theogony, Hecate is the daughter of Perses and Asteria, making her the granddaughter of the Titans Phoebe and Coeus. Euripides, on the other hand, mentions her mother is Leto. Other writers claim her as the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, Aristaion or Night. The goddess was frequently associated with Demeter and even assimilated to her in some cults.

Continue reading...

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Fringe Benefits

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: “you’re spending more time at my desk than at your own” for Roy

Roy Kent x Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Language

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

You turned around, smiling at Roy as he strolled into his office. He raised his thick eyebrows at you, nodding a greeting. You wondered if he could see the way your eyes flickered down his figure, checking him out, the way you could never resist doing when you saw him.

You’d been working at A.F.C. Richmond for about three months now, having been hired by Keeley Jones to manage their PR. It was a fun job and, if you were being honest, the sight of Roy Kent in those track pants was definitely a perk.

“Hey,” you hummed. “I was just leaving you a note.” You nodded at the sticky note you’d begun to write on before the sound of his growling voice interrupted you. “Got those concert tickets for you and Pheebs for Friday. But make sure you post on your Instagram, alright?” You gave his arm a playful smack. “Or I’m never doing you a favor ever again.”

A smile broke out across that handsome face. “Fuck, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” He paused, gazing at you thoughtfully. “This is what, the third time today you’ve been down here?” He narrowed his playful eyes at you. “I think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own. What, you using me to get your fucking steps in?”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe your crush on Roy Kent was obvious to everyone at Nelson Road. Keeley teased you about it nonstop. The players, especially Jamie Tartt, often gave you sly, knowing smiles when they saw you make your familiar way to Roy’s office. Even little Phoebe had asked you if you were her Uncle Roy’s girlfriend when she met you at a Greyhounds match- a question she repeated every time you saw her, actually.

“Come on Kent, you know I just come visit you for the snacks.” To punctuate your point, you opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a sweet. With a wink, you popped the treat into your mouth.

Now Roy rolled his eyes at you as he approached you, standing a smidge too close, the way he’d been doing almost since the day you started working at Nelson Road. “And here I thought you came all the way down here for the pleasure of my company.”

Another sweet found its way into your mouth. “Ah, that’s just a fridge benefit, Coach.”

“Fringe benefit, eh?” Roy snorted, his cheeks tinging pink as he glanced down at the floor. Fuck, he looked adorable like this. How could a man look bashful and confident at once? And how could he look so damn good at the same time? “So, you’re basically using me to manage your sweets cravings, then?”

“Afraid so, Kent.”

He nodded as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Then maybe you let me buy you some kind of fruity drink after work today. For your cravings.” He smirked. “And the fridge benefit of my company.”

Could he see the way the color rushed to your cheeks? “O-oh. Yeah. That would be nice.” You took a step back towards the door, needing to run back to your office and call Keeley to squeal- and maybe ask her to come drop off a change of clothes. “I’ll see you after work then.” As you turned, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you suddenly felt, Roy cleared his throat.

“Oi.” You glanced over your shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his cocky grin. “And see if you can get one more ticket for that concert. You don’t have plans Friday, do you?”

Oh hell. If your smile got any bigger, your cheeks would probably crack. “I’m free,” you managed. “And I’d love to go to the concert with you guys.”

Roy nodded, looking nothing short of pleased. “Right. I should let you go back to your work, then.” His expression became teasing again. “I’m sure you’ll be back down here in an hour or so. I’ll have some snacks waiting for you.”

A giggle tumbled out of your mouth as you shook your head at Roy. “I’m sure you will.” With a little wave, you strolled away, already coming up with another excuse to come back downstairs to visit Roy Kent.

[bitethehnd]

Fwb with JB thank you!!

*₊˚ 🍷 𖦹 red wine supernova !

pairing : julien baker x reader

synopsis : being friends with benefits with julien ;)

cw : sexual themes (obviously), smut, mentions of fingering, oral and strap-on sex

baby, why don't you come over?

red wine supernova

falling into me

julien never really thought she'd be the type to end up in this predicament. she never really understood why people would hook up with no strings attached. it seemed stupid in her opinion. but then there was you

you, who she had met through phoebe many years ago. you, who had become one of her closest friends. you, who she cared for to no end. you, who she felt her attraction to rise everyday like an ocean tide

you had both just gotten out of a relationship, not ready for another yet but still feeling bored with your lives the way they were. julien told herself that after the first time it happened, she would never do it again. she didn't want to risk your friendship over meaningless sex

it was three in the morning on a hot july day in tennessee. even though it was the middle of the night, it was still hot as a sauna in julien's house. both of you laid awake, too warm to even think about sleeping. the two of you were lying on julien's bed and watching some stupid movie that neither of you were paying any attention to.

"i'm boredddd," you whine out with a huff, turning to face julien. the short woman lets out a chuckle at your childish behavior and props her head up on her elbow, gazing down at you. "and what would you like me to do about that?" she teases. you scoff, "i don't know. entertain me, hostess."

"do you wanna play a game?" julien questions, not really sure what else there would be to do at 3am on a random tuesday. "you're such a grandpa, jules," you giggle a bit and fall back down on the bed.

she scoffs dramatically and pulls herself fully up, now leering over you. "i'll show you grandpa," she says lowly before she pounces on you. you let out a shriek of surprise as she attacks you with tickles. she runs her hands over your sides and stomach, ready to make you regret what you said. the room is full of joyful laughter. you try to fight back, you really do, but she's surprisingly strong for her five-foot-tall statue. at the end, she ends up pinning your hands besides your head to stop your thrashing and her body rests directly on top of yours.

your laughter stops abruptly, leaving you both to stare at each other with confusion and want. neither of you know what to do. do you pull away and pretend it never happened? or do you continue? it seems like you made the decision for both of you, leaning up and locking julien's lips onto yours.

her eyes widen but she quickly kisses you back just as fiercely. her hands move from pinning your wrists down to your hips, running her hands over the expanse of your stomach. your hands go to pull her hair, making her let out a slight groan into your mouth.

you can feel everything in that moment. her body right on top of yours, her tongue practically down your throat, the gentleness of her hands on your body. it all becomes too much, and you pull away for air.

your heavy breathes mix into hers, like they're becoming one. she searches your eyes for any hint of regret or uncomfortableness but finds the exact opposite. "is this... okay?" she asks hesitantly, almost as if she scared for the response. "it's more than okay, jules," you smile and run your hands softly through her hair. she smiles back and swiftly moves her face to your neck, leaving purple bruises all over the fragile skin.

that night was close to magical. her hands were everywhere, touching you in places no one had before. you felt her take your breath away over and over and over again. at the end of the night, she told you that you tasted like candy with a smirk on her face.

the morning after you two had sex for the first time, you had a long talk about what it meant for the both of you. you decided that it was for the best if you guys kept it casual, since both of you just got out of pretty long relationships. it hurt both of you on the inside to say that, but it was how it had to be

julien had immeidatly told phoebe and lucy the moment you left her house, spilling out all her feelings into a ten-minute-long rant. lucy definitely told julien to tell you how she actually felt, but the woman was nothing but stubborn

thus began the long nights with julien whenever you would see her. during the day you would act like 'just friends,' but at night you would always end up in bed with her

as you both got more comfortable with the situation, you would love to confuse everyone by flirting with each other all the time, kissing, holding hands. really just acting like an actual couple just to get a laugh between yourselves. people on the internet speculating whether you guys were actually together or just fucking with everyone

you could literally just text her 'come over' and she's already sprinting to her car to get to your house

99% of the time you have to initiate things because julien is too scared to cross a line or make you uncomfortable in any way. but then she ends up taking the more dominant role and bossing you around. mmm it's so hot...

you guys love to have sleepovers. when you make the plans beforehand you both agree that it's just a little friend date, nothing sexual involved. but then julien ends up fingering you on your couch... seeing the veins under her tattoos pop out while her fingers are straining inside you just gets you going again, and you have to get on your knees and eat her out

julien would get sooo jealous if you told her you had a date. she wouldn't outright tell you she was jealous because she knew it wasn't her place to say anything about it. but she's so easy to read and you can tell from her lack of enthusiasm that she's not super pumped about you seeing someone else. in the end, she convinces you to cancel on the date using her... methods ;)

eventually, you two finally confess that you like each other. it took way too long to admit, but it happened! but it was a bit accidental on her part... she told you she loved you while her strap was rearranging your organs and you had to take a pause to do a double take... she took you out on a date the next day and happily ever after!

© bitethehnd

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Your Wedding Dress

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.7k Warning : Angst. Get your tissues, I mean it. Synopsis : It was one thing to attend her wedding as a guest but to meet her before the ceremony? Would Matt have such strength in himself to face her? Notes : I listened to Phoebe Bridgers - Scott Street outro 1 hour on ytmusic while writing this. I suggest you do the same to get that maximum punch to the gut. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Matt’s grip on his white cane tightened as the smell of florals and champagne hit his nose. The soft sound of wedding symphonies was heard, and he could hear the bustling murmurs of the guests crowding the venue. This would surely be one of those days where he wished he didn’t have his heightened senses.

If only Fisk hit him a little bit harder on the head the other day. If only he’s gotten an important trial to attend to today. If only he’s got any other reason to pass up this harrowing day. If only.

Karen’s gentle squeeze on his arm is the only anchor Matt now has to not completely lose it. Foggy and Marci were a few steps behind them and though none of the four exchanged a word since they got out of the taxi earlier, Matt could tell from the beating of their hearts that they were worried too. For him or for her, he wasn’t sure. It would’ve been a pleasant mini reunion for them all if the circumstances weren't as unfortunate.

He knew that the grey cloud surrounding his head was contaminating such a pleasant morning. His sour expression was in contrast to all the gleeful smiles and happy faces the other guests have. He knew that he should, at the very least, pretend that he’s happy for her. Matt tried. He painfully has tried to be happy. To finally accept his final defeat in life and let her go, but it’s just such an impossible task to do.

Some people are bound to leave greater marks than others in your heart.

“Excuse me,” Someone called from behind the quartet “Is any of you by chance, uh, Mr. Murdock, Ms. Page, Mr. Nelson, or Ms. Stahl?”

“That is us all, actually,” Foggy answers, knowing that his best friend has no power in him to utter a word.

“Oh perfect! The bride has asked to see you all before the ceremony.”

The three friends glanced at Matt, waiting for his response. It was one thing to attend her wedding as a guest but to meet her before the ceremony? Would Matt have such strength in himself to face her?

Before any of them could say a word, the person who seemed to be one of the wedding organisers ushered them to a room. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating. It was the only thing Matt could sense with every step they took. Like a magic spell binding him to follow blindly wherever it may lead. Even if that final destination might be his death.

His heart was hammering inside his chest. Like a hummingbird trying its best to flee its cage. Yet when the door closes behind them, when they’re finally given the privacy to see her alone, when the noise of the havoc happening outside was muffled and all he could feel is the serenity of this bridal suite, Matt suddenly feels like he was afloat.

“You guys made it.”

Matt clenches his jaw. Her voice was as sweet as a melted butter, yet it did nothing but make all the muscles in his body tense. His body went uptight. She was everywhere now. Her scent, her voice, her heartbeat. All of her is filling and suffocating his senses.

The sound of her dress sweeping the floor as she comes closer to them makes his heart ache. He wonders just how beautiful she must look right now. He wonders if she’s wearing that one dress she once described as her dream wedding dress. The one with thousands of mini buttons and a long sleeve of beautiful lace that feels like feathers when you touch it. He wonders if her dress has that long train that he argued would be quite a problem when she needs to do her slow dance later.

The four of them shared their small talk with Matt still busying himself to be desensitised with the event unravelling before his eyes. It proved to be a challenging task to do with her presence around. Everything about her just pulls him whole like a blackhole he couldn’t escape.

“Guys, would you mind giving me and Matt a moment?” She says at last. Matt could feel her heartbeat quickening a little “I don’t really have much time left before the ceremony starts, so if we could just have a few minutes..”

“Of course, yeah! Sure,” Foggy says fast “We’ll be outside.”

Matt could hear the soft sound of the door closing behind him yet it serves as a loud gun to his ears. He’s finally alone with her now, for God knows why, for God knows how long. A part of him wanted to throw away his cane and run towards the closest window to flee himself, but a bigger part of him wanted to melt his feet to the ground and bask in this moment forever.

“You look handsome,” She compliments, slowly taking closer steps towards him. Matt’s breath hitches when he feels her hand around his neck, trying to fix his collar “You’re wearing the tie I gave you back in college.”

“It’s the only nice tie I have,” He says with a smile “I’m sure you look handsome too.”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffs, Matt could tell that she just rolled her eyes.

“What’s wrong? You don’t feel beautiful on your wedding day?”

“Oh, no, I do feel pretty, it's just..” She pauses, letting out a soft sigh “It’s just not what I imagined.”

Matt forces a smile, “Describe your dress for me.”

“Don’t you want to just touch it? I’m not the best at describing things, remember?”

“I'd rather hear you talk.” He says, he could almost feel the heartbreak mirrored in her heart beat “Please.”

“Well, uh, where do I start,” She says with an awkward laughter escaping her lips “It’s an off shoulder ball gown with some super tight corset. I’m supposed to wear a glove with it but I couldn’t be bothered. Oh, and the veil. The veil might be the cherry on top in this. I look like a ghost from the 1800s.”

Matt let out a genuine laughter, amused by the distraught she seems to be having, “So no mini buttons?””

She shakes her head, “No mini buttons.”

“No long sleeve with lace that feels like feathers?”

“No, no feather like lace.”

“And no long train?”

“No,” She says, this time with more shakiness in her tone “No long train.”

His tongue darts out of his lips, licking it as he tries to find a word to say, “That does sound like an awful dress.”

“It is,” She agrees in defeat “It’s the worst.”

Silence fell upon them. A familiar one that typically would be comfortable and soothing, yet for once it made them tick like a timebomb. Matt wishes that his abilities would extend into mind reading because God knows just how desperate he wanted to know what she’s thinking. He wanted to know the truth about her heart, what made it beat so loud whenever he laughed or smiled at her. He wanted to know what is making her eyes glossy right now.

“Rescue me, Matt,” She finally whispers “Get me out of here.”

Matt swallows the hard lump on his throat, “And where would we go?”

“Anywhere. We could go miles away from here or.. Or we could just go back to your apartment and drink some beer,” She begs, her sobs get louder as a tear escapes her eyes. She takes one of his hands that was clutching the white cane and places it on her cheek, trying her best to melt into his hold “Tell me that you don’t want me to go on with this. Tell me that this is a mistake, that us breaking up was a mistake. Tell me that you don’t want me to marry him and we’ll be free, Matt. We’ll be free.”

“You’ll never be free with me,” Matt argues, his own voice breaking “You’ll never be safe with me.”

And that’s when Matt feels it. His heart completely shatters as she breaks into tears. He could feel her trembling, feel the pain she’s going through with this marriage. He could feel the heartbreak and despair in her heart. He could feel the frustration and anger that she desperately wanted to vent yet had no outlet for. He could feel it all.

But this, as much as it destroys them both, this is what is best for her. She deserves to be with someone who could provide a stable life for her. Someone who doesn’t spend their nights haunting bad guys and going home on unGodly hours with blood and bruises littering their body. She deserves to be with someone who could protect her, not the one who would only draw danger towards her.

“I don’t love him, Matt. I never do,” She reasoned “I could never love anyone as much as I love you.”

Matt pulls her close for an embrace. He tries to eliminate all the space between them, pulling her impossibly close, yet it still doesn’t feel enough. It hurts him to know that for once their embrace couldn’t fix the problem at hand. He wanted her all for himself but even his greed isn’t as big as the love he holds for her. He couldn’t risk it. He just can’t.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers “I’m sorry you don’t get to have that dream wedding you wanted in this life.”

She remains quiet, her sobs are the only thing filling the room right now.

“Hey, look at me,” Matt says as he pulls away from the hug, cupping her face to make her see him “I’m sorry I caused us this mess, Baby. I never wanted to hurt you.”

She nods, forcing a smile, “I know.”

“I promise you, in every other universe, you’re wearing that wedding dress. You’re smiling and happy because I’ll be waiting at the altar, and I’ll cry. I’ll cry when I feel you walk down with orchids on your hand. And we’ll exchange our vows, and I’ll kiss you before the priest announces us man and wife because I just couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait.”

A laugh escapes her lips.

“And then we’ll make a fool of ourselves for our dance because what exactly can you expect from a blind man and a woman with an insanely long train of dress?”

“Oh, Matt,” She cries, pulling him for another hug “I love you so much.”

“I know, Baby,” He breathes “I love you even more.”

“Promise me this is the only universe where we don’t end up together.”

Matt pulls away. His thumb caresses her skin gently before pulling her for a kiss. The very last kiss they would share in this lifetime, “I promise.”