#wattpad)

[nagifics]

Ya sea que escribas para un fandom masivo o uno pequeño, hay cosas que necesitas sacarte del pecho. Escribir salvó mi alma, salva mi creatividad, y tal vez estás haciendo lo mismo por ese único lector silencioso a quien diste un buen momento. No dejes de escribir...

“why would you write fics for small, unpopular fandoms? you’re not gonna reach that many hits in fandoms not many people know about” ?? because I’m not writing fics for hits or kudos, I’m writing them for me because these characters are my blorbos and I have so many ideas, so much thoughts about them that my brain might explode if I don’t write them out.

[drcomttheo]

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎- 𝐌𝐢𝐱 𝐮𝐩 (Angst & fluff)

"Mattheo!" you said quickly, looking at the time. "I am going to be late for potions and Snape is going to kill me." You quickly got up and gathered your things and he started to laugh at you.

"Calm down." He said, getting to his feet.

You got up and pushed him back onto the bed. "Never tell me to calm down, you prat."

You were dead serious.

You don't think you were ever late to a class in your life, let alone Professor Snapes'!

You were putting on your uniform and robes and he began doing the same.

You put on your tie and you quickly grabbed your things and shuffled out of his dorm, trying not to be anymore late.

You heard him shout something behind you, but you didn't have time to listen; you were already out of the common room.

"Late." Snape called out as you walked into potions.

"I know, but..." You felt an immense amount of stares as you walked in and you were very confused as to why.

Snape turned his focus from his cauldron to your eyes.

"No excuses; five points from..." Snape started to speak as he stared at you but he stopped himself to start another sentence. "Ms/Mr. Y/L/N, I didn't know you had such interest in being a Slytherin." Snape said mockingly.

"I don't," you said with a confused expression. "I'm sorry I was late; it won't happen again." You said, making your way to your seat.

Then he shuffled into the classroom and you see him wearing a blue and white striped tie and you realize what everyone is talking about.

Your face immediately turned red and you buried your head in your parchment.

"Instead, next time wear the proper school uniform, preferably to match the house you are in; you are late, Riddle. Take a seat."

He sat down next to you with a smirk. "Maybe if you weren't in such a hurry and actually listened to you, Y/N, this wouldn't have happened," he said in a cocky tone.

[nottheospoetry]

i don’t think i’ll ever truly feel safe or heard when i’m upset. i think something inside me shattered when you trained me that my emotions were the issue and not you. my self control shifted the day you used my feelings against me and weaponized my intuition. my feelings were valid but i will forever second guess if im being irrational and feel things 10x more than the average person because of your actions.

i will never know peace because of you.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Cruel Intentions

| based off the man requests i have gotten for a new arranged marriage series!!! |

Coriolanus often wonders how he missed it. How it slipped his mind, how he was so naive, so stupid to miss it.

He thinks back to their wedding day, how sweet she was, how well behaved and perfect she was. To him, it made total sense, she was perfect because he deserved someone perfect, someone to devote their life to making him happy.

After all, Snow lands on top.

So he gave her his last name, slipped the ring on her finger, smiled for the photos, cut the cake, and whisked her away to his penthouse that would forever be her home.

The ring on his finger now feels like a ball and chain and he wants nothing more than to rip it off and toss it into the trash.

Three months ago Coriolanus Snow married Soarynn Nightingale. It was an arranged marriage, nothing new in the Capitol's elite circles who intended on keeping their circles small and exclusive. Why risk your son or daughter marrying out of their tax bracket when you can just arrange the whole thing?

Coriolanus met Soarynn at a dinner with both their parents, or well, his parents and her father. Apparently, her mother tragically passed away during childbirth, leaving Glen Nightingale with a baby girl and not a clue as to how to raise her. But he did good, he raised a polite, quiet, submissive daughter who conformed to all societal norms without the blink of an eye.

She was perfect.

Or so he thought.

The more he thinks about it, the more the signs become so obvious. Glen's eagerness to get the show on the road, how quiet Soarynn always was, how they never went on a date alone despite him being twenty-five and her being twenty. Coriolanus had brushed it off, his parents didn't want to risk a failed marriage so they were simply making sure that everything went as perfectly as possible.

Soarynn was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, with dazzling eyes and luscious hair. She put other women to shame with her natural beauty. She dressed impeccably for someone her age and always used her manners when they were in public. Which was a good thing considering that Coriolanus was an aspiring politician who could not afford a bad reputation.

So when it came time to propose, he had no hesitation. He went out and bought a beautiful, expensive ring and slipped it on her finger without batting an eye.

Like a lamb to the fucking slaughter.

Their wedding was huge, it wasn't every day two prominent families became one. Everyone in the Capitol tuned in to watch their wedding and all their friends were there to witness the exchanging of vows.

Soarynn had been all sweet smiles and blushing cheeks, curling into him the moment too much attention landed in her lap. She had looked stunning in her wedding dress, it had been classy yet flattering for her figure, once again solidifying that he made the right choice in marrying Soarynn.

Once the wedding was over, he took her home and prepared to take her virginity, something every man planned for and every woman somewhat dreaded. He had been prepared to be gentle yet stern, she'd have to know who was the dominant party in their relationship.

She let him get the both of them undressed, on the bed and just as he was about to sink into her, she sunk her claws into him.

Soarynn was a fucking thorn in his side.

Coriolanus was quick to find out that the pretty quiet girl he thought he married was only like that in public. Behind closed doors, she gave him a run for his money. It had truly surprised him and the worst part was, no one would believe him if he told anyone. To everyone who knew her, Soarynn was so pliant, so sweet and willing to please.

He knows that he vowed to stand by her side no matter what but this has been a true testament to their marriage and they're only three months in. But he can't give up now, no, he has to push through, be strong and break her into the woman he wants her to be.

Right now she looks as innocent as ever, laughing with his mother across the room, sipping her tea. That little liar. Coriolanus looks at the man next to him who happens to be his father-in-law and wonders if Glen Nightingale is aware of the little fucking tyrant his daughter really is.

Soarynn should really consider becoming an actress based on the performance she's given everyone, including him. He was the dumbest audience member, drinking up every second of her lies.

"So when can we be expecting grandchildren?" His father asks him, causing his throat to dry up. Coriolanus has barely had time to think about children with his current campaign for President but he knows that children are expected with marriage, and sooner than possible. He can't imagine having children with Soarynn right now, they barely even have sex.

Despite her undesirable attitude towards him, Coriolanus wasn't going to let anything keep him from what was rightfully his. Sex was the one thing they could agree on. He only partook in sex when he needed to put her in her place, fucking her until she was screaming into the pillows.

It wasn't the most effective method, unfortunately. It would keep her quiet and put her in her place for about a day before she sparked back up and then he'd have to do it all over again. Coriolanus never thought he'd live in a time when sex felt like a chore but Soarynn really did bring out the worst in him.

"Soon," is all he says, watching his wife place her hand on top of his mother's. It's even worse because his mother loves Soarynn, she adores that girl like she's her own daughter. His father is more reserved in showing affection in general but Coriolanus can see it in his eyes that he's pleased with this union between them.

To his father, this is a successful business deal.

To Coriolanus, it's a punishment from an unknown source.

"How has she been doing?" Glen asks him, sipping his drink, "I know she was a bit nervous to move out." Coriolanus wants to roll his eyes at Glen's naivety but he too was once a fool who believed Soarynn's little act, "She's good," he tells Glen, offering him a tight-lipped smile, "it's been an adjustment for the both of us." The understatement of the fucking century but who's counting?

Glen nods, pleased that this has been going so well, "Ah good, I worried for the longest time that she wouldn't find someone, she's just so shy." She's also a fucking minx but what Glen doesn't know about his daughter won't hurt him.

It'll only hurt Coriolanus.

꧁ ꧂

Later that night the young Snow couple returns to their penthouse apartment and the act is dropped the second Soarynn steps through the door. "Keep your hands to yourself next time," she snaps, glaring up at him, "I'm not your fucking dog."

Coriolanus gave up on trying to be nice to her about a week into their marriage, "Well you certainly act like a little bitch," he shoots back, enjoying how her face falls. It's a battle of wits between the two of them and to his dismay, they're very well matched.

Soarynn is sharp and quick, never giving him too much time to recover from her little jabs. But Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that at the end of the day, she belongs to him.

"I'm not the one with my tail between my legs whenever we're around our parents," she says, walking down the hallway with haste. Coriolanus is right on her heels because she has no idea what he has to worry about on a daily basis. Soarynn spends her days shopping with friends and going to social events. She doesn't lift a fucking finger and yet she loves to show him her middle one.

He grabs her arm and pulls her back until they're face to face and he's fuming, "Fix your fucking attitude," he hisses, "before I fix it for you." If Soarynn was who she pretended to be, she'd be cowering in front of him with tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness.

But she's not.

She smirks and tilts her head in the most sinister way possible, "What're you gonna do? Fuck me again? You know, you can't solve all of your problems by sticking your cock in me. One of these days you're going to have to actually grow a pair Coriolanus."

He's seething now, he'd never hit a woman but boy does she tempt him. "You belong to me," he says through gritted teeth, "and as my wife, your main priority should be to make me happy, not fucking miserable."

Soarynn rips her arm away from his grip, glaring up at him with her stormy blue eyes, "I don't belong to anyone," she spits out, "especially you."

Coriolanus watches her walk down the hall, furious and defeated at the same time.

He needs to get her under control, but how?

꧁ ꧂

"It's simple," Festus says, leaning over the table, "stop giving her what she wants."

Coriolanus feels terribly lost. He had come to his good friend Festus Creed for advice about his marriage since Festus actually believes his tales about Soarynn's behavior but now he's starting to wonder if he really is doomed.

"I don't give her anything," he claims and Festus shakes his head. "You keep giving her the reactions she's looking for," he explains, "she wants you to get upset, so you get upset. She wants you to doubt yourself and then you go ahead and doubt yourself. Stop reacting to her behavior and then you can correct it."

Coriolanus sits there dumbfounded, for once, Festus might be right.

Soarynn is clearly acting this way on purpose, to evoke a response, and one of these days if he's not careful, he's going to snap in public and then he will be the bad guy.

"Stop giving her what she wants and she'll be on her knees in no time," Festus promises, "it's reverse psychology."

Well, it's worth a shot.

꧁ ꧂

When Coriolanus comes home later that day, he doesn't go to find Soarynn like he usually does. Mostly because all he'll get in return is a glare and a scoff. Soarynn has made it very clear to him that she wants nothing to do with him unless they're in public. Behind closed doors, they stay apart, go their separate ways until it's time for bed.

He goes to his study instead, figuring he might as well prepare for his interview on Sunday. The Capitol News is interviewing all of the candidates running in the race and this will be a good time for him to gain some new supporters. He spends a few hours holed up in his study, going over questions, coming up with new, clever answers.

He still has time to go over anything with his advisors but he feels much better now that he knows what to expect. He glances at the clock on his desk and is shocked to see that it's well past dinner time. They usually have dinner together if he's home although they rarely speak and sit on opposite ends of the table.

Very domestic.

He considers getting up and going to the dining room to join her but decides against it, calling the maid to bring his dinner to him instead so he can do some more work.

It's nearing eight o'clock when he's disturbed by a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he says, still looking down at the papers in front of him. The door slowly opens and he hears her soft voice, "When did you get home?"

"Around one," he answers, not even looking at her.

"Oh."

Coriolanus resists the urge to grin, he might need to kiss Festus on the forehead because he's a genius for this idea.

"Did you need something?" He asks, flipping to the next page casually, "No," she says, "no I didn't need anything."

Coriolanus grunts, "Close the door behind you then."

He doesn't see her face but he can tell how his dismissing her makes her feel. Soarynn closes the door behind her and he listens to her quick receding footsteps.

Coriolanus finally breaks into a grin, it'll be a slow process to break Soarynn down but he's willing to put in the effort.

It's all about moves and countermoves.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus dives deep into his strategy of being cold and distant towards Soarynn. He doesn't speak to her unless absolutely necessary or if they're in public. He keeps himself busy with work and locked away in his study whenever he's home and refrains from taking any bait she lays out for him.

It's working tremendously well for him. Soarynn has been much more quiet and a lot more drawn back since he started acting this way. In public she's sweet but he can tell that she's desperate for the smallest touch he can offer her. But the second they're back home, he doesn't even look at her.

She did this to herself really, he's not the one to blame.

He's officially two months out from the election and the polls are in his favor. For now, though, something could always change as his advisors love to remind him. His mother is over the moon for his success and his father for once, seems genuinely proud of him. Running for President hasn't been an easy feat but he's doing exceptionally well if he says so himself.

He's getting ready for a charity dinner tonight, anything to show face and shake hands. Soarynn is coming with him to show support for her husband and he's got her in the palm of his hand.

He checks his reflection in the mirror one last time, making sure that his curls look perfect and that his tie is straight. The press will be there and he needs to be prepared for any questions they might ask him.

He can hear a small struggle ensuing in their bathroom and looks through the doors to see Soarynn struggling with the zipper of her dress. He sighs, he's been doing an excellent job of remaining cold and withdrawn so far but the small, hopeful part of him knows he should help her. After all, he is her husband.

He steps into the bathroom and she immediately tenses, watching him through the mirror, "Need some help?" He nods at the back of her dress and she looks unsure as to whether or not this is some sort of trap.

She finally nods, "Yes," she says softly.

Coriolanus walks up to her and rests one hand on her back while the other pulls the zipper up with ease. "Thank you," she says, turning to face him. He can see it in her eyes how lonely she is, despite having lots of friends and visiting her father, she's lonely in this big apartment when it's just the two of them. At least when they were arguing she could talk to someone.

"Tonight is very important," he tells her, ignoring her gratitude, "best behavior tonight." He walks out before she can say anything else, it's better this way.

It's better this way.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee |

[tsunadesupremacist]

You can publish Original Works in AO3 anyway, so I don't see why people would choose Wattpad over AO3 or any of the other non-profit writing platforms. The only thing Wattpad has over AO3 is the feature to comment on every line rather than just the general chapter comments.

This is what happened when a fanfic site is profit driven. Wattpad sucks 😞

The email/DM from Wattpad is so condescending. Imagine pressuring writers to update and work while they are doing it for free and fun. Also, the discovery? Algorithm? Of Wattpad looks like a stressful popularity contest 😑

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 13

word count: 7.3k

hi! this was inspired by one of the comments left in my inbox so thank u for the suggestion! i've read the other ones and have noted them down as well. happy reading!

"Harryyy, come on!" Aspen's playful whine echoed through the quiet library, earning a raised brow from an older patron seated nearby. Aspen winced apologetically before turning back to Harry, who stood a few feet away, his expression as unimpressed as ever, though the slight curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

"No," he puffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he bent down into the book cart. With one hand, he pulled out another hardcover while his other steadied the wobbling stack she had precariously piled earlier. He reached over, extending the book toward her without breaking stride. "Here, unless you wanna use me as a ladder again."

Aspen's cheeks flushed. The last time they'd done this, she had struggled with the top shelves and made him crouch down so she could awkwardly step onto his thigh. He hadn't let her live it down since.

It had become their little routine. Aspen was buried neck-deep in midterms and work shifts, balancing her time between lectures, the library, and stolen moments of quiet with Harry. On the nights where their schedules aligned, Harry had made it a habit of swinging by the library before closing time. At first, Aspen had protested his help, insisting she could finish on her own, but Harry, as persistent as he was, always wore her down. Now, she couldn't help but smile every time she saw him stroll through the doors with that easy confidence, ready to argue until she let him pitch in.

Today was no different. Aspen had barely clocked in after her lecture when Harry texted her: Be there at 4. A simple message, but it left her cheeks warm for the rest of her shift. By the time he arrived, they'd fallen into their usual rhythm. Aspen would work, and Harry would pretend to grumble about helping but inevitably do it anyway—though only after extracting a promise of a few kisses in his car afterward.

"Come on, if you make an Instagram account, we could all follow you, spy on your so-called private life," Aspen teased, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, biting back a giggle when Harry rolled his eyes.

"You already do that," he shot back, sliding another book into her waiting hands. "And I only really talk to you guys anyway. What's Instagram gonna do that my contacts and iMessage can't?"

Aspen jutted out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, cradling the book to her chest. "But then you could post all those artsy photos you take! Come on, Harry, you're practically an undercover photographer."

That earned her a full-on laugh, low and rich, as Harry leaned his hip against the cart. She wasn't wrong. One thing Aspen had quickly learned about him was his knack for capturing beauty in the mundane. Whether it was the glow of a sunset behind the mountains, the way fog curled lazily through downtown's alleys, or the candid snaps he'd take when she wasn't looking, his camera roll was a treasure trove of little moments. She knew he had an actual camera at home, too—one he swore was on its third memory card. But the thought of him sharing even a glimpse of those moments on Instagram made her grin grow wider.

Harry sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck like he was truly at a crossroads. "Alright, alright," he relented, earning an excited squeal from Aspen. "I'll make one so you can do all your little tagging stuff, but I'm not promising to post a single thing."

Aspen narrowed her eyes, as if weighing the seriousness of his promise, before finally giving in. "Deal." Her grin was infectious, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. She'd been pestering him for days, and deep down, he didn't really mind. The idea of her tagging him in pictures, forcing him into her corner of the social media world, wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd even scroll through it occasionally when he was bored or needed a distraction between clients.

Sliding the last book onto the shelf, Aspen turned back to him, her hands on her hips. "You know," she started with a sly smile, "this means you officially owe me now."

Harry raised a brow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And what exactly do I owe you?"

"A coffee," she declared confidently. "Because I've been running on fumes all day, and if I don't get caffeine soon, you're going to have a grumpy librarian on your hands."

Harry chuckled, stepping closer and letting his hand brush lightly against hers. "Alright, love. Let's get you your coffee. But only if I get one of those kisses in return."

Aspen's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, her bashful smile tugging at his heart as she nodded. "Deal."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Harry carried his jacket hooked on his finger over his shoulder, the fabric swaying slightly with each step, while his other arm rested securely around Aspen’s shoulders. The warmth of his touch seeped through her sweater, grounding her as they exited the softly lit library into the crisp evening air. The muffled hum of passing cars filled the quiet space between them as they strolled toward his car, their pace unhurried, comfortable.

"Zayn told me earlier he’d be out with Isobel," Harry began, his voice low and inviting as he reached to open the passenger door for her. He leaned casually against the door frame, his jacket still dangling from his finger, as Aspen climbed in. "So I was wonderin’," he continued, his green eyes catching hers in the dim glow of the streetlamp, "if you’d like t’stay for dinner? It’s not too late. I could whip us somethin’ up."

Aspen paused, her hands fumbling slightly with her seatbelt as she glanced up at him. The way he stood there, effortlessly charming with a soft smile playing on his lips, made her heart flutter. "Yeah! I’d like to, H. Thank you," she replied, her own smile small but genuine.

Harry’s smile widened just a fraction before he leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. The gesture left her momentarily breathless, her eyes fluttering shut instinctively at the tenderness. He shut the door gently behind her and rounded the car, sliding into the driver’s seat with an ease that came from countless nights like this. As the engine purred to life and warm air began to flood the cabin, Aspen’s stomach let out a low growl, breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry let out a puff of air, a laugh that was both teasing and fond. "Hungry, are we?" he teased, glancing at her sideways with a smirk. Aspen’s cheeks turned pink as she ducked her head in embarrassment, but her lips curved into a sheepish grin.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, the confession barely audible over the soft hum of the heater.

By the time they arrived at his apartment, Harry had already shrugged off his jacket and was heading for the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable," he called over his shoulder as Aspen toed off her shoes and hung her tote bag neatly on the coat rack by the door. Before disappearing into the living room, she felt the soft press of his lips on her forehead again, a fleeting touch that left her cheeks warm.

Harry rummaged through his fridge, the faint clink of jars and the rustle of packaging filling the kitchen as he searched. "Baby?" His voice broke the quiet after a couple of minutes, pulling Aspen from her thoughts as she peeked her head around the corner.

"Yeah?" she asked softly, stepping into the kitchen. The cold tile against her pink, frilly sock-covered feet made her shiver, but the sight of Harry, slightly hunched with his head in the fridge, was enough to distract her. He turned toward her with a package of chicken in hand, his smile easy and affectionate.

"Are you okay with chicken? Gonna do somethin’ easy with it—maybe some broccoli and potatoes?" he asked, holding up the ingredients as if to get her approval.

Aspen nodded quickly, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see her silent affirmation. Realizing her mistake, she squeaked out a soft, "Yes... yes! That sounds good, thank you."

Harry chuckled quietly to himself, charmed by her shy but earnest response. She pulled one of the chairs out from the island and perched on it, her feet resting on the footrest as she settled in to watch him. Aspen wanted to keep him company, to be near him while he worked his magic in the kitchen, but she stayed quiet, her gaze soft as she observed him move.

Harry worked with a practiced ease, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he began chopping broccoli and seasoning the chicken. The faint clatter of utensils and the rhythmic chop of the knife filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of a glass or a soft hum from Harry as he focused. Aspen found herself mesmerized by the simple yet deliberate way he moved, every gesture seeming natural and unhurried.

"You’re really good at this," she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the faint sizzle as he turned on the stovetop.

Harry glanced up, his green eyes twinkling with amusement. "At cookin’? Or at convincin’ you to stay for dinner?"

Aspen giggled, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. "Both, maybe," she admitted, her cheeks tinting pink.

"Well, lucky for you," he said, flashing her a grin as he set the pan on the stove, "I happen to enjoy doin’ both."

Dinner had gone by in a blur of easy conversation, soft laughter, and the comfortable rhythm that Harry and Aspen had found themselves settling into. Aspen was shy, yes, but around Harry, there was a growing ease—a sense that she could let her guard down without judgment. They spoke about their day, her recounting a particularly funny mishap during her shift at the library, and him sharing a story about a client who insisted on getting a tattoo of their cat dressed as a pirate. It left Aspen giggling behind her hand, her laughter light and airy, a sound Harry was quickly growing addicted to.

As the plates were cleared and the last bites of dinner had been taken, Harry stood and began gathering the dishes, shooting her a teasing look when she moved to help. "Sit tight, love," he said, shaking his head. "I’ll take care of this. You’ve had a long day."

Aspen hesitated, her hands half-reaching for a plate, but she relented under the warmth of his gaze. “Okay,” she murmured softly, her voice small but sweet.

Harry rinsed the plates before stacking them neatly in the sink. He turned to her, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and his expression softened. "Y’want somethin’ more comfortable to wear? Don’t have to if you’re fine as is, but if y’want, I can grab you a shirt or somethin’."

Aspen blinked at him, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she nodded. "That would be nice... if you don’t mind."

Harry’s grin was immediate and reassuring. "‘Course not. Be right back."

He returned moments later with a well-worn black t-shirt, the fabric soft from years of wear. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. “Bathroom’s just down the hall on the left,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction. Aspen nodded, clutching the shirt to her chest as she padded down the hallway.

Inside the bathroom, Aspen closed the door behind her and let out a quiet breath. The room was clean, with simple touches that felt inherently like Harry—spare but thoughtful. A small plant sat in the corner near the window, and the counter was neat, save for a watch and a bottle of cologne. She couldn’t resist running her fingers lightly over the label of the bottle, smiling to herself at how even the scent of it made her think of him.

She slipped out of her sweater, folding it neatly on the counter, and pulled Harry’s shirt over her head. The fabric was oversized, hanging loosely over her frame, and the faint scent of him clung to it—something warm and comforting. She decided to keep her leggings on, smoothing them down before taking one last glance at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined Harry seeing her like this, wearing his clothes.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the faint sound of running water guided her back to the kitchen. Harry was standing at the sink, his sleeves rolled up, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he scrubbed at a pan. The sight of him made her pause for a moment, her lips curving into a soft smile before she shuffled into the room.

Harry glanced up as she entered, and for a second, he froze. The shirt was far too big for her, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs, the neckline slightly loose on her petite frame. She looked small, cozy, and unmistakably his. The thought hit him with a surprising intensity. His shirt. On her. It felt... right. Like a quiet claim, subtle but undeniable.

"Y’look good," he said after a beat, his voice low and sincere as he dried his hands on the towel. He crossed the room toward her, his green eyes soft as they took her in.

Aspen’s cheeks flushed pink, and she toyed with the hem of the shirt, glancing down shyly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips quirked up in a fond smile. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. "You make it look better than I ever did," he added, his tone playful but laced with an underlying tenderness.

Aspen peeked up at him, her lips twitching into a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that.”

"Not a chance," Harry replied, shaking his head as he gazed at her. In that moment, with her standing in his kitchen, wearing his shirt and looking like the very embodiment of comfort, Harry couldn’t help but think that this—her, here—was something he could get used to. Something he wanted to get used to.

With the dishes done and the clock showing just past eight, Harry leaned against the counter, drying the last plate. He looked over at Aspen, who was seated on one of the kitchen stools, idly running her fingers along the hem of his shirt. She looked completely at home, and the sight filled Harry with a quiet warmth he didn’t quite know how to put into words.

"Not too late yet," Harry said, tossing the dish towel over his shoulder. "How d’you feel about a movie? Could use a bit of a break after today, yeah?"

Aspen’s eyes lit up, and she nodded. “That sounds nice. I—I wouldn’t mind cuddling up with you again,” she admitted, her voice shy but steady enough to make Harry’s chest swell with affection.

He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "Alright then. Y’pick somethin’, and I’ll get the living room sorted. Just gimme a sec to change out of these," he said, gesturing to his skinny jeans and button-up shirt.

Aspen’s cheeks warmed at the thought of him getting more comfortable. "Okay," she replied softly, sliding off the stool and padding into the living room. She browsed through his small stack of DVDs on the shelf, her fingers brushing over the spines as she considered what to watch.

Meanwhile, Harry disappeared into his room, tugging off his work clothes and swapping them for a pair of gray sweats and a plain white tee. He left his hair a little mussed, the loose curls falling naturally around his face, and kept only one of his rings on—a silver one he wore on his index finger. As he glanced at himself in the mirror, he wondered if Aspen would notice the change. 

When he returned to the living room, Aspen was kneeling in front of the TV, the remote in her hand and a movie paused on the screen. "This okay?" she asked, turning to him with an uncertain smile.

"Perfect," Harry replied as he crossed the room. But instead of sitting down next to her, he grinned mischievously, lunging toward her with playful energy.

Aspen let out a surprised squeak as Harry tackled her onto the couch, gently but with enough force to leave her laughing breathlessly. "Harry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed as he settled them both into a comfortable position after teasing her a bit. He tucked her firmly into his side, pulling a throw blanket over the both of them with one hand.

"There," he said with a satisfied grin, his arm draped around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side. Her small hand rested on his abdomen, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath her fingers.

Aspen sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Being close to Harry like this was quickly becoming one of her favorite things, and she couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt.

Harry, meanwhile, was busy memorizing every detail of the moment. The way Aspen fit against him like she was meant to be there. The feel of her hand resting on his stomach, moving ever so slightly in rhythm with his breathing. He started tracing light patterns along her arm with his fingers, the repetitive motion soothing for both of them.

"Y’comfy, love?" Harry asked, his voice low and warm.

Aspen nodded against his chest, her face half-hidden by the fabric of his shirt. "Mmhm. Very," she murmured, her shyness laced with contentment.

Harry glanced down at her, his green eyes softening as he watched her settle further into his side. She looked perfect—completely at ease, her cheeks still slightly pink, her fingers brushing lightly over his stomach as if she couldn’t help but touch him.

The movie started, but Harry found it hard to focus on the screen. His thoughts kept drifting back to Aspen. How cute she looked in his oversized shirt, her leggings still clinging to her legs. How much she looked like she belonged there, with him, wrapped up in their own little bubble of warmth and comfort.

"Y’know," Harry said softly after a while, his fingers pausing their movements on her arm, "I could get used to this."

Aspen peeked up at him, her shy smile returning as her heart fluttered at his words. "Me too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Harry’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied grin. "I should have y'around more often, then, hm?" Aspen nodded, settling more into his side when he gave her arm a reassured squeeze. When Harry caught her beautiful brown eyes flicker down to his lips, he took that as his sign to tilt his head and close the space. She sighed contently, which made Harry grin into their kiss. Slowly, he was learning her little clues and asks without having to actually ask for them. Harry didn't mind. He vowed to himself to understand her always.

As Harry settled onto the couch and his eyes wandered back to the TV, Aspen couldn’t help but notice the subtle differences in him. His curls were slightly messier than usual, like he’d run his fingers through them carelessly after changing. Her eyes flicked to his hand resting on the edge of the blanket, and she noticed he was wearing only one ring, a simple silver one on his index finger. It was such a small detail, but it made her stomach flutter. Even with all the tattoos winding across his arms, his lip piercing catching the light, and the remnants of chipped black polish on his nails, he looked so much like the Harry he showed only to her—soft, unguarded, and entirely hers. It made her heart ache in the best way, knowing she got to see him like this, in these intimate, quiet moments.

The movie had long since settled into a soft lull, its dialogue blending into the warm hum of the apartment. Aspen and Harry had started the evening curled up together, but as time passed, their slow breathing matched the quiet rhythm of the soundtrack, and without realizing it, they both drifted into sleep. Harry’s arm remained wrapped around Aspen, her cheek resting on his shoulder, and the blanket had slipped slightly, pooling at their legs.

Hours passed until Harry stirred, his body instinctively turning toward his side in search of comfort. In his half-conscious state, his hand moved as if reaching for Aspen, but when his fingers met only the cool fabric of the couch, his eyes fluttered open. Disoriented at first, he blinked into the dim glow of the room. Where had she gone? The clock on the wall read just past midnight. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, the blanket falling away as he stretched and glanced toward the hallway.

A faint light spilled from the kitchen, and Harry padded toward it, the hardwood floor cool beneath his bare feet. Leaning against the doorframe, he found her standing in front of the open freezer, her petite frame silhouetted by the soft white glow. She was peering into its depths with a furrowed brow, her hands rubbing her arms lightly as the cool air spilled out around her. She hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on whatever she was searching for.

“Aspen?” His voice was soft, still laced with sleep, and her head whipped around so fast that a lock of hair fell into her eyes. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she slammed the freezer door shut, stepping back awkwardly.

“Oh! I… I didn’t mean to wake you,” Aspen stammered, her voice barely audible. Her hands fidgeted in front of her, fingers twisting together nervously as she searched for the right words. “I was just, um… I got thirsty—well, no, not thirsty, but… hungry? Kind of?” She trailed off, her cheeks already flushing as she realized how jumbled her explanation sounded. Her gaze dropped to her socked feet, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Harry leaned casually against the kitchen doorway, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing, just patient and understanding. “You’re fine, love,” he said gently, his voice still raspy from sleep. “What were you looking for?”

“I… uh…” Aspen hesitated, her hands nervously tugging at the hem of his oversized shirt she wore, the soft fabric bunching under her fingers. Her heart thudded as she felt her cheeks burn hotter. She wanted to tell him, but the thought of admitting she was craving something so specific—so indulgent—made her stomach twist with embarrassment.

Harry noticed her hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly. Taking a step forward, he tilted his head, meeting her gaze even though she tried to avoid it. “Aspen,” he said softly, his voice coaxing. “It’s okay. Whatever you want, just tell me.”

“I—” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed nervously, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s silly. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry smiled warmly, taking another step toward her. “Silly or not, you’re standing in the middle of my kitchen at midnight. So whatever it is, it must be worth finding, yeah?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought for a moment. “Let’s see… were you looking for snacks? Chips? Crackers?” He tilted his head playfully. “Maybe leftover pizza?”

Aspen shook her head, a soft laugh escaping despite her nerves. “No… none of those.”

Harry grinned, encouraged by the sound of her laugh. “Alright, what about something sweet, then? Chocolate? Cookies?” He paused, pretending to consider. “Ice cream?”

At that, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and her fingers twisted even tighter in the fabric of his shirt. She nodded shyly, glancing up at him for only a split second before looking away again. “Ice cream,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s heart melted at how utterly bashful she was. He stepped closer, his hand brushing gently against her arm to reassure her. “Ice cream, huh?” he repeated with a soft chuckle. “That’s not silly at all, Aspen. I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to raid my freezer.”

Her head snapped up, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t raiding!” she protested, her voice rising slightly in defense before softening again. “I mean… I was just looking.”

Harry chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—just looking,” he teased, opening the freezer himself and glancing back at her. “So, what flavor are we after?”

Aspen hesitated, nervously toying with her hair now. “I, um… I think you had mint chocolate chip the other day?” she said hesitantly, her voice wavering.

Harry caught the way her blush deepened, and his smile softened further. “Mint chocolate chip,” he echoed thoughtfully, his tone light and reassuring. “Good choice, love. Let’s see if we’ve got any left.”

He turned back to the freezer, but his mind lingered on her. The way she looked so small and shy in his kitchen, wearing his shirt, made his chest ache in the best way. She was adorable, and he loved how vulnerable and comfortable she was around him—even when she was nervous.

Harry leaned into the freezer, moving a few frozen bags and containers around until he spotted a familiar green carton pushed to the very back. “Got it,” he announced, pulling it out with a triumphant smile.

Aspen’s face lit up, and she let out a small, delighted laugh. “You’re good at this.”

“I try,” Harry teased, grabbing two spoons from the drawer before motioning toward the floor. “C’mon. Let’s eat before it melts.”

They settled on the cool tile, their backs against the cabinets, and Harry opened the lid with a satisfying pop. He offered her the first spoonful, watching as her eyes lit up at the first taste. “Still your favorite?” he asked, taking a bite for himself.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding enthusiastically. The sweetness melted on her tongue, and she sighed contentedly. Harry still had sleep in his eyes, but being able to be awake with her was worth any amount of sleep.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clink of spoons against the carton. Harry glanced at Aspen between bites, his gaze lingering on how the overhead light highlighted the soft curve of her cheeks and the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled. She looked completely at ease now, the embarrassment from earlier forgotten, and he felt a wave of warmth settle over him.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful, “this feels kind 'f perfect. Jus' you and me, stealing ice cream in the middle of the night.”

Aspen glanced at him, her shy smile growing. “Yeah,” she agreed softly. “It really does.”

As they continued to share the ice cream, the quiet intimacy of the moment lingered, filling the kitchen with a warmth that had nothing to do with the light overhead. Harry twirled his spoon in the carton absently, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright,” he began, breaking the silence, “I’ve got a question for you.”

Aspen looked at him curiously, her spoon poised mid-air. “What kind of question?”

“Nothing too serious,” Harry assured her, leaning back against the cabinet. “Just… what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

“Nothing too serious,” Harry assured her, leaning back against the cabinet. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his bare feet crossing lazily. Her legs were shorter than his, a small quirk that turned the corner of his lips up when he noticed it from how they sat. Despite his casual posture, his green eyes were alert, focused entirely on Aspen. “Jus… what’s something you’ve always wanted t'do but haven’t had the chance t'yet?”

Aspen froze for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Her fingers traced the edge of the ice cream lid nervously, her mind racing with possibilities. There were so many things she had dreamed of, so many ideas she’d quietly nurtured but never spoken aloud. “I don’t know,” she murmured finally, her voice soft. “There’s a lot I’d like to do someday.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into an encouraging smile. He knew that hesitation of hers, that instinct to downplay her desires, but he wanted to hear more. “Like what? Give me one thing,” he coaxed gently, his voice low and warm.

Aspen’s breath caught. The way Harry looked at her—calm, patient, and interested—made her feel safe, like her answer really mattered. She dropped her gaze to her lap, gathering her courage as her heart thudded in her chest. “I’ve always wanted to travel,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… pack a bag and go somewhere completely new. Maybe Italy, or Japan.”

Harry noticed the shift in her tone as she continued, her shyness giving way to quiet enthusiasm. “I want to see the art, the history,” she went on, her words picking up pace. “Experience things that feel bigger than me.”

He couldn’t look away. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams, the subtle curve of her lips as her confidence grew—it was like seeing a different side of her unfold, piece by piece. His chest ached in the best way, a deep warmth blooming inside him. “That sounds amazing,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity. “You’d love it. You’ve got tha' curiosity about you—like you’d soak it all in, every detail.”

Aspen felt her cheeks flush, her gaze dipping once more. His words struck something deep within her, something fragile and precious. She wasn’t used to being seen like this, to someone noticing and valuing the quiet parts of her that she often kept hidden. “What about you?” she asked quickly, desperate to shift the focus away from herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the shirt she was wearing—Harry’s shirt—and she peeked up at him, her shyness mixing with genuine curiosity. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

Harry chuckled, a low sound that made Aspen’s heart flutter. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he gave her a playful look. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“I won’t,” she promised, her eyes wide and earnest. She meant it; she couldn’t imagine laughing at him, not when he was sharing a piece of himself like this.

“Alright,” Harry said, his voice taking on a mock conspiratorial tone. “I’ve always wanted t'learn how to surf. Properly, I mean. Not just flopping 'round on a board.”

Aspen blinked in surprise before a soft laugh escaped her lips. It wasn’t mocking—it was light and delighted, filled with a warmth that spread between them. “That’s not silly at all,” she said quickly, her smile growing. “I can actually picture you on a beach.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah? With all the tattoos n' everything?”

She nodded, her cheeks dimpling. “It suits you. The freedom of it… the connection to nature. It feels like you.”

Harry felt his breath hitch at her words, but it was subtle and went without notice. She said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it hit him deeply. He wasn’t used to being seen in that way, his desires and identity so easily understood. “You’re pretty good at this, you know?” he said quietly, his voice tinged with awe. “Seeing people for who they are.”

Aspen’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and she ducked her head shyly. “I just… like paying attention.”

He smiled softly, his heart swelling at her words. He realized that was one of the things he admired most about her—how much she noticed, how much she cared, even if she didn’t always say it aloud.

The moment hung between them, tender and unspoken, as their hearts opened just a little more. And in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, with an empty carton of ice cream forgotten beside them, Harry felt something settle deep within him—a certainty that this, whatever this was, was worth every moment.

Aspen shifted slightly, tucking her legs closer to her body as she glanced at Harry. The weight of their conversation hung in the air, but it wasn’t heavy—it was comforting, like a warm blanket wrapping them in something safe and intimate. Her voice was soft when she spoke again, careful not to disrupt the gentle mood they’d settled into.

“What’s something that calms you down? Like... instantly?” she asked, her curiosity genuine. Her wide eyes studied him, searching his face for an answer.

Harry tilted his head back against the cabinet, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His closed eyes peered open to look at her with a sheepish smirk. “You’re gonna think ’m cheesy.”

Aspen raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin slipping onto her face. “What is it?”

He finally murmured, “Talking to you.” Harry let out a small puff of air, though he wasn't lying. She was his grounding piece. She took his mess and made sense of it.

Aspen let out a playful whine, nudging his shoulder with hers as her cheeks flared pink. “Harry! Be serious!” she giggled, her laugh bubbling up and breaking the quiet.

“I am serious!” he defended, grinning now, though the teasing glint in her eyes made him laugh softly. “Alright, alright. Lemme think.”

She waited patiently, her gaze steady on him. Her heart thudded gently in her chest as she watched him search for an answer, the way his brow furrowed slightly and his lips pressed together in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“Tattooing,” he said simply at first, but there was a weight in his tone that made Aspen sit up a little straighter. His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of his shirt as he continued, his voice quieter now, more reflective. “Whether it’s actually tattooing someone or just sketching a new design... it’s like everything else disappears for a while. There’s jus' me n' the lines I’m creating. It’s... grounding.”

Aspen tilted her head, her interest piqued. She could tell there was more he wasn’t saying, so she stayed quiet, giving him the space to keep going.

“It’s not jus' about the art,” Harry admitted, his green eyes flickering to hers before looking away again, as if what he was about to say felt too vulnerable to meet her gaze. “It’s... therapeutic, in a way. When I’m tattooing someone, there’s this trust, y'know? They’re letting me leave something permanent on them, something that means something to them. And when I’m sketching, i’s like... I can take whatever’s in my head—whatever’s making me feel restless or stuck—and put it on paper. Turn it into something that makes sense.”

Aspen’s heart ached at the sincerity in his words, the way he spoke with such quiet passion. She hadn’t expected such a heartfelt answer, but it made sense. Tattooing wasn’t just a job to him; it was a part of who he was.

“It’s kind of like...” Harry paused, searching for the right words. “When I’m holding the machine, or even just a pencil, it’s like I have control over something. Like no matter how messy life gets, I can create something beautiful from it. It’s calming in a way nothing else is.”

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching at his honesty. She’d always admired Harry’s talent, but hearing him talk about it like this—so deeply, so openly—gave her a new perspective. “That’s... really beautiful,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I never thought about it like that before.”

Harry looked at her then, his gaze steady and full of something unspoken. “It’s the same feeling I get when I’m with you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Like everything else fades, and it’s just us. Simple.”

Aspen felt her cheeks heat again, her heart thudding against her ribs. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t—his eyes held her in place, and she didn’t want to break the moment.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against his hand before curling around it. “It means a lot.”

Harry smiled softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, baby,” he murmured, his voice like a promise. And in the quiet stillness of the kitchen, with only the faint hum of the fridge in the background, they stayed like that—two people learning each other, piece by piece, with every shared word and touch.

Harry's thumb brushed against the back of Aspen’s hand as he held it, the simple contact sparking warmth that spread through both of them. He glanced down at their joined hands, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he looked back up at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her wide eyes flickered nervously between their hands and his face. She was shy, as always, but there was a comfort in her expression now—a softness that told him she felt safe.

The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, but neither of them noticed. Harry’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fluttered as she peeked up at him. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache—not of pain, but of something deeper. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. He felt it every time she looked at him like that, like he was someone who mattered, someone who could make her feel special.

Aspen’s heart raced as she felt the weight of his gaze. It was gentle, but it held an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention—wasn’t used to someone looking at her like she was something worth cherishing. Yet, with Harry, it felt... right. Natural, even. Her fingers fidgeted slightly against his, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

Harry leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back, to stop him if she wanted. But she didn’t move. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly, but there was no fear—only a quiet, nervous anticipation. His hand gently released hers, moving to cup her cheek instead. His thumb brushed along her skin, soft and deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of her.

“You’re somethin’ else, Aspen,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, like a promise wrapped in affection.

Aspen’s lips parted slightly, her breath trembling as her thoughts spun. She didn’t know what to say—wasn’t sure she could form words even if she wanted to. All she could do was feel—the warmth of his hand against her cheek, the way his green eyes held hers like she was the only thing that mattered.

Harry dipped his head, closing the small distance between them. His lips brushed hers gently, barely more than a whisper of a kiss. It was soft, tentative, as though he was asking for permission rather than taking. Aspen’s heart thudded against her ribs, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

When he pulled back slightly, their noses still brushing, Harry searched her face, his thumb still stroking her cheek. “Okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Aspen nodded, her cheeks burning as her lips curved into a shy smile. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice almost as quiet as his.

Encouraged by her response, Harry leaned in again, pressing another kiss to her lips. This one lingered a little longer, though it was just as gentle. His heart swelled at the way she leaned into him, her fingers lightly brushing against his knee for balance. She was hesitant, but she wasn’t holding back. Not with him.

Aspen felt her nerves melting away, replaced by a warmth that seemed to start in her chest and spread to every part of her. Kissing Harry felt... safe. Like she didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or being too much. He made her feel like she was enough—just as she was.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed as he soaked in the moment. “You’re somethin’ else,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

Aspen let out a quiet laugh, her fingers curling against his knee. “You’ve said that already,” she teased softly, her shyness giving way to a growing comfort in his presence.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

She smiled, her heart fluttering at his words. And as they sat there, still tangled in the intimacy of the moment, Aspen realized that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him.

"Something good, I hope.," Aspen quipped, her doe eyes looking up into his.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Aspen only felt the heat crawl up her neck and blush her face. Harry thumbed over her reddening cheek, a cute trait he learned to adore about her. After a few moments of just being in each other's silence, her lips released a tiny yawn which made Harry's lips crack a small smile. "C'mon," he tossed the spoons in the sink above him, pushing himself to stand up before he held out a hand. "Satisfied now, baby? Or is there somethin' else you would like? My kitchen is all yours."

Aspen shook her head shyly, taking his big hand to prop herself back to her two feet. "No, no. I'm all set now. Thank you so much, Harry." The mans heart softened at her words. "Alright, then le's get you back t'bed."

His voice dripped in sleep, low and hanging on to the two brain cells that were currently keeping him awake now. "I'll get you tucked into bed and I'll take the couch." Harry picked up the empty carton, tossing it onto the pile of trash in his bin. Before Aspen could say another word or even think of one to say, his arms slid around the back of her thighs and under her arms to sweep her off her feet. 

"Harry!," Aspen exlaimed in surprise, kicking her feet as she giggled. Harry kissed her shoulder and carried her bridal style down the hall to his bedroom, where he carefully set her down under the sheets. He pulled them back over Aspen, who was slightly sitting up against his headboard. "Do y'want me to stay until you fall asleep? I'll take the couch tonight so—."

Aspen shaking her head cut his sentence off. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows at her shy expression and wandering eyes, taking note of her fidgeting fingers. "You...," she started, come on Aspen—she sucked in a breath— "You can stay. Only if you want, but please." The girls words were rushed by still remained shy and squeakish. His lips tugged back into a smile, which he found himself doing more lately because of her compared to the last few years of his life. 

"Are you letting me know I can stay?" Harry knew her offer was more of her asking, but he didn't want to shine that light onto her. The man gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Anything to make her feel comfortable, he would do. When she nodded again, he hummed contently. "I would love t'stay with you, Asp. Thank you f'letting me." 

Normally, Harry would be down to his briefs if he had been by himself. But to not scare Aspen off, he climbed into bed after removing just his ring on his index finger. He let it clatter into the little tray and he settled under the covers next to him. He didn't mind that she picked his side of the bed, his mind quickly allowing it to become just hers.

Aspen had always had issues falling asleep or staying asleep in a bed or a place that wasn't her own. The first and only time she had a sleepover was when she was eleven, and she had called her sister to pick her up at two in the morning because she just couldn't sleep. But it was different in Harrys bed. She molded into the divot in the bed that was previously there, which she pieced together was Harry's original side of the bed. Aspen felt safe, felt comfortable surrounded by his scent and the soft duvet. 

"Is it okay if I hold you?" Even though they cuddled here and there (every time one of them was over), he still thought it would be respectful to ask in case she needed her space. That idea quickly left his mind when she shuffled closer and curled back into his side like she had earlier in the night. His arms instinctively wrapped around her small frame and his nose buried into the top of her head, followed by a small lasting kiss.

"I've got you, baby. Get some sleep." 

And with that, Aspen found Harry in her dreams once more.

[doesthela]

Hep de yorgun argın olmasa,az da bana zaman ayırsa...

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

Y/N sat motionlessly on the edge of her bed, her fingers absently tracing the rough, scratchy texture of the worn sheets.

Her gaze was fixed on the ground, her eyes distant and unseeing, the once brilliant color now dulled into a pale, lifeless gray.

She looked as if she were suspended in time, caught between the weight of the past and the crushing uncertainty of the future.

Her thoughts circled relentlessly, clawing at the fragile edges of her composure. ‘Mylo, dead. Claggor, dead. Vi, dead. Vander, dead.’ The names echoed like the toll of a bell, each one a dagger carving deeper into her chest.

And then there was Ekko. Ekko, whose fate she didn’t know. Was he alive, wandering aimlessly through the wreckage of their shared past? Or was he lost too, swallowed by the chaos?

The uncertainty gnawed at her insides. She clenched her fists, a cold determination solidifying within her. ‘If he’s alive, I’ll find him. I have to. He’s all alone now— no one to care for him. I’ll find him.’

The weight of the small gemstones in her hand pulled her attention. She turned them over slowly, their surfaces catching the dim light.

The soft blue glow flickered eerily, somehow both beautiful and deeply unsettling. They seemed to hold whispers of the lives they’d lost, their brilliance mocking her.

Her thoughts were abruptly shattered by a sharp knock at the door. She flinched, startled out of her daze as she quickly shoved the blue stone in her bag. The familiar voice on the other side made her tense.

“Silco,” she muttered under her breath, even before he spoke.

“The girl won’t eat,” His gravelly voice called through the door.

Y/N hesitated before responding, her tone sharp. “Her name is Powder,” She corrected, pushing the words through clenched teeth. “Have you made her something?”

“Yes, but she won’t touch it.” Silco’s frown was evident even through the door.

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, staring at the door as if it were some insurmountable wall. Was this another of Silco’s manipulations? A way to force her out of her room? She could still feel the ghostly heat licking at her skin, hearing the crackle of flames consuming everything she held dear.

But then, against her better judgment, she stood. The quiet sound of the mattress creaking as she moved surprised even Silco. He watched her warily as she brushed past him without a word.

Y/N knew he knew her weakness. She knew he could use her against her, but right now all that mattered was Powder.

“Where’s her room?” she asked, her voice flat.

He gestured silently down the hallway, and Y/N followed his direction without looking back.

Standing in front of Powder’s door, she hesitated for a beat before raising her hand and knocking gently. “Bluejay?” Her voice softened into something almost unrecognizable, a sliver of warmth peaking through.

The silence on the other side was suffocating, stretching out long enough for Y/N to feel the weight of Silco’s eyes boring into her back. But just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the door creaked open.

“Hey—”

The word barely escaped her lips before she was knocked backward. Powder flung herself into Y/N’s arms, gripping her tightly as if afraid she might vanish at any moment. Powder buried her face into Y/N’s chest, her small frame trembling with gut-wrenching sobs.

“Wh-Where—” She choked out, her voice cracking between gasps. “Are you going to leave me too?”

The question hit Y/N like a blow to the stomach. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She looked down at Powder’s tear-streaked face, the raw desperation in her wide eyes. Y/N’s own tears began to pool, stinging the corners of her vision.

“Oh, Powder…” Her voice trembled as she wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl, holding her as tightly as she could. “Never… I promise I’ll never leave you. Never.”

Powder’s sniffles softened into quieter whimpers as she nodded, clinging to Y/N with all the strength she had left. Y/N reached up, gently wiping the tears from the girl’s flushed cheeks.

“What do you think about soup?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Powder nodded hesitantly, her gaze still wet and puffy. “The chicken one?”

“Your favorite one,” Y/N assured her with a faint smile, standing and lifting Powder effortlessly into her arms.

As she turned back toward Silco, her expression hardened again. “You have a kitchen, right?” She asked, her tone sharp with an edge of authority.

Silco nodded, his usual composure momentarily shaken. “Yes. Right down the hall.”

Without another word, Y/N walked past him, her grip on Powder secure and protective. Silco lingered in the doorway, watching the two retreating figures.

Powder’s red, tear-streaked face peeked over Y/N’s shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, Silco’s features softened.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned away, retreating into the shadows of the hallway.

_____________________________________________________

Blood trailed out of her stomach, thick rivulets soaking into the ground beneath her. It was warm at first, uncomfortably warm, but soon the cold of the earth seeped through her clothes, biting at her skin.

Y/N coughed violently, her breath hitching as her chest heaved, her vision swimming behind a veil of tears. She tried to move, but her body felt like lead. Every gasp sent fresh waves of pain slicing through her ribs, each one sharper than the last.

Her blood coated everything. Her hands were slick with it, trembling as they pressed against the dirt, but it only made the ground smear with more crimson. Her clothes clung to her skin, drenched in the cloying liquid. The smell of iron was suffocating, sharp and metallic, twisting her stomach in revulsion.

She hated blood. The sight, the texture, the smell, but now it was everywhere. It was hers, and it was under her nails, wedged deep. She’d never be able to scrub it out.

Was someone coming? Was anyone even looking for her? Y/N didn’t know. The thought sent a pang of despair through her, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sharp, searing pain that exploded across her abdomen.

She gasped, choking as her mouth filled with blood. The taste was bitter and metallic, flooding her senses as she doubled over and collapsed against the cold, unyielding ground.

Her cheek pressed against the dirt, rough and cool against her fevered skin. She lay there, motionless except for the shallow, uneven rise and fall of her chest.

Blood dripped from the corner of her lips, pooling in a slow, dark stain beneath her. Her gaze turned upward, past the carnage of her body, to the endless expanse of sky.

She thought of Jinx. Where was she? Was she safe? Her heart clenched at the thought of the girl finding her like this. Y/N didn’t know what was worse: Jinx witnessing her death or never knowing what had happened to her.

Y/N swallowed the pain, though it burned like fire in her throat, and gritted her teeth. For some reason, something or someone pushed her to get through this moment.

With a shaky breath, she forced herself to move. Her body protested with every inch. Her muscles screamed, her ribs ached, and her vision darkened at the edges, but she turned onto her stomach.

The dirt smeared across her face and clothes as she dragged herself forward, inch by agonizing inch. Every movement sent pain ricocheting through her body, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Jinx needed her, and she would crawl through hell itself to protect her.

“Mom?”

A small voice broke through the haze. Panic surged in Y/N’s chest, momentarily cutting through the pain. No. No, no, no! She wasn’t supposed to be here. She couldn’t see this.

“Jinx…” Y/N rasped, but her voice was little more than a whisper, drowned out by the sound of her own labored breathing.

“Y/N!” Another voice, deeper and gravelly, snapped her attention. Through her blurring vision, she could make out figures approaching. Silco, Jinx, and… Sevika?

Y/N coughed, her body convulsing as more blood spilled from her lips. She forced her head to lift, barely able to make out their faces before the weight of exhaustion pulled her back down. Her eyes fluttered shut as her body grew colder, the edges of her mind slipping further into darkness.

“Y/N!” Jinx’s scream tore through the air, raw and heartbroken. She dropped to her knees beside her, her hands hovering over the blood-soaked body. Tears streaked her cheeks, her face twisting into something desperate and anguished.

“Please, Y/N, please!” Jinx’s voice cracked as she shook her sister’s shoulders gently. “Wake up! You can’t leave me!”

Silco stood a few feet away, his expression frozen in a rare moment of shock. Y/N was meticulous, a fighter to the bone. For her to end up like this was unthinkable. His mind raced, running through the possible culprits. Someone had orchestrated this, and they would pay.

“She hates blood. Why is she covered in so much blood?” Jinx whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at Y/N’s form. Her hands trembled as she turned to Silco, her wide, tear-filled eyes pleading. “Save her! You have to save her!”

Sevika knelt beside Y/N, pressing two fingers to her neck. After a tense moment, she nodded. “She’s got a pulse,” Her voice was steady despite the tension in her jaw.

Without hesitation, Sevika scooped Y/N’s limp body into her arms. Blood seeped into her clothes as she stood, but she didn’t flinch.

“Get her home. Now,” Silco ordered, his voice low and deadly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his gaze swept over the scene. “Find who did this. And bring them to me.”

Silco watched them go, his jaw tight as he turned his attention back to the bloodied ground. Whoever had done this had made a grave mistake. And they would learn the cost of crossing him.

Y/N’s head lulled aimlessly, her expression peaceful as she seemed to drift off somewhere. It was a beautiful place, though she wouldn’t remember it when she’d wake up. But she knew it was beautiful.

‘You still have a promise to keep, Y/N.’

_____________________________________________________

“I must thank you, Y/N,” Silco spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the stillness of the room.

Y/N sat across from him, her posture tense as one of Silco’s medics worked deftly to wrap the bandages around her wounds.

The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the smoke curling from Silco’s cigar. “For taking care of Jinx.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight. There was something about the way he said her Powder’s new name, Jinx, that sent a prickle of unease down her spine. It rolled off his tongue too naturally, too comfortably, as though it belonged to her entirely.

“She’s my sister,” Y/N replied firmly, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

Silco tilted his head, the glowing ember of his cigar illuminating the sharp planes of his face. “And yet, I would think of her more as a daughter to you.” He exhaled a stream of smoke with deliberate calm, his visible eye gleaming with something unreadable. “She called you her mother, did she not?”

“She did,” Y/N admitted reluctantly, shifting under his piercing gaze. Her fingers clenched in her lap, knuckles whitening. “Whatever Jinx wants to call me, I don’t have a preference.”

“Oh, but I think you do.” Silco’s tone was laced with quiet certainty, the kind that cut deeper than any blade. He took another long drag from his cigar before letting the smoke escape in slow, curling wisps. The pungent smell burned in her lungs, making her feel as though the air itself were conspiring against her. “Jinx needs someone to train her.”

“Sevika can train her,” Y/N said curtly, her words more of a defense than a suggestion.

Silco merely hummed, his calm demeanor unshaken. “And you would trust Sevika with that responsibility?” he asked, his tone faintly amused.

Y/N feigned an eye roll, “No,” She admitted, pushing herself to her feet with a wince as the motion tugged at her bandages. “I’ll train her. If that’s all you wanted to say, you could’ve just come out with it. Whatever game you’re playing, whether it’s using Powder against me or something else, I don’t care.”

“Emotions are a volatile thing,” Silco murmured, ignoring her defiance. He turned his gaze fully on her, his infected eye glowing with eerie intensity. “Especially anger. You were reckless during your last mission, and that recklessness is why you suffered the consequences. Be grateful I decided to look out for you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, the sting of his words fueling the fire in her chest. “What? So now I’m in debt to you?”

“You are my daughter just as much as Jinx is,” Silco said evenly, his calm almost infuriating. He took another slow pull from his cigar before continuing. “I care for you just as much as I care for her.”

“We’re assets,” Y/N shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. Silco turned his head to face her fully, the soft orange glow of his infected eye swirling like a slow-burning ember.

“And is that what you truly believe?” he asked, his tone devoid of malice but laced with curiosity.

“I speak my mind, Silco,” Y/N replied, her voice cold.

“Indeed, you do,” Silco said, his lips curling into the faintest semblance of a smile. “I merely wish to express my gratitude. I’m glad you’re alive, Y/N. You fought with determination and skill.”

Y/N froze at his words, her body rigid. Gratitude? Praise? From Silco? It didn’t add up. What exactly was he playing at?

Silco leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Despite our differences,” He said softly, his orange eye gleaming as it fixed on hers, “I care for both of you. Never doubt that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, suppressing the knot of frustration forming in her throat. Without saying another word, she nodded curtly and turned on her heel, stepping briskly out of the office. The heavy door closed behind her with a soft click, and she let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she muttered to herself, trying to gather her thoughts. (For those who cover their hair or don’t have any, my apologies for not being more inclusive!)

Her steps echoed down the quiet hallway until she suddenly stopped. A faint, familiar energy pricked at her senses.

“Jinx,” She said, her voice steady, “I know you’re there.”

Out of nowhere, the blue-haired girl landed on the floor with an exaggerated huff, as if she’d been caught mid-sneak. Her electric blue locks, now long and swept back into a messy ponytail, swayed with the movement. She looked up with a playful, slightly sheepish expression, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“What?” Jinx asked, feigning innocence as if she hadn’t been caught red-handed.

Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘What’?” Her tone was sharp but not unkind, one hand shifted to her hip as she added pointedly, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Jinx groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air as she plopped onto the floor in an exaggerated sprawl. “I know, I know! I tried! But I was bored, and I couldn’t find you!”

Y/N shook her head, her stern expression softening into a smile. “You really don’t make things easy, do you?”

Jinx perked up instantly. “So? What were you guys talking about in there? Sounded important.”

“Nothing important,” Y/N replied with a soft chuckle, her smile widening slightly as she crouched down to meet Jinx’s gaze. “But starting tomorrow, you and I have work to do.”

Jinx tilted her head, curious but intrigued. “Work? Like… fun work or boring work?”

“Training,” Y/N clarified, her tone firm but encouraging. “No excuses this time. You’re going to need it.”

taglist: @night-fall-moon @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[rokonrrc2]

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you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[deryaauria]

En uzun gece 21 Aralık değil,gittiğin geceydi..

[conversacomsmaug]

Christmas prompts. Any ideas?

answer me... Pleasee haha

So I can write a good story.

[abreathlessplace]

“ did you ever love me the way i loved you? ”

[haru-kuneko]

My turn! My character suffers from false memory and his friends found a video of them at the crime scene. He doesn't recall being there at all. However, the authorities (including the mafia) are right at his tail.

writing prompts but they’re unhinged

your protagonist wakes up to find their reflection in the mirror isn’t copying them anymore, and it’s pissed off.

a vending machine gives your character a random object instead of their snack… and it changes their life.

every time your protagonist swears, something inexplicable happens. no one believes them until it’s too late.

your character is haunted. not by a ghost, but by an alternate version of themselves who keeps showing up to offer bad life advice.

the sun doesn’t rise one day. no one knows why, and your protagonist is the only one who seems concerned.

your protagonist gets a mysterious letter with their own handwriting on it. it’s dated next week.

your character gets cursed with the ability to hear every thought their pet has ever had. unfortunately, their pet has a lot to say.

the local library has a secret basement full of books that are still being written—and one of them has your protagonist’s name on it.

someone keeps breaking into your character’s house, not to steal things but to leave increasingly cryptic notes in their fridge.

every time your protagonist dreams, someone else’s life changes. one day, they meet someone who claims to recognize them from their dreams.

your character buys a secondhand jacket, only to find an ominous letter in the pocket addressed to them… from ten years ago.

a mysterious voice narrates your protagonist’s life in real time. it’s helpful until it starts describing things that haven’t happened yet.

your protagonist finds an old photograph of their family at a place they’ve never been, but they’re in the picture.

every plant your character touches immediately withers, except for one very stubborn weed that keeps following them around.

your character orders takeout. instead of food, the delivery person hands them a sealed envelope marked urgent.

your protagonist finds a diary under their bed. it’s not theirs, but the last entry describes exactly what they’re doing right now.

your character attends a mandatory office meeting, but halfway through, they realize none of their coworkers seem… human.

your protagonist accidentally wins a supernatural competition they didn’t know they entered. the prize? something they really don’t want.

every time your character writes something down, it vanishes from their memory. they can’t figure out what they’re forgetting—until it’s almost too late.

[graveyardhorror]

➳❥ ADA WONG dating!headcanons

misc. masterlist

-the definition of a mysterious and nonchalant girlfriend, even if she tells you a bit about her career and what she does in a day's work you still never fully know about all the crazy stuff she encounters

-secretly likes animes like sailor moon and saiki k but would never admit it outloud, acts tough on the outside (because she is lol) but is also a bit soft on the inside

-randomly drops dad-lore level stories from her old jobs, acts like it's not a big deal but never fails to laugh at the look on your face when she tells you these stories

-though she prefers to initiate affections and is naturally alluring, she loves when you take control and initiate things; melts into your body when you give her a back hug, though you tried to surprise her she heard you from the moment you entered the room

-likes to grab your face and squeeze it lightly, just looking at your face and saying something under her breath that you can't quite make out but you do catch a faint blush on her cheeks and tips of her ears

-enjoys pampering you and dressing you, doing your hair, etc. like you're her own personal doll; loves dressing you and herself up all nice just to stay home all day or go on a coffee/tea run

-is an amazing cook and likes when you watch and occasionally help her out in the kitchen, acts like a chef on a cooking show to put a smile on your face and get a giggle or two out of you

-teases you relentlessly but you both know it's all in good fun, her love language is teasing you

dividers by cafekitsune

[jmaknavigr]

Hello everyone, my dearest followers and/or readers!

Lately I've been having some creative blocks, so to try to distract myself and have more imagination I started making the SMG4 Crew from Papercraft/Paperdoll!! :D

I haven't finished all of them and I still have some to finish, so for now I leave you the ones I've made and tomorrow I'll show you the ones I made!! ✨

Here are SMG3 and SMG4!

Then we have SMG1 and SMG2!

Finally, we have Bob and Boopkins!