#even if only because I wrote it all in one sitting because inspiration suddenly hit

[pycobutterpie]

#samweek2024 Day 1 Sam Winchester x my hobby (writing supernatural fics and roleplays), set in his world, regarding the books of Carver Edlund Triggers: none Words: 1600

Glancing at the clock, I sighed. I had been sitting in the library for two hours and didn't know where to begin or where to end. On the left were books about Indian culture and customs, on the right about rituals and deities of the South Asian country. Not that I ever wanted to travel there. It was all research. A glance at my Discord channel told me that Minnie was still waiting for my response in our previous chapter of the written Supernatural RPG. My chat buddy had already planned our story with India. And there were two stories running through my head again. I bit my lower lip and tried to decide which one to write now. Either the research for the new chapter, where Dean and his family are being hunted by a demon in India, or the current story, where Dean's daughter had learned to teleport and had simply showed up in her cousin's kindergarten.

Carver Edlund would be proud of us, I was sure of it. One can always make a crazy story even crazier, and that's what we had done. But who deserved a happy family more than Sam and Dean from Supernatural. Nobody, right? They had been through so much that a little fluff was only appropriate. We hadn't made it that easy for them either. Thinking about how Sam's heart is gong to be broken…

With a sadistic smile on my lips, I was about to start my post about Sam's son when a huge guy appeared on the other side of the small desk and took my light. “Hi,” the brunette said quietly, balancing a stack of old books on both arms. The tendons of his forearms were taut, his muscles well defined. “Hi,” I said shyly, quickly looking back at my screen, because guys like that didn't usually talk to me. He cleared his throat briefly, but his shadow didn't disappear. Why was he still standing there? I looked at his face again, which looked a little questioning. That handsome face… “Um,” he snapped me out of my thoughts, “can you make room for me? Otherwise it's already full.”

I winced briefly, because I shouldn't be daydreaming so much. Instead, I jumped up, the chair crashing into the shelf behind me.

"Sure, sorry!" I hurriedly pushed my books to one side, which took up most of the space on his side of the table. “No problem,” he said with a gentle smile, lowering his tomes onto the table. They looked a little dusty and weren't even labeled on the spine. I would imagine old spellbooks in a magical library would look like this. Oh, that was an idea! I straightened up my chair and went straight to the chat with Minnie and wrote in the 'Ideas' channel:

@ Y/N: “Maybe there's some kind of magical library in hell where Alex and Cassy cantry out all sorts of things as soon as they can read?” I grinned and immediately felt the inspiration to finish the text Sam's about little son again.

I just managed to send my text before my computer went PLING. My friend had replied in the ideas channel.

@ Minnie: “Wow, that sounds great^^ Maybe they'll get caught too. Or they'll tear up one of Bobby's important books.”

I had to laugh a little.

@ Y/N: “No way, he made copies of all of them.” PLING @ Minnie: “Then Crowley’s books.”

Before I could answer, I felt an annoyed look from across the table. The young man had pressed the fingers of his left hand to his forehead to hold his head, while the light from his own laptop setting off his sharp cheekbones. "You should turn off the sound," he said, looking pretty good even when annoyed. Inwardly, I had long since made the comparison to Sam, the way I imagined him and the way Edlund had described him. Muscular, masculine, but also a few soft features and incredibly velvety flowing hair. I thought guys like that only existed in books. Suddenly, his laptop emitted an urgent beep and the light on the gentleman's face disappeared. “Oh no, please don't…” he cursed under his breath and hitting a few keys in vain.

As I was waiting for Minnie to post anyway, I ventured a conversation: “And you should charge your laptop. Do you need it urgently?” “Hm… Deadline,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. I wondered if he often worked under time pressure. His eyes flew over my laptop and my books. “Are you studying too?” I had to smile. “No, not anymore. This is more of a hobby. I'm Y/N, by the way. What's your subject? Magic?” Now he had to laugh as well. “Sometimes it seems that way to me, but no. Law. And I'm Sam, nice to meet you.” My forehead felt like it was frozen in a wrinkle. The guy's name was the same as the one in the story of all stories and he studied law in the same way? Especially since his books didn't look like they came from the legal department at all. More like… My imagination was too vivid, far too vivid. It was just a story. There were no monsters and therefore no hunters. And the name was completely random. Thousands of people were called Sam. How about Sam Witwicky? Just to name one character… But still… It was worth a try. I could already imagine what his search history would look like. Determined, I slid my laptop over to him and gave him a trusting smile. “If you don't delete anything, you can use mine. I should look in the books anyway. I haven't made much progress yet.” “Really,” Sam asked. “You know you should never give your electronics to strangers.” I wouldn't put it past him that his little eyes had looked so desperate earlier, like a puppy that had its toy taken away. Instead, I leaned back and pulled the book of the Indian gods towards you. “No, it's okay, I'll have your fingerprints and my sister is with the FBI.” A lie, but never mind. The real Sam always gave the FBI a wide berth, unless he was impersonating them. “Okay… thanks then,” he said and pulled my laptop towards him.

We were absorbed in our work for a while until my laptop made a few sounds again. Minnie had replied! And her text was more than 2000 characters long, otherwise it would have been just one pling. My eyes widened a little and my fingers tingled to read what she had written from the perspective of Dean's gifted daughter. Or from Sam's, or probably both in one post. After all, I had ended my part of the story earlier with a phone call from the kindergarten teacher to Sam. But the Sam in front of me made no move to return the laptop. Instead, he stared at it, quite fascinated, and then happily started typing again. I just stared at him for a few moments, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, it soon plinged again. Minnie was notoriously quick with her lyrics. But surely Sam wouldn't dare? His fingers stopped and he grinned at the screen again. “Hey!”, I said to him and pulled my laptop back towards me.

Sam flinched, startled, and raised his hands: “I didn't do anything.” With a frown, I looked at the open window on the screen. Of course it was Discord and Minnie's latest post wasn't even about the story. Just a real life conversation. “You chatted with her?” I looked reproachfully at Sam, who was staring out of the window at the end of the hallway. “Sam, you don't have to ignore me, I can see that.” I quickly skimmed over the brief chat between the two of them. “You're giving her tips on what Sam would do? Are you a roleplayer too?” My curiosity clearly outweighed my annoyance that he had been snooping through my chat. “A what? No, sorry. I was just reading the text. And I thought Sam wouldn't give his son to a stranger in a nursery after all.” Oh, so he was a fan too. I gave him my sweetest smile, because you never meet other Supernatural fans in real life. “It's really cool that you love Supernatural too. One would think you are a LARPer for Sam. And do you also write fanfiction?”

Sam tilted his head slightly. “No, I just had a quick look at the books. My brother has…” He stopped the sentence so abruptly that I felt like he was biting his tongue. I rested my chin on the palm of my hand with satisfaction and grinned broadly at him. “So I've been writing the story for a while now. We let Sam and Dean become fathers almost simultaneously and involuntarily. That's really good stuff. Sam's girlfriend is not only in the FBI but also a monster without him knowing it. Suits him, doesn't it?” I looked directly at the Sam across from me as he swallowed and turned a little paler. “I… No, I don't think so. I have to go now.” By then he had already stood up, gathered his things without looking at me again, and stalked off. Was he offended? Sam was certainly his favorite character. And what we did to him in the story was pretty intense. But sometimes you stepped on other fans' toes. But there were be others who were just as excited about the ideas as you were. ------------------ (It would be really fun to read this story from Sam's point of view :D If anyone fancies it, feel free to tag me in the results). Written for #samweek2024 by @seasononesam and @suncaptor <3 You can find the topics of the individual days here.

[goodluckclove]

Various "Failures" From My Google Docs

Good morning! I'm at my usual coffee shop and got inspired by the troubles of a few friends to embarrass myself.

Sit down with me. I'm enjoying my usual blended chai. There's room on the couch if you'd like to join me.

So I've written thirteen novels. I think thirteen, I've actually lost count. Let's say, like, five full-length plays and twelve to fourteen finished novels. Impressive, right? Maybe. I'm realizing that I consider that not much of a brag, if only because I know the amount of trips and stumbles it took to get to one completed project.

I've ditched a lot of ideas. A lot. If I need to I can dig into my old hard drives to find all the doc files from my youth, but I also have the same Google Docs I've had since middle school.

It's mostly plays and ghostwriting assignments, but if you did you'll find some snippets from my constant attempts at growth.

Some stuff like this is okay. The line "hair slicked back/suit black silk" is pretty good, but a little too the writer thinks they're clever for me now. I don't really remember where I planned to go with this. I think the narrator was somehow going to be given the identity of Roy Fontaine. I was really fixated on the surname Fontaine at the time. I don't know why.

But then there's also a lot of stuff like this:

Hey look it's Fontaine again! I guess he's a doctor, too! Also I am astounded by how casually the main character just pulls out the Necronomicon. He pulls it out? From where? His pocket? Is it a zine?

I don't know why, but something about how suddenly this jumps in terms of dropping specifics makes me think that Sonic the Hedgehog is about to show up. I can't explain it.

This is the only thing in a Doc titled "Psychosis". I have zero memory of what I was planning on doing with this. What's kind of crazy though is that I wrote this in 2014, and six years later I'll use essentially this exact bit in a finished novel without even realizing it.

Another bit from 2014. No clue what I planned to do with this. It's hilarious to me that something stopped me from finishing the sentence. What am I, Franz Kafka writing The Tower? I didn't die. I wasn't raptured. I just apparently tried to think of something a large oak door would do and immediately gave up. It was 2014 I had finished, like, four novels. And this idea was fully stalled by what had to be a fucking huge oak door.

My favorite part of this radio play I tried to write is that somehow, believe it or not - when I wrote this I did not fully understand the Quantum Suicide thought experiment. And for along time I still kind of thought that this could be salvaged into a good idea, until last night when I asked my wife to put on a video describing the experiment and I immediately found it so dumb. Just ridiculously stupid. The only good thing about Quantum Mickey is that the title kicks ass and I'm definitely keeping it for something.

I've written a lot. A lot. I've earned the severity of carpal tunnel I currently have. If I had to put it into a statistic, I'd say maybe seventy percent ends up finished. fifty percent ends up polished to be read or published. Thirty percent actually ends up being read or published. I'm okay with this, because I enjoy the work. But for me, part of enjoying the work is not panicking when a project doing work.

If I need to end a project in the middle of a sentence, I do. I've clearly proven that I do. Sometimes I write for thirty pages and lose interest, other times I get a paragraph in and get distracted forever. That's okay.

That's okay. As long as you're doing something.

I could've included segments of Carnation, my first novella that was supposed to be a novel but I never finished it. But I fucking guess that's getting it's own post when I hit 150 followers so I hope you're prepared for what the type of stuff I enjoyed in middle school.

There's an Irish child that speaks exclusively in slang. You aren't ready.

[musashi]

very sorry if youre getting this twice my wifi lost connection the first time i hit send so im asking again in case didnt get through. its a relief to see you say writers block is just a state of mind issue! do you have any advice for people who are still stuck in it to stop being that way? what part of my thinking has to change to get better? and this has nothing to do with the topic but thank you for being one of the few mayomei sickfic writers in western fandom! finally some good fucking food

honestly its a hard thing to advise because i quite literally just brute force 90% of things in my life out of spite. but i think just internalizing it is a good first step?

like. writer's block is. how do i phrase this. it's just a term we have invented for feeling "stuck." which can be useful, except... it has now kind of taken on a life of its own, where people kind of talk about it as if it is... a condition? something that you can "come down with" so to speak. but in reality all it means is that you are stuck. something isn't working.

why are you stuck?

that's the thing to figure out. some people get stuck by many things. some people are only ever stuck via one thing. but when you chalk it up to "writer's block" what you are basically doing is giving yourself an excuse to not examine it further. you are saying to yourself, well, it's writer's block, hopefully it passes soon. and you are taking away the agency from yourself to help it pass, giving yourself over to the whim of it. you are relenting.

i am bad at relenting.

this goes hand in hand with the other thing that annoys me to hear people talk about--"inspiration." a lot of writers consider this to be an opposite of writer's block, so to speak. sometimes its inspiration, sometimes its motivation, but much like with writer's block, they consider it this kinda nebulous cloud that settles over them and oh! suddenly they can create!

this, again, takes away the writer's agency. they are simply at the behest of writer's block and its opposite, motivation. internalizing this mindset pretty much guarantees that your output will stagger. that terrifies me. the idea that i must go long swaths of time waiting to feel "inspired" or "motivated" sounds like hell. writing, creating, making something is what keeps me alive, and i think if i stopped i'd die.

so, once again i reiterate: what writer's block is, is a writer being stuck. the writer needs to unpack why they are stuck. instead of just saying 'oh lol its writer's block' and leaving it at that.

for me, what i thought was "writer's block" was actually perfectionism and a dissatisfaction with how the story looked in my head vs how it came across on paper. i felt the words i was putting on the page did not match the story i wanted to tell, and i would lock up and feel foggy and uninspired. but when i did that, i was angry, because it felt like giving up, and i fucking hate giving up. i hate failing even more than i hate being stumbling and imperfect.

more than that, i was writing nothing. i came to a conclusion: as i grew as a writer, my standards would shift and change. therefore, there will never exist a timeline where i am 100% satisfied and proud of everything i've ever written. furthermore, this paralytic fear of not telling the story i wanted to tell meant i wasn't telling a story at all. i was setting myself up to fail regardless, so i may as well tell a story while i do it.

the choice came down to, write hundreds of shitty words that were not up to my own (impossible) standard, or write nothing and hope and pray that one day i feel "inspired" enough to get the story in my head out. from a purely logistical standpoint, i think anyone can see which outcome is favourable.

and then i wrote stuff. and, uh, it turns out literally no one feels the same about my writing as i do. i think it sucks shit but everyone else LOVES it and thinks its top tier. which, again, just logically that tells me that my opinion is biased--i'm sitting with the story all day, so it looks predictable and uninspired to me. but no one else has that viewpoint. everyone else is just eating that shit like candy. again, just logistically, this makes it a lot easier to talk down the voice in my head that says i'm not making good enough art. i can just give it a chocolate candy and be like, calm down, little thing. clearly i am.

so to loop it back around: writer's block is just a term people use as a crutch to avoid examining why they feel unable to write. i personally found that saying instead what i am actually struggling with literally instead of chalking it up to some nebulous affliction made me a much more productive writer. i have a general word count i want to make every day and regardless of how i'm feeling i try my best to hit it. and thats why i can just write 45645645 fics all the time like it's nothing.

anyways THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i will write mayomei forever if people keep talking to me abt it. they are so precious to me

[halseyquinn]

Birthday miracle

A/N: When I scrolled through all the content for the Madrigal triplets’ birthday, inspiration suddenly hit me ;) This is the first time I wrote an actual story for this fandom...I hope you enjoy it.

Just a little bit of Bruno-birthday-angst and platonic (!) family fluff :) I tried to combine my story idea with today’s “Encantober” prompt “miracle” (I hope it’s “miraculous” enough ;) Also: I don��t speak Spanish, so please feel free to tell me if I got anything wrong!

TW: none

“Squeak!” Bruno tried - rather unsuccessfully - to ignore the high-pitched sound and carefully turned around in his hammock. Bad idea - he seemed to have underestimated the might of gravity and soon hit the floor with an uncomfortable “thud”. The good thing was he was definitely wide awake now. “Squeak?” A small, pearly grey rat sat on the edge of his hammock and looked straight into his eyes when he finally decided to open them. The expression on the furry little face could almost have been described as concerned - if it had been a human. “S’alright, I’m alright” he muttered, trying to sound comforting as he gingerly massaged the throbbing spot on the back of his head.

Who was he kidding? He was 50 years old...no, 51 already, today was his birthday and...He sighed. “Great way to start your birthday” he mumbled under his breath and knocked on the nearest wooden floor tile he could reach - just in case. He gloomily looked around the room and sighed again. Maybe it would be better to just stay where he was, right here on the floor. Because...this day was bound to become awkward and uncomfortable, right? It was his - and his sisters’ - first birthday after...everything. The last time they had celebrated together had been eleven years ago - and even back then it hadn’t been a very pleasant day for anyone. Too much uncomfortable tension, too much regret, just too much... And not enough at the same time. Not enough words. Not enough honesty. Bruno had nervously started to wring his hands without even noticing. Now he was back - but was anything really different? Had they really spoken about things? Had they truly forgiven him for what he’d done? Had he forgiven them? Was he really welcome or were they just too polite to kick him out again? He started to shiver a little which had hardly anything to do with the fact that he was still sitting on the floor in only his nightclothes. Wrapping his arms protectively around his body, Bruno’s gaze fell upon the little grey rat again, which seemed to eye him curiously. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked it softly and somewhat hopefully, feeling unable to come up with the right answer himself. “Squeak! Squeak!” The rat looked more agitated now, almost enthusiastic. It even seemed to make little movements with its paws as if to shoo him out of the room...no, he’d likely just hit his head harder than he’d thought.

Before Bruno could ponder this curious situation any further, the door of his room was energetically pushed open to reveal his youngest nephew, already dressed and accompanied by what seemed to be each and every one of his animal friends. Before Bruno could even utter so much as a “good morning”, his rodent companion had started to squeak even louder than before. “Yes, that’s right!” Antonio agreed. “I came here to get him - what? He doesn’t want to leave his room? But why?” the last part was directed at Bruno, accompanied by a half-surprised, half-curious look. “Uh- nothing, it was nothing” he muttered comfortingly, hoping Antonio wouldn’t see through him. The kid was extremely perceptive for his age. “I-uh...I just...wasn’t sure whether I was already allowed to...leave my room - you know, so that I don’t spoil the...surprise?” he offered. Where on earth were his good ideas and acting skills when he needed them? But Antonio - luckily - seemed perfectly satisfied with his answer. “It’s alright, tío! You don’t have to wait anymore - everyone’s already waiting for you, downstairs!” he beamed at his perfectly nonplussed uncle. The latter was only able to utter a feeble “T-they do?”. Antonio nodded, still smiling. “Well, uh, I guess...you better go back then and I get dressed properly in the meantime and then I’ll join you all?” Bruno suggested. But Antonio only shook his head, making his curls bounce wildly. “Nope” he said, before adding “They told me to tell you to come to the kitchen - now. We’ve been waiting for you for a while, you know? Everyone’s really excited already...” he trailed off a little. Oh no, not the puppy dog eyes. Bruno could never say “no” to anything any of his nephews or nieces asked him if they looked at him that sadly. “It’s alright, I go with you right away, okay?” he said quickly, relieved to see Antonio’s face light up again.

Bruno hastily donned his ruana, which had been rather carelessly thrown over a chair and looked accordingly, and followed his youngest nephew plus animal entourage downstairs. He didn’t really have a chance to wonder about anything before they reached the kitchen. Antonio went in first, Bruno followed a little hesitantly, carefully peeking around the corner and - “¡Felicidades, Bruno!” He was overwhelmed for a moment, so many people, so many animals, so many voices and noises, Pepa was dabbing at her eyes, a little rain cloud forming above her head, from the corner of his eyes his spotted a huge multilayered cake, balloons and lots of colorful flowers, Julieta rounded the corner and - the next moment he was pulled into a tight hug. And suddenly everything was alright. He didn’t even feel the little bump on his head anymore. “Happy Birthday, mi hermano - I’m so happy to have you back...finally” Julieta whispered. Bruno couldn’t hold back the tear that ran down his face and trickled through the fabric of his shirt. “T-Thank you, I-I’m s-so happy to be back, too” he sniffled and felt his sister hug him even tighter. The two of them were soon joined by Pepa, who wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t crying and after a couple of minutes the whole Madrigal family had joined what could only be described as a gigantic group hug. Well, not the whole family, to be precise. Alma Madrigal, who had left the room for a moment to fetch a vase for the flowers, stopped abruptly when she entered the kitchen again, eyes going wide with surprise. Then a soft smile spread over her features as she murmured to herself “Que milagro” [”What a miracle”]. She carefully placed the vase on a nearby table and went to embrace her wonderful family.

[appetite4savage]

Two Steps Behind (Joe Elliott)

-

Joe fluff, as promised 🫶🏻 @thiswatch-lepparddef-werehi

-

Joe’s POV

Christmas is coming up faster than ever and I haven’t perfected Y/N’s gift yet. I knew I wanted to write her a song, but the words aren’t flowing through me like they normally do. Maybe I should just be like every other boyfriend and get her a diamond necklace or something.

I sigh before opening the door to our apartment. The sight that appears before me is one I will never get tired of seeing. Y/N is bundled up under a large blanket sprawled across the couch. Her eyes seem to betray her and made her fall asleep. Her breathing is slow and quiet, the stillness of the room calming.

I smile as I gently pick up her feet and sit down under them, placing them back in my lap. She stirs a little, but doesn’t wake up. Her beauty is immaculate even in her most vulnerable state.

Suddenly inspiration hits me like a truck. Luckily we keep a notepad on the table beside the couch so I don’t have to disturb her.

“Walk away, if you want to

It's okay, if you need to

You can run but you can never hide

From the shadow that's creepin' up beside you.”

I wrote those lyrics because I have been a lot to deal with the past few years. Y/N has never left me despite everything I’ve put her through. I don’t deserve to have her with me.

”There's a magic runnin' through your soul

But you can't have it all

Whatever you do

I'll be two steps behind you

Wherever you go

And I'll be there to remind you

That it only takes a minute of your precious time

To turn around

I'll be two steps behind….”

Before I knew it I had written an entire song. She gives me the ability to write from my heart and I will never take that for granted.

Just as I close the notepad and place it back on the table, she stirs and awakens this time.

Her beautiful eyes flutter open and blink a few times before she looks at me.

“Oh, you’re home! How long have I been out?” She rubs her face with the back of her hand.

“You’ve been asleep since I got here.” I chuckle and rub her ankles.

She sits up, scooting next to me. I wrap my arm around her and kiss her temple, pulling her closer.

“What have you been doing? The TV is off.” She questions.

“Oh, uh, I was working on your Christmas present.”

“I see.” Her eyes glimmer. I know she so badly wants to know what it is.

“You’ll find out what it is in a couple days.”

-

Later, on Christmas Day

Today is the day. I get to play my song for her. I don’t know why I’m nervous, I rarely ever do. I know she will love anything I do for her but this is different.

“Alright, I just have to go get something for your present.” I smile, walking to get my acoustic guitar.

When I return with it in my hand she lights up brighter than the tree.

“Your guitar?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Yep.” I sit down in the chair across from her.

I start playing the tune and soon start to sing the lyrics to her. By the end of it, she’s in tears.

“Those are happy tears, I hope.” I say as I place the guitar down against the chair.

“Very happy tears.” She sniffles and walks over to me, sitting in my lap and wrapping her hands around my neck. “I love you, Joe.”

“I love you too.” Our noses rub together briefly before I pull her face towards mine to connect our lips.

[sugarushsuga]

2022 End of Year Writing Recap

Rules: post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year!

Tagged by: @bangtanintotheroom

Top 5 works you're most proud of (not necessarily your most popular)

1- In Your Own Words - This series was so long and hard to write, also it brought me back to writing fanfics after such a long time having a falling out with writing because of adulting.

2- I don't mind - Because it's short it's cute, and i wrote it all at once as soon as the inspiration hit me, something rare to happen.

3- Stay there, I'm coming to get you - I can never stress enough how hard it is to write smut, when my first language isn't english. Seems like whenever I try, sunddenly I don't know english anymore. And this one was easier than any other, I just couldn't figure out how to make them get there.

4- Grand Slam - This is my most popular fic, but what made me the proudest was that I managed to step out of my confort zone with some part of the smut, and that made me very unsure of it.

5- New Year's resolutions - For me is so, so hard to write Jimin and portray him, that i paused this fic so many times and even now I'm not sure about it, but I put it out to the world and that's what matters.

Top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release

1- All Night - I was supposed to post it on Christmas but adulting and a lot of other things got in the way. This fic came out of my obsesion with the song and the idea of keeping each other warm during a cold night of winter - Because honestly I'm very tired of Christmas durring summer.

2- Paper Flowers - This is part of the Summer Time Wedding colab from BCN. I need to sit down and finish of this one, but I'm happy with how the story is comming along.

3- PJ's and RJ's - Because Kim Seokjin, Pajamas and RJ are the perfect combo.

4- I'd love to - Because is the fic im currently working on and probably the next one I'll be posting.

Top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

1- Outlining the story doesn't mean things can't change. The pieces not used can turn into another fic or used at another one.

2- I can post fics with more basic and simpler grammar. There is no need to stress over making the story more "sophisticaded" using hard words that takes me forever to find and make me lose/dread writing. - People don't care about it, they don't even notice the effort.

3- Writing needs to be fun. There is no need to write a lot and post a lot when people don't care about giving feedback or talking to you about your work. I need to write because I want to tell the story and I'm doing it for me.

Top 2 resolutions for the new year

1- Read and write more, as well as give better feedbacks.

2- Improve my banner skills.

Number 1 favorite line you've written this year

(Is not a line but a few pragraphs from IYOW-CH.10)

“I went to visit my grandmother! She lives in the countryside.”

Sabrina lifts her thumbs and stretches out her arm, making sweeping movements back-and-forth with clenched fists. Suddenly she stopped with a theatrical grimace of astonishment and twists one of her fists, muttering a nhem-nhem-nhem-nhemnhem.

“Then my car broke down!” you tell Jungkook excitedly.

Sabrina jumps up and down in celebration, then goes back to mime. She puts one hand to the ear, thumb and little finger stretched out, and slides the finger of the other through the throat, sticking out the tongue.

“Then I got a death threat!”

“What?” Jungkook and Sabrina asks at the same time.

For this part I have to thank my eternal Roommate Julia and her terrible mime reading skills. I love her to death but I can never be her partner on mime games.

I'm late on doing this, beacause there was only so much my mental health allowed me to do last month.

All i can say is that I'm thankfull that 2022 is over, it was a really stressful year and I hope 2023 will be much kinder to me.

Tagging: @egocypher @babiekaykes @temptaetions@ressjeon

[batgirl-87]

Summary: Some members of the Cursed Vaults Gang discuss relationships and dating in lieu of studying. Charlie provides a surprisingly insightful view on the topic that stuns the others and leads Charlie to his own realization and to take a courageous leap of fate.

Word Count: 2,789

Genre: Deleted Scene? Fluff?

Warnings: Lack of Slytherins =(

Playlist: Your Eyes – Rent, They Were You – The Fantasticks, Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu – The Maine, Symphony – Clean Bandit feat. Zara Larsson, Dakota – The Rocket To The Moon

Note: Takes place during January of Sixth Year, an excerpt from my series of Charlie and Keira figuring out their relationship, done before Charlie confesses his feelings. (I will link that fic once it’s posted).

* Written, honestly, to ease my own insecurities on the pace in which I am writing Charlie and my MC’s relationship. After reading so many great fics by others about their MCs reuniting with Charlie after graduation, I couldn’t help but worry I was progressing things too quickly. I also enjoy a slowburn (who doesn’t?!) and want to make sure I build up their connection and relationship enough that their relationship progression is appropriate and realistic – like, it’s about time! And I started this at their first kiss and have started going back writing moments between them before that to hopefully set the relationship more between them but I still have insecurities about it, like maybe I should have more pining even after the Ball and not have them get together until Seventh Year… Anyway, so that’s really the reason for this piece, to sort of help me feel better about what I’m doing. (Idk if it’s working =p) *

I sat down and wrote this out in a couple hours in one sitting and did a quick edit but please excuse any errors (I was excited to have that motivation to just sit and write something out nonstop!) – there’s going to be a lot of the same words repeated/used and probably shifts in tenses, sorry.

“There you guys are!” Penny set her book bag down on the floor before swinging her leg over the bench to join her friends at their study table in the Great Hall. “I thought when you suggested a study sessions you meant in the library,” she explained as she began taking out her books and notes from her bag and placed them on the table in front of her. “I’ve been searching the entire library for you guys, walking up and down all the rows, looking everywhere you.” She even sounded a little out of breath.

“Well the original plan was the library,” Andre began before looking up from his textbook and giving a pointed look to the pink haired Hufflepuff on the other side of the table, “But someone got us kicked out by Madam Pince.”

“Is it my fault she can’t take a joke,” Tonks asked innocently with a shrug.

“You can only push someone so far,” Charlie lightly lectured his prankster friend since First Year who sat next to him.

“Well at least here we can talk without someone constantly hushing us,” Tonks pointed out. “If I have a question about Potions I would like to be able to ask the Potions Master herself,” she said, motioning to Penny across from her.

“Where’s Keira, Rowan, and Barnaby,” Penny asked as she glanced along the table, possibly in an attempt to change the subject so they wouldn’t keep arguing about getting kicked out of the library.

“Quidditch practice,” Charlie answered, possibly sounding a little bit disappointed.

If there was any hint of disappointment in his voice, Andre picked up on it. “Yes, we didn’t think Charlie would join us after finding that out,” he teased with a smirk.

“We just got back to talking and hanging out again, I just want to get things back to normal,” Charlie tried to explain. After not speaking or being around Keira for about two months and finally getting over that incident didn’t it make sense for him to be eager to get their friendship back to where it was before?

“What does that mean, exactly,” Andre asked curiously, watching his fellow Quidditch aficionado closely.

“What do you mean ‘what does that mean’,” Charlie asked quizzically, staring back at the Ravenclaw across the table from him.

“I mean, what is normal for you guys now?” Andre clearly found this conversation much more interesting than studying.

Charlie shrugged. “You know, like we were before. Where we could all study together, go to Hogsmeade, and hang out without any awkwardness or having to strategically dodge each other, I can help again with the Cursed Vaults – you know, back to being friends again.”

“Friends, huh,” Andre repeated with a slightly devious grin.

“Andre,” Penny said in a small warning tone.

“What? They’ve been dancing around this for long enough, don’t you think? Speaking of dance,” Andre started before quickly turning his attention back to the Gryffindor, “Didn’t you guys kiss at the ball last year?”

“Andre!” Penny couldn’t believe he brought that up so candidly but guess that was Andre. “That’s a personal, private matter between them.” The Hufflepuff was doing her best to help Charlie out who seemed completely in shock by Andre bringing that memory up – he didn’t even know they all knew that! And he doubted Keira told them so how did they know? Were they spying on them?

“I’m just trying to help them figure out their feelings for each other and their relationship,” Andre defended. “Aren’t you tired of them always making eyes at each other? They clearly fancy each other, just snog already and get it over with.”

“What makes you think they’ll stop making eyes at each other if they start dating,” Penny retaliated with a smirk.

“Plus it could make studying together really awkward if they’re snogging,” Tonks chimed in.

Charlie could feel his whole face heating up as they continued.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to snog her anyway, maybe he’s just admiring her beauty, like a piece of art. You don’t want to snog a painting,” Penny pointed out.

“No, he definitely wants to,” Andre stated. “Why would they kiss at all if they didn’t want to?”

“To determine if they want to do it more or not,” Penny reasoned.

They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there. Maybe he could sneak away….

“Well, do you want to do it again,” Andre suddenly asked him bluntly.

“Andre,” Penny cried again before smacking him in the arm with some of her notes.

“What? If you want to know the answer to something, ask. And he’s right here,” Andre told her, motioning to the tomato red Gryffindor across from him.

“Their relationship is between them,” Penny scolded.

“Penny, we’re friends. We’re going to be in each other’s business and relationships. Who are you going to turn to when the person you’re dating upsets you? Or if you need help getting them a gift for their birthday or planning something for you anniversary? You’re going to talk to your friends about your relationship,” Andre informed her. “And we’re here to help,” he added, turning his attention again to Charlie.

“Well then maybe we should be discussing someone else’s relationship then,” Penny reasoned, throwing a glance at the poor Gryffindor boy who looked completely humiliated and was hoping if he wished hard enough he would magically teleport himself anywhere else but there – too bad they hadn’t learn to apparate yet.

“Like yours? What happened between you and your date to the ball last year,” Andre asked, Charlie breathing out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, relieved the attention was off of him, if even for a moment.

“We had a lovely time, thank you,” Penny informed him as she straightened out her notes.

“And… that’s it? Nothing grew from it,” Andre prodded.

“If you’re asking me if I’m dating anyone the answer is no, I’m not. Not everyone dates around a lot like you,” the Hufflepuff added with a smirk. “When was your first date? Third Year?”

Penny’s teasing didn’t seem to faze Andre in the least. “It’s true, not everyone can be as alluring as me.”

Penny rolled her eyes but smiled slightly as Andre complimented and flattered himself. She flipped open one of her textbooks, assuming they could get to studying for their O.W.L.s now.

“Do you think dating a lot of people is a bad thing,” Andre suddenly asked her, causing Penny to pause a moment and think.

“No, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, But you might need to ask yourself why you date so many people and go through these relationships so quickly. Like, do you even like these people? Maybe you have commitment issues –“

“Maybe I’m just enjoying being young and having fun and taking in all my options. I mean, I don’t want to be one of those people who only dates one person and marries their high school sweetheart or something,” Andre explained, making a somewhat disgusted face.

“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s sweet,” Penny said with a slight sparkle in her eye.

Andre couldn’t help but scoff slightly. “I think we’re too young to be settling down with one person for the rest of our lives.”

“I don’t think you agree to go out with someone planning on being with them the rest of your lives. But if that happens, that’s great,” Penny said with a shrug. “Don’t know if they’re someone you want to be with until you get to know them better and you do that by going out with them. Not by hooking up with them like some people do,” she explained, giving Andre another look who just smirked devilishly.

“Wouldn’t you feel cheated though? Like you missed out on life experiences, dating other people, if you only dated one person,” Andre asked.

“Yes, what a tragedy to miss out on bad dates with jerks or getting cheated on and your heart broken,” Tonks muttered as she stared down at the textbook in front of her but it was hard to concentrate on studying with those two going at it. Penny held out her hand towards her fellow Hufflepuff as she looked pointedly at Andre – see!?  Good point, Tonks!

“But aren’t those also life experiences a lot of people go through that you learn from and can relate to others through? If your friends are all talking about their dating past and lives and you can’t relate, can’t that create a distance between you? If a friend comes to you crying over their most recent break-up or horrible date and you try to comfort them, they’re just going be like ‘you don’t understand how I feel or what I’m going through.’ And then why would they come to you again. See? Distance.”

Penny frowned as Andre made his next argument. “I understand what you’re saying about it being difficult to relate to others but I think if you’re really friends something like that wouldn’t ruin a friendship. I mean, there’s other types of heartbreak and bad experiences one could have and sometimes all a friend needs to do is listen and validate –“

“And give ice cream,” Tonks chimed in.

“I just think you’d be missing out on experiences you’re supposed to be having while we’re young. Also, imagine only kissing or having sex with one person your whole life!” That thought horrified the Ravenclaw!

“Guess we know what Andre’s Boggart is,” Tonks teased. Her joked earned a small chuckle from the table, even Andre had to agree that was funny – and accurate!

“I just don’t think you can find ‘the one’ unless you date around a bit. Just because you two have some things in common and get along pretty well and you might find them cute doesn’t make them ‘the one.’ How do you know someone is ‘the one’ you really want to be with, are supposed to be with, if you don’t test the water and see what else is out there to confirm,” Andre asked.

“What if they are the one?”

The table went silent as they all looked over at the last person who they thought would say anything. He said it so softly they almost missed it. Honestly, they all expected him to sneak off when the focus shifted away from him. Why he would speak up during this topic and risk bringing the focus back to him and his ‘relationship’ with Keira was a mystery to them. Clearly he wasn’t really listening to them anymore, however, and was lost in his own thoughts, thinking out loud, possibly unintentionally.

He had to admit, part of him found this whole topic of discussion interesting, which was probably why he stayed instead of making his escape. As someone who never had any interest in dating or snogging, as Andre brought up, or anything of the sort, there was part of him that was intrigued how others viewed and felt about romantic and sexual relationships. And now that he had met someone who had sparked these new feelings within him that he never felt before, never thought he would ever feel, and still didn’t feel for anyone else, his curiosity on the subject had grown.

“If you meet someone who makes you feel like you’ve never felt before, like no one else had ever made you feel, aren’t they the one? And if they are, wouldn’t you want to spend as much time with them as possible? Making as many memories together as you can? Having as many experiences together as you can? And wouldn’t those experiences only be made better when you’re experiencing them together with someone you care about? Wouldn’t you want your firsts and only to be with them because you already know with anyone else it won’t feel the same? Greatly pale in comparison, probably won’t feel anything at all… And why, if you have these feelings for them, try to push them away and deny them to waste time with playing games and dating around to make sure or be like everyone else when your unique feelings solely for them should be enough? Sure, for most people they have to date around to find someone they feel this way about, but we’re not like most people. And if you’re fortunate enough to avoid all that shouldn’t you act on that because you’re privileged to find what everyone else is searching for without going through all the obstacles and hurdles and pain? Even if you were never searching for it, never wanted it before, but found someone who made you want it, doesn’t that make it even more rare and special and, therefore, more meaningful and significant – doesn’t that mean you should do whatever in your power to keep them in your life because their presence in it has made it better, happier?”

The trio of friends sat in a stunned silence as the Gryffindor appeared to be working out his feelings before their eyes – was he even aware he was saying this all out loud in front of them? Were others in the Great Hall listening in as well? It was definitely a sight to behold. No one would have ever expected the Seeker to suddenly spill out such an emotional string of consciousness, especially out loud to an audience.

“And, yes, there is the possibility they don’t feel the same way. But should that fear of a possibility without solid evidence dictate your life with this person and control you? Should you allow that fear to keep you from potential happiness and creating those memories and having those experiences together? If they don’t feel the same way, sure, it’ll hurt, but at least you won’t have that uncertainty haunting you and that fear controlling you anymore. And after some time couldn’t you heal and get back to at least being friends so you can still have them in your life? I’ve seen people date and break up and remain friends so why should this be any different? It’s not really fair to allow your own fear of what they might be feeling, how they might react, deny them with the opportunity to decide for themselves what they want. You can’t let your own fear decide for them. Soon we’ll be graduating and going on with our lives, and who knows how these Cursed Vaults and this R person, organization, whatever, will end – do you really want to waste this short time we may have together denying your feelings or allowing your fear of rejection to rob you of possibly some of the greatest memories and experiences you can have? What if something, Merlin forbid, does happen with the last Vault or with R? What if we graduate and get jobs on opposite ends of the globe? Won’t you regret never admitting your feelings for them? Never giving yourself, or them, the chance at sharing those incredible memories and experiences together? Don’t they deserve to know, even if they don’t feel the same way? Don’t they deserve to know how cared for they are? Don’t they deserve to know? Don’t they?”

The trio glanced between themselves awkwardly. Was he… was he asking them? Were they supposed to answer or was this a rhetorical question? Unsure, Tonks nervously started to raise her hand but quickly dropped it when he started up again, his speech growing more passionate the longer it went on. Who knew Charlie was so insightful on matters besides dragons?

“Don’t you both deserve a chance at happiness? Don’t you both deserve to see what these new feelings are for each other with each other? If I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before, I doubt I’ll ever feel this way about anyone else in the future, but I feel this way about them because… maybe they are the one. Maybe we’re meant to be. And if they are, if we are, why are we wasting all this time?” Charlie let out a small chuckle at his epiphany before grabbing his bag and quickly heading out of the Great Hall, leaving his friends to stare after him, still stunned and completely shocked.

Andre slowly reached over to slide the textbook that was just moments ago in front of Charlie over to himself, marking the page before closing it to return to the Gryffindor later. “Huh. He left his Dragon-Keeper’s Guide book behind,” he stated as he read the cover before looking up at the two Hufflepuffs.

“Whoa… this is serious,” Tonks murmured before the three looked back towards the doors of the Great Hall where the dragon obsessed Weasley just sprinted out of, leaving his dragon text behind.

“How'd I Let You Slip Away When I'm Longing So To Hold You Now I'd Die For One More Day 'Cause There's Something I Should Have Told You

When I looked into your eyes (And I find I can't hide from your eyes The ones that took me by surprise) You were the song all along And before the song dies I should tell you, I should tell you” 

Tag List: @sungoddessra @sly-vixen-up2nogood @urban-eagle / @scribbleries @bexeris @cinnamoncam @tatlikar 

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! =) )

[bluemoonstonesy]

Man’s Best Friend - pt.1

John Stones

song: death by a thousand cuts / taylor swift

- i look through the windows of this love, even though we boarded them up -

summary: when you split two months ago, neither you or john were willing to give up your fur baby full time. but maybe the very same dog that you bought together will teach you both to love again.

notes: this will be two parts :) i wrote this all in one at 5 in the morning so i apologise for any mistakes. dog name inspired by chicken shop date + @tommyspeakycap who suggested it - plus it’s obviously perfect.

‘Man’s best friend’ is the most cliche phrase to describe someone and their most beloved pet. It’s been written a million times and spoken a hundred more. But it’s the only way that can describe John and his furry friend.

“How about Pebbles?” John had said last year when you first brought his soon to be best mate back home. The little golden retriever was climbing up his chest and trying to lick his face as you turned to face your boyfriend with furrowed brows.

“Pebbles?” You questioned him whilst watching as the puppy left his fur all over John’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah, Pebbles,” He repeated, “Like Stones. But, erm, Pebbles.”

You thought about it for a moment. You sometimes wondered how John’s mind worked in situations like that, “So the dog’s full name would be Pebbles ...Stones?”

“It’s okay because dogs don’t have last names.” He reassured.

“Yeah, and dogs also aren’t named fuckin’ Pebbles.”

But John basically gave you a university level explanation as to why you should name your dog after a type of rock. So you caved. And from that day on, you were forced to shout “PEBBLES!” in public whenever your quickly growing dog would get himself into trouble in the local park. And it was just your luck that he was probably the most mischievous goldie that you’d ever known. He’d always find a way to make himself a mess, often having to wash him down as soon as you got home from your walk. John would be leaning against the door frame, chuckling at the sight in front of him as you’d have Pebbles hoisted up in your arms so as to not let his muddy paws paint brown stains across the freshly cleaned carpet.

But those walks together were always that bit more special. Whenever John had a day away from football, you’d spend the afternoon strolling through the park, arms linked together as the golden retriever would patter not too far in front of you, turning around every once in a while to ensure that his humans were following him.

Sometimes you’d stop at a small ice cream shop on the way home, staying outside with the muddy pup on his lead whilst John would go inside and order for you both. And you’d sit on the same wooden bench outside each time, sitting in comfortable silence that would usually be interrupted by the familiar sound of Pebbles’ mouth.

“John!” You’d hiss, “Dogs can’t have ice cream!”

But he’d always give you a face that could never keep you mad for long, his arm frozen in place but his furry best friend would continue licking the ice cream off of his fingers without a care in the world, “But look at him - he loves it.”

Those walks became less frequent once the football season resumed. You weren’t surprised - you both worked full time jobs that demanded a lot of your time and you were thankful that Pebbles didn’t feel lonely since he spent his days sleeping away on his bed without any bother as to what else was happening around him.

But it was all you thought about whilst you were at work. You and John saw less and less of each other. And when you did get some rare time together, it began to feel awkward and as if you suddenly didn’t have anything in common. He’d tell you about his day at training and you’d attempt to explain some work drama that had been unfolding over the past few days. But it was as if nothing was going in; you were both drifting apart.

Watching him carry your things to the car after offering and piling them into the boot was when it hit you most. He wanted you to have the house, but you felt like you needed a new start. You were considering getting a new job, and you convinced yourself that it was okay to move a little further towards Manchester since that’s where most of the positions that you had your heart set on were located.

The fate was eventually sealed and you and John parted ways for good. But there was still one dilema - the dog.

Giving him away was completely out of the question. The idea of having to drive away and leave that beautiful goldie in an unknown place was both of your worst nightmares. You weren’t together anymore, but you both considered Pebbles to be your literal baby.

So you created a mutual system - John would get him during the week when weekday games were sparse whilst you were at work, and you’d get him on the weekends when John had most of his fixtures. It was basically co-parenting a child, except the child in question has a tail and a tendency to chew tennis balls.

And that’s why you now find yourself sitting on a bench next to the park entrance, lead in hand as you and your over excited goldie wait in anticipation for a familiar figure to walk up the path and whisk him away for his weekly stay at his other home.

Before long, the man with familiar curls comes strolling along, hand in pockets and face immediately lighting up when he spots his best friend who’s tail is now wagging erratically.

“Hello, you!” John grins, kneeling down to greet his four legged friend. It’s only been two months, but it still feels like yesterday since you’d visit this exact same park together. Except nowadays, one of you will be going home alone empty handed and with less hair clinging to every piece of clothing that you own.

“I brought some of his food in the car if you needed any. I can go and get it if you want.” You attempt to make small talk, a piece of you still yearning for that small reminder of normality between you both.

“It’s fine,” John smiles, but it doesn’t seem sincere, “I got some last night.”

The air around you falls silent. And it isn’t like those times when you’d sit outside the ice cream stop - a place you haven’t dared drive past for the last two months.

“Okay.”

John looks like he wants to say something else, but quickly decides against it. He’s battling those same thoughts as you hesitantly pass over the blue lead, his hands brushing against yours as he assumes parental control for the week.

It’s always hard walking away after exchanging your beloved goldie over to John. But this time it feels that bit more difficult, and you don’t understand why. You can’t see what happens as you give Pebbles one last kiss on the head before turning away to trudge back to your car.

But John is still standing there long after you’ve disappeared from his sight. His furry friend is looking up with a titled head, watching John rubbing his temple and regretting not saying the thing that he’s been rehearsing all weekend.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[quindolyn]

General Relationship Headcanons || Sirius Black

”Request: hi, love! i adore your new remus headcanon and i was wondering if you could write a general relationship headcanon with sirius black? if not, that’s completely fine. have a good day!

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m sorry this took me a little longer than I anticipated but I also went really over the top, it’s twice the length of my Remus Headcanon I just got really into it. I was once again inspired to write Dad!Marauders so maybe I’ll get around to that. I wanted to thank you all for such positive feedback on my Remus Headcanon. I hope you enjoy this. Also thank you anon, I love you.

Warnings: fluff, smut, a bit of angst, canon can go fuck itself, Sirius Black deserves to be happy, not proof read because I wrote most of this in one sitting and didn’t have the heart to go back and reread. The ending is a little choppy

Masterlist

Sirius Black was never shown enough love as a child

Even at age 11 you were able to pick that up, when you were dragged into a train car with four other first years. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black

He seemed nervous, he kept on looking out the window of the train car and fiddling with his fingers

James tries desperately to get everyone to talk, he feels likes he’s responsible for forging your guy’s friendship

Remus, Peter, he, and you hit it off immediately and you see Sirius smile at some of your jokes out of the corner of your eye but he’s nearly trembling

When you guys start talking about what houses you want to be sorted into he turns green

And when James says how he doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin he looks like he’s about to vomit

“Are you alright?” You ask him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder

He seems uncomfortable with the contact so you move your hand away

“I’m just a little nervous” He admits that he comes from a long line of Slytherins, you offer to hex James for saying that for him, but he lets out a quick laugh and tells you it's fine

He’s actually really worried that he’s going to be sorted into Slytherin whilst simultaneously being terrified about what would happen if he gets sorted into another house.

Ravenclaw could be one thing

Hufflepuff another

But Gryffindor, that just couldn’t happen

You don’t touch him this time because you saw how he reacted last time but you reassure him that it will all be fine and no matter which house he gets sorted into you’ll still be his friend, no matter what

That earns you a real smile

A smile that takes your breath away

And even though you’re too young to understand what you’re feeling that’s when you start to fall for him.

You hold your breath while he gets sorted

Like him you feel very conflicted, you’re glad he’s not in Slytherin because of what he shared with you about his family

But at the same time you’re afraid for him

You might’ve only known him for a couple of hours but you have an inexplicable attraction to him and the idea of him being so scared breaks your heart

If you’re a Gryffindor he sits next to you and the others but doesn’t really say much because he’s too busy trying to figure out what he’s going to do

If you’re in a different house then you send him a smile across the Great Hall and go to find him after the feast

“How are you doing Sirius?”

He brushes you off, tells you he’s fine but you can tell he’s not, you let it go though and decide to give him his space, telling him that if he ever needs to talk you’ll listen

The next day in the Great Hall he receives a Howler from his mother, telling him how much of a useless disappointment he is. He plays it cool like it doesn’t really bother him but you can tell that he’s hurt and it makes you unbelievably sad

Your first lesson that day is together and though you sit with one of your dorm mates and he sits with James, you watch him the entire time, you just can’t seem to pry your eyes off of him.

As the year goes on and he starts to come to terms with what his life is going to be like now, he starts to come more and more out of his shell

Answering questions in class, laughing boisterously with his friends during meals, hexing people in the corridors, pranking Slytherins for shits and giggles

But it’s almost as though he’s forgotten about you, he smiles at you when he sees you in the halls or in classes but he doesn’t actively seek you out like you wished he would.

And you’re too scared to because you told him that you would always be there if needed someone to talk to but he hasn’t come to you yet

So that obviously means that he doesn’t want to talk to you

And that’s fine

You’re not going to force a friendship

You still study with Remus in the library

And talk with James about his day when you bump into him

And help Peter if he’s having trouble in a class

But you and Sirius don’t seem to click the same as you do with the rest of them

This continues through your second year until about 5 weeks into your third year.

At this point he’s starting to physically mature a bit, not a lot, that doesn’t come for a few more years, but his shoulders get a little broader, he gets a little taller, his legs start growing hair.

Girls start paying him attention, and more attention than the harmless crushes from previous years

His blossoming looks paired with his wit and sarcasm have every single person in his grade and younger turning their head to take a second look

Sirius being the humble soul he is-

No I’m just fucking with you

Being the little shit that he is, all of this just goes to his head

And he becomes even more insufferable than he was

But you’ve never found him insufferable, not really

You just told yourself that because it was easier than confronting your feelings for him

One day he, James, Remus, and Peter pull a prank that ends up with you covered in quill ink while on your way to Herbology

You weren’t their intended target

You still spoke quite a bit with three of them

It really was just a prank gone awry

But it still sucked

You stalked back to your dorm abandoning your friends in the hallway, not making eye contact with any one as you passed by

Sirius noticed this

He couldn’t stop himself from watching as you jogged down the hallway

Head down

Trying to evade people’s gazes

He’d barely talked with you in 2 years but he was hit by a tremendous feeling of guilt

He hadn’t meant to upset you, he really hadn’t

So he told the others that he wouldn’t be attending History of Magic that day (what else is new?)

And instead took off for you down the hallway

Never mind your house, when you come back down into the common room after taking a shower there’s Sirius Black, lounging on a sofa like he owns the damned place, looking around the room, taking in every little detail if it's not his common room. If it is the Gryffindor common room then he’s staring up at the girl’s staircase, waiting for you to come down.

When you see him you blush

“Si-Sirius, what are you doing here?”

Immediately you become more aware of your appearance, fixing your hair and straightening out your skirt.

“I just wanted to apologize (Y/N) we didn’t mean for that prank to backfire onto you, we’d never do that to you, it was meant for Snivileus-”

“Severus”

“Yeah sure, whatever. What’s important is that you know that I didn’t mean for that to hurt you, I’m sure the other boys will apologize too I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry”

Does Sirius Black look… nervous?

“It’s fine Black, really I was just having a bad day.”

He doesn’t know why but your usage of his last name is like a knife to the chest, why wasn’t he just Sirius?

Then he remembered, because he’d barely spoken to you in the past 2 years

“I’d like to make it up to you though.”

You turn him down, telling him that that’s not necessary, you’re fine

But he’s not having it, so the next day when you sit down for breakfast you find yourself surrounded by not only Sirius but all of them

They’re acting like this is completely normal but you’re lost

What the hell are they doing?

“Making it up to you of course”

Suddenly they’re everywhere, he’s everywhere

The others were already friendly with you so its not as much of a difference

But all of a sudden Sirius Black is everywhere

Eating meals with you until you relent and come sit with him and the other Marauders at their spot at the Gryffindor table

Suddenly he’s hefting the bag off your shoulder and slinging it around his

The year seems to fly by with him at your side

Sneaking you guys food from the kitchens

They show you the invisibility cloak

Pitching the idea of the Marauders map

And all of a sudden it’s the end of your 3rd year and the care free, witty Sirius you’ve come to know over the past year had morphed into someone far more reminiscent of that scared little boy you first met on the Hogwarts Express

The night before the last day of the term you find yourself alone with Sirius in the Gryffindor common room

You ask him if he’s alright, the past few days he hasn’t been acting like himself

He doesn’t have the energy to try and lie to you anymore, he lets it all out, he tells you about all the backlash since he was sorted

He tells you about Regulus

And how they don’t even talk anymore, “I can’t talk to him (Y/N), I want to but if our mother knows that he associates with me then he’ll be punished, and punishments in the Black house aren’t getting grounded they’re, unforgivable”

You gasp at the implication and reach out to touch his shoulder, but then you’re thrown back to the train and remember how uncomfortable it seemed to make him

But it’s too late, by the time you realize your hand is already on his shoulder

You start to apologize and pull it back but his hand wraps around your wrist which brings your eyes to his

They’re brimming with tears

“Don’t leave”

You pull him into your arms, raking your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear

Explaining that you just didn’t want to make him uncomfortable

He tells you it's fine, he likes it when you touch him

You two sit there in silence until you think Sirius had calmed down

You tell him you’ll write to him every day

He tells you that you don’t have to do that

You still insist that you will

You two sit there for Godric knows how long but eventually you yawn and that alerts Sirius to how late it's gotten

Tells you he’s sorry that he’s kept you up so late

You tell him it’s fine, it was worth it to make sure he was okay

He blushes but its too dark for you to be able to tell

He walks you to the staircase even though it’s literally 5 feet away

“Good night Sirius”

“Good night (Y/N)”

The next day on the train back to King’s Cross you purposefully sit next to Sirius so you can keep a hand on his arm the entire time

It’s so subtle but doesn’t go unnoticed by the other Marauders

Though they decide not to mention it, he’s having a hard enough day as it is

You hate watching him trudge over to his parents when you arrive at the station, you and James exchange an understanding look.

You both care about him so much, watching him be this wretched physically hurts you

As soon as you get home you sit down and write him a letter

He told you that he probably wouldn’t be able to respond to most of your letter

And that’s fine, but every now and then you get one back

And your heart soars

You count down the days until September 1st, when you finally get to see him again

When you’ll know for certain that he’s okay

You nearly have a heart attack when you can’t find him on platform 9 ¾, but he was just already on the train with Remus and Peter, waiting for you and James to show up

As soon as you can you ask him how he is

He’s doing better than he usually is after an entire summer with Walburga and company

He thanks you profusely for the letters

You tell him not to sweat it

You’re just glad you could help

Once you know he’s okay you allow yourself to relax a little and that’s when you notice that he’s grown up quite a bit since June

His shoulders continue to broaden, his hair is longer, but he looks thin, too thin

And you want to hug him again, but you stop yourself

The sexual tension between the two of you 4th year is unbearable

And borderline uncomfortable

Poor Peter doesn’t know what to do with himself

You write to him again every single day over the winter holidays when he’s forced home to his wretched blood family

When you’re both back at Hogwarts things are even weirder than they were before

Sirius clams up every time you get near him and goes vermillion in the face

You’re sitting in the library the second Monday of the term when he approaches you

“What do you want, Sirius?” You ask without lifting your head

“You sound frustrated.”

“I am Sirius! You’ve been acting weird for a week and I’m sick of it. What do you want?”

He just sort of stands there looking at you, because he didn’t expect you to yell at him.

He’s not sure if he’s ever heard you raise your voice in his entire life.

“I should leave”

“Just tell me what it is Sirius!”

Everyone is looking at you

“This was a bad idea!”

“What is it!”

“I like you!”

This wasn’t how he imagined telling you how he felt about you

Yelling it in the library

Which a bunch of 2nd years gawking

“You what?”

He suggests you guys leave the library for somewhere more private

You agree, and he takes you down to a tree by the Black Lake

When he first told you he liked you in the library you couldn’t believe it, this boy, whom you’ve harbored a crush for for literal years, likes you too

And this isn’t just any boy, this is Sirius Black

And that’s when you remember, shit, this is Sirius Black

“This isn’t a prank or something is it?”

He starts denying it before you can even finish your sentence, it stings a little that you would think that but he understands why.

When you tell him that you return his feelings his his  face breaks out into a smile and he lifts you into his arms and spins you around

“Really?”

“Yes really, now put me down please”

He sets you down but he pulls you so close to his body you can almost feel his pulse thrumming through his body

He asks to kiss you and you let him

From that day forward Sirius always has an arm around your shoulders or around your waist

He likes to pull you into his side so he can whisper things into your ear

He likes it when you perch yourself a top his thigh when he sits down

He also likes you sitting in between his legs

And he likes to sit in between yours too so he can smooth his hands up and down your calves

As you get more comfortable with touching each other, he’ll like to slink down so that his head is right in between your thighs so he can just turn his head and kiss them

Having his hands on you reminds him that you’re there, and if you’re there with him then everything is going to be fine

He’s going to get through that History of Magic Lesson

He’s going to finish that Potions essay

One day James might finally stop talking about Evans

He’s not going to bite Snape’s head off

Everything is going to be just fine

He takes you on dates to the Black Lake, you guys like to sit on the dock and dip your toes in the water, especially when it's warm and sunny out

Sirius will slip off his shirt so he can tan a bit and you’ll set your head on his chest, with your toes brushing up against the water

By the time the two of you finally got together you’d already spent multiple nights in the Marauders dorm room

But you usually slept with Remus in his bed because his was the cleanest

But now that your Sirius’ he sleeps with your head tucked under his chin, your body pulled flush against his chest, his arms have an iron grip on you, you couldn’t get out of bed even if you wanted to.

Waking up with him when he’s had a nightmare and the two of you lie there, chests pressed together, fingers tangled with each other’s, whispering about whatever you can think of

When he can’t sleep he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to the beating of your heart to calm him down

He loves to do this with your shirt off, not in a sexual way he’s just like a baby and skin to skin contact is good for him

It centers him

He really likes sneaking into the astronomy tower with you at night to look at the stars

You murmur into each other’s ears about everything ranging from the your purpose in the cosmos to the color you should paint your nails next, he always votes red and gold, no matter your house

Painting your nails the colors of your house in spite of him if you’re not in Gryffindor

He volunteers to paint your nails once and does them in red and gold

One year for his birthday you give him a bunch of old muggle magazines your parent/guardian sent you when you wrote requesting them

The two of you lay on your stomachs, elbows bent, legs tangling with each other in the air as you skim through them

You point out the different muggle contraptions and what they do and how to use them

When you get to a mechanic magazine you have to explain to an overly excited Sirius what a motorcycle is

He becomes absolutely enamored with them and begs you for more magazines and reading materials on them

For Christmas that year you get him a miniature motorcycle that you charm to fly around his dorm room.

If you’re on your house’s Quidditch team that idiot is there every single one of your games, decked head to toe in your house colors

He also frequents your practices bringing you water and food for when you’re done

Sirius can get pretty jealous

He’s always been insecure in himself so seeing other people get to friendly with you just hits all of his buttons

He never takes it out on you, because he knows how it feels to be the object of misplaced anger

Instead Sirius will come up behind you when you’re talking to them and loop him arms around your waist, pulling you close to him

Or if you’re sitting down he’ll put his hand on your thigh

He doesn’t go overboard, it's not like if you’re talking to someone he’s going to challenge them to a duel

He just needs everyone to know that you’re his

And he doesn’t share

Letting you do his makeup once after you begged him and now he’s the one who’ll beg you

“Please Princess”

He looks so hot in eyeliner

Like no one has the right to be that good looking

And the mother fucker knows he looks good

You and James plan extravagant gifts and parties for his birthday every year because no one on this planet loves Sirius Black more than the two of you and you’re dedicated to making up for so many lost years

You and Remus bake him a cake every year and he loves blowing out all of the candles, he insists their quantity matches his age, none of that cop out bull shit where its just candles in the shape of numbers

No

He wants to blow out all of them

Your first birthday together Sirius has no clue what to get you, because it’s not like previous years, you’re together now so this gift has to be special, it has to be perfect

He consults everyone he can think of

Lily

James

Remus

Your dorm mates

Hell, he even writes to your family asking what he should get you

In the end they all only make it worse because he has all of these wonderful ideas and can’t choose because what if he chooses wrong and you would have preferred something else instead

So he gets you everything he can think of

You told him 3 weeks ago how you wanted to try a new quill, he’s bought you 7 different types to try out

He can’t decide whether you’d be prettier in rubies, emeralds, or diamonds so he buys you each

You wish you could say that it lets up as years pass

And it does

But only slightly

When his parents kick him out of the house James floos you instantly, tells you its Sirius and that he’s going to be fine, but he needs you

When you get to the Potter’s he’s bloody and bruised and looks like Hell

You have to stop yourself from sobbing at the sight of him

No one gets to hurt Sirius that way

Absolutely no one

When he sees you he starts crying and opens his arms for you to come to him

You help bandage him up and wipe away the dried blood

Once he’s clean and in new clothes you take his face in your hands and press your foreheads together

“I love you Siri, I love you to the moon and back.”

That’s the first time either of you have said “I love you” to the other

He starts sobbing

You pull him into your arms with his head on your chest and you pet him hair, telling him how much you love him and that he’s safe, you’re never going to let anyone touch him ever again

James comes into his room that night, neither of you are asleep, Sirius is still crying only now silently and less violently into your top

Wordlessly James slips into Sirius’ bed on the other side of him and both of you hold him all night long, telling him that he’s safe and that he’s loved, and that he never has to see his mother ever again

That he has a family right there and neither of you will ever make him feel like this

You spend the rest of the summer at the Potter’s

You and James were already good friends but you spend the rest of the holidays bonding over your love and protectiveness of Sirius

Sometimes he jokes that his girlfriend is trying to steal his best friend, but he really doesn’t mind

He loves it actually

The love and protectiveness you feel for Sirius goes both ways

He will not hesitate to kick someone’s ass for you

He often forgets that he’s a wizard at these moments and throws a punch instead of a hex

Cleaning him up after he gets into a fight and scolding him for not thinking, a professor could’ve seen him, he could still get in trouble

When you graduate Hogwarts together the Potter’s come for both him and James

He cries when they congratulate him and tell him that they’re proud of him

Your family also tells him how proud they are of him and he hugs every single person there

You guys move in together, you live a 5 minute walk from James and Lily

He doesn’t wait 2 months before he’s proposing to you

You accept of course

Engagement sex

The man was virile when you were still at Hogwarts but when you first move in together he insists you christen every single room in the house

He loves to make you scream out his name as he overstimulates you

He’s not as hard of a dom as Remus but he’s meaner, he doesn’t just mock you

He degrades you (as long as you’re comfortable with it)

He calls you every dirty name in the book

He loves to put you in barely there lingerie and make you touch yourself as he watches

Will mock you while you do it

“What puppy, your fingers aren’t making you feel good enough? Course they’re not, you’re a desperate little thing aren’t you? Need my cock in order to stretch you, make you feel good. Look at how small your fingers are, how are they supposed to do anything?”

He loves to punish you

To the point where he’ll set expectations that are impossible for you to meet so he can punish you for them

You’re both very open with what you do and do not like and try experimenting a lot

He is so kinky

Loves to edge you and watch you squirm in his grasp

Won’t let you cum until you’ve begged long enough

He loves ruining your orgasms, especially as punishment after you’ve broken one of his rules, but sometimes he does it just to be mean

He has very talented fingers and can make you cum in a matter of minutes if he wants to

Loves eating out, your little whimpers and whines make him want to just destroy you

Enjoys watching your cunt clench around nothing

Will laugh at this and smack your clit

Gets you a collar that says “puppy” or “slut” on it

He’ll tug on it with his finger to get you to look at him

Back to the engagement sex, as soon as you say yes he is on you

You jerk him off onto your tits so he can see the ring on your finger while your hand is wrapped around his dick

Breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink

Especially when Harry is born

The minute he sees you holding little baby Harry in your arms he feels the overwhelming urge to take you there

When you get home that night he tells you how gorgeous you looked with Harry and how much he wants to have a little “pup” of his own

“Gonna fill my puppy with my pups”

Makes you lay with your ass in the air once he’s cum inside you to make sure none of it gets wasted

Will plug you full

“How’s that feel puppy? Good?”

He’s always been able to get you to subspace but now its like he barely has to try, loves calling you his good girl and telling you how well you did for him

You guys don’t get pregnant immediately, which Sirius does not take well

In his mind there’s absolutely no way that you’re the problem

It must be him

He sees his inability to impregnate you as his first failure as a father

Gets really sad

You tell him how much you love him and that this isn't him failing, it could very well be you who is making it difficult to conceive

You have very soft, passionate sex that night as you ride him

He runs his hands up and down your body as you tell him how good he’s making you feel

Maybe it was that night, perhaps it was a different one but a month and a half later the Healer at St. Mungos tells you you’re pregnant

He’s ecstatic

Sirius literally can’t stop smiling

Not that he wants to

But his face almost hurts from how much he’s grinning

Sirius is the best person to have with your when you’re pregnant

He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need

He’ll try out all your weird pregnancy cravings with you

Especially if you’re feeling a little shy about asking for weird combinations

He loves kissing your belly

He’ll sing French lullabies to it as he moves his hands in circles on your skin

Man never slows down as you progress through your pregnancy, watching you swell just makes him fuck you harder

At first the prospect of decorating a whole room for an infant seems mundane to him

But as soon as you and Lily are pulling out the paint swatches and wallpaper samples he gets so excited and loves helping out

He has to have James and Remus come over to help him put together the crib, he just can’t do it

When he learns he gets to buy clothes for his kid he’s so excited

He and James spend hours going through baby clothes and like with everything Sirius has a very strong opinion about this too

“No Prongs, I’m not putting my child in that, I actually like them”

When the Healer tells you you’re having twins he loses his mind

He’s so excited

Twice the clothes to buy

Twice the toys

Twice the cribs and diapers

He’s thrilled

When the baby comes he doesn’t let himself freak out because this isn’t about him

It’s about you and your baby

He holds your hand the entire time and lets you squeeze however hard you’d like to

Kisses your knuckles and tells you how good of a job you’re doing

You’re in labor for 15 hours

And it nearly kills him

Seeing you in so much pain makes him physically unwell

He wishes he could take away all of your pain for you

But he can’t, so he does what he can

Feeding you ice chips

Massaging your back

He read somewhere that orgasming can help speed along labor

So he does what he does best and makes you cum a few times on his fingers

It's possible that that’s what actually worked

It could’ve also been something entirely different, but he will claim it was making you cum, that finally worked

Your son is born first, and as much as Sirius would’ve been happy with whatever sex, his heart swells with pride to know that he just produced the first half-blood heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

Next is your little girl

He cries when he sees her

She’s so beautiful, and looks just like you

The two of you sit there kissing and doting on your children for hours until you eventually pass out because you just pushed two humans out of your body

Fast forwarding a bit, the first time his daughter, who has him wrapped around her finger, calls him “Dada” his heart swells and he looks over at you but you’re already staring at him, tears in your eyes you whisper to him

“You’re doing a good job”

tagging: @randomoutsiders​

[tooktheladdedgbtq]

....and the Oscar goes to.. | Tom Holland X Male!actor reader. 

A/N: this was just something I wrote because I got inspired I guess. Happy Pride everyone!

——————————————

You couldn’t decide whether time was slipping through your fingers too quickly or if this had been the longest night you’d ever experienced.

seconds slowed to a crawl while you tried to gather yourself before it was your turn to take the stage. You were nervous. Not about being at the oscars or presenting for the first time. Not even about being nominated for your leading role in the second installment of a critically acclaimed trilogy. No, you’d been used to these sorts of things, you’d been an actor since you were a very young kid. Starting on television before film, and you even got to hold the Emmy the show had won when you had just turned a teenager.

No, you were nervous about who exactly you’d be presenting to. Of the five nominees and potential winners, only one could cause such an intensive feeling in your chest. Only one could awaken a sense of dread that battled with a feeling of intensive happiness mixed with anticipation, and it was Tom.

You’d known each other for years and had come to fall in love. You’d met as young co-stars on set and eventually grew into an inseparable friendship that progressed into something far more. Neither of you were sure when the feelings started but it felt like they’d always been there and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Your blissfulness with Tom was beautiful but short lived. After almost a year of being official you both agreed to take a break from the relationship. Unbeknownst to Tom you were just agreeing to save face and hadn’t pried for an answer out of fear of being hurt. You just accepted that this was how things were now, and took a step back.

You’d still kept in contact with him. It was hard not to. He was still your best friend. But whether it was the business of work or something a little more awkward, distance grew between you both as the multi-hour long facetime calls and text threads became once-a-week check-ins to just make sure you were alive and okay.

Time had passed, and you didn’t have a clue what you could possibly say to him now. You certainly didn’t want to ruin his special night. But you’d missed him so much and felt like you would implode at the first sign that he’d be interested in getting back together with you. But you also didn’t want to seem desperate or needy if he’d moved on. You didn’t want to slip and say those three words again in the moment.

Father time showed you no mercy as the sand in his hourglass suddenly shifted from a slow-motion drip to a flood. The seconds you’d spent daydreaming of your past with Tom and pondering about the your potential future had passed and left you with little time to gather yourself before presenting. still you shook your hands, arms, and lastly shoulders, putting all your worries aside and waited for introduction from the host.

Before long you’d been counted in to walking on stage, and heard the host over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, to present the award and introduce the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, please welcome one of this year’s nominees and one of our generation’s greatest talents: Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The applause erupts from the audience like a revved up engine as you took center but it was nothing compared to the standing ovation you’d receive later on that night when receiving your own award for Best Actor.

You were stood promptly center staged with the towering Oscar statue reflecting onto the black stage floor beneath your feet. Your outfit was alluring and would surely be the next hot topic which is rare for male stars. You looked like a million bucks. Everyone knew it, most of all, Tom.

You smile and wave as you approach the microphone, your teeth shining a blinding white, and wait for a hush from the crowd.

You chuckle lightly as a few hoots and hollers sound out as the cheers subside.

You eye the monitor across the room and start to read, your nerves dying down as your jokes land and laughter echoes around the room.

As you finish the introduction, clips start to show behind you to accompany the names of the nominees as the cameras catch a glimpse of each of their reactions.

You couldn’t help but notice how tough the competition was as each actor was called. Steven Yuen playing a detective in a thrilling murder mystery. John David Washington in a fictional film playing the world’s first black astronaut aiding in the discovery of lovecraftian horrors. Andrew Garfield for his role as a psychotic narcissist and genius businessman. Oscar Issac acting in a sci fi space opera asking questions of existentialism.

Finally, you had to withhold your smile as you called out the last name. He had returned to his Billy Elliot roots being nominated for his role in a astonishing musical romance film. “Tom Holland.” You’d been ecstatic when he’d told you about it as you’d always recommend he tried it again since it made him so happy in his younger years.

You spot him a few rows from the stage, making eye contact with him and wondering if he was thinking about you the way you had done with him earlier. You couldn’t help but notice him squirming in his chair and fidgeting with his hands. Selfishly asking yourself if this wasn’t just about the award but about having you present it to him.

Seeing you here after what felt like an eternity apart and your reunion potentially being the greatest achievement of both your careers. Making it the greatest night of your lives, that is, if you were still together. But you were still best friends. That’s what mattered. So you push your self centered thoughts aside and shoot him a small wave that he returns with a smile and thumbs up. letting you know he was okay and that you could continue as the camera pans back to you capturing your not so hidden giddiness.

This awarded some small oos and aahs from the crowd as your relationship with him had been a wholly celebrated one. especially among your marvel peers.

You’re handed an envelope and statue as the music ends and the applause dies down and you take one final glare into the camera before beginning to open the envelope.

“....and the Oscar goes to,” you take a peek at the crowd and see some of the nominees holding hands with loved ones. others plainly

awaiting your next words with bated breath. The anticipation shone on everyone’s faces. Even those that weren’t nominated. Your not-so-hidden grin giving away the answer mere milliseconds before his name escaped your lips. “Tom Holland!”

Tom shot up with a shared expression of shock and happiness on his face. Pecking his mother on the cheek as she wipes the tears of pride from her eyes. His best mate Harrison gives him a quick embrace and a pat on the back before he moves on to shake hands with the director and smile at everyone cheering him on as he gradually moves toward the stage still completely baffled at the victory.

As he walks towards you in his pink pastel colored suit and brown leather dress shoes you can’t help but swell with an overwhelming feeling of joy having been here to share this career defining moment with him. You thought about how far you’d both come to get here and almost started tearing up remembering all you’d been through together.

He skipped up the miniature steps and blanketed you with both arms. You didn’t want it to end as you hadn’t felt it in a while. You threw your arms around his neck and he tightens his hold around your torso. Before you could even process them, your blunt thoughts spill out as whispers.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this and so much more.” you hear a small chuckle escape him as he responds. “I am trying not to cry y’know mate?” a wolf whistle comes from the crowd as you apologize for being so sappy and before he can tell you off for it you hand him his award and shove him off toward the microphone.

As he takes center stage you stand off to the side to watch him give his acceptance speech. He pauses and takes a second to gather himself before he starts talking straight from his heart with nothing prepared.

“Um, Wow. I really can’t believe this is really happening and I probably still won’t believe it happened tomorrow. Just.. wow.” his words were filled with that charmingly British accent you’d come to love so much.

“First I would like to thank my mother, without whom of course, I would not be here. I would like to thank the academy and everyone who worked on this movie from the producers and camera men, make-up and costumes, to our wonderful writers, composer, back up dancers and vocalists, and of course my friends, my co-star and the director Damien Chazelle.” whom he gestures to sitting in the second row. “I share this with all of you and I can’t thank you enough for awarding me with the opportunity to create something I love so much.”

He thanks the other nominees before turns towards you to end his speech. you felt your heart in your hands when you saw his big brown puppy eyes dart in your direction with an intensive glare of admiration.

“last but most importantly, I want to thank the inspiration for all of the love songs I sung in the film and the reason I decided to take the role. The person standing here on my right.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen when his words hit you like a speeding semi. you realize that he’d just called you his muse in so many words. the inspiration behind the love songs in the film no less. Meaning that with every lovestruck note his character sung he was reminded of you. All that time spent worrying if the distance between you two would cause him to forget about you, or if he’d maybe moved on and found somebody else. But no such thing had happened. He was relating his character’s longing in the film to his longing for you this entire time and that made your heart do a backflip.

You blush and cover your still ajar mouth with your fist whilst trying not to pay attention to the crowd who’s attention was fully focused on you.

He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “Y/N you’re not only the reason I took this role, but you’re the reason I was able to play it with such sincerity. You’ve been a unwavering beacon of support throughout my career in general but here you really gave me the inspiration for something special. He faces the audience again as the all follow his words with whispers of how adorable you both were. “from reading lines together in the middle of the night, to keeping me company when i’m on the brink of a meltdown.” It was all true and it only made you miss you relationship more and you found it difficult to hold back your tears.

“Y/N is the kind of best friend everybody needs, the kind of partner everybody deserves, and the person I’m so incredibly lucky to have known for so long. ..and I still can’t believe he never figured out the lyrics were all about him, It was kind of obvious-” the audience laughed you’re so close to swooning as he turns toward you again. “But, with all my heart, I love you, Y/N. Always will.” you feel as if you’re floating.

He shifts to the crowd one last time to say a final thank you before you both walk off stage one arm around one another’s shoulders. You have a short but sweet conversation backstage with him where reassures you that everything he said on stage was true and completely unscripted. He wants to talk more but knows your category is coming soon so he asks for a later opportunity and you agree before returning to your seat in the crowd.

The rest of the night flew by with you winning the award for best actor and receiving the biggest applause of the night. Tom joined in the standing ovation. You thanked everybody involved in making the film, the academy, and squeezed a little joke directed towards Tom that garnered a shared laugh from both him and the audience. You were the last award of the night and after the celebrations it was time to return to your place, where Tom was waiting for you. Wanting to talk about everything that had happened not just tonight but everything leading up to it. He also hoped you’d kept a spot open in your heart for him to return to.

[theamberwriter]

Hi so remember “ Nesting Fever [Alpha!Pro!Katsuki Bakugo]” that you wrote? I hope so cause what if you made a part 2 were it becomes a poly relationship!!!

[Nesting Fever]

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!! I wrote this all in one sitting, lol I was suddenly hit with inspiration. I hope you like it!! Also, I hope this comes off as a poly relationship. I've never written one before, but I tried!

Word Count: 3,059

Warnings: Always cursing lmfao

~

It was wrong. You could feel it. You knew what you wanted. But it was wrong. You scolded yourself over and over. This had been going on for months. Far too long and more than you'd like to admit.

"I shouldn't want both of their scents in here," you groaned, flinging yourself into your nest.

After the nesting conundrum that took place in your apartment just seven short months ago, your everything had changed. Kirishima had become a very big part of your life. After scenting him to spite Katsuki during a fight, he now seemed determined to win you. Even if he didn't notice. Eijiro basically lived in your house now.

He made you feel safe. His scent soothed you in just a whiff. You almost felt like you were falling in love all over again. You didn't love Katsuki any less. But you were falling in love with Eijiro. You wondered if maybe you'd always been. He was so easy to fall in love with, after all.

The intrusive thoughts you'd had about your new house guest had been growing. Before, they were peppered in. Just an occasional thing. Easy to brush off. But now you'd been properly fantasizing about how he tasted. About how his hands would feel against the skin that only Katsuki and yourself had ever touched.

You wondered how he'd fit in with your family. How they'd react to you having not one, but two Alphas. You wondered if you were being greedy, wanting them both. But you did, vehemently so.

This was not good.

How could you explain that to your mate of a year and a half? The man you'd been talking about marrying? How could you tell him that you were still head over heels for him - while also loving Kirishima the same way? What would he even think about that?

"I could never ask Katsuki...." you muttered. "He would never...."

But the fact that your boyfriend had had a little crush on Kirishima was never a secret. Not to you, at least. He claimed it was because they were best friends. But you didn't act like that with normal friends. Maybe Katsuki wouldn't be opposed....but would he be willing to share an omega? That was the kicker.

Alphas were possessive. They wanted what they wanted, and who was theirs was theirs. The two had been at each other's throats over you. Alpha vs Alpha. Could you really ask them to share you?

Kirishima was a near permanent fixture in your home now. He had never been in the way. In fact, it felt like a piece clicked into place. Your home had felt brighter and been filled with more laughter. Everything was amazing - when the two were behaving.

But the tense air between the two alphas was choking. There were times they both let their guards down. Times when you already felt like you had a dynamic. Those times were amazing. You leaned on Katsuki and Kirishima cuddled against you. Katsuki and Eijiro would act couplely, even when they hadn't meant to. You wanted to just smother them both in kisses.

But you couldn't.

What were you going to do?

You groaned loudly and threw a pillow at the door. A burst from your quirk made it hit harder than you intended. In a flash the door was open and the warm, delicious mixed scent of Katsuki and Eijiro flooded in. They were very alert. Their eyes were wide, scanning for danger.

"The hell is going on?" Katsuki snapped. His shoulders were tense, the tendons in his neck standing out. He was a coiled snake ready to pounce.

Eijiro hesitated in the door. You caught as he stepped forward then immediately retreated. "Are you okay?"

You sighed heavily. "I'm fine. Just...having some issues. - Katsssuuuu...."

You held your arms out and he went to fill them. He kneeled and took you tightly in his arms. He hid his face in the crook of your neck. You relaxed your arms around him.

"Something isn't right," you muttered. Then locked eyes with Eijiro. "My nest is missing something important, it isn't complete."

Eijiro froze, you could see it. Every muscle tensing. His face grew red. But he didn't break your gaze. He swirled his own pheromones in with Katsuki's, as if testing the waters. You had a feeling he caught on. You smiled, reclining your head against Katsuki's shoulder in response and taking in a large sigh.

You were going to have to talk to Eijiro about this later. Maybe, if you could get him on board, talk about your feelings, then it would be easier confessing to Katsuki. Maybe he'd even do it with you.

Eijiro bolted off and out of sight. While Katsuki held you tight. Your eyes lingered a moment longer on the door frame. You had wanted them both in your nest so badly. You wanted them both to hold you, to protect you, to tell you they love you. But it wasn't that easy.

You gave Katsuki a tight hug in return. Your nerves soothing surprisingly well, despite how conflicted you were. But this was Katsuki. The last few months, he'd been verging on an Apex Alpha. He was very conscious of everything you felt. He'd some how figured out how to turn his pheromones into the most relaxing, lulling, mouth-watering mixture. You didn't know what he'd done, but you became absolute putty in his hands in one whiff.

You always wanted to be putty in his hands. But you wanted to putty in Eijiro's too.

Katsuki relaxed you to sleep. You'd been up early anyway. You napped for a few hours. Your dreams were laced with the most potent caramel scent. But soon, a musky, warm scent invaded. And your body felt like water. You were on cloud 9. Everything, everyone, you wanted was bottle up in those two scents. You wanted this delicious mix in your life forever.

When you woke up, you heard the TV on. Along with the faint sound of sizzling. Giving a whiff, you could tell Katsuki was cooking. You tottered out , still stumbling on your slumber legs. You smiled to yourself as you looked into the room.

Katsuki stood with a pan and an apron. He was completely absorbed in whatever Eijiro was watching, even standing very close to where he was sitting. The red head was sitting in the chair you'd occupied for your little tantrum. He had his knees to his chest, totally lost in whatever was on.

It was adorable.

After a minute you yawned loudly and went in. Both of their eyes snapped to you. Eijiro grinned, but looked away quickly, his face staining red again. Katsuki smiled that in love, puppy dog smile he got when he thought no one was looking.

"There's my Omega," Katsuki cooed. "I'm making dinner, since Shitty Hair can't cook."

"I can too!" Eijiro tossed back.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "[Name] likes my food better anyway."

They both looked at you expectantly. You felt like you shrank. You wanted to dive back into your nest. All you could think was, please don't give me those eyes!

"I like you both," you said, awkwardly laughing as you tried to fix your statement. "I think you both are really good cooks."

"Osha. Whatever," Katsuki scoffed. "Oi, you two run to the store. Get some dessert, whatever you two want."

"But you want vanilla - something, right?" you asked, more teasing than anything.

Katsuki gave you a seductive smirk, then licked the end of the spoon he was holding. "I want anything that tastes like vanilla. The sweeter, the better."

Heat coursed through you. Damn him. Katsuki gave you a wink then went back to the kitchen. You turned back to Eijiro. You saw his jaw clench, and his eyes take one desperate drag up your body. You'd never seen him do that before. You turned quickly, going to throw on some actual going out clothes.

Eijiro was bouncing anxiously by the door when you got back. He caught your eye then darted through the entry.

"We're going Katsuki," you called. "Love you, be back in a bit. Text me if you remember anything!"

"Don't you two miss me too much," he called back. "Don't make me wreck the supermarket because you idiots."

That was Katsuki for I love you too. Please be safe, I will protect you til my dying breath.

"We'll try," you laughed and shook your head.

"Oh, and ask Shitty Hair if he wants anything else in this. I already know what you'll want. Fucking predictable."

"I will. I'll text you."

Then you were out the door. Eijiro was waiting in the street below for you. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and his head was ducked. You'd really messed up, hadn't you? Maybe you should've taken it slower....

"So," you started, bumping his shoulder with yours. "What do you want for dessert."

Eijiro's eyes flicked to you then the ground. He shrugged and headed down the sidewalk. It was quiet as you walked. Tensely quiet. You hated it. Eijiro should've been his usual self. Talking happily about whatever. He couldn't even look at you.

It was wrong, but you were glad to be this close to him. To his scent. Even if it was weird right now. You'd smelt that turmoil once before, months ago as you sat on his lap and scented him. Eijiro smelt like that now.

What was he thinking?

Eijiro still hadn't said a word as you reached the store. He'd nearly walked into the door he was so distracted. He followed blindly by your side as you walked through the aisles.

"Uuuhhh," you mused. Trying to think of what to say. "Do you like bed we set up for you? I know it's not the newest mattress but -"

"What did you mean?" Eijiro asked, coming out of stupor. "About your nest?"

You were quiet. A little too ashamed to admit it out loud. What you'd meant. What you were trying to say in one longing look. You kept your eyes forward, going down one aisle then the next.

"[Name], please....it's been bugging me all day. I have a theory, but....I want you to tell me."

You stuttered and stumbled. Trying to put together a semblance of a sentence. He watched you and those crimson eyes, so much softer than Katsuki's own rubies but just as gorgeous, made you nervous. You felt like a kid with a crush who'd been called out. You supposed you were, in a way.

"I," you finally managed. "It's hard to explain. Can you feel the exact same way about two people?"

Eijiro's mouth flattened into a line. "I guess that depends on the feeling."

There was something in his scent that changed then. It egged you on. Made you braver. Something that made you think he knew exactly what you were talking about.

You slowed your pace. "Can....Can you be in love with two people at the same time and love them an equal amount?"

You saw Eijiro swallow. His whole body seemed flushed. His eyes on you intently. You met them with equal intensity. Everything felt like it balanced on a delicate scale.

"That's a very serious question," he said, his voice a low murmur.

You nodded. "It's a very serious feeling."

Eijiro grabbed your wrist, tugging you a few aisles. And then there, right in between the Chex Mix and the Honey Graham's - he kissed you. You could actually feel his heart thrumming against his chest. Yours met his pace. Then quickly your mouths found their rhythm. It was hot and needy, and he tasted just like you'd expected him too. Only better.

A slight bit of shame chewed at you as you separated. You wanted this. You wanted him to be your Alpha, along with Katsuki. Honesty, Eijiro could probably teach him a thing or two about being an Alpha.

"Do you really mean this...?" Eijiro asked, and his face was more serious than you'd ever seen.

"That's been my issue," you muttered. "I love Katsuki. To absolute bits and I'd be lost without him. But I've fallen in love with you too. I love you to bits. I'd be lost without you. I've been happier these last couple months, and I think Katsuki has been too.

"But I'm worried. An Omega isn't supposed to have two Alphas. I'm not supposed to love two people, not so deeply, anyway. And I don't know how to tell Katsuki any of it. What if he thinks I don't love him as much? What if he thinks I want to leave him?"

Eijiro chuckled, then kissed your forehead. "Who said you can only love one person at a time? And who said it was illegal to have more than one Alpha? There's a lot of amazing people in the world. You can love as many of them as you want, with as much of yourself as you want. - Maybe it's a bit unmanly to admit, but I've kinda had a thing for you both for a while. If Katsuki's down for sharing you, having it be the three of us, then so am I. I just want you both to be happy. Even if that's without me."

You shook your head, you could barely stomach the thought. "I don't think I could be happy without you both now. It's hurts to much to think of either of you leaving. I think I've been falling in love you while I was also falling for Katsuki. So don't think it's just because you're around more."

"So....what do you want to do?" Eijiro was serious again. He held you closely, as if you'd always been like this. You caught as he momentarily warned an Alpha who was eyeing you up. A little change in scent was all it took for them to turn tail.

You groaned. "I don't know. I need to tell Katsuki. If I keep this secret in, I'll burst. And it's not like I want to cheat on him with you. I want it to be the three of us. My two favorite people."

"We could sit him down tomorrow, if you want. I'll wake up early, make breakfast. And we could talk."

You nodded, Eijiro made it sound so easy. "It's as good as any. - Now we better hurry before he calls asking where we are."

You two began towards the dessert section, then silence much more comfortable now.

Eijiro knocked your shoulder. "Oh, and Katsuki was right. You know? About the vanilla."

You groaned and momentarily hid your face in your hands. If things went too, you'd now have two people embarrassing the hell out of you.

You quickly fetched your desserts and the two of you went halfsies. Mostly because Eijiro left his wallet in his other pants and could only pay with what he had on him. You'd given him another kiss for how cute he was. You remembered to ask about Eijiro's garnish on the way back.

You and Eijiro were all smiles as you got back to the apartment. You worried. Would Katsuki think something was wrong? Or that something was going on behind his back? He didn't say anything, even if he did. Dinner was amazing, as you were expecting. Every bite was an absolute thrill to the taste buds.

Maybe Katsuki should give up heroing to a full time professional chef!

After dinner, you and Eijiro offered to do dishes. It was the least you could do since Katsuki cooked. You were washing and Eijiro was drying. Katsuki leaned on the doorway between the living room and kitchen for a while.

"Hey," Katsuki started awkwardly. The dishes were nearly done. "You don't have to worry about cooking breakfast tomorrow, Ei. Butt dial here basically told me everything themselves."

The plate in your hands clattered into the sink. You and Eijiro both stared at Katsuki. He didn't look mad or anything. More amused. He held up his phone and pressed a button. The entire conversation in the cereal aisle played out, right up until the vanilla comment.

"Katsuki," you rushed, drying your hands. "I promise, I still love you all the same -"

He came and pushed a gentle kiss to your lips. Katsuki's puppy dog smile came back as his eyes bounced between you and Eijiro. He grabbed the back of Eijiro's head and pulled him to kiss his forehead. Then left wordlessly out the door.

Eijiro put a hand on his forehead. A little grin coming. Then he laughed and grabbed you, pulling you close to him. He planted a few sloppy kisses on your cheek.

So it was a yes. Everything was fine. Katsuki wanted you both like you wanted them. There was nothing wrong with you. Nothing about this was bad. It was a possibility you hadn't thought of, with a better outcome than you could've hoped for.

Later that night, after Eijiro fell asleep on you for the millionth time, you finally talked to Katsuki.

"You really don't mind?" you asked. "About sharing me? About the three of us -"

"If I was going to be stuck with any idiots forever," Katsuki started. "I rather it be you two than anyone else."

You leaned up to give him a kiss. He put a hand on your cheek. That sent butterflies raving through your stomach.

"And you may have been fucking right," he admitted hesitantly against your lips. "I....might have a stupid thing for Shitty Hair. But that doesn't mean I'll ever love you any less."

You shrugged. "Lots of love to share."

"I'm not fucking sharing you with anyone else but him," Katsuki growled. "You're still my Omega. And it doesn't matter how I feel about him, if he even thinks about hurting you -"

You shushed him. "You'll wake up Eiji."

It took you both to carry Eijiro to your bed. You figured now was as good of time as any jump head long into this. Eijiro immediately clung to you, and Katsuki squished you in between. This felt amazing. This felt right. This is where you were supposed to be. In the arms of the Alphas, of the men, that you loved more than anyone else in the universe.

~

[taeescript]

29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother. 

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?). 

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts.  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive. 

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something. 

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down. 

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say). 

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?” 

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects. 

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made. 

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.  

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.  

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”  

                                                            - Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.  

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.  

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af​ @corishirogane3​

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin. 

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well. 

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar. 

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump. 

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest. 

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

                         *          *          *           *          *          *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!” 

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice. 

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo. 

What the hell are you doing at a fire station? 

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched.  You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?” 

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus. 

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though,  you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones. 

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.” 

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry. 

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders. 

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him. 

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions  running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees. 

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” 

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively. 

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being. 

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs. 

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges. 

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?” 

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it. 

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder. 

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?” 

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin. 

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips. 

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body. 

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek. 

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you. 

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker. 

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.” 

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you. 

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours. 

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck. 

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.” 

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles. 

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what? 

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-” 

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

[hotdamnhunnam]

I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar. 

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

*************** 

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit. 

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute. 

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress. 

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow. 

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip. 

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should. 

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact. 

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need. 

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact. 

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute. 

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

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[ediths]

here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @harrysclementines​ for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon​ for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

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*

Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes. 

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him. 

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders. 

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out. 

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air. 

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

*

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them,  constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil. 

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

*

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen. 

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach. 

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.” 

“Why?” 

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

*

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

*

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?” 

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow. 

*

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song. 

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room. 

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior. 

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet. 

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

*

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. 

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

*

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you. 

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.” 

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

*

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months. 

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.” 

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

*