#it's so simple in my head and yet so complicated to explain.....

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

me tryna explain the difference between "fridging" and "death by origin story" and "character dies and that impacts other characters and that's not a bad writing decision"

[arolesbianism]

You know if anyone ever thinks that I maybe go a lil overboard with my Olivia characterisation sometimes just know that it could be so much worse. You could be reading abt my alternate timeline Olivia thoughts

[silkscream]

natural devotion

ੈ✩ synopsis: gojo finds you, his ex-wife, in a sketchy dive bar. he almost doesn't recognize you.

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), previous arranged marriage, ex-husband!gojo, clanleader!gojo, rough bathroom sex, semi-public sex, drunk sex, oral, fingering + penetration, light choking, gojo is.... weird idk how to explain. he's just strange and cold and possessive and so odd

ੈ✩ wc: 3.2k

ੈ✩ a/n: literally nobody asked for this. also it's unedited. sorry

Gojo thinks he sees a ghost when he sees you.

At least, he thinks it’s you.

You don’t see him yet, so he takes the liberty to scan you over more thoroughly. You’re not wearing anything like the simple, modest attire he remembered you donning around his estate. Instead, you’re in a form-fitting crop top and the tiniest mini skirt Gojo has ever seen. He’s not sure if it even classifies as a skirt.

Interesting.

He takes a breath as he sits down next to you, interrupting your conversation with the bartender to offer his card. You turn to look at him and you laugh.

“Put hers on my tab,” Gojo says.

“Always the gentleman.”

“You know I’ll always take care of you. Even if we aren’t married anymore.”

You could scoff at that, but you decide to be polite. He’s as candid as he’s always been. It used to humiliate you, but you aren’t the same docile little wife you used to be. You also realize his gesture could be interpreted as tender, which isn’t something you were ever used to in your marriage.

He was a cold man and it was a marriage of convenience.

Or perhaps he was only cold to you. You would watch how he would interact at social gatherings and clan parties, his charisma infecting entire rooms. Toothy grins that shone as brightly as his hair. Always loud, animated, and magnetic.

To you, he was mostly indifferent.

He was never outwardly mean, but he was constantly occupied with missions. It almost felt as if you weren’t married at all. You enjoyed speaking to him when he was around, though. There were moments when you could almost picture yourself being his friend, but then he would be away and come back cold. 

When you asked for a divorce, he complied without a blink. Even after you were free from becoming an incubator for the Gojo clan’s next heir, something in your chest ached at how easily Gojo signed the papers.

And now, he’s tipsy in a bar with you and more tuned into your presence than ever. When he looks at you, there’s a lingering that you convince yourself you’re hallucinating.

Small talk with him is odd. He’s much more complicated than that, but here you are, discussing trivial things right now. If he’s remarried yet (he hasn’t). If you honed in on your cursed technique (you have).

It’s terribly odd. Like talking to a stranger that you’ve only met in a dream.

“I thought you’d have better taste in bars,” he drawls, sipping a Cosmo. It was annoyingly endearing, the way he wasn’t the kind of man to have a glass of whiskey despite acting like it.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a regular. This place is full of perverts.”

“Does that include you?”

Gojo grins. “Not like some of these guys. You would’ve gotten roofied if I didn’t sit down. And your outfit certainly isn’t helping.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” you scoff.

“It is one. You’re a sight to behold. Never saw you in anything like this when we were married.”

“Your clan would have my head. I assume you would, too,” you mutter. 

His eyes are taking you in, flickering between your face and your body. It would make you uncomfortable if you weren’t already three beers in. 

“I wouldn’t be angry. I just don’t promise that I would’ve kept my hands to myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“I think this is the most forward you’ve ever been to me.”

“You were so timid back then,” he smirks. He places a hand on your knee, his thumb tracing the skin. “Such a nervous little girl. There were times I assumed you were cheating on me, the way you were so rigid with me.”

You remember being obedient and quiet. Perhaps rigid, but you had only followed his lead, pushing yourself away from him just because he was doing it to you first. You know you shouldn’t apologize or feel guilty for your lack of intimacy with him, but the way he teases you makes your face heat up.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” you frown.

“Good,” he smiles. It almost seems genuine. “I wouldn’t have let anyone have you, anyway.”

Your eyes widen in slight surprise.

Why did you let me divorce you, then?

His fingers are tracing circles into the skin of your thigh absentmindedly. The flutter in your chest threatens to pull on your lungs when you notice.

“You’re so different now,” he notes.

“Not really.”

“I don’t just mean the way you look, by the way. Your eyes are sharper. Posture better. Not a meek little thing anymore, huh?”

You could flush at how he belittles you, but the praise gets to your head. 

“Huh. You’re the opposite. You look and act the same as when I last saw you.”

He laughs. “I always liked when you talked back, you know. Anyone ever told you can be a bit of a brat?”

You raise a brow. “Yes.”

His breath smells sweet. Tongue like a candy apple from the sugared liquor in his glass, you were sure. You don’t wince when he gets closer to you.

“Yeah? And how do they deal with it?”

You bite the inside of your cheek before entertaining him.

“Everyone’s a little different,” you mumble.

You miss the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. You’re too distracted by the shape of his mouth.

“What do you think I’d do?” Gojo tilts his head as if he’s taunting you.

“I don’t– what?” you stammer. 

“You’re a smart girl. Use your imagination.”

He grins again. Everything about him is sickeningly sweet. It’s not a side of him you’ve ever seen directed at you. There’s almost a fondness there. You would only see it before in rare moments, usually when Gojo was a little drunk. You suppose he could be drunk now and you’re almost grateful despite yourself. He would always get a little handsy, especially if you were dressed up for his clan events. He’d have his hand only on your leg, crawling up the skirt of your dress. During times like those, he felt like a real husband.

They were always such fleeting moments. Even years after the divorce, certain memories could still make you dizzy. 

Your mouth goes dry. You compose yourself. 

“Sorry. I, uh, have to use the bathroom.”

“Gonna use your imagination in there?” Gojo jokes.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, if only to humor him.

You don’t realize the hole you’ve put yourself in once you utter the words. The invitation you’ve given him. Unfortunately, you’re also still reeling from the conversation, so you forget to lock the door of the handicapped bathroom. 

To be fair, Gojo did try to convince himself not to follow you for the entire three minutes you were gone. But he’s never been that good of a man. It was your fault for being so damn tempting in the first place. But he had tried to be good even in the very beginning – he was polite, kept his hands to himself. Bought you anything you wanted. 

He even let you leave him. After seeing you tonight, he now knows it was a grave mistake.

“Satoru.”

“Hey.” 

He closes the door gently and locks it. Leans against the door with his arms crossed as if waiting for you to do a magic trick from the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Why are you–”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to follow you,” he tuts. 

Okay. Fine. He had a point.

“This must be exciting for you, yeah? Seeing me lose it over you?”

You can’t form words. Despite the fire in your belly, you aren’t completely sure what his angle is here. He steps forward and backs you into the wall. He could pin you to it, easily.

His hands rest on your thighs, riding up the length of the pathetic excuse you call a skirt. 

“You’re trying to kill me with this,” he huffs. “Just making everything so… difficult.”

He almost sounds disappointed in you. There is a rush of desperation flooding your brain like a knee-jerk reaction. You can feel your heart about to burst.

“Sorry,” you mumble. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.

“I was really trying to behave, too,” Gojo sighs. “Wouldn’t want to scare my ex-wife away with how much I missed her. Christ.”

“You– what?”

“Yeah, baby. How could I not miss this face?” He strokes your cheek. You’re convinced he’s been possessed by someone else, maybe. Mistaken you for a different stranger.

Your knees are already going weak. He leans in to whisper in your ear. The hand stroking your cheek holds your chin, squishing your face slightly.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“I… I did,” you whisper.

“Good,” he smiles softly. “I like knowing you still think about me.”

The proximity is driving him insane, but he’s always liked to play with you. Sometimes he would be a little mean on purpose, but never enough to be considered bullying. He just enjoyed watching you squirm back then — it was adorable how dedicated you were to playing the part of a doting wife. He wanted to see you crack, maybe beg for his attention, but you were always too stubborn.

His cock throbs knowing that you’re putty in his hands now. Melting against him, soft and willing like a blooming flower. God, he needs a taste. He nibbles on your earlobe and grins when he feels your breath hitch.

“I kind of wanted to just take you right there on the bar. Let all those creeps see how good I’d fuck you.”

Your eyes flutter rapidly at his words. He has pinned you to the wall now. You’re close enough to feel him press against you, bullet-hard. A little more teasing and he’d pull the trigger. 

He kisses down your neck, mapping it out with his teeth. He’s barely touched you and you feel like an elastic band about to snap.

“S-Satoru–”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You pant lightly. You’re preening into his touch. Lightning makes roots down the center of your spine. You forget what you wanted to say.

“What is it? You want me to take care of you?” He pulls back this time to look you directly in the eyes. His expression softens just a second at the lovestruck look in your eyes. Tender and glistening.

You nod slowly.

“I need your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” your voice shakes. “I want you to take care of me.”

He hums, pleased. The desire in his face is so new to you despite having been his wife. He’d only fucked you once before, on your anniversary. You were too tempting and he, admittedly, was tired of punishing himself by not allowing himself the pleasure of having you.

He could see you now, sprawled on the tatami mat, how you smelled like cherry blossoms. Flashes of images reeling in his mind, every little sound you made. He’d fucked his fist to the memory of it all too often after you left him. 

He felt honored to have the real thing in his hands right now.

He kisses you like he needs you to breathe. You feel blood rush to your ears, the music from the bar muffled. All you could hear were the sound of his grunts, the slickness of his tongue in between your lips. 

He spins you around abruptly, bending you over the sink. Hand on your throat, teeth in the tendon of your shoulder.

“Look at how pretty you are,” he rasps. 

You whimper, feeling his hard cock rut against the curve of your ass. He laughs when he swipes his hand underneath your skirt, the fabric of your underwear already wet. 

You gasp sharply when he eases a finger in without any resistance. He swallows the sounds you make, craning your neck towards his face with his hand while the other works another finger in. Your stomach flips, all boiling heat when he curves his fingers in just the right spot. As if he’d done it a dozen times.

“Dirty girl,” Gojo mumbles. “Getting off to her ex-husband's fingers all the way up in her cunt. In a fucking dive bar bathroom, too.”

When you whine, he only scissors into you harder and laughs. It kills you how much it turns you on, even while knowing he’s being cruel. You would fantasize about it all the time back then. Needed him to make you a real wife so you could forget yourself. You close your eyes, groaning.

“S-Satoru, I–”

“You’re not gonna cum just from that, are you?” You hear a grin in his voice.

“Fuck, please —”

His fingers leave you, making you whine in protest. The sopping mess of your arousal trickles down your inner thighs. 

“Not yet, baby. Want you to cum in my mouth.”

Gojo drops to his knees and flips up your skirt, pulling your soiled underwear down your legs at the same time. You cover your mouth to keep from moaning when you feel his tongue prodding at your cunt. 

“I always regret not tasting you on our anniversary,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re sweeter than I imagined.”

“Imagined?” you squeak out.

“You thought I stopped wanting you just because I signed a piece of paper?”

“I didn’t – oh, fuck —”

You’re distracted by the plunge of his tongue into cunt. He sucks at the hood of your clit and you feel yourself jerk involuntarily. He’s fond of your sensitivity. He used to want to take advantage of it.

You let a particular loud whine and he hums, lapping up every drop of your arousal. He sucks at your clit in earnest while he brings his fingers back to you, immediately reaching for the spot he knows will make you see stars. 

You cum so hard that you nearly bang your head against the sink faucet. Your head is spinning from the impact of it, dizzied on the high that came from a clan head in your cunt. The alcohol wasn’t helping.

He’s quick to get to his feet and kiss you so you can taste yourself. He tugs your hair and you arch for him like a taut bowstring.

“Feel how much I want you, baby?” You can feel his dick against you, something like shame flooding your system at how much of a mess you were. Getting his nice slacks all damp with your slick.

“Please,” you beg. 

He doesn’t think twice once he hears your plea. He unbuckles his belt quickly and slides down his pants. He collects your wetness in between your folds to stroke his dick. 

It feels like he’s gouging your stomach when he fucks into you. Bigger than any man you’ve had, still. Gojo likes that he was your first and he’s decided now that he will be your last.

“Tight,” Gojo mutters. You know it’s a compliment but your face heats up nonetheless. His hand around your throat is only more confirmation of his want. 

He smacks your ass with his other hand, looking down to admire the reddish mark he left. Brute. He grins when you squeeze him tighter after it. He notices your eyes struggling to stay open and gives a particularly hard thrust just to see your jaw go slack. Eyes in half-moons, boiled by the heat of your thumping heart. Blood pumping to every soft spot in your body, your brain.

“Satoru,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

“F-Feels so…”

You inhale sharply, eyes widening when his hand snakes down to pinch your clit. Your hair’s wrapped his knuckles now. A ribbon around a wedding gift. He liked when you used to wear ribbons around your neck. Liked imagining you all wrapped up for him. 

Satoru was so beautiful when he did anything, but he was angelic when he was fucking you. Cheeks all carmine, mouth wide open. It was something you wanted to get used to.

“You keep clenching, Jesus,” he grunts. Teeth at your nape, at your shoulder. Blue eyes staring at you in the mirror.

“Satoru, I’m close,” you whine.

“Hold it.”

“I– I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. You’re a good girl, even if you are dressed like a little slut.”

You whimper at that, your cunt pulsating at his words. Muscles strung out like a wet rag. You nearly cry when he pulls out of you, manhandling you to turn. He picks you up to set you down on the cold sink counter, the porcelain soothing the bruising on your ass.

He groans as he pumps himself slowly, admiring the way his tip catches on your entrance. You squirm a little, impatient, and he kisses you. It feels invasive, almost, from how rough he plays with you, sucks on your tongue. He takes the opportunity to ram into you, enjoying the way the pitched whine rolling out of your mouth gets tasted by him.

“Missed my cock, didn’t you?” he smirks. “Still the best you’ve ever had, right?”

“Y-Yes,” you sob.

His gut fucking melts.

Your mascara was getting smudged, not smudgy like he’d see in porn, but blending in the rim of your wet eyes. Dew-drop lashes.

“Feels best like this. Wanna see your face when you cum for me,” he pants. 

Your hands are on his shoulders, clinging onto him. He’s so much bigger than you, especially like this — your legs spread, his big hands gripping your thigh hard enough to hurt a little. You moan. Your voice sounds girlier than usual, wounded. You don’t recognize yourself. 

“Oh, it’s too deep—”

“No such thing,” Satoru snickers. “You’re – hah – so good at this. Good girl.”

“S-Satoru, it’s too–”

“You love it. Tell me.”

“F-fuck — I,” – you struggle mindlessly, voice strained – “I love it…”

“I know, baby,” he coos. Kisses your forehead, which is hilariously domestic and gentle considering the mean pace of his hips. 

He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You’re so fucked out. He’d ask you to take a picture if he wasn’t so focused on making you cum.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Please, please, please—”

“Okay, honey,” he chuckles. “You can cum now.”

Your moan is louder than expected as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight. You can feel all the warmth rush out of you. You really are a sight to behold, which is why Satoru cums immediately after you. You feel like you might pass out. 

He kisses you all over your face, mumbling praise as you come back to your body. It’s all most nonsensical, but you swear you hear I love you. Your half-lidded eyes close as he envelops you with his arms, mascara streaking his shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by a succession of loud knocks.

“Other people need to piss!”

Satoru scoffs, pulling away from you to slide his pants back up and buckle them. He mouths something to you that you don’t understand and leans down to grab your underwear to give to you.

“Just a second!” Satoru yells. “My wife is sick, had a bit too much to drink. Almost done.”

“Wife?” you whisper, bewildered.

Satoru eyes soften in amusement. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

[xxchumanixx]

Healing together

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+ mdni!, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (fem receiving), fingering, fluff, angst, hurt, comfort

Word count: 4.731

Authors note: Hello guys! I know I said I'd be uploading another story (actually two), but I had this idea all of a sudden and I just couldn't let it slide. So I had to do it first. Get ready for some naked time with Tim Bradford!

Enjoy!

That, was not how your day had been supposed to go.

Not at all.

Being in the middle of a crimescene, staring at your ex-boyfriend - Yeah, it definitely wasn't supposed to go like that.

It should have been a normal day - you should have went to work, did your job, before going home, cook, shower, sleep.

Simple as that.

But when a colleague from work had been killed in the middle of the day, causing the whole place to be crowded with police and forensics, the day had begun to shift.

Slowly, the simple things became complicated - being crowned when you spotted a familiar face amidst the officers: Tim Bradford.

Sucking in a breath you tried your best to hide, which wasn't that easy given the open parking lot you currently were at.

But he didn't seem to have seen you yet, calming your racing heart down a little.

Your break-up with Tim was nasty.

You weren't compatible anymore, your interests and goals for the future having shifted completely, going into different directions.

That didn't mean that you didn't love him anymore, but when you gave him the choice - either his career or you - he took the career.

You didn't exactly blame him for it, but he broke your heart. Now, years later, you couldn't help but notice that he looked even better than before.

Scolding yourself for thinking this way, you shook your head. He shouldn't be of interest for you, not after all this time.

But he was.

So, when someone cleared their throat behind you, you froze.

"Ma'am, we would like to get a statement from you." You knew his voice, it still haunted you in your dreams - you would have recognized it from anywhere.

Turning around you did your best not to look too suspicious. Sending him a crooked smile his eyes widened, mouth agape as the pen in his hand almost slipped from his grasp.

"Y/N." he carefully said your name, like he was testing it on his tongue after all these years. "Tim." you gave back, swallowing.

The woman beside him - according to her name tag she was officer Chen - looked between you in confusion.

"You know her?" she wanted to know, pen pointed at you. "Yeah..." he returned, eyes fixed on you. "Briefly." you cut in, noticing how his mouth twitched at the statement.

"We were in the same class in academy and she used to work for the LAPD." Tim explained.

"You're a cop?" she asked, sounding almost excited. "I was." you corrected her, biting your lip.

"I was, until a case went wrong, sending me to the intensive care unit for almost three months." "You nearly died." Tim added, shaking his head the slightest bit. "If the bullet had hit a millimeter more to the right he would have hit your heart. Not that it would have been the only bullet, though."

Swallowing at the memory you nodded slightly. "Yeah, the scars remind me everyday of my almost day of death."

Chen bit her lip. "I know that feeling." she mumbled. "Been buried alive. That psycho tattooed my DOD on my ribs."

Your brows rose high at the horrible time she had to have went through, eyes widening. "Officer Bradford saved me." she explained, motioning at Tim.

Nodding you felt a familiar tug at your heart. "He uses to do such things from time to time." you told her, trying to hide how your voice trembled.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name. It sounded strange through the blur and the fog in your head. "Stay with me! Keep your eyes open, you hear me? Y/N!"

Blinking rapidly, you had to get away from him. His presence opened wounds that never managed to heal.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to New Orleans?" Tim wanted to know, tilting his head slightly as his brows furrowed. Your lip twitched - you had barely been in New Orleans for a year.

It was beautiful, but it wasn't LA.

"I'm back, have been a few years now, actually." you explained, fingers tugging at lose strings on your pants. You just had to grab the one with holes in it, hadn't you?

Why even buy overpriced pants with holes, anyways?

Shaking that thought off, you continued. "I'm working here, the one who's murdered was my colleague. Although I contemplated going back."

"Back to New Orleans?" He almost sounded alarmed, but you shook your head. "Back to the police."

That must have alarmed him even more, as his eyes widened significantly.

"I've got an offer from Grey." you explained, tugging a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Tim swallowed, nodding.

"So you two were rookies together?" Chen inquired, smiling. "How was he back then?"

Clearing your throat you looked at her. "He was ambitious, eager." you explained. "A little reckless."

Tim's brows rose at your words. "I was reckless?" he wanted to know, huffing. "We were both reckless when we decided to be-" he cut himself off, already having said too much.

But Chen was clever, as she caught on to what he wanted to say.

"Wait, you two were together?"

Rolling your eyes you looked away for a second.

Damn him and his mouth - even when the memory of what his mouth was able to do made you blush.

Not what you wanted to think of in that moment, though.

"We were." you confirmed, nodding as you looked back at her. "Didn't work. It's history, nothing more."

Tim swallowed, it was so loud that you could hear it.

His gaze wandered over the crimescene, before it fixed on his rookie. "Boot, could you get a statement from this man over there?" he asked, pointing somewhere, though it wasn't really a question.

Chen knew that as well, nodding.

"Was nice to meet you." she spoke, before she turned around and headed for the man Tim pointed at.

Cocking a brow you looked up at him, as his gaze fell back on you. "What?" he asked, brows furrowing. "You did that on purpose." you replied, giving him a pointed look.

Sighing he stuffed away his pen and notepad, nodding. "Yes, I did."

Biting your lip you contemplated to run.

You didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but if he sent his rookie away, he wanted to do exactly that.

You knew him.

Sighing, you decided to stay. It would have only looked suspicious if you ran - they didn't need to falsely arrest you, because they thought you were the murderer.

Biting down on your cheek you waited for him to begin.

"You look good." he spoke hesitantly, a small smile gracing his lips. Nodding, your brows twitched. "Did you tell her to go just so you could tell me that I look good?" you gave back, tilting your head.

"No, I... I'm just surprised to see you, that's all." he admitted, looking down for a split second. "After we... separated, I didn't see you again."

Huffing, you crossed your arms above your chest. "What did you expect, after you broke my heart?" you returned, holding his gaze, even as his eyes averted at your words.

"That I could continue like nothing happened? I couldn't stay, because that meant I'd have to see you everyday, so I quit and went to New Orleans. But it wasn't LA, so I came back after only a year. I kept in contact with Wade and Angela, but that's it."

His brows knitted together. "I don't know if I should be more surprised about you being on first name basis with Grey or you staying in contact with Lopez."

Shaking your head you looked down.

"What are you trying to do here, Tim?" you asked quietly, looking back up. The sun was already setting, shining straight onto your faces, highlighting all of his contours.

Sighing deeply, his gaze fell back on the crowd of people around you. He seemed unsure, hesitant.

"I never got the chance to apologize." he finally spoke, looking down, before his gaze fell on you, as your brows furrowed. "I chose my career, but I later realized that I was wrong. I could have had both and I made the mistake of choosing only one thing."

Shaking your head at his words you felt the anger bubble up. You had suppressed it for so long, that it was hard for you to hold it back now.

"Are you serious?" you wanted to know, taking a step closer, as your eyes narrowed at him. "Angela mentioned that you married - only two years later. Surely your career didn't stand in the way when you did."

He looked like you just slapped him in the face.

"I know." he gave back. "I didn't want to do the same mistake again. But then I did another one. She got addicted, and I didn't intervene at first. Only when she left one night I realized that I fucked up again. I didn't see her for two years, but now she's clean."

Biting your lip you nodded slightly.

"Bet you must be happy now." you said, feeling sorry for her. "We're divorced now." he returned. "It's only a few months ago. But it's better that way."

"Oh." you made, looking away, now feeling guilty, as the anger slowly faded. "Angela didn't tell me. I mean, not that it's my cup of tea, but I'm sorry for you."

He nodded. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

Nodding as well, you didn't know what to say. Luckily, he did.

"You should get home, get some rest." he told you, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I don't know." you gave back, biting your lip. "My car is at the workshop, I got here with the bus, but that won't get here, now that this is a crimescene. I don't know how I'll get home - I guess I'll just walk then."

His brows furrowed. "No, you're not going home on your own." he disagreed, shaking his head. "We still don't know who did this and the suspect could still be close by. I'll drive you."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I can protect myself." you argued. "I bet you have a lot of work left to do here anyway, not to mention your rookie."

But he shook his head, not having it. "She'll drive with someone else." he told you sternly, before walking towards her.

Mouth agape you stared after him, not sure if you were ready to be alone in a car with him just yet.

When he came back, you couldn't believe that he really was able to just go, drive you home.

"Come." he spoke, walking towards his police car. Still shocked you followed him, knowing that you didn't have another choice. He wouldn't have let you go alone, no matter what you did.

You sighed, when you sat down in the passenger seat. You missed sitting in the shop, the familiar smell and feeling causing you to feel homesick.

Tim started the engine, as you buckled up. Leaning back in the seat your fingers brushed over the door. You had sat so many times in the shop, and after all this time of being no cop anymore, you finally felt at home again.

The drive was silent for the first few minutes, after you told him were you lived.

The silence was heavy, neither one knowing what to say now that you were alone.

"Are you planning on taking Grey up on his offer?" Tim broke the silence, looking at you, before his gaze went back out on the street.

"Before getting in the shop I wasn't sure - but now... It feels like I'm home again. All this time I missed something and I know now, that it was this job."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I took that from you." he almost whispered, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten. "Because of me you gave up your dream. I don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for it."

Biting your cheek, you considered if you should tell him that he couldn't make up for it. But you decided against it.

If you really wanted to get back, you shouldn't stay angry at him. You should at least try to forgive him, no matter how long it would take.

"I'm sure you'll find a way." you quietly told him, looking out your window.

Parking in front of your house, it was already dark. He cut the engine, getting out, before you could have stopped him.

Following him to your front door you hesitated. "Won't you get into trouble for driving me home?"

He shook his head, as he stopped at the door, as you did the same. "No, I can explain my absence." he told you, looking down at you. "I just wanted to make sure that you're getting home safely."

Feeling your heart hammer in your chest, you nodded. "Okay, then thank you for driving me home." you spoke, looking up into his eyes. "Yeah, no problem." he mumbled, staring back.

You felt how you became hot, hearing your heartbeat in your ears at his intense stare.

Slowly, he inched closer, his head leaning in your direction. Your breathing faltered, as you did the same.

His breath fanned over your face and you swallowed, before his lips finally met yours.

Something inside you exploded, as you tasted his lips for the first time since your break-up.

They fit together like they were made to be, his hands finding your hips, guiding you closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him.

Your lips devoured each other, his tongue brushing your bottom lip and you let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance, your combined breathing ringing in your ears.

Your heart burst at the feeling, as the kiss grew more heated.

Fumbling for the key, all your worries were suddenly gone. Trying to open the door blindly it took you a few tries, before you heard the familiar click. Pushing the door open, Tim didn't waste any time as he pushed you inside.

He closed the door behind him, before his hands grabbed your face, guiding your lips back onto his.

He pushed you against the nearest wall, your back hitting it almost painfully, as his hands roamed your body. Grabbing your thighs he gave you a sign to jump - and so you did.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down your chin to your neck, sucking at it until he found the spot that had you moaning.

Using the advantage he brushed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before his hands found your hips again. They wandered under your shirt, eagerly touching your skin.

"Where is your bedroom?" he wanted to know breathlessly. "Upstairs, first door on the right." you explained, out of breath as well.

He didn't hesitate to grab you, before he walked to the stairs with you in his arms, showing no signs of trouble as he took them, all the while kissing you as he blindly made his way up.

When he reached the door he pushed it open, only breaking the kiss to locate your bed, before he let you fall down on it. Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt over your head, watching him as he took off his jacket, followed by his shirt and the one he wore under his uniform.

He was breathtaking.

His muscles were more defined than they were back then, making him even more geogous. Unbottoning his pants, you did the same, stripping out of them, before throwing them off the bed.

When you were left in only your underwear, he was back on top of you, his lips taking yours. Lying down on your back his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock pressing against the inside of your thigh.

Sucking down your neck, he again found your sweet spot, earning a moan from you as he sucked on it. Your hands brushed through his hair, as your back arched.

He took the opportunity to open your bra, discarding of it on the floor.

Kissing down to your breasts, his lips found your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You yelped in pleasure and surprise, tugging at his short strands. His tongue circled around it, before it flicked over it.

You moaned when he lightly bit down on your nipple, before letting go of it with a wet pop, giving your other one the same attention.

The wetness between your legs was almost getting too wet, the knot in your belly already forming just because his lips were around your nipple.

Letting go of the other one he went further down, trailing kisses down your stomach, until he reached the hem of your panties. He looked up at you, before he kissed your clothed pussy, causing you to suck in a breath.

He was so unnaturally hot.

Chuckling at your reaction, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, before tugging them down, letting them drop on the floor as well.

Then he pushed your legs back, opening them until he could see his precious price. Kissing your thighs he took his time, causing you to squirm.

You could feel him grin, his hot breath fanning over your heat. Without a warning his tongue licked up your pussy in one stripe, causing your hips to buck, as you moaned loudly.

His tongue went down on you, licking through your folds, flicking over your clit, before his lips sucked it into his mouth.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, fisting it as much as you could with its length, earning a groan from him. It vibrated through your pussy, making you moan in return.

His thumb brushed over your clit, as his mouth let go of you, his eyes finding yours. He drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, gasping for air.

His thumb was soon replaced by his mouth again, as he slowly pushed a finger inside you, after gathering some of your arousel to wet it.

You moaned, as he started fingering you, all the while pleasuring you with his tongue. When he added a second finger, stretching you, your back arched off the matress, as you pulled his head even closer.

The knot in your stomach tightened almost painfully, as his fingers fell into a steady rhythm. He brought you right to the edge, and when you looked down at him, your eyes finding his, you fell.

Screaming his name, you came. He didn't stop though, taking everything you gave him, as he rode you through your high.

When you came down it, he removed his mouth and fingers, wiping over his mouth, that glistened from your arousel, before he leaned up, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue you groaned, palming him through his briefs. He twitched, as he gasped for air, before his lips were on yours again.

Tugging the briefs down his legs, he let them fall to the floor, his cock painfully hard. It poked at your entrance, making you all the more eager to finally have him inside you.

His lips left yours, as he pointed at your night table. You nodded, before he opened it and took out a condom, before sitting up a little. He rolled it down his shaft, before he lay back on top of you.

Kissing you again he guided his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing the head inside.

Moaning you clenched, making him hiss. "Fuck." he breathed. "You're so tight." Smirking you pushed in his direction. He slowly eased forward, until he was buried to the hilt.

Breathing heavily you leaned back into the cushions, needing a moment to get used to him.

His lips brushed your cheek, as he waited for your go. Nodding, you signaled that you were ready.

Slowly, he pulled back until only his head was inside you, before thrusting back into you hard. You yelped, toes curling at the sensation, as he did it again and again, slowly becoming faster.

You fell into a steady rhytm, your hands gripping his bicep with his arms at either side of your head.

His eyes found yours and you sucked in a breath, moaning his name. "Fuck." he swore, biting his lip. "Do that again." Your cheeks flushed. "Tim!" you moaned his name again and he groaned, his thrusts getting harder, deeper.

You wouldn't last long if he kept this up.

Your breasts bounced, and he kissed down them, circling your nipples with his tongue.

Your hands found his hair, tugging at it almost painfully at the sensations. The knot in your belly tightened again, as you brought his mouth back to yours.

He thrust into you vigorously, his pelvis brushing your clit, sending sparks up your body and making your toes curl.

"I'm gonna cum soon." you told him inbetween moans, biting your lip. One of his hands gripped one of your legs, giving you a sign to wrap them both around his middle.

Doing as you were told you felt how he reached even deeper, earning a moan from you both.

His thrusts gained speed, as one of his hands found your middle, his fingers brushing your clit. You twitched under him, as he started to rub it, driving you towards the edge in highspeed.

You were so close to bursting.

"Tim!" you breathed, trying to focus on his face. "I know." he gave back. "Come for me."

With a scream of his name you stumbled over the edge, him following closely as your pussy clenched around him.

He rode out your highs, before he stilled. Breathing heavily your eyes were closed, needing a moment to come down from the best orgasmn you've had in the last few years.

When your eyes opened again they met his, as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. You smiled, still feeling a little high.

He returned the smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Time stood still, as you enjoyed this moment in silence.

Still a little out of breath he rolled down from you, his back hitting the sheets as he lay down beside you.

"Fuck..." he mumbled. "That was..." "Amazing." you finished for him. "Yeah..."

You lay in silence as you slowly caught your breath, him discarding of the condom, before lying back down. But as the high faded, something different bubbled up.

Feelings, that were so deep buried inside you, suddenly pushed back up. Gasping, you tried to suppress the tears -failing horribly as a sob broke through.

"Y/N!" Tim called out your name in worry, sitting up. "What happened?" Tears streamed down your face, as you sat up as well.

"Why couldn't it just have been fine?" you wanted to know, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why couldn't we just have been happy back then?" you returned, wiping your face.

He fell silent, as he knew what you meant.

Crying silently you suddenly felt ashamed. You shouldn’t have been crying over the past, but you couldn't help it. After all that happened, you still loved him.

"After you've been shot, almost dying in my arms..." he began, breaking the silence, as his gaze fell on the sheets. "I built this shield around me, that was supposed to prevent a situation like this from happening again. I almost lost you, an event that traumatized me so badly... For a very long time I tried to convince myself that what I did was right."

He sighed, and you swallowed, biting your lip as more tears fell.

"When I married Isabel, I tried to prevent something like this, but I failed - again." he continued. "She was undercover, getting addicted. I didn't know how to help her and to be honest, I don't believe that there was actually a way I could have helped. If anything, I made it worse. It reminded me of us. I relived the events from when you were shot, nearly dying. You lost so much blood that they had to revive you - two times. Knowing that it was my fault, knowing that you could have died because of me - something inside me broke. So when I built this shield, and you asked me to go with you - I was scared that it would follow us. I was scared that you'd be in harms way, because of me. So I chose the job."

Sobbing, you tried to understand what he just told you.

"It wasn't your fault." you told him, wiping your face, even though it was useless. "Yes it was! If I-" he wanted to argue, but you cut him off. "No, Tim! It was not your fault! It was mine!" you shouted, pointing at yourself.

"I was sloppy that day, I didn't sleep enough, wasn't feeling well. And if I hadn't hesitated when trying to shoot the attacker, he wouldn't even have had a chance to get me. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? Nothing of this was on you, Tim."

His mouth was open, eyes red from the tears he tried to hold at bay.

"You never said that you didn't feel well." he realized, swallowing. "If you would have told Grey, you wouldn't have even been there in the first place."

Nodding, you bit your lip, absentmindely brushing over the scar on your chest with your fingers.

"Yes, but i was so eager to get that job done." you explained. "Nothing would have stopped me from going out there, so stop blaming yourself. Please, Tim."

It fell silent again, as your tears slowly subsided.

All this time you had suffered, because he thought he was at fault for your accident. He blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

When he suddenly scooted closer, his arms wrapping around you with his chin on your head, you heard him sniff. Leaning against him you breathed his familiar scent, your heart bleeding as he cried.

You could have had it all. Could have lived a happy life. He could have married you instead of Isabel, who ended up getting addicted, breaking his heart.

You had both suffered so badly.

And as you sat there, both crying over the past mistakes, you made a decision.

You would forgive him.

After all, he did what he did to keep you safe - even if he broke his own heart in the process as well.

After a while he shifted, looking down at you. His eyes were red and a little puffy, but yours didn't look any better.

"I shouldn't have let you go." he told you, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "When you asked me to go with you, I should have said yes. I shouldn't have pushed you away, out of fear that I might lose you if I didn't."

Shaking your head, you sniffed. "I shouldn't have made you choose." you gave back. "I ran away from my fear, but it didn't work. I should have stayed and tried to heal, instead of running."

He breathed deeply, his hand on your cheek.

"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you." he admitted, holding your gaze. "Not even when i was with Isabel."

Smiling through another wave of tears coming up, your hand lay on his. "I never stopped loving you, either." you returned, a happy feeling spreading through you.

It tickled your veins, warming you from the inside.

He smiled as well, blinking as a tear fell on his cheek.

"Can we fix this?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes. "I think we did already." you gave back, causing him to sigh in relief.

"Will we be together, after this?" he questioned further. Swallowing, you wiped at your eyes, before responding. "I would love nothing more."

He kissed you. It felt different, free.

Like it should be.

"I love you." he spoke, kissing your cheeks. "I love you too." you returned, a giddy feeling spreading through your entire being, smiling broadly.

"And I promise that I'll never leave you again." he added, swallowing, as he looked into your eyes. "You'll never get rid of me again."

"I wouldn't want to."

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (I)

Chapter 1 : For the Best

Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!

Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2739

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was a logical decision.

That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.

This is for the best. There’s no choice.

It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.

Best friends.

Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.

If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.

Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…

And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…

Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.

“Damn… where’s my other sock?”

You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.

“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.

“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”

“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”

“He does hold grudges like no one else…”

Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.

“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”

He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.

“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.

His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…

“Really?”

“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.

He tightened his hold on the sheets.

“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…

Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.

He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.

“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.

He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.

“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”

You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.

“I like it when you do that.”

It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.

“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Get all worried about me.”

You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.

“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”

“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”

“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”

You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.

“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”

He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.

You heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.

You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.

Third rule: no kissing without sex.

The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.

It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.

Andrew, you absolute fool…

His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.

She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.

Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.

Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…

“Andy? You’re okay?”

He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Sure, why?”

“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.

It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.

When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.

You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.

Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.

“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”

“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.

“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”

But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.

“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.

“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”

Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.

“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.

“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”

“No… no, we didn’t fight.”

“What is it, then?”

“We… We’re sleeping together.”

Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…

“What? When? How? What?”

“You’ve asked that one twice.”

“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.

He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.

“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”

“Oh…”

She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.

“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.

“A few months.”

“And you’re not dating her?”

“No, we’re not dating.”

“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”

“Yeah.”

He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.

“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.

“Oh, honey…”

She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”

“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”

She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.

“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”

He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”

“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”

But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.

Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.

[jobean12-blog]

Tortured Love

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 1,577

Summary: You and Javi have had a complicated relationship and the last time you saw each other you thought it was just that...the last. But now he's back and like always you find him almost impossible to resist...

Author's Note: So @ilovejavierpena posted the photo below and @lizette50 shared it with me and I nearly lost my mind (thank you both bunches). Why? you ask...just look at! The neck, the hair, the hands and thighs and the spread and what's between, well, it did me in so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of tension and some teasing, you're kind of mad at Javi but he makes it easy to forgive him, softness, p in v, happy ending, use of the pet name angel (just love this one for him)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Don’t turn around.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

You stop with the drink midway to your lips and give your friend a wide-eyed look.

She opens her mouth to tell you why but you whisper, “he’s back,” before she can.

You can feel his presence. His eyes are boring into your skin and with a deep exhale you finish off your drink and set it on the bar before squaring back your shoulders.

“Maybe he’s just here for a drink,” your friend muses with feigned hope.

Javi weaves through the crowd, his attention focused solely on you and his hands already twitching at his sides.

You turn and meet his eyes, watching his lips part with something unheard over the bar chatter as his gaze trails down your body.

Your friend gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and you tear your eyes away from Javi to silently let her know it’s ok.

Silence surrounds you as soon as you and Javi are alone even though the atmosphere of the bar is loud.

He breaks it with a simple yet powerful sentence. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, forcing a smile. “Why are you here Javi?”

He briefly turns his face away, your name passing his lips in a pained whisper.

Someone sweeps by you and nudges you closer to him, your chest so close now that he can feel it brush his with every breath.

His eyes roam over your features and he starts to lift a hand. “I missed you.”

You wet your lips and his eyes track the movement.

“You can’t miss something you don’t want.”

“Angel,” he murmurs. “You know that’s not…”

“Don’t!” you shout and place a hand on his chest.

At the feel of his warm skin under your palm your brain floods with images, sounds and thoughts. All of them saturated with his touch.

“Please,” he begs. “Just let me explain.”

He steps even closer, bridging the smallest gap that was between your bodies and settles his hand on the curve of your hip.

His thumb traces over a slight strip of fabric hidden under your dress and he looks down, sucking in a breath.

“What panties are these?”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything!”

“I remember these,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and muttering a curse.

When he opens them again they drop to your mouth, soft and kissable. “Let me fix this.”

You lean toward him, unable to stop the way your body craves his. He lowers his head as he slides his free hand up your arm and cradles your cheek, his thumb tracing your upper lip before his fingers tighten and drag you closer.

The bell starts ringing behind the bar and the bartender yells, “LAST CALL!!! PAY UP!”

You startle and tug out of his arms, stepping back as your eyes dart to the door.

He growls out your name and moves back into your space.

“I’m going home,” you tell him and slip from his arms and toward the exit.

He watches you until you reach the door then takes off in pursuit, staying a few steps behind you as he follows you home.

“Why are you following me?” you ask without turning around.

“I have to make sure you get home safely,” he answers.

You don’t reply and keep walking, wanting to run but thinking better of it in your heels.

When you reach the door you unlock it and go inside, not bothering to shut it since you know he’s right there.

“I’ll leave,” he starts even as he shuts the door with a click. “But only if you tell me to.”

You don’t say a word and head toward your bedroom.

He follows.

You cross the room and grab pajamas from the dresser, laying them out on the bed before moving to shut the door.

You draw up short when you find him standing in the doorway, with a forearm propped high on the jam and his expression tortured.

“I need to change.”

He doesn’t move.

Frustration with him, with everything, takes over and you shove him in the chest and try to get him out of the room.

“Tell me to leave,” he says again.

“I want to change.”

He stays put and grinds his jaw.

“Fine Javi. Have it your way. You always do.”

You turn away from him and on your way back to the bed you strip your dress over your head. His shaky hiss of breath makes you smile to yourself and you bend over to grab the hanger from the floor.

“Fuck angel. You’re perfect.”

Every last nerve ending on your skin pops with warmth when you feel him behind you. When you straighten, your bare back lands flush against his heaving chest and you’re suddenly breathless.

You turn, the smooth movement of your hands climbing his chest derailed when you see the tormented expression on his face.

With a quick recovery, you grab hold of the open collar of his shirt and spin him around, urging him down until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

His eager brown eyes land everywhere and his hands follow, the muscles of his throat working roughly when he swallows hard with a plea of your name.

“How much did you miss me Javi?” you ask as you slowly straddle his lap and meet the proof.

Your mouth ghosts over his, the hairs of his mustache grazing your soft lips and his hands close around your ass cheeks to draw you closer.

You pull your mouth away, the both of you breathing erratically.

“Did you strip for me just to be a tease?” he asks, his hips shifting beneath you until his generous length is pressed between your legs.

The action makes you whimper loudly and he drags you over him again.

“Whatever game you’re playing with me, stop angel. Just…be mine.”

Your fingers delicately trace his sharp jaw and you sweep the pad of your thumb over his plush lips.

“I’m not yours Javi…you don’t want…”

A possessive light brightens his eyes and he surges forward, catching your mouth in a kiss that silences you.

Your fingers rake through his hair as the kiss grows more desperate and you only break apart briefly to allow him to tug at the buttons on his shirt, sending most of them flying until you can push the fabric off his broad shoulders.

One long finger travels down your stomach and rubs against your dampening panties.

You’re no longer in control and your mind and body are begging for the full sensation of him, the stretch of him inside you…and you fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans.

His lips hover just over yours when he breathes out the words.

“I missed you. I…fuck. I missed you. So much angel. Please.”

You draw him out and stroke him up and down, guiding him between your legs.

He grunts and pushes your panties aside, allowing you to position the tip of him inside you before slowly, slowly, taking him deep, both of you watching it happen.

You moan in his lap and buck involuntarily.

“Yes,” you whine. “More.”

He heaves a curse and digs his fingers into your skin making a slow groan deep in his throat.

His body flexes with tension and you rock your hips again.

“Don’t,” he gasps. “I can’t.”  

“You can’t what Javi? Stop?”  

He nods before clenching his eyes shut. “You feel so fucking good. I’ve needed you for so long. I can’t get enough.”

And with the last bit of his control his hips roll back and forth fluidly, filling you slowly.

His open mouth dips to your throat, exhaling heat against your skin and with smooth strokes he pumps into you, holding your ass to bring you up and down. His teeth catch the lobe of your ear and he brings a hand down to slap your ass.

You moan at the rough impact and the press of his body against yours.

“Touch yourself angel.”

He spanks you again. Harder.

“Javi…”

His mouth drops and hovers just above yours, his intense gaze focused and filled with warning.

“Angel…”

With parted lips you drag your shaky hand down from his shoulder and find the sensitive bud, biting your lip as you rub in circles, your eyes involuntarily fluttering closed.

“Look at me while you do it,” he demands.

Your eyes pop open and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, the dark hair hanging down in front wet and sticky.

“You’re all I want. I need you angel.”

His words break you wide open and your walls squeeze him tightly, taking him over the edge with you. With rough and desperate kisses, he grinds out the pleasure, hips pushing and pressing and his teeth dragging across your skin.

He falls flat on his back and takes you with him, your head resting on his shoulder. Calloused fingertips stroke up and down the curve of your spine as your breathing evens out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your skin. “I was so afraid of losing you…I pushed you away instead.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere Javi.”

He turns you onto your sides so that you’re facing each other and studies your face with such intensity your next breath catches in your throat.

“I know,” he murmurs. “And I’m never letting you go angel.”

@hiddles-rose @lizette50 @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lorilane33

[kaleldobrev]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: A common theme of yours and Dean’s pillow talks happen to be about having that white picket fence and apple pie life

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Just Fluff

Authors Note: I’ve just really been in the mood for my fluff filled Dean | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

What initially started out as two friends finding comfort in each other’s arms after a nightmare or after a rough hunt, ended up becoming one of the best things to ever happen to either one of you; despite breaking an agreement the two of you had made when you first met. When the two of you first met several years ago, the two of you made the agreement that you were never going to become anything romantic, keeping it strictly platonic – strictly business. But over time, the lines blurred. Lingering touches that were once friendly turned into romantic ones. Accidental brushing of the hands that once meant nothing turned into ones that made both of your hearts flutter, giving each other goosebumps. Forehead kisses and cheek kisses lingered, came more frequently – sometimes in the middle of the night out of nowhere. But these kisses were always welcomed, making the both of you feel safe, feel loved.

Neither of you knew when the lines got blurred, but they did. The two of you were no longer just friends or business partners now; you were lovers too. Always finding comfort in each other, finding comfort in the simplest of touches, and the simplest of affections – affections that both of you desperately needed, desperately craved.

The two of you were lying in bed together, your head resting on his shoulder with one hand resting on his chest in order to feel his heart beating underneath your fingertips. Your legs were intertwined with each other, and his arm was wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in close. He kissed the top of your head, and you gently closed your eyes briefly at the feeling before making eye contact with him. Your hand that was once on his chest made contact with his face, his stubble always felt nice on your very smooth skin. “Hi.” You smiled gently.

“Hi.” He replied back, leaning in and kissing you. The kiss was brief, but you cherished those ones the most. The soft ones, the ones that felt like he was trying so hard not break you even though he knew he couldn’t. “Do you ever think we could ever do normal?” His question seemed out of nowhere, but it wasn’t remotely. The talks of normalcy was something that Dean had been bringing up a lot lately.

“Like white picket fence and apple pie stuff?” You asked, your hand returning to his chest.

“Yeah.” He said. “You think me and you will ever have that?” His question was a simple one, but yet the answer was a complicated one. Dreaming of a normal life was something that had been on your mind for as long as you could remember; but it always seemed so far from your reach. You grew up similarly to Sam and Dean; as your father too was a single dad who was a hunter. It was only you and him growing up, and he tried his best to give you the best life that he could despite never staying in the same place for too long. Despite him not wanting you to be a hunter like he was, it was the only life that you had never known, starting up on the road with him when you were less than two years old.

“I’d like to think we could.” You finally answered, hesitant in your response. “It’s just…” You sighed. “Hunting is the only life I’ve ever known Dean. Hunting is normal to me, not hunting isn’t.”

“Not hunting…it’s a weird feeling at first but…it’s something you get used to. Get so used to that…it’s almost hard to go back.” Dean started to explain, his voice almost sounding sad, as if he was thinking about past memories of when he didn’t used to hunt. There were at least two times you could recall: when he was little, and a few years before you had met him.

“But yet you always find your way back.” You knew more than anything how much Dean had craved a normal life, but despite that normalcy that he craved, he always found his way back to the hunting life without fail; because in a weird way, it was a life that he was meant for, just like you.

“Yeah but, I didn’t have you before.” His words had made you smile. You didn’t realize how much of an impact that you had made on Dean in the little amount of time that you had known him. Yes, you’ve known him for the past couple of years, but the two of you had only started officially dating a few months ago.

“Really think I'd be able to help you stay out of the hunting life? Despite me only knowing that life?" You asked, your question a serious one.

”We’d help each other out. Keep each other in check.” His solution sounded so simple.

”I think you’re gonna end up keeping me in check more.” You said, no longer keeping eye contact with him. Your eyes now fixated on the invisible patterns you were drawing on his bare chest with your fingertips. “This won’t be…equal.”

”Hey,” he began, tilting your chin up, almost forcing you to re-look at him. Looking at his face now, his features seemed so much softer than they previously did. “I know we’d have our rough patches. But, I really do think we’d be okay.” Again, his response sounded so simple.

”Dean –” before you could finish your retort, Dean had cut you off.

”Y/N, Sweetheart.” His hand moved to cup your cheek. “Give yourself a little credit.” He said. “How many times have I gotten hurt on a hunt and wanted to automatically go back out the next day and you stopped me from going?”

”But that’s…different. You were hurt.” You understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, you felt as though it wasn’t the same thing.

”I know it’s not the same thing but…Look, what I’m trying to get at here is, you are capable of preventing me from going hunting.” You audibly ‘Oh’d,’ finally understanding his point.

”I guess, I guess I never thought about it that way.” You said.

”And that’s what Sammy calls perspective.” Dean smirked.

”I know what perspective means Dean.”

“Smartass.” Dean mumbled.

”How is that remotely–” Dean cut you off again, but this time by kissing you. For some reason (not that you minded of course) this was always Dean’s response whenever he knew that he wasn’t going to win in an argument with you; kissing you to shut you up.

The pillow talks that you had with Dean whether you had sex before or not always centered around the same theme: normalcy, not hunting. It was talks where the two of you could have a realistic yet unrealistic conversation about what your lives would be like. You had wanted more than anything (much like Dean), to have that normal life, away from hunting. But the two of you had loved this life, grew up in this life, were meant for this life.

Even though normalcy is something that you and Dean talk about often, it still seemed so far out of reach, despite it being so close. Dropping the hunting life seemed like an easy thing to do, but at the same time, you knew, just as well as he did, that the two of you would still be looking at the news wondering what creature was responsible. Thinking how easy it would be to take care of it. “Not my problem,” was a phrase that you knew you could never say.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[kiwriteswords]

May I please request “Discussing things that set themselves up to be hurt and trusting that the other won't take advantage of it” with Hotch and a female reader who has issues with trust and intimacy?

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1k

Rating: Everyone

TW: Canon typical themes, trust issues

A Leap of Trust

The BAU had wrapped up a long, draining case that left everyone emotionally spent. As the team packed up their things to head home, you found yourself lagging behind, lingering in the conference room. You didn’t quite feel ready to leave yet. It was easier to bury yourself in work than to face the quiet of your apartment, the silence that would force you to think—about everything.

You heard the door open behind you. "Y/N," Hotch's deep voice carried through the room, soft and careful. "You okay?"

You turned, managing a small smile. "Yeah, just catching my breath."

Aaron's brow furrowed slightly, a look of concern passing over his features. "This case was hard," he said, stepping closer. "You don't have to hold everything inside, you know. I'm here."

You sighed, knowing that he meant well. But trust, for you, was not something that came easily. It hadn’t for a long time. Your past was full of people who had promised to be there for you and then left when things got complicated, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You weren’t sure how to explain that to Hotch, not without sounding broken.

"I know you're here," you replied softly, eyes on the file in front of you, tracing the edge with your fingertips. "But it's not that simple, Aaron."

He didn’t push you. Hotch had always been patient with you, but you could tell that he was waiting for you to let him in. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to; you did. But that made it scarier. Trusting him meant handing over pieces of yourself that no one had seen in years, and trusting that he wouldn't break them.

He took another step, standing beside you now. His hand rested gently on the back of your chair, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel his presence. You could always feel him.

"What is it that's holding you back?" His voice was quiet, understanding. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N."

The vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. It was like he knew you were struggling, and not just with the case. You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. If you didn’t say something now, you'd only keep pushing him away. And maybe, just maybe, you were tired of doing that.

You shifted in your seat, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm… I'm scared," you admitted, the words coming out barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of letting someone in, of trusting that they won't hurt me. Every time I’ve trusted someone in the past, they’ve taken advantage of it. And I can't…" You paused, struggling to find the words. "I can’t go through that again."

Hotch's expression softened, and he moved to sit beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand why you would feel that way," he said, his voice steady, grounding. "And I won’t pretend to know everything you've been through. But what I can tell you is that trust is never a guarantee that things won’t hurt. It’s a leap of faith."

You felt your chest tighten at the thought. "But what if I get hurt again?"

"Then you tell me," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I promise you, I will never take advantage of that trust. I’ve seen what it looks like when people use that against others, and I won't let that happen to you. Not with me."

His words made you feel seen, really seen. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to believe him, to believe that he wouldn't hurt you. It was terrifying, and yet something inside you whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was different.

"I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You can," Hotch replied, his hand slowly reaching for yours. He paused, giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t. You let his fingers lace with yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. "I know it’s not easy for you. And I know this is a risk. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N."

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about the physical touch—it was about the trust that came with it. The trust you were giving him, even if it was in small doses.

"I don’t know how to do this," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. "I've never been good at… trusting people. At letting someone in."

Hotch's thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand. "Then we take it slow. We figure it out together. And if you need space, or if you feel like it's too much, you tell me. We’ll move at your pace."

The way he said it—so calm, so assured—made you feel like maybe you could trust him, that he really wouldn't hurt you. He wasn’t asking for more than you could give, and that meant more to you than he would ever know.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Okay," you said, your voice steadying. "Okay, we take it slow."

Hotch smiled then—just a small, barely-there curve of his lips—but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you for trusting me."

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to pull away. Instead, you held on just a little tighter, a little longer, feeling his warmth settle into the cracks of your guarded heart.

Tag List

[topazadine]

Okay, okay, here's perhaps my spiciest and most controversial take yet.

Now, before I even say anything, please note that I am talking specifically about fantasy. Not retellings of myths, not historical fiction set in different countries, nothing like that. This is for second-world fantasy, where you're creating a whole different world.

Ready?

Stop making everything so damn complicated!

This is not to say that you can't have a rich and exciting world filled with lore, religion, different societies, traditions, unique geographies. Not that. Of course we want that: it's the whole reason we read fantasy. I'm talking about something else.

This is my simple takedown, and you can read the rest to better understand what I mean:

Stop jamming your story with five billion weird words.

Don't use super complicated nouns.

Keep the characters to a minimum so we can know and like them.

Don't yammer on about all the backstory.

Stop making readers do homework just to understand things.

Focus on the feeling a story gives instead of the intricate worldbuilding.

And lastly, a pre-emptive note to those who are putting their hackles up and telling me why they are an exception.

Why is it important to keep things simple?

A lot of people shy away from fantasy because they assume that every fantasy story is going to be so complicated that their head will hurt. Not in terms of plot - many people like complicated plots - but in terms of terminology and history. Things that ultimately don't really matter to the plot.

We as writers often assume that everyone cares about our story as much as we do and is equally captivated by every detail. This is simply not true.

To your reader, your story is not their life's work: it is entertainment that they want to be able to enjoy at their leisure. It's a distraction from their difficult lives and all their real-world frustrations. If they get really into it and, say, write fanfic or whatever, that's amazing! But they're not likely to do that if they feel like they'll be jumped on for doing something wrong or that they have to include every single little detail.

For example, I wrote over 1 million words of Touken Ranbu fanfic. Touken Ranbu, at its heart, has a very simple premise: you've got a bunch of legendary swords that were turned into hot men and fight evil time-traveling monsters. You can understand it with just that. There are layers to it, though, that you can slowly untangle. That makes for good writing because it works on multiple levels depending on how much you care about it.

I would have given up on the story if I felt like I needed a dictionary just to understand the plot. Most people would. Language needs to be accessible and premises need to be clear, or no one is going to want to go deeper.

Subtle little details that people can pick up are way more enjoyable than tossing every single factoid at people so that they feel overwhelmed and can't think. It's wonderful to have rich layers of symbolism, mythology, etc. That's excellent. But you can only get people to care about those things if they can actually comprehend your damn story.

A lot of the things that turn people off from fantasy are all about a writer's ego, and it oozes through the work. People can tell that you're wanting them to pat you on the back for putting so much shit in your story. It's annoying and a total turn-off when you make readers work so hard to comprehend what you're saying.

So what exactly am I talking about? This.

Using made-up terms for everything that could easily be explained with a normal English word

When I am writing fantasy, I imagine myself as a translator. After all, my made-up societies have their own made-up language (Seinish) that is referenced a few times.

However, I'm not using Seinish words all the time. I'm writing in English. I didn't write out a Seinish dictionary or even come up with most of the terms because, honestly? Most readers don't care. They want to understand what's going on in as simple of terms as possible, with only a few specific terms that remind us that we're somewhere different.

I may use some specialized terminology, but it's always couched in context clues that make us aware of what it is without actually having to just say "sdlkjfslkdjf, also known as a marketplace."

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, the High Poet Society has religious centers called meronyms. (Which actually isn't a made-up word.) We know they're religious centers because we see all the religious leaders living there. Someone sees the term "meronym" and goes "oh yeah, that's the religious place" and moves on.

It's one of the only confusing, specialized terms in the book other than place names, which people expect whenever they're reading fantasy. Because of that, it stands out and is easy to remember. It's not one of 1029310283012830132 different terms someone has to remember in order to follow along.

Even Tolkien, famed for literally writing an entire extra book full of lore for his stories, doesn't really use that much specialized terminology except for place names. My favorite author, China Mieville, only uses specialized terminology for things that have absolutely no basis in our reality and that can't be explained otherwise. And he's an extremely eloquent guy who uses the weirdest words possible whenever he can. If he can write a book that's mostly comprehensible without a cheat sheet, you can too.

If there is an English term for what you are trying to explain, just use that, for the love of god. The point of writing a story is not to show how smart and special you are: it is to tell a story. You need to remove as many barriers to access as possible.

Things that get a pass and can be made up most, if not all, of the time:

Place names (as in specific places, not categories of things)

Peoples' names

Languages

Species that don't exist in our world

Modes of transportation that don't exist in our world

Magic that can't be explained in any other way

Technology that can't be defined by our language

Look, if you have an animal that is basically a dragon, just call it a dragon. If you've got a wheeled carriage, call it a carriage. Call earth magic something based in earth terms, like "terravitae" or something, idk. There should be some connection to our world in your terminology because you are writing this in English for an English-speaking audience.

It doesn't make you a lazy writer, it makes you one that wants people to understand what you're talking about. Again, imagining yourself as a translator is a good way to keep yourself from going ham on the nouns.

Proper nouns that are way too complicated

Let's look at some well-known proper nouns from fantasy.

Middle Earth

Narnia

Earthsea

Discworld

Westeros

Ankh-Morpork

Bas-Lag

Wonderland

They're all ... simple. They're not a million syllables with weird intonations and accents and all that. If you showed this to a medieval peasant, they'd probably be able to pronounce them and would likely understand that they were place names.

Unless there's a good reason to have a weird name, don't use one. Come up with something simpler.

All of these I mentioned are three syllables or less, making them easier to remember. In fact, I'd argue that nearly every proper noun in your book should be no more than three syllables. Maybe one or two four-syllable ones.

Any very weird name should be balanced out by several easier ones so that it stands out.

40 million characters

Younger writers often want their world to feel very lived in, so they introduce dozens of characters with their own names, descriptions, backstories, etc etc etc. The problem is that this is a huge mental load on your reader, especially if a lot of the characters have very similar names. It makes reading your stuff into a chore rather than an enjoyable experience.

Now, some literary greats do have a lot of characters. But they get away with it because they're great.

I'm not great, so I don't do that.

I'd also suggest that you don't do that, regardless of how good you think you are.

To see if you have too many chracters, write out a dramatis personnae and rank it in terms of importance. Does your top tier have like 15 characters? Cut some. Figure out where they are in the story and if they don't exist for more than a few pages, delete them. Absorb them into someone else.

If a character is only in one scene, don't bother naming them. They don't matter enough. This reduces the cognitive load for your reader because they can see that character for what they are: a background person who exists only briefly.

Any time you name a character, they need to have deep plot relevance. The more unusual your character's name, the more important they should be. And they should have some sort of relationship to another character, preferably the main character. Otherwise, why are they there? Why do we care? Go away!

Way too much backstory

I am an adult and my brain is filled with 50 million other things. I have to remember stuff for my job, I have a to-do list, I have family I care about who needs me.

Your story is not the end-all be-all of my existence. Hell, my story is not the end-all be-all of my existence either. I want to be able to pick up your book, understand what's going on, and then delve a bit deeper or even make up my own headcanons.

I do not need the entirety of your story's world thrown at me right off the bat. It is overwhelming and tiring. Imagine if you visited a different country and someone immediately came up to you and started spewing the whole history of the country right after you stepped off the plane. That's what you're doing to your readers!

Think also about how you approach your everyday world. Do you reel off a million facts about your personal history the instant you meet someone? No, of course not. It'd be weird and creepy.

Are you constantly recalling facts about your city while walking down the street? Do you even know any major facts about your city? You probably know a few little trivia points and that's it. Because it's not relevant to you, and it's not relevant to your readers, either. I can't recall off the top of my head when Cleveland was settled, but I can tell you that we have the world's first Dunkleosteus fossil in our museum, because that is interesting to me. That's the kind of thing that makes a place feel lived-in, not four hundred thousand pages of exposition about the place's history.

Give your readers time to settle in, and reveal things slowly as they make sense. Maybe we hear a little bit about the country's government as they pass a parliament house, or because they have to visit the city center for a different reason. If it's not pertinent to the current scene, then don't put it there.

I've got tons of lore for my world. Some of it may be referenced one singular time, and some of it may be never referenced at all. That's okay, because it's just for me to get a better sense of the place I created. If a reader doesn't need it, then I don't bother putting it in, because it might detract from their enjoyment.

Overall: stop making your readers do homework!

We do not want our readers to feel like they are working when they are reading our stuff. Excellent writers can infuse deep themes and symbology into their stories without making it feel like work. These are the writers who are remembered forever, because not only have they made a good story that you can enjoy at a surface level, but they have also twined in deeper themes that you can dive into after you've digested the story.

I did my undergrad in British literature, so I read a lot of Shakespeare and contemporaneous authors. Shakespeare is considered complicated by modern standards because of the Elizabethan language, but if you translated it into modern terms, his stories are simple. People betray each other and stab each other, or fuck each other, or get transported to weird magical worlds.

You could watch a Shakespeare play and think absolutely nothing of the themes, but still enjoy the story. You could know absolutely nothing about Greek history and still get the gist.

This is because Shakespeare specifically wrote his plays to appeal to a mass audience. He was a god-tier author when it came to balancing symbology and plot. To be like Shakespeare, be simple. Remember that your reader does. not. really. care. all that much. They don't.

It's very unlikely that your writing is going to become someone's life's work and they're going to spend their whole existence studying. Cool if true, but unlikely.

Your job is to make a story that people like and want to read. Only when you've gotten people liking and reading do you get permission to go ham with the backstory and the characterization and the weird names, because they trust you to create a story that they will like. Otherwise, your primary objective is making people feel things so they want to feel more things and read more stories.

People care more about how a story makes them feel than the specifics

Yes, of course there are outliers to this who really want every single detail of the world, but those are few and far between. You should not tailor your story to these exceptions. Think about the average everyday person.

I have many books that I love, but I can't tell you everything about them now. I can, however, tell you how I felt when I was reading them: the plot twists that made me gasp, the thing that made me cry. I can give you a general, sweeping impression of whether I liked or disliked the story and what made me feel something. This is what people recommend books based on: how they felt.

Your story should focus on the plot and the emotion. People watch movies, listen to music, read books, or look at art to feel something, not to memorize factoids for later usage. Even if they do want to memorize factoids, they won't do that if they haven't built an emotional connection to the story.

While in life, we want facts over feelings, it's opposite in creative writing. We want feelings over facts. The emotional resonance, the mood, the characters, the plot: that is what is important, not showing off how smart you are and how much you have thought about your story.

"But Topazadine, I am special and different! I'm not going to follow your advice."

Sure. Go ahead. I can't stop you. If you want to have a million characters and an entire dictionary to explain everything, that is your choice.

No one can tell you how to write; my advice is just advice.

If you don't like what I have said here, then feel free to ignore it. You don't need to justify it to me or anyone else.

However, you must recognize that this may not resonate with readers. It will turn people off.

I'm not a completionist, and neither are many others; they'll roll their eyes and click out when they are faced with ten pages of character names upfront.

Of course you should always write for yourself first, but if you are planning to write fiction for any level of commercial appeal and you intend to make any amount of money on your work, then audience does matter. If you want kudos or comments on your AU, audience matters. You won't get engagement if you are alienating people.

Your writing decisions are always your own and no one can demand you do something different. You just need to decide whether your personal satisfaction in writing your story in a certain way outweighs your desire for validation, and, perhaps, money. I can't tell you the answer for that; it's up to you.

If you enjoyed this, maybe you'll consider reading my fantasy book, 9 Years Yearning, which does not have 121238103 characters and 3230123 strange words. It does, however, have double-tsundere-mutual-pining-gay-boy-awakening. And horses. It's also just $3.

[potatobugxo]

You know those piano-based rhythm games?

I think Alastor would have a distaste for those - nothing like a real piano and entirely digital cowhfowf

Any chance you could share some headcanons or the like of a friend of his showing him them for the first time?

i made this too silly omg

🦌❤️piano rhythm games w/Alastor❤️🦌

"hey al check this out!" "hm?" alastor uses his shadows to maneuver over to where your hunched over on the hotel lobby couch, staring at your phone as you had been for the past hour now.

"look," you scoot towards where he's standing, and he peers over your shoulder, squinting at the device's screen between your fingers. "it's a piano game! you like piano, right?"

"my dear, you know i don't dally with this frivolous technology of yours," alastor remarked, standing back upright. "no but its fun," you insist, lifting it back up to his face. "watch." alastor rolls his eyes, smile twitching as he leans back down to study you as you play. your thumbs tapped away at the screen, the neon colors changing as you pressed different keys to match the notes of the song that was playing from the phone's speaker. "hm... interesting, i will say!" alastor admitted. "though nothing like traditional piano, perhaps you should return to your roots, dear-" "here you try," you shove the phone toward him, and his eyes widen. "pardon?" "it's fun, just give it a try," you nod your head in anticipation. alastor would expect such behavior from charlie, yet it was coming from you. "fine," alastor reluctantly agreed with a shrug. "but lets make a deal. i play this silly game, and you agree to play traditional piano with me at least once." "yeah, okay, fair," you shrug. "okay, now try it." you eagerly watch as alastor plucks the device from your hands and takes a seat beside you on the couch. he holds the screen a bit too close to his face, squinting as if he were a grandpa who forgot his glasses. "just tap the keys that flash on the screen," you explain simply, peering over his shoulder at the phone. he starts tapping away at it as the keys flash on screen, precise and unnervingly calculated. "this is such a simple song, with your mind i would expect you to be playing more complicated songs!" alastor exclaimed. "oh no i can, i just put it on an easier level for your first time playing, didn't want this frivolous piano game to be too challenging for your first try," you chuckled, and alastor snapped his neck to look at you, casting an offended glare. you blinked up at him in surprise. "yeah okay or i could, y'know, change it," you suggest, plucking the phone from his hands and tapping away to change the song. alastor flutters his eyelids at you impatiently as you do so. since when did he become so keen on playing a mobile piano game? "here," you pass the phone back to him. "now then," alastor rights himself, grin stretching up and past the corners of his eyes. "let the challenge begin."

~~~

"so uh... did alastor get into one of your drug stashes?" vaggie inquired, cocking brow at angel dust before peering back over at alastor. you and the other hotel staff were baffled at the fact he had been playing the rhythm game for over an hour now, hunched over on the couch staring at the phone like a toddler who had just been introduced to an ipad game. husk and angel are beyond horrified, and charlie had a consistent expression of worry on her face. "um, y/n? what did you do to our hotel host?" she asks. "i just introduced him to a piano game as a joke," you shrug, whisper-yelling. "i didn't realize he would suddenly become addicted to it!" angel slowly raises his phone to start recording the scene and vaggie lowers it with her palm just as fast.

[britcision]

And part two! So a good chunk of the reason the chapter got so long is that around halfway through this part I realized… Danny and Jason didn’t have a single scene together

And we can’t have that!

And then they just kept being adorable

So this is my promise to y’all that whenever possible, we will have at least one scene of the lads directly interacting every chapter 😁

Part 1:

—————————

The Finished Core part 2

Jason was stable, his core fully formed for a little less than a month, and they’d hung out and done ecto shots until midnight last night. Danny had no homework due, but would be starting a big project by the end of the week. His schedule wouldn’t be this empty for at least another two months.

And if he delayed beyond that. He’d either never do this, or have to explain to Jason what he was doing, because Jason would probably ask.

Jason being unavailable tonight (something big was going on with his library project, which Danny thought was just adorable) was actually why Danny had to do it now.

Because Jason would want to come with him. And, as fraught as his relationship with Bruce Wayne obviously was, Danny was pretty sure it wasn’t “have a good reaction to hearing about Danny’s evil alternate self killing him” bad.

And. Y’know. The end of the world thing.

And that Danny wanted to put him on parole.

That was all gonna be way too complicated for Danny to explain easily, so he had to go talk to Nocturn tonight. While he could do it alone.

Because maybe “here is my formerly evil alternate self” would sound so much better all the problems would just melt away.

Whatever. That was Future Danny’s problem anyway, which was okay because Dan’s timeline divergence was now very firmly in the past.

Dan wasn’t the Ghost King. He should be comparatively harmless.

Danny wasn’t thinking about how comparatively harmless he’d been when he stuffed Dan into a thermos.

Sucking in a bolstering breath, he floated up to the deceptively simple door to Nocturn’s lair and knocked.

Waiting to be let in was a formality; technically Danny could have ripped open a portal right into the heart of Nocturn’s lair and there was nothing the Lord of Dreams could do about it, but. Nocturn had done him a favour. Danny was trying to be cool.

There was a long enough wait that he almost wondered if he should just push in, show that he wasn’t fucking around either, but then the door swung open.

Nocturn was waiting for him just inside, his white jester’s mask arranged into placid servility that Danny didn’t buy for a moment. Tendrils of night curled around him, swaying ever so slightly but tucked in close. He clearly didn’t want Danny too deep in his lair, and Danny decided to respect that, coming in just far enough for the door to close behind them.

Technically, it’d put him in Nocturn’s power, if he wasn’t the Ghost King. The whole Zone was his lair if he wanted it to be.

Nocturn inclined his head gracefully, his voice smooth and impassive as he spoke.

“You desire something, my king?” He asked carefully, and Danny hesitated.

He didn’t like doing the whole… thing. Would have preferred not to need it. But if they were standing on ceremony…

It was barely a thought before the Crown of Fire formed above his head, the silhouette of the crown itself fading in before it caught with spectral green flames, that themselves were overwhelmed by creeping spires of diamantine frost.

The cape spilled down from his shoulders, its folds lit with galaxies and nebulas far grander in scale than Nocturn’s own star-speckled form. There was no weight to it, and no wind, yet it rippled and swayed anyway, plucked by solar currents.

Danny consciously cut the change off there. Any of the armour or other regalia could be taken as a challenge, and while Nocturn was just as unwilling to actually become the King personally, it’d make him cranky. And Danny needed another favour.

“Yes, Dream Lord. It’s… it is about the charge I placed in your care. The one who sleeps in the Evermoving Now.” Ancients, Danny felt like an idiot every time he had to talk like this. He was sure he sounded like a particularly cheesy “historical” fantasy, and had to consciously avoid slipping into an awful British accent.

Maybe he should have brought Jason. Jason could have made it sound cool.

Danny’s best guess at formality was “no contractions”. Jason actually knew courtly manners from the Elizebethans to the Tokugawa shogunate.

At least it wasn’t like Nocturn expected better from him. He simply nodded, his expression unchanging.

“He is still sleeping, my king.” A flicker of annoyance skated across his face, gone before it was even there. “He is… not so resistant to my power as you are, but still exerts his own demands upon what dreams he will tolerate.”

Yeah, Danny had figured. Dan had damn near Ended his universe’s Nocturn, and he’d had to give Nocturn a chunk of his own power as the King to keep him safe enough to work on Dan at all. Keeping people unconscious was not usually in the Dream Lord’s power.

Honestly, Danny had been kinda hoping that all the time just in Soup Jail… the thermos might have made Dan a little more. Well. Not nicer? But. Less fussy about distractions.

He returned the nod a little awkwardly, offering a smile that he hoped wasn’t too sheepish.

“Yeah… yes. I was afraid of that. But… I want to speak with him. Perhaps make him a little more… amenable to your gifts. And maybe take him off your hands entirely, if all goes well.”

That did provoke a reaction, an eyebrow raising as interest lit Nocturn’s red eyes. Dan must be a real pain in the ass.

“It… can be arranged,” he said slowly, scanning Danny up and down for the first time. Looking for what, Danny wouldn’t even guess, but whatever it was he had no idea if Nocturn found it.

Danny nodded again, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Great… yeah. Yes. Good. Obviously not in physical forms, given his confinement, but.” He drew himself up, thinking back to all the shows he’d been watching with Jason over the last two weeks. Not many kings, but all sorts of stuffy nobility.

He tried to call up his best Liz Bennet.

“I would have you link our dreams, so that he need not wake, and we may speak entirely in your realm. Tomorrow night. Ah… I will… let you know how it goes?” He trailed off, and Nocturn let out a huff which might have been amusement or irritation.

Danny wasn’t gonna push for an aura read to check. He didn’t wanna know.

“I presume, my king, that I need not care how it goes until you ask that I remove him from my dreams. And in exchange for this…” he let the sentence hang, not actually asking for anything.

Technically, Danny didn’t have to give him anything. He could make it a Command, with the whole weight of the Infinite Realms behind his order. Nocturn would have no choice but to obey.

But he didn’t want to be a tyrant. And he’d expected to have to give something, and he’d come prepared.

A real, not entirely nice smile pulled at his lips.

“You must be tired of being confined to the Zone, and having to spend so much of your power catering to Dan’s dreams. For your ongoing service and assistance in this matter, I will give you the power to keep one single human asleep indefinitely, and you can give him any dreams you like.”

Now that definitely got the ghost’s attention, his whole posture stiffening, outline sharpening as he leaned in ever so slightly. There was a very real hunger in his gaze.

“Did you have a human in mind?” He asked, his voice a low hiss of want.

Firmly squashing any trace of discomfort, Danny nodded.

“The Joker.”

Nocturn’s eyes widened, and then a slow and far more genuine smile spread across his lips.

**

If he were being honest with himself, Vlad certainly hadn’t expected to hear from Wayne again so soon. They’d gotten along delightfully well the day after the gala, right up until Daniel’s little “rescue attempt”, which was just adorable.

Of course, Wayne had insisted any reconcilliation with Timothy or Richard would have to be between them as men, which was annoying. But Vlad could be magnanimous.

Thanks to Danielle and Daniel he was at least vaguely aware of what young people wanted, although Daniel was no longer a teenager. He’d never been a rich teenager though; doubtless the Drake-Wayne boy could afford any consoles or games he desired.

He was vaguely aware that Drake-Wayne was interested in technology, fully up to date with the workings of the company he was now CEO to.

Vlad wasn’t. He didn’t much care for what human technology could do without the boost of ectoplasm; Wayne Tech largely worked in communications devices and medical technology, all of which was easily reverse engineered and improved by Vlad’s own companies to run with ectoplasm.

It would mean far too great a loss to give the boy access to an ectoplasm battery… although if Daniel were cosying up to his brother, they’d have access to ectoplasmic technology soon anyway.

A loss to his corporate dominance, then, in exchange for a gain with his godson. It could only help their relationship if Vlad could endear himself to his future sons-in-law, and perhaps be yet more proof of his good intentions.

Of course, for it to be proof, an older battery wouldn’t have done. The technology remained proprietary, and the ecto batteries never broke down or lost charge (until Vlad wanted them to), so they rarely needed replacing, so Wayne Tech would need to be doing corporate espionage of their own to have any access at all (and be able to get past the little ectoplasmic tricks and traps that continued to befuddle poor dear Luthor’s attempts to steal his technology over at Lex Corp; Vlad did so enjoy reading of the corporate disasters that marked unsuccessful attempts).

A newer model of battery would make for a better gift. And an offer of a deal, to provide more for the next generation of Wayne Tech devices for only a meagre percentage. An apology fit for a king, or the regent of one, complete with diplomatic offers for the future.

Dick Grayson was some kind of police officer. Vlad just bought his department a suite of new computers and a new espresso machine. Simple.

He’d have liked to have it all delivered before he saw “Brucie” next, yet the man had been utterly intent on coming to see him as soon as possible, barely a week after their last meeting when he got in touch. That was unusual; Vlad usually had to be much more proactive to gain access to the kind of person worth overshadowing.

Not that he would overshadow Wayne now. Daniel had staked his claim rather firmly on the whole family, and Lady Gotham was not a spirit Vlad intended to cross. Honestly he was a little surprised she tolerated Daniel cuddling up to her pet socialites, yet the boy was king. She must approve of the match.

(Vlad might wish his own opinion mattered in such a situation, but Jason Todd had provided such a delightful opportunity to prove himself to Daniel that nothing else could touch it.)

Still, it was nice to know that Brucie at least already liked him. He’d made such a touching little speech to Jason at the gala, they simply had to be on better terms than he and Daniel, and hopefully he would also be on good terms with Daniel too by now.

He’d seemed very interested when talking to Vlad and the Mansons, and Vlad had talked up all of Daniel’s best traits; now they would have travelled back to Wayne Manor together and would surely be well acquainted. The man certainly looked enough like Jack Fenton for a sentimental soul like Daniel to get attached.

A slight grimace tugged at Vlad’s face as his limo pulled up to the airport. Really, that was the only downside with Brucie Wayne; it was like hanging out with a slightly more reasonably sized Jack. Intellect and all.

That would be trying over the man’s stay, but he had insisted on putting himself up in a hotel rather than staying at Vlad’s, and if he could just keep the two apart… Vlad reassured himself that the Fentons had gone to visit Jasmine over the holidays, and absolutely couldn’t have returned to town without him noticing.

Which, of course, was a thought as sure to summon Jack Fenton as an unwise wish to summon Desiree.

A large hand clapped across Vlad’s entire back just as he stepped out of the car, making him flinch.

“VLADDIE! Lovely to see ya, buddy! You’re not heading outta town again, are ya! You only just got back!” The man bellowed, and Vlad’s eyebrows twitched.

As if they weren’t both standing in front of the Arrivals lounge.

Perhaps Jasmine was making a late return, anything to avoid sharing a flight with her parents… it certainly couldn’t be Daniel, Vlad would have sensed him long before now. The boy couldn’t help travelling with a spectral fanfare these days.

He forced a polite smile onto his face, moving firmly towards the doors and hoping to lose the man inside.

“No, Jack, I’m here to receive a friend. As you are, I presume? I didn’t realize you were already back from your own trip.” He didn’t really bother listening to the answer, glancing around quickly to see if Madeline was also here. It would be nice to see her briefly…

Jack Fenton laughed boisterously, crowding along behind him far too close for comfort.

“Ah, that’s ol’ Vladdie! Sharp as a pin! Yeah, a colleague called and asked us to outfit some big wig visiting for his first trip to Amity Park! Maddie’s got the Spectre Deflector an’ a couple other toys, he’s some big tech guy from some other city, Gotham or something?”

For a second Vlad thought his ghost sense had somehow missed Daniel; the unmistakeable feeling of ice slithered down his spine. It took a moment to actually pinpoint the cause.

Gotham.

No.

He couldn’t be.

Vlad’s life could not be this cursed.

He’d done nothing to deserve this.

He’d fucking forgotten that Daniel was Jack and Madeline’s son, and had probably given Wayne his parents’ contact information.

He’d actually stopped walking as the impending dread washed over him, Jack leaving him behind by a few paces as they reached the terminal lounge that Brucie Wayne would be entering at any second.

He’d. Tried to emotionally prepare himself. To perhaps set up a meeting between the two parties. Where he could be on the other side of town.

But no, they were all here, and there was Madeline as resplendent as ever in her teal bodysuit, her arms filled with beeping and flashing Fenton junk. His heart still gave a flood of warmth at the sight of her, but that was all.

Just his heart. Not his core, not his Obsession. That was still a bit of a relief, every time. She’d made it quite clear that they couldn’t be friends while he was so fixated on her; on removing Jack.

He caught the moment that she spotted him past the exuberant and loving display she and Jack shared, as if they’d been parted for decades instead of minutes. Managed a small but genuine smile, and settled further when she smiled back.

Reserved, certainly, especially in the wake of her obvious passion. But it was a real smile, and meant far more to him than those she’d faked for Jack’s sake at the height of his mania.

Madeline’s friendship was infinitely more precious than any notion of possessing her, and he had been so lucky to have any left to rekindle by the time he’d finally gotten control of himself. They may never be as close as all three of them had once been in college, but for Madeline he could even smile and embrace Jack.

(Which had become immensely easier when he’d been able to rationalise that Jack Fenton was simply incapable of the intellect, malice, or even comprehension to have killed him. All three of them had worked on the portal; it was simply poor luck that had him take the brunt of the accident and the ecto-acne that followed.

Or perhaps good luck; after all, he was now essentially immortal, rich beyond his wildest dreams, and powerful. He’d finally acquired sufficient leverage to have effective control over the Packers, even if he couldn’t own them outright! He even had Madeline’s son for his godson, and one day the boy might even accept him.

They had all eternity to find out.)

His reluctance waning slightly with Madeline’s company, he made his way to join the couple; he may as well stand beside them, if they’d come for the same man.

Madeline even rewarded him with a handshake, and he easily resisted the brief urge to kiss her hand or try to extend the gesture. He truly was growing and improving all the time.

“Madeline. Jack tells me you are also here for Brucie Wayne? Making sure he’s safe for his visit to our fair city?” He asked cheerfully, nodding to the pile in her arms.

It didn’t even hurt when Madeline shot a beaming smile at her beloved husband.

“Oh! Yes, and of course we simply had to get to know him. Danny’s already told us that Brucie knows about his condition, though we’re never to mention Jason’s of course,” she added sharply, giving her husband a stern look which somehow cleared the ridiculous distance to fly right over his head, then smiled back at Vlad, “but since our boys are getting along so well he’s almost family anyway!”

That was an interesting tidbit which Vlad hadn’t previously been privy to; he hadn’t known just how far Daniel trusted Brucie. Not far enough for the details on his own son, which was… interesting.

Not that Vlad would have said anything; perish the thought. One simply did not out another ghost of any description. It was rude. And would have no benefits for him anyway.

Interesting to know that the man was in on the fact that halfas existed, if not how close he was to one of course. Perhaps he could get some extra points by sharing his own secret?

That would wait until he had some idea of how discrete Brucie was capable of being. Evidence suggested that it would be “not at all”, but… if Daniel had shared his…

It seemed Vlad would need to get more out of this little visit than he’d expected.

As if specifically to disrupt his thoughts, the man of the hour appeared at just that moment, all broad smiles even fresh from a commercial airline of all things. Not even a private jet, yet he still looked freshly composed and perfect even amidst the bedraggled public.

It was frankly unfair, but Vlad didn’t have time to sulk before he had to dodge one of Jack’s massive arms flying into the air to wave, apparently recognising the man on sight as well. It shouldn’t be unusual of Bruce Wayne, yet Vlad highly doubted Jack could have recognised the man a week ago.

Celebrities that were alive were a closed book to all four Fentons, as far as he knew.

“BRUCIE!” Jack bellowed, waving enthusiastically with both arms like he wasn’t head and shoulders taller than the entire rest of the building.

Even Brucie was momentarily taken aback by the sheer size of the man, which Vlad wasn’t remotely bitter about anymore. Then he clocked Vlad beside the Fentons and that perfect, vapid smile slid across his face again.

“Vlad! Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” He asked easily, ever charming as he slid over to join them.

Maddie and Jack began sizing him up immediately, not even waiting to say hello before grabbing at his arms to lift and turn them. Vlad sighed heavily and gave a tight smile of his own, Brucie looking quite alarmed to be manhandled by such a tall man as Jack Fenton.

“Brucie, it’s good to see you again. These are my friends, Drs Maddie and Jack Fenton. I believe an associate of yours has asked them to… outfit you for your stay in our town?” He asked smoothly, not even tripping over the word “friends” anymore.

Not even when it meant Jack. It meant Madeline, and they were a package deal. He’d come to accept that, and the place she’d allowed him in their life. That he only had because Jack had never noticed how their relationship had changed.

Shaking away the thoughts, he refocused on Brucie, who’d turned that so charming smile on the Fentons and was now allowing them to fit him with a Spectre Deflector, one of their wrist lasers, and… well, he had to assume the large and oddly rigid pocket-square had to be another of their new inventions.

Very new, since Jack hadn’t showered him in its praises yet, but he was quite happily trying to sell it to the head of Wayne Enterprises entirely unaware that he’d likely have to get the Drake-Wayne boy to get any actual decisions made.

Brucie did at least look fascinated, and managed to ask just enough questions to keep Jack going. Honestly, if Vlad wasn’t careful Brucie would keep them trapped there all day… although that might not be all bad.

If he could leave the man in the variably capable hands of the elder Fentons, he could at least get some actual work done. Get the details of the battery proposal for Timothy finalized…

Brightening up a little, Vlad clapped his hands.

“Why, I have a great idea! Jack, Maddie, I’m sure Brucie would love to take a quick tour of the portal, to really see what makes our little town special.”

After all, Brucie would certainly want to take the time to get to know Daniel’s other family, and if Vlad could just ensure that all the time he spent with Jack was away from Vlad… well, he’d also have a brief reprieve from them both, guaranteed.

All three of his companions were visibly surprised by the suggestion, with just the faintest flicker of suspicion in dear Madeline’s eyes… for her alone, he gave his best conciliatory smile.

“And I can think of no one better to prepare Brucie for the delights of our little town. They are our pre-eminent ectologists,” he told Brucie, even bestowing Jack with a mostly sincere smile.

As always, he swelled with pride at the compliment, and Madeline’s face softened. She gave a very tiny nod, her approval still chasing the warmth of a summer breeze in his heart. Worth the sacrifice.

That left Bruce, surprised and delighted as ever, smiling with as much thought behind his eyes as a hamster.

“What’s this about a portal? You’ve told me all sorts of tales of ghosts in Amity Park, is that what this is about?”

A bit of a surprise to Vlad that Daniel hadn’t already mentioned it, but the boy had been…. Distracted by Jason Todd. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.

Vlad kept his smile bright, clapping his hands.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Jack gives such wonderful tours. And then perhaps once you’ve finished there and had a look around town, I could take Brucie off your hands for dinner and let you get back to work?” He asked somewhat hopefully.

Small, controlled doses of both mountainous men. That would be fine. It would have to be.

Madeline did truly hesitate, and he knew the passion for her work would be nudging at her. She was a dedicated scientist, as much as she loved their “field work”; too long away from the lab made her itchy.

Jack, of course, didn’t notice, clapping Vlad firmly on the back.

“Nonsense, Vladdie! You just come along down to Fentonworks when you’re done bustling about and we’ll cook you up a Fenton Family Feast along with our guest!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Wayne began as Vlad struggled to think of an argument.

The Fentons having anything even edible in the house was no guarantee, let alone the time to prepare a real meal. He was quite sure they’d been subsisting on ectoplasm alone since before they even recreated the portal.

Unfortunately, knowing Jack, there was only one way out of it.

“My staff have already begun preparing dinner, and I would hate to put all their work to waste,” he said silkily, making a mental note to message his assistant and have her set up something suitable. He’d been planning on a restaurant, but personal plans were harder to change. “And of course if you have the time we would love to have you both over as well.”

He didn’t even have to grit his teeth to finish the sentence, didn’t even have to focus solely on Madeline. It barely even twinged. That old, hateful Obsession would have no power over him.

Proof of his own progress put a more genuine note in his smile too, and Jack beamed back as innocently as ever.

“Aw Vladdie, that’d be great! So, the portal, a tour of Amity Park, and then dinner at Vladdie’s! We can tell you some of those good ol’ college stories from back in the day!” He told Bruce enthusiastically, slapping him on the back hard enough that the man stumbled.

Part of Vlad was beginning to wonder if he should have sent the poor man a warning packet on the Fentons. But then, his boy was courting Daniel. Surely that would have been Daniel’s job, if he’d wanted the man warned.

Brucie looked between them all with that same innocent smile, clearly not following… but he must be used to that.

“Oh, I’d like a chance to get to know the town myself for a little bit… y’know, stretch my legs a bit and get regrounded after the flight. Is there anywhere I could just take a little walk, maybe a look around? This all sounds like real important stuff and if I go in all fuzzy-headed I just know I won’t make heads or tails of it,” he laughed, waving a hand self-deprecatingly.

Vlad hesitated. The Amity Park (and ancients he still hated the name but it was better than Amity Park Park) would be the obvious choice, or perhaps the shopping district would be ideal. Yet since the Fentons were already here…

This time it was his own back that Jack’s meaty paw slammed down on. The only reason Vlad didn’t stumble the same way Wayne had was his resilience as a halfa. And even then it was a close thing.

“Sure, sure! Tell ya what, Vladdie, you run along and get to all your important mayor duties,” Jack tipped Bruce and Madeline a wink, clearly indicating that they were all going to have a lot more fun, “and we’ll take ol’ Brucie down to the park! And then when you’re feeling better we’ll get you right to Fentonworks for the portal tour and some of Maddie’s famous fudge! It’s a secret family recipe, there’s nothing better for getting your noodle cookin’!”

Vlad did not sag in relief. He had far too much pride for that. Instead he looked to Wayne for agreement, only raising one perfectly poised eyebrow.

“I hope you won’t think me a poor host if I pass you off so soon…” he trailed off, not quite hinting his own preference. Certainly not obviously enough that Brucie Wayne would notice.

And indeed the man just beamed at him, giving Jack a firm pat on the back too.

“Not at all, that sounds just the thing! Just a couple minutes out in some fresh air away from that tube and I’ll be right as rain! We’ll see you again at dinner, Vladdie?” He added with that far too charming smile, immediately picking up on the nickname.

That. Was pretty much the biggest thing Vlad had been hoping to avoid. His smile strained a little around the edges.

“That sounds perfect, Brucie.”

At least he’d have a little time alone to recompose himself.

**

Danny… dithered. That was the only way Jason could think to describe it. He’d been in an odd mood since he’d called that afternoon, and while Jason was getting used to Danny completely forgetting to mention important things, this looked like the opposite.

And given what he’d just blurt out apropos of nothing, whatever had him opening his mouth and abruptly reconsidering couldn’t be good.

He’d texted and said he needed to talk to Jason about something important (a message that totally never caused any additional anxieties), and then called the minute his last class ended (which was so much more reassuring), but when Jason dropped by the university to pick him up… Danny insisted they go grocery shopping.

So now here they were, an hour later, and Danny was reading the full nutritional information on every box of cereal.

Finally running out of patience, Jason plucked the Frosted Berry Crunch Whatever from his hands and tossed it into the cart. Danny was already protesting as he turned, but Jason and the cart had a head start up the aisle.

“C’mon, your highness, we’re putting at least two vegetables in here and then we’re going home.”

Because see, Jason knew what decision paralysis was like. He knew what brain fog was like. He also knew what procrastinating was like, and there was only so much he was willing to put up with it.

Especially when he was beginning to suspect that the tingling at the base of his skull had less to do with Danny being accidentally ominous, and more to do with Danny possibly actually being in danger.

What the hell in Gotham could lay a finger on the half-dead king of ghosts? Malnutrition, sure, given the state of their cart, but Jason didn’t think that was it. He’d have been summoned by the contents of the dorm fridge alone if it were that simple, weeks ago.

If Bruce had still been in town, he’d have suspected that asshole was up to something, but he’d flitted merrily away to Amity Park. Which… was still concerning, but Jason figured that his magic knight sense or whatever would at least give him some sense of how immediate the danger was.

This didn’t feel distant, like something all the way in Bumfuck, Idaho. This felt close, immediate, and the way Danny was acting? Only made him more sure.

Which meant the threat to Danny was probably Danny himself, surprising precisely no one and least of all one regent of Time.

So what the hell was Jason supposed to do about it? Other than not put up with the prevaricating.

Obviously Danny wasn’t going to just take it lying down, though. He was already half a Wayne that way.

“Hey! If I’m the king, don’t I get to decide what we do!” He argued half heartedly, still following Jason down the aisle.

Jason stuck his tongue out at him over his shoulder.

“Be grateful I’m letting you pick the vegetables.”

Danny opened his mouth on what was sure to be an utterly scathing retort (not), and was immediately side tracked by something at the end of the aisle. Which he immediately snatched up three boxes of.

“Oh no way I didn’t think these were real! I’m picking these!”

Jason fielded one on its way past, and glared at the cheap cardboard box.

“Lucky Charms pancake mix? Fucking seriously?” He asked incredulously, turning the box to look for nutritional information. Because he liked horror fiction.

(And a little bit to mock Danny’s earlier bullshit.)

Danny snatched the box out of his hand and added another two to the cart on good measure.

“Hey, fuck you, I was craving the hell out of exactly these way back when you went to put Tuck’s name on the gala list! This is a gift from the universe to make up for my shitty life and I will not be denied!” He declared dramatically, even throwing up an arm in full Shakespearian declamation.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jason scooped up three of the boxes, now turning the sceptical glare on Danny.

“Dude, if you want pancakes that bad, I’ll make them myself. This is just an overpriced marketing gimmick!” He shook one of the boxes for good measure.

Danny snatched that one back right away too and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Listen, I’ll take you up on that too, but I’m getting these! If I only wanted marshmallow pancakes I could make those myself, I need the soulless crunch of Lucky Charms!”

And alright, Jason’s aura reading was definitely still off (at least around Bruce), but he was pretty sure he was getting better at projecting specific words and feelings. Because he managed to project some combination of disbelief and garlic powder hard enough that Danny punched him on the arm.

“That was literally one time!”

“And I don’t want garlic pancakes,” Jason shot back, mildly surprised at how much the punch actually hurt.

Danny stuck his tongue out at him and went for the display of boxes again. Rolling his eyes, Jason scooped the other man over his shoulder instead, hauling him and the cart away.

“Fine, fine! Get your boxes of garbage, you fuckin’ raccoon, but you don’t need the whole stand and we’re leaving,” he declared firmly, one hand still firmly pinning a wriggly fuck and trying not to think about how optional Danny’s bones were.

Danny grumbled something unintelligible but went limp (not no-bones limp though) and let Jason carry him to the cashier. Who smiled as she checked them out, but didn’t comment on Jason unloading the cart or bagging their supplies one-handed.

Danny gave a feeble wriggle of protest, both when they reached the register and when they left, but subsided quickly back into a sulk each time.

Which… convinced Jason that there was something wrong more than calmed him. Danny wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to tussle. Lie low until someone let down their guard, sure. Give up? No.

When Danny even let himself be tossed onto the back of the bike without complaint, Jason made up his mind.

They weren’t going back to the dorms. They were going back to one of his safe houses again. If Danny noticed before Jason pulled into a garage distinctly not near the university, he didn’t comment.

Hell, all he actually said when unloading the groceries was a terribly blasé “so is this a kidnapping then?” To which Jason obviously responded “yes now shut up”.

Luckily there wasn’t much perishable in their bags, and it fit in the slightly beat up fridge that had definitely been washed since the last time he stored human body parts in it (probably).

Danny took his kidnapping with good grace, flopping onto the only slightly beaten up couch to watch Jason fuss over the fridge. In between playing with his fingers.

Because he was definitely still procrastinating.

Leaving everything that wasn’t likely to go off bagged, Jason dropped onto the couch beside him and stuck a finger in his ear.

“Now tell me what the hell you want to talk about.”

Danny hesitated for a moment, visibly torn, and Jason pointedly licked his finger and held it up as a visual threat.

“No bullshit Danny. I was a fucking Robin, I know when some dipshit engineering student is trying to lie to me.”

Danny squirmed a moment longer, but caved when Jason reached menacingly for his ear again.

“Okay, okay! It’s… it’s not actually a big deal, alright? I’m just blowing it up in my head into something it really isn’t, and yeah, being a dipshit.” He gave Jason a self deprecating grin, and Jason gave him the respect of three seconds of consideration.

Then resumed his attack on Danny’s ears.

“That’s not an answer, asshole!”

This time Danny made an actual attempt to fend him off, and Jason was a little surprised by how strong he was. Sure, Danny’d easily hauled him around plenty, but that was when he’d been cooperating.

That was very different from Danny just grabbing his arm and Jason… completely failing to even budge him. He couldn’t even twist free, Danny’s grip was immovable as a rock.

Being hot also wasn’t going to make Jason any less worried, though, so he nobly ignored the way that made his insides squirm. Sobered when he realized that Danny’s smile had faded.

He was worrying his lower lip instead, and let Jason go when he pulled away more gently.

“This is not reassuring,” Jason prodded, settling in to sit beside him.

Danny gave him another attempt at a smile, still far too worried to be convincing.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem. I’ve been turning it over in my head all day, and like I said, it’s really not a big deal… but there’s no way to say it that doesn’t make it sound like a big deal.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that, but did not react further. Because he was a mature adult, who could be calm about things, even when Danny was being an ominous piece of shit.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that?” He offered sceptically, and this time Danny swatted at him with all the force of a baby kitten. Stark contrast from the immovable grip, but Jason wasn’t going to guess why.

“Oh, shut up. Look, it’s just…” he subsided into silence again.

Jason considered him, this time not just with the hyper-observant eye of a Robin, but with his aura too. He was more used to reading Danny, and Danny actually communicated his emotions.

Kinda.

When he didn’t have to use words.

Which Jason wasn’t criticizing for the obvious (massively hypocritical) reasons.

It was confused at first, tangled and muddied on the surface. Jason took a breath too, settling into the silence, and stopped pushing. Let the right feelings come to him.

Regret. Danny regretted saying anything? Regretted letting Jason know anything at all? Little shit.

Guilt. No guess there, really, but Jason knew all about randomized guilt attacks.

Reluctance. And he didn’t need any magical fucking powers to guess that one, thanks. And underneath it all…

Yearning. Fear. That, at least, was more reassuring; Danny did actually want to tell him. And the fear didn’t even catch and snarl at Jason’s core, so he… didn’t think it was a fear of danger.

No points for guessing that either. He was scared of how Jason might react to whatever the fuck he was all knotted up about. Maybe of how he was already reacting; with no fucking clues, Jason couldn’t begin to guess just how concerned he should actually be.

Or what Danny could be afraid that he’d do.

Well, statistically speaking, Danny probably wasn’t scared that Jason would just. Be fucking chill. About whatever this crap was. Because that didn’t usually freak people out, not because Jason wasn’t usually chill about pretty much everything (the Pit’s lack of chill was not his fault and totally did not count).

Taking another breath, a little surprised that it was only the second since, Jason calmed down. Forcibly. Because winding Danny up more wasn’t going to help. He tried to project calm-understanding-acceptance, although he was pretty sure just fucking do it was sneaking in too.

Danny was quiet for another long moment, not even looking in Jason’s direction let alone meeting his eyes. Which was why Jason knew exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“I’ll… look, I’ll tell you in the morning, alright? Promise.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Like he wasn’t an expert in exactly this kind of shifty bullshit.

“Right, so whatever dumbass shit you’re doing goes down tonight. Good to know,” he snarked back, and Danny tossed both hands into the air.

“The dumbass part is not going down tonight, I don’t even know if I’m going to be doing the dumbass part yet!” He protested. Futilely.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, waiting a few seconds after Danny had quieted. Just to prove a point.

At least he’d admitted part of it was going to be a dumbass decision. That was a start.

“So what is going down tonight then?” Jason prodded, once Danny was sufficiently squirming.

Danny puffed up his cheeks, clearly considering another smart ass retort, and surprised Jason a little by blowing it all out with a sigh of his own.

“Tonight, I see if it’s even worth trying the dumbass part. I’m not going to be in any physical danger,” he added quickly, raising both hands and rolling his eyes like he didn’t run around the shady parts of Gotham for fun and no profit, “honestly, the worst that’s gonna happen is I have to deal with some home truths. Nothing can hurt me, I’m fine.”

Jason noted the qualifier. Nodded down the hall towards what passed for a bedroom.

“Then you won’t mind spending the night to be sure.”

Not like it’d put him out; he’d not had any plans for the night, beyond more practice on going intangible at will… and more importantly, also becoming tangible at will.

Danny grimaced at their surroundings.

“Dude, this place is a wreck. I don’t even want you spending the night here,” he joked feebly. And deflated a bit when Jason just stared at him. Sighed heavily.

“Look, it’s not gonna make any difference where I sleep, or where you sleep, cuz nothing’s going to happen! That you can do anything about,” he added almost under his breath, and Jason fought back a wave of something hot and green that felt like jealousy-anger-denial-concern-offence all at once.

Because that was different from Danny wanting to run off on his own where Jason couldn’t protect him. That was Danny thinking that Jason wasn’t capable of protecting him. And that hurt.

“So what happens if it all goes wrong?” He asked quickly when Danny flinched, clearly reading all that and more from his aura. Well, tough titties for him, Jason’s pecs were rock hard and they weren’t gonna talk about it.

For a moment, Danny was definitely about to argue. Jason could all but taste the words lining up to be said. Then he sighed and flopped in against Jason, aura a gentle apology that made absolutely nothing better.

“That’s what I’m saying, man. There is literally nothing that can go wrong. I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m gonna have a dream, Nocturn’s gonna hook me up with a favour and then we both wake up in the morning. Nocturn can’t even make me fall asleep or stay asleep, and he doesn’t want the damn crown any more than I do.”

A wry smile tugged at Danny’s lips, and he reached up without looking to poke a finger into Jason’s mouth.

“And even if he did, I can fucking take him. I kicked his ass when I was fourteen and a nobody. There’s literally no risk here… besides hearing something I don’t wanna hear. But hey, what’s life without a little more emotional damage?”

Jason considered this, reasonably and maturely, like an adult, and bit Danny’s finger. With it out of his mouth, he gave the scrawny king another gentle nudge.

He definitely didn’t believe Danny was telling him everything. But he could read enough honesty through everywhere they were touching to know that Danny did also believe everything he was telling him.

“And you’ll tell me everything in the morning?” He prodded warily.

Didn’t actually smile at the wave of relief which coursed through the whole apartment as Danny finally relaxed.

“For sure. And then I’ll decide if I do the dipshit part.”

“We’ll decide,”Jason corrected firmly.

Danny snorted.

“Hey, I’m your king. If I wanna be a dipshit I can be a dipshit.”

“You may be King Dipshit all you want, but you’re not doing it alone,” Jason shot back, reluctantly pulling out a brand new trump card Frostbite had let slip last time. Definitely not smirking as he said it. “So you’ll be bringing a brand new baby ghost into whatever brand of dipshit you’re doing.”

Tensed to argue with whatever he said (although still more playfully than he’d been before), Danny inflated for a moment, then deflated with a hefty sigh and slumped.

“Oh that’s so not fucking fair.”

“I’ll tell Lady Gotham on you,” Jason added for good measure, with a vicious triumph.

“She’ll tell you not to go with me!” Danny protested, still utterly futilely.

Lady Gotham looked after her own. Not one part of that included even vaguely discouraging them from throwing themselves face first into danger.

She’d push him in, if she thought it needed doing.

“No she won’t.”

Danny groaned heavily and lifted himself up solely so that he could flop harder and heavier onto Jason. With, yeah, all the weight of a wet baby kitten. Jason didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a huff of air, which did make him smile even if it was reluctantly.

“Alright, fuck you. Can we stay at one of your good places instead, if we’re still doing totally unnecessary slumber parties? I wasn’t kidding, this is a fucking dump. And I live in a dorm. You coulda mentioned this place when we first started sprucing up your haunt, cuz it desperately needs it.”

And listen.

Robin training.

Lived with Bruce.

Even slightly self aware.

Jason knew exactly what deflection sounded like, even when done far more expertly. It was a choice to let Danny get away with it.

But knight pact or no, Danny was his friend, not his boss. And that also meant Jason wasn’t his dad, or anyone who could actually force him to do anything.

If it actually got Danny staying overnight, he’d do it. Soothe the part of him that fretted even with Danny’s assurances, make it easier to tell him in the morning, give him a chance to try and feed Danny decent pancakes over soulless commercial profiteering? All wins.

So he shrugged.

“Hey, this one’s closest to the campus. You got any morning classes?” He’d been intending to let Danny go back to his dorm (after he talked), so he hadn’t cared that it was one of his less cared for haunts.

For an actual sleepover though? Well, they’d already had one at one of his better places, nearly had another at his actual home. They could go wherever Danny wanted.

Danny made a face like he’d said something weird (or he’d forgotten he had classes), then pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Nah, I got a tutorial at eleven thirty but I can probably skip it,” he said a moment later, shooting Jason a wary look. Like he knew there was a trap in Jason agreeing with him, but wasn’t sure how to counter it.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him.

“What class?”

Danny rolled his eyes right back, glanced at his phone again, and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Just Mechanical Engineering. We’ll be starting a major project next week, but I know what I’m doing already and the prof cleared it. You can just drop me off at the dorm if you’re that worried,” he added, slightly smug with this new suggestion.

Jason considered it for a moment, mostly for the theatrics. Then he shrugged. He’d never willingly skipped a class, but it had still happened more than once. But he could still call Danny’s bluff.

“Sure, I’ll bring a pillow and camp out on the floor.” He’d never been back to Danny’s room, largely because other than the bed, there was barely enough floor for Danny to lie down on, let alone someone built like Jason.

Danny’s eyes narrowed, and Jason grinned. Try and bluff a bat; they were the kings of commit to the bit. Jason could and would squish himself to sleep damn near anywhere.

Clearly unable to deny that, Danny finally rolled his eyes and flopped back against the couch cushions instead.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. All the groceries are in the fridge,” he added when Jason stuck his tongue out at him.

True, but not an issue. Untangling them enough to get up, Jason made for the kitchen.

“And they’ll go back in the fridge at my place.” He hesitated barely a second, but he’d already made up his mind, hadn’t he? As soon as the subject came up. “The place at the library nice enough for you?”

It was his home. Sort of. His real home, or the one he wanted to be, except that it still didn’t feel like it yet. Because he wanted to keep it nice, clean perfect and unspoiled, so he never really used it.

Having Danny over to watch truly awful sitcoms in the New Year had kinda highlighted that while all his nicest stuff was there, it wasn’t going to be a home until he’d lived in it. And having Danny there had helped start that too.

And sure, it’d be funny to use all the good stuff on Danny; give the world’s most reluctant king the royal treatment.

Little fuck was already pulling faces again, squirming on the couch.

“Man, that place is way too nice… I was scared to touch the floors.”

Which was kinda exactly what Jason had thought too. But he had to get over that part eventually; he could clean pretty much anything up. But living was messy, and apparently only more so for the half dead.

So he flipped Danny off.

“You can float. Just don’t cover anything in garlic powder this time,” he added with a snicker.

Danny flipped him off back, grinning reluctantly.

“And again, fuck you that was one time!” He protested with extra drama.

“Unless you make it a habit,” Jason shot back, restuffing groceries into bags. Danny hesitated a moment longer, then visibly caved.

Felt like agreeing to wait for morning had been the right move. They could both make concessions.

“Alright, but swing by the campus first. I wanna grab a change of clothes for tomorrow, I’m not doing another walk of shame,” he teased with a sly smirk, and Jason’s heart skipped.

For no reason.

Totally unnecessary.

It wasn’t like the memory of Danny running around in his clothes for a day was going to spark anything in him. Wait, actually…

“Yeah, you can grab my shirt too, I need it back,” Jason said with a snicker.

Danny’d gotten most of his stuff back to him within a week. Except the Soup Powered Fuck Machine shirt, which he’d worn to more than one of their adventures through the city.

Jason was well aware he wasn’t getting that shirt back. He even agreed it was much funnier on Danny.

(And, well, ridiculously oversized, which meant that once jackets and sweaters came off Danny still tended to tie it into a crop top like a country girl in her boyfriend’s shirt. It was cute.

Jason was maybe considering giving in and letting Steph get him in a crop top.)

Sure enough, Danny stuck his tongue out at him, reluctantly hauling himself from the couch.

“No idea what you’re talking about, I gave you all of your clothes back weeks ago.” The odds that Danny would bring that shirt along, just to wear tomorrow? High.

Chuckling softly, Jason grabbed the bags.

“Oh, then I must be mistaken. Clearly all of your clothes are actually the right size, right?” He asked sarcastically.

Danny nodded archly anyway, as regal as an offended cat as he flounced to the door.

“The right size is whatever size I want them to be,” he declared airily, and Jason… couldn’t argue with that. And then just as Jason had locked the door behind them and was reshouldering the bags, Danny turned back suddenly, all airs and graces apparently forgotten.

“Oh, and I need a thigh selfie from you. There’s some nerds in my class totally obsessed with Red Hood, but obviously yours are better.”

Jason didn’t quite drop anything breakable. But that was only because they hadn’t bought anything breakable.

Boxes of Lucky Charms pancakes spilled across the floor.

———————

And there we have it! 😁 our first timeskip, a couple plot beats all set up, and maaaaybe a little hope that by the end of next chapter we’ll have one less secret!

And Bruce is improving! Ish. Look how good he did though, said sorry and everything! And now he’s being subjected to Vlad and the Fentons, which can only possibly go well!

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: firefight

Rottmnt Fanfic Summary: Donnie collided with Leo in a tangle of limbs. There was an instinctive cling in return from his twin, before the realization sunk in. "No." Leo breathed in his ear, immediately shattered. "No, no, no, no, no!” Every muscle in Donnie's body was shaking like an earthquake from the amount of effort he'd just expended. The explosion caught up to them, sending the twins spiralling away into space and debris. For one singular moment, Donnie allowed himself a burst of victory. His heart was still thudding a thousand miles an hour in his chest, having been absolutely terrified he wasn't going to make it in time. But he did. And he held onto Leo, his prize. Then they hit the ground, the sudden tumble bursting them apart. Donnie felt the world spin, rapid and disorientating, before he slammed into something rock and cracking under his impact. or: donnie doesn’t let leo go to hell alone

firefight: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is unfinished, and as such, this post will be updated as fanfic updates. This fanfic is written by, @remedyturtles so go show them some love and support!! They write top notch fic's!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is five out of five!! Its simple, yet so complicated all in the same go. Never has a fic had me going "AAAA NO NO NO!!!" so many times in a row! The plot is simple enough to follow, and is quite literally explained in the beginning chapter summary, but the moment you get down into the thick of the details, it gets HEAVY!"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Suspense/Mystery is five out of five!! Firefight has high and intense levels of suspense, so this fic is for all those readers out there who enjoy a good mental torture lol. There are a lot of plot twists, that once they happen, they seem obvious, but leading up to them? Nope, not obvious, very confusing, would read, go check it out!!!"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! Firefight is VERY angst heavy, and VERY hurt heavy. This fanfic will hurt like a knife to the heart. I'm not gonna lie, I genuinely cried at one or two points, it hurt that much. 100% would recommend."

Fluff/Comfort: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is two out of five!! The comfort is there, don't worry, its just not comforting at all lol. Things are so bleak in firefight, that even the comfort is tinged with sadness, regret, and grief. This story is very heavy on the disaster twins angst and comfort, so if you like disaster twins, this is absolutely something you should read!"

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is four out of five!! Remember how I said I cried? The author of firefight does such a good job conveying emotions, that it genuinely messed with my head, and then I cried. Powerful, and when I say powerful, I mean POWERFUL writing! You're gonna feel things while reading this fanfic!"

Drama/Tension Level:💛💛💛💛💛

"Drama/Tension Level is five out of five!! There is never a moment of rest. Every chapter has something going on, and you will fear for these turtles lives, every second you're reading firefight! There's high tensions, and the drama of arguments and things best never said. Poor Donnie and Leo break each others hearts saying things they do and don't mean (t*cent dni pls)."

Triggers: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Triggers are five out of five!! Read the tags for firefight, its important. Plus, this fic is marked mature due to its very triggering nature, so stay safe everyone, read with caution, and mentally prepare yourself!"

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! This fic is very enjoyable to read! The way its written is smooth, easy on the eyes, and well-written! This fic is one that can be enjoyed both by reading, or listening!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five!! I have listened to every single chapter in audio book form, and they have never ever disappointed! Firefight is 100% just as good in audio book form as it is in reading form. Perfect to listen to while working or doing busy work, especially since its a high stress fanfic, and for me personally I like doing something with my hands while reading high stress fanfics."

Length: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Length is three out of five!! firefight has a chapter count of 43 chapters, and each chapter takes about 20-45 minutes to read, though they're occasionally longer. It really depends on how intense a chapter is, as the crazier, usually the longer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

firefight: Chapter List

(Chapters will be added as I rate and appraise them ^^)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[lovingperfectionsblog]

For What It's Worth - Chapter 5

Max Verstappen x Reader

Chapter 5: Why would you ever get flowers?

Chapter summary: Lando confirms your fears of no one being interested in you and Max learns a hard lesson from Daniel.

Warnings: Swearing. 

Word Count: 3613

Authors note: So, this chapter was weirdly difficult to write, so hopefully the next one is easier and I get it out faster than this one but yeah, inspiration was lacking here. But next chapter is with Carlos and I’m excited to see how Max handles seeing his girl flirt with a Ferrari driver. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

______________________________________________________________

Lando was scared. Between the message he had received from Max last night and you now walking up to his table at breakfast, looking like that in a sundress, he knew he was royally fucked and something was going on. 

“This seat taken?” Lando took an embarrassingly long time to answer you, the entire time screaming at himself to keep his eye-line above your neck. 

A second later Lando was stumbling up and out of his chair to grab your own and pull it out for you. His nerves flared up as he stumbled out of his chair in order to pull out your own and they only got worse as you placed your hand on his chest and whispered a thank you with a smile attached that might just be criminal. 

Max was going to kill him. 

Lando, rather ungracefully, made his way back to his own chair and as he sat down, he realised that he had yet to say a single word to you. Which he assumes you had picked up considering the look you were giving him. 

“You look beautiful.” He wished that it hadn’t come out as flirty as it had, but you did and Max wasn’t around, so maybe he could let you know. 

“Oh, thank you, I just threw this on.” Your giggle had Lando blushing. 

“Yeah, well, uhm, no it looks good. Max must love it on you.” You cocked your head and gave him a confused look, no doubt wondering why he had mentioned Max, but Lando wasn’t taking any chances when it came to the girl Max loved. 

“Max isn’t the one I’m hoping to impress.” Lando was fucked. The silence that engulfed the table was palpable. All that could be heard was the clinks from the cutlery and chatter from the neighbouring tables surrounding them. 

“Oh, you're not? Who then? Do I know them?” Another giggle, but his confusion was genuine. Since when weren’t you Max’s girl?

“The driver who got me the beautiful flowers.” Your voice was soft, almost seductive and Lando was missing it all. 

“What fucking driver is stupid enough to get you flowers?” He hadn’t meant it as an insult, but he heard it as soon as it came out his mouth, immediately attempting to explain this without telling you why he had said what he said, “Like, no, not like that, but, it's just, it’s complicated.”

“Oh, so I guess you agree with Max and think the drivers only like pretty girls then.” You were now leaning back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, looking away from Lando in an attempt to hide your hurt. 

“No. Don’t put words in my mouth, I didn’t say you weren’t,”suddenly what you had actually said caught up with him, “Wait, Max said you weren’t pretty?” This conversation was about to take a turn if Max had said that to you. Maybe they were all wrong, maybe he could make a move on you. 

But then what did Max want to talk to him about? 

“It’s not important.” The look in your eyes was murderous. 

“It’s a lot more important than you think.” Silence took a seat at your table once again, a simple stare down happening between you and Lando, both of you trying to understand exactly what was happening in this conversation. 

You were the first to break the silence, “Look, did you send the flowers or not.” Lando had resigned himself to not understanding a goddamn thing in this entire conversation. 

“No, I’m not a fucking idiot.” Once again, it was the wrong thing to say. 

“Why? Is it that awful to think about being with me?” Lando felt himself immediately shaking his head, because no, you were definitely someone more than one driver had thought about being with, himself included, but he couldn’t very well just say that. 

Lando chose to stop and think about his next words carefully, not something he did often. 

“Look, it’s not like that, I just can’t explain it to you.” There was no way you were just going to accept that explanation, it didn’t stop Lando praying that you would. 

“And why not?” Of course you weren’t just going to accept it. 

“Because none of us want to die.” Lando dropped his head, elbows on the table and hands collapsed above his head, he questioned whatever god happened to exist why he had been born with the inability to say the right thing. 

“Why would any of the drivers die because they sent me flowers?” Nothing Lando had said had made any sense throughout this conversation. 

“You keep mentioning these flowers, what are the flowers?” Lando needed to change the direction of this conversation quickly, before he ended up spilling that Max was in love with you. 

“Oh,” finally there was a smile back on your face, “yesterday morning, my favourite flowers with a note was delivered to my room, but it didn’t have a name.” 

“So you’re trying to figure out who sent them?” Max, it was so obviously Max who sent it, how didn’t you know that?

“Yeah, me and Max came up with a list of all the drivers who it might be and so, yeah, I guess I’m just trying to figure it out,” you suddenly looked down again, face red with embarrassment, “but so far it isn’t going so great.” 

“I have a list of questions.” Lando had officially all but forgotten his breakfast, “First, did you just say Max is helping you figure out who sent you flowers?” You simply nodded in return. 

Lando often joked that he thought he was dumb, but he didn’t think he was that dumb, although, trying to piece together whatever was happening here was giving me a headache. 

“Okay, secondly, why isn't it going well?” Your blush deepened. 

“Well, between you and Daniel,” Lando spat out his drink. 

“Daniel?” You nodded as you wiped a few splatters of juice from yourself, slightly disgusted, “You flirted with Daniel? And Max knew about it?” 

“Yeah, of course, Max was super supportive, up until he told me Daniel only went for pretty girls.” All the neighbouring tables turned to look at you and Lando as he burst out laughing. Suddenly this was all starting to make a lot more sense. 

“Okay, okay, and this apparent list?” Lando had swung between terrified of what was happening to desperately needing to be involved in any way he could. 

“Well, the note was definitely from a driver,”  Of course it was, it was from Max, “but it didn’t have a name on it so me and Max came up with a list of drivers it could be.” Lando waved his hand in an attempt to urge you on as he continued to eat his breakfast, “so far, I’ve spoken to you and Daniel.”

“And nothing happened with Daniel right?” Lando needed to know where he stood. 

“Nope, rejected me, was nice about it though, but he did mention it might not be someone I expected, so I think he knows who sent them.” Yeah, so this confirmed it for Lando, Max was the one who had sent them, but why then hadn’t he said anything to you about it. 

“Okay, and the rest of the list?” You shoved a spoonful of muesli in your mouth before you continued, aware that Max would probably be heading down anytime now, so your free time was short. 

“Yeah, so i've checked you and Daniel, next is Carlos,” Lando’s eyebrows shot up, aware of how dangerous this was becoming for Max, “Then Yuki, George, Lewis, Charles and Pierre.”  

“No Max?” You laughed at the question. 

“Max? He’d never be interested in me” Oh, so it suddenly made sense to Lando, you were dumb and blind, no wonder this was so difficult, considering Max was just as dumb, “Although, Daniel did say the exact same thing.” 

“Interesting, and are you even interested in any of us?” The blush on your face indicated yes, so this then threw a spanner in the works, “I’ll take that as a yes, why not go straight to him?” 

“It’s complicated.” It was the only explanation you offered, so Lando had no choice but to accept it. 

“Need help?” He desperately wanted to see the shit show this was going to become. 

You nodded vigorously, “Please! Daniel knows all about it too, so if you maybe hear anything in the paddock, you’ll let me know?” 

“I’ll let you know everything I can.”And there was no way he was allowed to tell you about how Max felt. 

Seriously, how did you not know? 

With that you got up, stating you had to grab some stuff from your room before you headed out to the track,”Oh, when are you going to chat to Carlos?” 

You turned back to Lando, “Well, today? Why waste a perfectly good sundress?” 

Lando beamed at you, thinking he was excited for you and encouraging you to go for it, but in truth, Lando was just excited to see exactly how Max was going to handle all of this, especially when you looked that good. 

Maybe Lando could even out qualify him today?   

Just as Lando turned back to his breakfast, he was faced with both Max and Daniel pulling out chairs of their own, rather aggressively getting comfortable where you had just been. 

“What did she say to you?” Max was the first to speak. 

”Did you send the flowers?” Lando was starting to realise the power he held. 

“Obviously he sent the flowers, now what did she say to you?” Daniel this time. 

“Why didn’t you sign your name?” Lando could physically feel the pain Max was feeling from the sigh that left him. 

“Because he’s an idiot.” Daniel again, although this time with a massive grin, like he was enjoying this just as much as Lando was. 

“But it’s good because she said it’s creepy when your boss hits on you.” Max quickly corrected Daniel. 

“It’s a little different when you’re in love with each other.” Daniel nodded along to Landos comment, both looking at Max, an unspoken ‘I told you so’ floating on the air. 

“Has she said that she likes me?” It was meant to be a re=hetorical question from Max, because no, you hadn’t told anyone if you had feelings for anyone. 

“Well, she blushed when I asked if she was interested in any of the drivers, so there’s that.” Both Max and Daniel sat wide eyed at the information Lando had just casually dropped, seemingly unaware of both the devastation and the hope that simple sentence had held. 

“One of the drivers or one of the drivers on the list?” Daniel was dominating this conversation, Max seemingly too shocked to speak. 

“One of the drivers I presume.” Max was trying to process this information, this could either be really good or really bad for him. He was running through all of the information he had been presented with, vaguely aware that Daniel and Lando were speaking amongst themselves, no doubt thinking Max was a part of the conversation before Daniel startled him back into it, snapping his fingers in order to get his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“Look, maybe that whatsapp group isn’t the worst idea, just me, you and Lando, that way we can keep tabs on things.” Daniel was already making the group as he spoke, a ping coming from the others phone with the notification. 

“Is Lando going to help?” Max felt like his brain wasn’t catching up with what was happening in front of him. 

“Of course I’m going to help.” Lando couldn’t stop smiling at how his weekend was suddenly turning out. 

“You want to see the shit show?”

“I want to see the shit show.” Lando affirmed exactly what Daniel had thought, “but considering I’m close with Carlos and that's who she’s going for next, well, I am a good person to have on your side.” 

“She’s going for Carlos next?” Max had returned to his natural panicked state this weekend, there was no way he could compete against Carlos. 

Oh god, if this is the driver you liked, Max was going to cry. 

“Yep, good old Carlos, with those spanish looks and charm and flirting skill and she’s wearing that sundress,” Lando prattled on as Max became more and more nervous. 

“You want to comment on her in that sundress again?” Max looked deadly and Lando’s smile only got wider. 

“Well, you did call her ugly and she did wear that dress for me.” Both Max and Lando were out of their chairs in seconds, the former chasing the latter as Lando ran away from him through the dining room laughing, Daniel quickly trailing after them. 

Next moment Lando had stopped dead in his tracks, Max shortly behind him as they both came crashing into you as you had re-entered the lobby in an attempt to find Max. 

“Whoa boys, what’s going on?” Lando quickly let go of your arms once you had both straightened, fully aware of Max standing behind him. 

“Nothing, just realised how late we all are, we should probably get going.” Again, Daniel being the voice of reason amongst them all.

 Lando quickly said his goodbyes and made his way back to grab his stuff, but Max barely acknowledged him, keeping his gaze on your arms where Lando had previously held you. 

“Max will meet you at the car now, just give me a second with him won’t you?” Daniel stood behind Max, his own eyes grazing down your body, knowing how much Carlos was going to enjoy this. Him and Max needed to come up with a plan that somehow now involved Lando too. 

“You guys sure everything is okay, you’re acting a little weird?” You eyed the two of them, Daniel smiling away, Max with a scowl on his face, not letting the nerves go. 

“Yeah, just pre-season jitters, we’ll see you at the car.” It wasn’t a question, Daniel was telling you to leave and this all felt like drama you did not want to get involved in, so you turned on your heel to make your way towards the entrance, stopping only momentarily when Max grabbed your bag out your hand, like he always did, always making sure to carry your belongings. You nodded a thank you and then you left, leaving the two drivers to hash out whatever they needed to before the first quali of the season. 

“Did you seriously call her ugly?” Daniel was standing in front of Max now, livid with his friend was an understatement. 

“It’s not what you think it is.” Internally Max was cringing, not wanting to have to explain the full story to Daniel. 

“Then what was it because man, that is not how you get the girl to like you.” Daniel wasn’t budging on this. Max was frustrating him more and more and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be helping him any more beyond this if Max wasn’t even going to try. 

“I might have said that I didn’t think you were interested in her because you only go for pretty girls.” The expression on Daniels face was unreadable. 

“You decided to use me as a way to knock her self esteem down a peg?” Dniels face might have been unreadable, but the tone of his voice indicated something very different. 

“I panicked! It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to, like, fuck, I didn’t mean to.” Daniel wasn’t buying a word Max was saying and he knew it, “I can’t lose her mate.”

“You’re going to if you don’t get your head out of your arse and start treating her fucking better. You understand? And I swear to god, if you use me as a way of insulting her again, Liam is going to be you racing in your place for the rest of the season. I am not the villain here mate, and I refuse to be made into one, you’ve already fulfilled that role.” The words stung, but he was right and everyone knew it, most of all Max. 

_____

“You ready for the first quali of the season?” Max had barely taken his seat in the car before you had started a conversation, your usually chipper self. A mood Max couldn’t reciprocate, not after what had just transpired between him and Daniel. 

“Yeah, it should be good.” His answers were short and clipped, not that you noticed though. 

“So it was a bust with Lando this morning, weirdly said that no driver would ever get me flowers so guess that's another hit to the ego.” You laughed along, hoping it would hide any real hurt you were feeling, but Max could pick it up from a mile away. 

“I didn’t mean you weren’t pretty, you know that right?” It was the first time he had really looked at you this morning and it was a mistake, because you sitting there, he felt his breathing hitch and it was as if he couldn’t peel his eyes away from you even if he tried. 

“I do, you’re too good to me Maxie, plus, you’re definitely a driver who gets me flowers so I guess there's that.” How did you not realise, how were you literally saying it yourself, but it still hadn’t clicked for you. What more was Max meant to do. Other than the obvious of just coming clean. 

“Yeah, I am.” Again, short, clipped, angry, but still you didn’t get it. 

“So, just a heads up, Horner wants a meeting with you first thing when we get to the track, so the second we get there, you need to go to him.” He nodded along, uncharacteristically quiet this morning. 

“Just me?” You snuck a glance at you, and there was that damn blush again. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ears, giving yourself  a moment to think before you replied. 

\

“Yeah, well, I thought that maybe I could go and chat to Carlos if he’s free.” The blush deepend and despite Max thinking earlier that he might potentially be the driver you were interested in, his hopes were suddenly being dashed looking at your response. Was Carlos the one? 

On top of it, if you went and spoke to Carlos first while he was in a meeting, then that gave him no chance to find him first and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake he had with Lando. 

“First thing this morning? Why not give it a little while until I’m done with my meeting? We can find him together?” That was the dumbest idea he had ever come up with  but he couldn’t concentrate between what Daniel had said to him, you sitting next to him in that goddamn red dress, the fact that he was about to lose you to one of his rivals in his sport and now his fucking phone was blowing up with messages and if things didn’t just calm down for a second and stop, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

“You’re getting messages from some group, Max fucked up? Why do you have a group called Max fucked up?” He hadn’t been paying attention to what you were doing and completely missed it when you grabbed his phone, so used to organising his life for him. This action further proved to him just how much he trusted you, how easily you fit into his life. 

When his brain had finally caught up with what you were saying, he realised that this was the group Daniel had just set up, this entire group was about you and him. You could never see what was being said in that group. 

Max lunged towards you, grabbing his phone to prevent you from seeing anymore than you already had, “It’s a joke, a silly joke between me and Daniel, it's nothing to worry about it.” He watched you lift your hands up in defence, showing you were backing off, instead turning to the window, offering Max a moment of privacy as you sensed the urgency in his tone. 

MAX FUCKED UP

BigRicc: Lando, how quickly can you get to Carlos?

NoRizz: I can be at Ferrari the second I get there?

BigRicc: Good, do that, grab Carlos, get him away from the garage and make sure Y/n can’t interrupt you. 

NoRizz: Okay, on it, then what?

BigRicc: Explain it all to him. Tell him what’s going on and tell him he needs to like, reject her, but nicely. 

BigRicc: Can’t have another driver damaging her self esteem. 

NoRizz: Why aren’t you or Max doing this? 

BigRicc: We have meetings. 

BigRicc: I thought you wanted to help? 

NoRizz: No! I do! 

NoRizz: Do I tell him everything?

BigRicc: All of it. 

BigRicc: Like, all of it. 

BigRicc: Full Explanation. 

BigRicc: Especially the parts where Max fucked up. 

NoRizz: Should we add him to the group? 

BigRicc: As soon as you explain it, add him. That way he can keep us updated as the day goes. 

NoRizz: Yes Sir. 

BigRicc: Remember, you have to beat her there, so just, run. 

BigRicc: The fate of this season rests with you Lando. 

NoRizz: Me?? Why me?

BigRicc: You want to race against an angry Verstappen for the rest of the season?

NoRizz: Fuck. 

NoRizz: I’m Running. 

Maxie: Don’t tell him I called her ugly. 

NoRizz: Daniel said all the times you fucked up so... 

BigRicc: Fuck you Max. 

NoRizz: Yeah, fuck you Max. 

Maxie: Yeah, fuck me, 

___________

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 

[ryuichirou]

twst boy’s thoughts on breeding kink stuff. like who’d enjoy it and indulge in it, find it embarrassing, or straight up don’t like it. (i can see idia insisting he’s not into it but his tops are bullies…someone save him…)

Anon! Sorry for the late reply.

It was a bit of a tricky one because of my own complicated relationship with the breeding kink lol So I’m sorry if some of the hcs are less enjoyable because of it, but I tried to make it fun + it was very interesting to think about how these boys would actually feel about it.

Idia’s tops are indeed bullies… despite what I wrote in this post, Idia is so bulliable that every single top of him would go “alright let’s breed him” even without having this kink lol

Anyways~

Riddle – he probably hasn’t even heard of something like this, so if someone tries to explain this kink to him, he might misinterpret it and say that this is indeed the correct way to have an intercourse (= you should do it to procreate, sounds logical to him). This would probably make people who are aware chuckle… I think Riddle is way too far in his mind to fully get it. In terms of kink, he is more into other stuff… of which he also isn’t really aware.

Ace – if asked about it, he would act like this is kind of a yuck kink: why does everything have to be about making babies? At the same time, he is a simple guy, so if he is in the heat of the moment, he might start saying some bullshit with no filter, so it kiiiind of turns him on. But maybe it’s just because he is too damn horny and pretty much anything would turn him on lol

Deuce – not into it… or is he? Honestly, it’s hard to say because his brain just shuts off whenever he has sex, so maybe he indulged in something similar to this… when things got too animalistic. He can’t quite control how his body reacts when he feels filled; maybe it does feel kind of good… But he really doesn’t remember. He doesn’t-!!

Trey – he isn’t super into it; he did watch a bunch of porn with this exact kink at some point because he was trying out different things and seeing how he feels. And it didn’t really resonate with him a lot. I guess he just ties breeding with actually having babies too closely, and he would like to avoid that even in theory: the ultimate older brother is tired and wants to have sex without worrying too much…

Cater – he is not super into it, it just doesn’t click in his mind; but similarly to Ace, if he is horny, he is horny. He would play along if his partner suddenly started saying stuff during sex, but also add something like “no way~ Kei-kun doesn’t want to be a dad yet, are you really that hungry for that?” or something among the lines.

Leona – he is more into it than he wants to admit. It is kind of a huge secret, but when Ruggie noticed that, Leona smirked and said that this is another reason why he and his brother are so different: Falena has always been a very oblivious horny breeder, and Leona, well… he has always loved the feeling of being mounted and bred. Ruggie didn’t need to hear it in this kind of detail, but sure. 

Ruggie – he is not into it when his head is cool, but when he gets horny, he can’t quite control it. He cums a lot and cums often, so at some point his brain gets completely fried and he can’t think of anything other than the need to inseminate. He also finds humans with this kink kind of funny… don’t gatekeep breeding wtf Ruggie.

Jack – “all beastmen have breeding kink” is a stereotype, and Jack Howl is the reason it exists. Now this is someone who can’t actually help it and suffers because his instincts get the best of him; but at the same time there is this sentimental brain cell in his head that make him feel like the love he feels for someone just doubles when he breeds them. Even if he knows that Deuce won’t be able to produce a litter, he won’t stop trying… But when the sex is all done and Jack is sane again, he kind of cringes at all this.

Azul – he doesn’t have a breeding kink and doesn’t really see a point in it (someone please explain to Azul that kinks don’t really have points), but he gets kind of aroused from the thought of using breeding to control a person… I think that’s a whole different kink altogether though… Plus, ironically he is probably the most likely out of the trio to have his instincts to breed take over. I just want Idia to have octopus eggs…

Jade – he would be into the transformation a human body would have to go through to sustain eel eggs + he finds popping eggs very satisfying, does that count as a breeding kink? No Jade, it doesn’t! What the hell! Anyways, for Jade it’s more of a science project than a kink…

Floyd – he gets carried away easily, and no kink is really a 100% turn off for him. So sometimes it would be a yuck for him and he would say that pretending as if you’re making babies is gross and babies are also gross and the whole thing is gross. But sometimes he will start asking Riddle weird questions and say weird comments, like how his body is so tiny it probably would look giant if he had his eggs. He might even force Riddle to beg him to cum inside for that exact reason. But maybe this is just because he loves to mess with Riddle too much.

Kalim – he probably doesn’t even know it exists… and if he hears about someone having this kink, he would think that this is very wholesome and sweet. And a little bit sad. Say, Jamil, is there a way for them to have a kid if they want it so badly they keep trying? There must be, right?

Jamil – he doesn’t want to answer Kalim’s questions and doesn’t want to even think about it. In general, I think he is indifferent and sometimes doesn’t really like it. But the latter is because there was a period in his life during which he kept having nightmares about having Kalim’s babies and having sex with him repeatedly for years and years. He doesn’t know what the hell that was all about.

Vil – it’s not 100% totally impossible to get him in the mood for it if he is super deep in his roleplay mode. But in general and if he is not in a very specific mood and high level of arousal, Vil doesn’t really resonate with this kink all that much. Whenever he tries to think about it with a fresh mind, he thinks about how he’d rather be a hot step-mother + how cum is a bitch to clean out afterwards…

Rook – let’s be honest he probably loves it lol There aren’t a lot of kinks that this man doesn’t like. With breeding in particular though, to him it ties closely with the primal kink and domination play, so putting his seed inside someone is like a victory: a wild beast is now tamed, defeated and mellow, shivering under him, completely surrendering to Rook to the point of being ready to be his bitch. I guess Rook is the type of person that Ruggie would make fun of… he doesn’t make fun of Rook though, that’s too scary.

Epel – he is similar to both Ace and Deuce in a way. He would be violently against it in theory: he is insecure enough about enjoying being a bottom, he doesn’t need another added layer of anything even remotely feminine on top of it; but when he is being bred, his body adjusts to it surprisingly easily. He probably wouldn’t beg to breed him, but his body trembles very obviously if his partner is talking about this kind of stuff while fucking him. Epel is a little bunny…

Ortho – (breaking our usual order, because…) maybe he is going through a phase, maybe he is just messing with Idia, maybe he is serious, but sometimes he really seems super into breeding, especially in his puppy gear. And he talks about it a lot, too: about how he would be very happy if he could make a baby with niisan, how it would be a symbol of his love and such. It’s supposed to sound very romantic, but sounds very cursed, as if he just took these lines from some incest hentai (and he probably did). Anyways~

Idia – he is NOT into it, and to be completely fair, he probably genuinely isn’t into it. He would even rant about how weird it is and how it’s annoying that everything is about procreating, as if there are no other enjoyable aspects in sex (… in theory of course, who needs sex anyway). But there must be some reaction because Ortho learns what makes him react and continues to do it more and more. It’s probably an exclusive thing just for Ortho though… (he’ll still have Azul’s octopus eggs)

Lilia – it’s not like he is super into it, but he does like to tease his partners because they either get shocked by him implying that Lilia could breed him, or get super aroused, or both. Lilia loves all kinds of dirty talk, so he does talk about breeding and such a lot too. But it depends on his bottoms’ reaction: if it messes with their heads, Lilia does it with more enjoyment: he loves it when boys are visibly conflicted because what Lilia is saying is cursed, but somehow feels good. Lilia doesn’t do it with Malleus though… for some reason.

Silver – he doesn’t think about it much, I think he’s indifferent in general. Which doesn’t mean that he has never been bred before. Lilia also probably explained to him that sometimes fae have certain urges, and that he’ll have to help Sebek out sometimes in when it happens… and Silver always keeps it in mind. Maybe deep inside he is looking forward to it… a little bit. Anyways, he puts himself into mating press position when he knows it’s time, and it blows Sebek’s mind.

Sebek – rationally, he really doesn’t like it and even gets grossed out, but it’s because he is so troubled with his own instincts and his body maturing and becoming more demanding. So it’s like people with the breeding kink are just making fun of him in his head… At times he is even worse than Jack at it. He is meaner about it too, so if he is with Silver or Idia, he might start rambling something about them being grateful to have his seed. If he is with Malleus though, he’ll shut the fuck up and breed him like a good pup, feeling way too excited about the prospect of Malleus himself having his seed inside his body.

Malleus – it’s tied with his fertility because he lays eggs lol He loves getting cream-pied and marked, he loves being put into positions that would in theory ensure conception. At times it feels like Malleus doesn’t see any reason to have sex if he isn’t getting cream-pied… He also loves teasing his lovers with implications.

[moonlightspencie]

isn’t it?

Description: Years after the battle at Hogwarts, reader runs into an unlikely old friend. A simple invitation to tea leads to much more.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, slow burn babyyy, draco talking about traumatic events in the hp series, me being an american writing about folks in the UK (do not come for me),

Word Count: 10k

A/N: im a draco apologist, what about it. anyways, he gets a redemption arc in this. they’re like 20-23 in this. also had to make my own gif cause most malfoy girlies are 14 year olds from tiktok & don’t appreciate tom in his 20s. logging off forever now

check out the playlist!

Winter was one of my least favorite times of the year because of how horrifically frigid it got. I was never a fan of the cold months. At least not when it was so cold that my fingers would be numb from standing outside for a couple of minutes.

But, it could also one of my most favorite times for the days like this one.

I stepped into the bookstore, glancing around in the soft lighting at all of the cheery decor. They hadn’t yet taken down their Christmas decorations, so twinkling lights were still wrapped around the bookshelves. Snow fell gently outside, making the warmth inside that much more cozy.

I walked around the small shop, looking up and down various shelves until I found the section I was looking for. I started sorting through the various history books, picking out a few that piqued my interest. I slid down a little further, stopping only when I saw that I was encroaching on a stranger’s space.

I turned my head, making sure I hadn’t already gotten too close, when I saw a familiar, bright, blonde head of hair.

“Malfoy,” I breathed out.

His head turned quickly, wide eyes searching for the person who had accidentally called his name. They somehow widened even more when he recognized me and muttered my name, more to himself rather than as a greeting. I found myself walking towards him almost on instinct.

The last time we’d seen each other was years prior. His father had called his name from across the ruins of Hogwarts to join them. He’d stood still and unmoving, up until the point his mother’s voice finally convinced him. He glanced at me briefly before he walked away from the rest of us, and I had assumed I’d never see him again.

We always had a complicated relationship. Even more, it seemed Draco had very complicated feelings about me.

We were friends, for all intents and purposes, but it was a secretive kind of friendship. He was a Slytherin, from a very prejudiced family, and was quite frankly a bully much of the time. I was a Gryffindor, friends with Potter, and though I was a half-blood, I didn’t care for the idea that blood purity had any say in the value of a wizard. That had caused some tension early in our friendship before I knocked a little sense into him. Though, it still caused some problems for us. Especially after his parents heartily disapproved of me in our fifth year.

We’d been friends for nearly a year at that point. He had, rather foolishly, decided to introduce me to his parents over holiday, assuming they would also be willing to love me despite my disdain for blood-purity ideals. We’d left in uncomfortable silence, and, soon after, Draco had explained that his father had instructed him to stay away from me.

Of course, he hadn’t listened.

We still spent time together when we could, even when I’d begun to notice his increasingly tired eyes and gaunt state of being in sixth year. He never let me find out what the matter was until it was too late, however.

I hadn’t seen him after the night Dumbledore was killed until the battle at Hogwarts. Now, I was seeing him in a bookshop in London. A muggle bookshop.

“What…” I started, unsure what to say now. “Wow. It’s good to see you.”

He was silent, staring back at me in shock.

“I’m sorry, um, how’ve you been?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh— Fine. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here? In London, I mean?”

“Searching for something to read,” he said, the ghost of a chuckle leaving him.

“In a muggle shop?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I know, it’s probably strange to see me here.”

“It’s strange to see you anywhere. It’s been…”

“… A long time.”

I nodded in agreement. He looked down at the books in my hands.

“I see you’re still interested in muggle affairs.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking at my books. “After leaving Hogwarts I wasn’t really interested in becoming an auror anymore, so I started writing. I do a lot of writing for wizards interested in muggle history. I generally write a lot of magazine pieces, and I’m working on a book now.”

“Wow,” he said with brows raised. “That’s incredible.”

“Thanks. Are you doing anything… I don’t know. Like, for a job?”

“No. That was never really on the table for me, anyways, with my family’s—“ he sighed. “You know. All of that.”

“Right,” I nodded with half a smile. He’d always been raised with the idea that he’d be living off of the generational wealth. “What are you looking at here?”

“I still need hobbies, so I’ve taken up a lot of reading. Muggle fiction books have been particularly interesting to me lately.”

“Huh. Never expected that to come out of your mouth.”

He raised his brows quickly, nodding along slowly. He looked back to the book in his hands.

“They tend to think that witches are evil, mythical creatures. They also don’t believe that giants or dragons or werewolves exist. They’re all viewed as freaks to the muggles,” he said, looking back at me. “Most of the time, we’re all seen as the villain in their stories.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone sees things differently. Usually the hatred comes in when they don’t care to learn about people who aren’t like them.”

He swallowed, looking down once again.

“I’m beginning to realize that much more, now.”

We both went quiet for a few seconds as a question was formulating in my head.

“Would you like to come over to mine for some tea?”

His eyes snapped to mine. He furrowed his brow, obviously not expecting the invitation.

“Really?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He just stood there, unmoving like I was going to burst out laughing at him at any moment. He watched me with wary eyes, not responding.

“If you want to,” I added at last. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Uh, that would be nice. Yes.”

“Okay. Um, I’m going to go buy these now.”

I held up my books, then turned for the register. I finished after a few minutes, lingering near the door until he followed after with his own bag.

“So, where you do you live?” he asked as we walked out into the cold.

“Guildford. In Surrey.”

“How do you usually—“

“Take my hand,” I said, holding out my free hand.

He switched his bag over to the opposite hand, putting his cold one in mine. In a flash we were on my street. He looked up at the street lamps that were starting to turn on as the sky dimmed slowly. I let him take in his surroundings for a moment.

“Ready?” I asked after a beat.

He looked at me, snow sticking to his eyelashes.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

We started forward on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of my building.

“Are you still in Wiltshire with your parents?”

He nodded. “Yes. Though, I don’t see them much anymore. I’m usually out for most of the day if I can help it.”

“You don’t get along much anymore?”

He shrugged. “They disagree with a lot of my choices.”

“I see.”

We stepped into the foyer of my building, walking up to the third floor and wandering through the hall until we got to the door of my flat. I suddenly turned, his brows raising slightly as I looked at him.

“I feel like I need to tell you that I don’t live anywhere particularly… Special.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

I nodded, a small smile on my face as I unlocked the door.

It felt strange to have anyone in my flat, let alone someone I hadn’t seen for years after they’d betrayed my friends and myself. Usually, I only had over a few very close friends every few weeks. I wasn’t exactly prepared for company, and I felt that it showed as I pulled down two mismatched mugs. He lingered in the kitchen with me, looking entirely uncomfortable, his hands repeatedly clenching and releasing as if it would relieve whatever anxieties he was facing. I gave him a soft smile after setting the mugs on the counter near him.

“This cabinet here,” I started, pointing at the one next to the oven, “has all the teas. You can choose whichever one you’d like.”

He nodded, moving forward towards the cabinet as I filled the kettle with water. I set it on the stovetop, turning it on. He nervously looked through the various tea flavors for a few more seconds, then turned to me.

“Which one would you like?”

I looked at him, noticing that he hadn’t picked for himself yet.

“Are you asking in earnest, or do you need a recommendation?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he gave me a small smile.

“Both.”

“I’d love an earl grey. I’ve got one that has some lavender in it as well, and it is delightful.”

He nodded quickly, pulling down two tea bags.

“That sounds nice.”

I smiled to myself, a little out of sorts at how polite he’d become. We waited in a strange kind of silence until I heard the water beginning to bubble in the kettle. I pulled it off the heat, filling the mugs Draco had popped the bags into earlier. He looked at me curiously.

“You know,” he began, pulling my attention to his amused face, “you’re supposed to wait until the kettle whistles.”

I shrugged. “I prefer to get to it before it starts up. I’m almost never too busy to have to listen to that horrible whistling.”

He laughed softly, nodding his head in understanding. I led him to the small table in my kitchen, and much to my surprise, he took the seat next to me rather than across the way. It was quiet for a minute or two, neither of us really sure what we were doing in my kitchen together.

“Can I ask something?” he blurted out.

“Sure,” I replied with a nod.

“Why did you invite me here?”

I shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to talk. It’s been a long time.”

“But I haven’t spoken to you since… You know. What’s the use in trying to talk to me now?”

“You agreed, didn’t you?”

He smirked, but it was a more gentle kind than what he would usually pull back in the day. Not full of cocky disdain for others, and more a way to tell me that I’d bested him with the simple phrase. It was nice.

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, each sipping our tea. I suddenly realized, only after inviting him into my home, that I had no clue what to talk to him about. I let out a soft breath, looking at him to find him already looking in my direction. I gave him a soft smile that he returned. Though, it quickly fell, and the both of us tilted our heads down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “for leaving that day. When my mother called me over.”

I looked at him in surprise, staring up from my teacup.

He continued, “I should’ve stayed with you. With all of you. I was just in so deep at that point, and I couldn’t say no to her. And I know that isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was sure that the second something went sideways again, after all that I’d done, I would probably be the first one to die. I don’t know why nobody killed me in the meantime before V-Voldemort and the others came back with Potter.”

“Where did you go? After the room of requirement was set on fire?”

“I hid,” he mumbled, looking down at his tea. “I’ve always been a coward. I think I’ve deserved everything that’s happened to me after all of that.”

We sat after that, sipping our tea like nothing had been said to begin with. I looked back at him. He’d changed so much in the few years he’d been gone, and yet he was so different. He looked practically the same. Maybe a little healthier. He acted like a new person, though. All of that youthful bravado was gone, and what was left was quiet and remorseful and entirely not like the Draco I’d known in school. It shocked me more and more the longer we sat.

I sighed softly. “Draco?”

He looked at me with wide eyes.

“You haven’t called me that in forever.”

“I haven’t seen you in as long.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

I took in a breath, watching him a few seconds longer before I spoke.

“You know it’s never too late to change things, right? I know that you and your mother both made some decisions we never would’ve expected you to at the end, there. Harry told me.”

“That means nothing. I’ve always despised Potter. I was cruel to him every day, but he still saved my life. You all fought. You were all brave. Not giving him up one time was nothing compared to what all of the rest of you did.”

“You can still change things now, Draco.”

He shook his head.

“It’ll never be enough. I walked away from all of you when we thought Potter had died. I know you saw me doing it, too, and I know you were disappointed in me for it. Probably hated me,” he said, a humorless chuckle leaving him for a moment. “You were standing there by Granger and Weasley, and I looked at you right before I started across the courtyard, and you were already looking back at me. Looked like you could’ve killed me yourself.”

I swallowed, not taking my eyes off of him the entire time he spoke.

“I wanted better for you. I’d always hoped you would really, sincerely change for the better at some point, and it just never seemed to come,” I mentioned with a half-hearted shrug. “When I saw you walking out just in front of Luna, I hoped it meant you would stay with us. That you’d changed sides after Harry had gotten you out of the fire. Watching you leave after that…”

“I know. I’m shocked you even spoke to me in the bookshop.”

“I was shocked to see you at all. Especially in a muggle bookstore. I know you’d gotten off the hook after the war because of what you did for Harry, but honestly, I never thought you’d change. Not really, anyways.”

He nodded, looking away from me again. He only glanced back up once I continued speaking.

“But you have, now. That much is clear. You’re kinder now.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You agreed to have tea with me. You willingly had a conversation with me in that bookstore rather than walking away from me. I thought for sure that you would when I saw you there.”

He shook his head. “I might have if it was anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you, though. You were the only person who was kind to me in school. You’re the only one who really cared or noticed something was wrong in sixth year.”

“Do you really not see it?” I asked, laughing incredulously.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You never would have told me any of this before. Draco, I know that you had done some horrible things, but it’s not too late to be different. And you’re already so different.”

He merely stared for a moment or two.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He stood abruptly, walking off towards the kitchen door. I followed after him, just barely reaching him as we reached my entry way. I reached out, grabbing his wrist. His eyes were wide as he turned his head towards me, casting his gaze towards where my hand held him from going any further.

“Just…” I sighed, putting on a smile. “Don’t be afraid to send an owl sometime.”

He nodded, his voice small, “Okay.”

I finally let him go, watching him take his coat and bag of of books, and walk out the door.

A few weeks later I sat at my desk at home, unable to get past a terrible bout of writer’s block. I hadn’t considered when writing a book that it wasn’t simply writing a long article. I had to craft each chapter in a meaningful way, and unfortunately, that meant that I had to get anything at all on paper. I sighed hard, needing an outlet for my dramatics. Suddenly, an unfamiliar owl was at my window. I opened it up, and the owl dropped a letter right on my window, staring almost curiously at me.

You requested that I send an owl sometime. I hope that you meant it, otherwise you can feel free to ignore this letter. Assuming you did mean it, I’d like to invite you to lunch on the thirteenth of February. I hope you’re well.

Draco

I looked up at the owl on my windowsill.

“Just a moment,” I said to it.

It chirped lightly in response. I quickly picked up some new parchment and a quill, scribbling out a response before I folded it and put it in an envelope. I reached into my bottom desk drawer, giving the owl a treat before handing off the letter.

“Thank you. Go home, now.”

The owl flew off into the sky, leaving me with a smile and an even emptier brain.

The date he’d suggested was less than a week out from when he’d sent his letter, and it arrived much sooner than I was expecting. He’d sent another letter soon after mine had arrived, telling me the time and location, and soon enough I was pulling on my shoes in order to leave.

I showed up outside of the café. Surprisingly, another muggle location. I walked inside, being greeted by a hostess.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, um…”

“She’s with me,” Draco said, coming up near the hostess stand.

I smiled at him gratefully, my demeanor obviously edging on discomfort. He led me back to our table, pulling out my seat for me.

“Thank you,” I said, scooting in a little closer. “So, why this place?”

“Easier to make reservations and avoid judgements eating at muggle restaurants. They’re not exactly familiar with the Malfoy name.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Well, it’s nice here.”

“It is. They have great soup.”

I laughed, looking down at the menu.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s just weird. Being here with you, and… talking about soup.”

“We could talk about sandwiches if you’d like.”

I laughed again, finding him doing the same. The afternoon ended up delightfully strange. We finished our food, and found ourselves on a walk around town, chatting about what we’d been doing in the years since we’d last seen one another.

In the final moments, I’d convinced him to visit another bookstore with me the following week.

It started to become a bit of a habit, really. We’d keep finding new places to bring one another to, and, for me, new excuses to keep seeing him. I didn’t necessarily have feelings for him, but I couldn’t deny that I found myself enjoying his company much more than I had as a teenager.

One chilly night in March, I’d come home from dinner with a friend absolutely wiped. I was more than ready to head off to bed after sitting around on my couch for a rerun of an old favorite show.

Though, halfway through the episode, there was a knock on my door. I walked over the front door, wand in hand as I wasn’t expecting any visitors at night. I looked through the peephole, hiding away the wand when I recognized the face outside the door. I opened it right afterwards.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing just outside my door.

My brows raised on instinct as he looked a little inebriated.

“Hi,” I said mindlessly. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down to the floor, shrugging a little. He rubbed at his face before he looked back at me.

“I might’ve been at the pub down the street. I thought about you there,” he swallowed. “Thought it might be nice to see you.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He nodded silently, stepping past me into my apartment. I shut and locked the door, turning to see him looking around the space. He looked back at me after a moment, a confused pout coming across his face as his eyes dropped to my outfit.

“Were you busy?”

I shook my head. “No, I just got home a bit ago.”

“Where’d you go?” he asked, toeing his shoes off to leave them near mine.

“Got dinner with Luna Lovegood.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “She still… Herself?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

“Sorry.”

I helped him take his coat off as he started struggling with the sleeves.

“Luna’s still an absolute sweetheart, as she’s always been,” I mentioned as I draped his jacket on a coat hook.

He wore a sage green sweater under the jacket, and it brought the slightest smile to my face that he still preferred his house colors when he wasn’t decked out in all black. He started wandering into my flat, looking around the living room.

“I like your home,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” I replied with a small laugh. “I’m going to go get you some water. Probably some ibuprofen too. It might help prevent a massive headache tomorrow.”

He nodded, not quite paying attention as he started walking around again. Once I gathered the cup of water and the medicine, I was at a loss. He’d escaped the living room. I walked around, checking the bathroom first, before finding my bedroom lamp on. I stepped into the room, finding him plopped down on my bed. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh fully.

He lifted his head with a quirked brow.

“What?”

“You. Laying there like you’ve just had your very first drink.”

“You’ve got a comfortable bed.”

“I’m aware,” I nodded, kneeling on the mattress next to him. “Come and drink some water, now.”

He sat up with a groan, accepting the ibuprofen and the cup from me. He drank down the water quickly, letting out a sigh as he handed back the empty cup.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping back down.

He was quiet for a few seconds as I set down the empty cup on my nightstand, just staring at the ceiling.

“Is it okay that I came here?”

I furrowed my brow, laying on my back next to him.

“I’m happy you showed up here rather than going and causing trouble someplace else.”

“You’ve always been a good person,” he said with a sigh. “Why were you ever friends with me? I was awful.”

“Seemed like you needed someone good in your life. You were surrounded by some truly terrible people,” I mentioned with a chuckle. “When we ended up seated next to one another in potions and you actually laughed at jokes I made that weren’t at the expense of another person, I realized you might not be totally hopeless.”

He laughed. No— he giggled, covering his face with his hands.

“You know, my other friends hated you,” he said, voice muffled.

I reached over, pulling his hands away from his face. He smiled softly as I did, watching me as he continued talking.

“They all thought I went crazy for being friends with you. Blaise told me I was going to get kicked out of Slytherin if I kept it up, and Parkinson was really upset because she wasn’t the only girl around me anymore.”

“I always thought she had a crush on you.”

He hummed. “Yeah, I think so. It was kind of annoying, to be honest. At first I liked the attention, but it got old very quickly.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know what I always thought?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“I thought for forever that Potter had it bad for you. Up until he started crushing on the Weasley girl, I was convinced.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, looking back at the ceiling. “Either him or Longbottom. They were always around you.”

“Because we were friends,” I said with a laugh. “I still see them sometimes, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I haven’t seen my school friends since, well, everything happened.”

“You’ve seen me, at least.”

He smiled a little.

“That’s true. Nobody else, though. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I think it probably is.”

A silence fell over us for a few moments. I stared at the sheets in between us, brushing my fingers across them.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

“Why would I be cruel?”

He sighed dejectedly. “I deserve it. I was— I’ve done terrible things.”

I sighed softly. “I know what you’ve done, Draco. I was kind of there for much of it.”

A smile tugged at his lips, though he shoved it away just as quickly as it appeared.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know,” he said at last. “You wouldn’t stick around if you did.”

“I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I fell silent again for a minute or so, milling over what to say next in my head. I heard him let out a soft breath, and turned my eyes to watch him. His hair was messier than usual, with his natural waves sneaking their way out of the gelled constraints they were usually stuck in. His skin glowed in the soft lighting of my bedroom, especially now that the constant dark circles he’d worn for the past few years were gradually fading away with time.

He called my name in question. I hummed in response, turning my body to face him, listening as he started speaking again.

“I just,” he sighed, taking a moment. “I wonder if things would’ve been different if I told you back then. Or anyone.”

“It might have changed things a little, but at that point, do you think you would’ve been able to avoid what you had to do?”

He shook his head. “No. It just might have been nice for someone to know.“

“I think you would be too stubborn to tell anyone, though,” I said with half a smile.

He smiled back, looking down at the mattress as he nodded.

“I definitely would’ve been. That’s part of the reason I never told you in the first place.”

I raised a brow. “What was the other part?”

He swallowed, looking at me again.

“I was worried you might put yourself in danger.”

“How?”

He snorted a laugh. “If you think I was stubborn, you have got to know that you were much worse. You probably would’ve tried helping me at the worst possible moment and gotten yourself killed.”

I scoffed. “I’m not that dumb.”

“You could act like it sometimes.”

My eyes widened as he hid a smile.

“Oh, so you do still like to make fun of me, huh?”

“Old habits are hard to beat.”

“You still secretly like dancing?”

His smile fell a bit as he thought it over.

“I haven’t really had a reason to since… Everything.”

Whatever came over me in that moment to drive my actions could possibly be instinct to comfort an old friend. It could’ve been the need to reach out to someone clearly in pain. It could’ve just been that I wanted to touch him. I scooted closer, resting my head on his chest. My hand rested on his stomach, and I felt him sigh softly through it. He didn’t say anything, but I did feel him go a bit rigid.

I lifted my head up when I noticed the stiffness in his body.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first,” I rushed out, “Is this okay?”

His cheeks turned slowly pink as he stared back at me, nodding.

“I, um,” he let out a quick breath, “Yes. I just don’t really ever—“

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. Well, it’s just like a hug.”

He stared back once again, unmoving for a few moments. I furrowed my brow in question as he looked away from my face.

“The only person, um, who ever really hugs me is… mum.”

I watched him quietly, unsure what to say. It had always been evident that he never had a shot at a normal childhood, but I hadn’t considered how much of that normalcy was completely stripped from his life. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quietly. “That’s so humiliating.”

“No, no,” I said, brushing some of his hair from his face before quickly pulling away. “Not at all. That isn’t your fault.”

“If I wasn’t such a horrible child…”

“It may have helped to make real friends, but you were raised in an echo chamber of hatred. For the longest time you didn’t know how to be anything but mean. Clearly, if your own father didn’t even hug you as a child.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding slowly.

“Plus,” I added, “things are so different now. I saw you starting to change a little back then. I wasn’t the only one to notice either, you should’ve seen my friends’ faces when you smiled at me in passing on the way to classes the first time. Since then, things have changed tenfold. Why not lean into that?”

He nodded again, giving me the faintest smile imaginable. I settled back against his chest, finally feeling his arms carefully wrapping around me. They just barely rested over top of me, not dissimilar to how an adult would try to hug a toddler. I let one arm stretch across his torso, holding him tightly, and, eventually, he held me just as tight.

I opened my eyes to sun-washed sheets, and a breathing pillow under my head. I tilted my head up, seeing him still absolutely passed out. His breathing came soft and steady, and he looked utterly at peace. I only looked away from his sleeping form when he started stirring. He let out a soft little groan, his arms tightening around me slightly. Only after he gave a sigh did I have the nerve to look back at his face.

“Good morning,” I said.

He smiled softly. “Morning. M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” I looked down at our clothes. “Just a bit unfortunate we fell asleep in these clothes. Not the most comfortable.”

He laughed. “Yes. Maybe next time it would be better not to be wearing trousers. I think I’d personally prefer some flannel pajamas.”

“I’m partial to sleep shorts.”

He let out another small laugh, as did I. His cheeks were tinged pink as he looked back at me, though I can’t say I didn’t feel the heat rising in my face as well.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly. “Surprisingly fine. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“Any time, Malfoy.”

I reluctantly pulled myself out of his arms, sitting up in the bed. I stretched out my arms above my head, then turned to him once again to announce I’d be back in a moment. I found myself doing my usual bathroom duties in a kind of haze. There was a smile stuck to my face that I couldn’t quite get rid of. I chose not to look into it too much, especially as I reentered the bedroom to find him rubbing at his sleep-ridden eyes.

“There’s an extra toothbrush I left in the bathroom for you. It should be the yellow one next to mine,” I mentioned.

He gave me a small smile, nodding his head.

“Thanks.”

I hummed in response. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Tea and toast sound okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, standing up.

I merely raised a brow at him as he drew closer. He silently conceded, following me out of the bedroom in order for each of us to get to what we needed to. I filled the kettle, put the bread in the toaster, and somehow managed to spill my entire cup of water all over the floor after setting out the mugs. I grumbled to myself, getting down with a towel to clean up my mess.

“Clumsy one, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh as he found me crouched down on the floor.

I looked up to where he stood near the sink, feigning annoyance at his cheery state. I stood up, crossing over to wring the towel out.

“Wait,” he exclaimed, though too late.

I stepped forward, not seeing the bit of spilled water I hadn’t cleaned up. I slipped and, in an attempt not to tumble to the floor, grabbed onto his arms. He laughed at me as I regained my balance, earning him a furrowed brow and a hidden smile of my own.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“It was funny,” he defended. “You should’ve seen your face.”

I squeezed his forearms briefly before beginning to drop my hands. Though, the way his face dropped as I did so kept me from completely breaking contact.

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m— It’s fine.”

I quirked a brow, unbelieving.

“I’m not buying that. What’s wrong?���

He looked down, his eyes quickly darting to where my hand was placed on his left arm. I took in a breath.

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Do you… It’s still there, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I firmed my hold on his arms again, gently rubbing my thumbs against the fabric of his sweater.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I’ve never thought about the fact you’d always have to hide it.”

He breathed out slowly, shakily, still looking down.

“Is there any way to rid yourself of it?” I asked after a beat.

“No,” he shook his head. “There are some charms I can use temporarily to hide it if I need to, but nothing permanent works. It’s forever.”

I nodded, looking back at his face until he met my eye. He cleared his throat, pulling his arms from out of my grasp.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“I’m used to it. I haven’t forgotten your little attitude every time you spotted me with Harry or one of the others.”

I reached down to grab the towel I had dropped.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I couldn’t help it. You were so likable, and they were just...”

“My friends. So watch it, Malfoy,” I scolded with a smirk.

“Right,” he nodded, fighting a smile himself. “Everyone has their flaws.”

I scoffed out a laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of my hand. He laughed, leaning against the counter.

“Right then, you can pour your own tea,” I noted as I wrung out the towel.

“You’ll still get the toast though?”

I furrowed my brow as I tossed the towel down, turning to him.

“Only because you don’t know where I keep the plates or else you’d be on your own.”

He gave me a knowing smirk, taking the kettle just before it began whistling to fill both of our mugs. I took down the plates, setting the toast on each of them before getting the butter and jam set out. We set to work, side by side, on preparing our breakfast. It felt oddly normally as we went about our business, putting everything away before we sat at the kitchen table.

We found ourselves laughing over nothing in particular before we knew it, and, eventually, it was dark outside once again. The surprise on his face told me all that I needed to know as he looked out the window and declared that he should probably be going on his way. I walked him to the door, watching as he gathered his things again, and as he apparated away.

Our owls were sent back and forth over the next few weeks, and though we saw each other frequently, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander on the days we didn’t have much communication. Frankly, it wandered a great deal even when we were together. Usually to his eyes. The way he’d look at me when we’d stop talking. Or the way he’d smile when we did some silly activity together. Or his laugh when I’d make a stupid jokes. Or his hands.

May came quickly, and with it came warmer weather. It was nice to have my windows open whenever it wasn’t raining, and it was absolutely wonderful to have lakeside picnics or nighttime strolls through the nearby park as the month bled into June. Those little outdoor escapades started to become a habit. A way of being out in the world together with nobody else around.

Not that alone time was necessarily important to us. It certainly didn’t make my cheeks flush with heat every time we sat completely by ourselves on a picnic blanket with favorite snacks of mine that he’d somehow remembered and brought along when he showed up at my door. I most definitely hadn’t made a habit to lie to myself about the entire ordeal.

“Walk?” he asked after we’d finished playing a game of wizard chess.

I nodded. “Of course. It’s a gorgeous night, we may as well enjoy it, right?”

He smiled, standing and taking my hands to help me off the ground near my coffee table. We pulled on our shoes, and headed out. It was warm, and the most gentle breeze went through the new leaves on the trees as we passed them. He made silly conversation with me as we kept on, so much so that we’d lost track of the time. I could only tell it had been a while when my legs started growing a bit tired.

We sat on a bench nearby after our walk through the park, relishing in the warm night air of the summertime.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” I commented.

He hummed in agreement.

“It does,” he said, suddenly putting on a small smile. “That’s one benefit to me staying out all hours of the night with you.”

I laughed. “Oh dear. You may just have to stay over again. How horrible. It’s not like you can apparate home at any moment.”

“This is your fault, you know? You just have to live so far away,” he said in feigned annoyance, ignoring the last sentence I’d spoken. “Maybe I should just make friends elsewhere.”

“Yet, you still accept every time I suggest some kind of activity for us to do rather than finding new friends. Why’s that?”

“You’re… Different,” he whispered, like it was some miraculous secret.

“How?”

He sighed softly. “People back home, what I grew up with— It’s nothing like this. Everyone is cold. They all care so much about the wrong things.”

“You think I care about the right things?”

He smiled softly. “You care about me. That’s enough.”

“Who would’ve guessed Malfoy would become such a softie,” I mentioned with a smirk. “Oh, how things change.”

“Some things don’t,” he said with a shrug. “You still somehow choose to be my friend.”

“All that childhood bullying and teenage depression captivated me.”

He furrowed his brows, an unbelieving laugh passing his lips. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking around at the park as it was washed in moonlight. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, and I willingly opened my palm to him. He slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Look up,” he said quietly, and I obliged. He pointed up at the stars in the clear sky. “There’s a constellation there. Just between the… It’s right by ursa major, the plough constellation.”

“Mhm,” I hummed along.

“Right along here,” he traced a line of stars in my vision. “Do you know what that constellation is called?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Draco. It was called that because it kind of resembles a dragon. I don’t know for sure if my parents named me because of the constellation, but I like to think so.”

I smiled, glancing at him rather than the stars. He looked at peace as he stared up into the sky, his thumb gently rubbing against my hand. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye after a minute, at which point I looked back into the night. The stars really were beautiful that night. They looked brighter than normal, and the constellation patters I did recognize were easy to spot. Now, there was a new one I wouldn’t soon forget.

I heard him sigh next to me after a few minutes, and turned my head slightly to find he was already looking at me. This time, neither of us looked away.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Unsure of what to say in that moment, and wanting to do more than offer a smile, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He let out another soft breath, dropping his head against mine. I brought our connected hands up, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his.

“When was the last time you were in Hogsmeade?” I asked quietly.

He gave a soft chuckle to that.

We walked down the street the next day in the afternoon, everything looking quite different now that the weather was quite warm.

“It’s strange not being here in the wintertime,” I noted.

He nodded. “It is. I haven’t been in years.”

We walked up to a familiar building, and I reached out to him. I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the pub. We were offered a seat, but not before receiving several stares.

“You might not want to be holding my hand in front of everyone here,” Draco leaned in to whisper.

“I’m not terribly worried about being seen with you, you know?” I whispered back in reply. “Anyone who knows me is already aware that we used to be friends.”

We sat at the table, placed our orders, and were left alone once again. He let out a breath, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Seriously, don’t worry about all of them,” I said, leaning on the table. “Half of everyone in here were secretly on the wrong side anyways. They just fly under the radar because they don’t come from a powerful family.”

“Still. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t. Besides, I’m used to people judging me for being around you.”

He deadpanned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“My point is that I don’t care about being seen with you. Okay?”

He swallowed, sighing softly.

“You make it terribly difficult to try and protect you.”

“Probably because I don’t need to be protected. Stop worrying about me so much,” I stated with a laugh.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, a small smirk on his face.

Our drinks were brought to the table, along with some assorted appetizers.

“Just don’t tell your parents that we’re friends this time,” I joked, hoping that wouldn’t strike a chord.

He snorted. “I already have.”

I straightened in surprise, looking at him with curious eyes. He glanced at me, a partial smile on his face when he saw my shock.

“And you’re still allowed to live with them?”

“It’s been a long time since they’ve tried to make decisions for me like that. After practically forcing me to become a, uh—“

“Yep.”

He nodded, thankful he didn’t have to say it.

“After that happened, my father laid off. Mother still worries for me, but she knows now that at least I’m safe. That’s all that’s ever really mattered to her.”

“They still hate me, though?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a curt nod.

I smiled to myself, sipping at my drink. He shook his head.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m sorry to say, but I don’t really feel too terrible that they don’t like me.”

“I know,” he said.

I looked back up to see a small smile on his face as well.

“Also, most of that smile is because I haven’t had a butterbeer in a terribly long time.”

Two months flew by after our visit to Hogsmeade. Though, it was filled with almost daily visits with one another. Usually, he’d just show up and keep me company as I wrote. Sometimes, he’d even give input when I asked for it, or let me read him chapters to see how it sounded. His sleepovers even became more frequent, and part of me had to wonder what on earth anyone would think of it if they knew.

I’d told my friends bits and pieces of what had been taking up so much of my time over the last eight months, but not quite the whole story. Luckily, they hadn’t been too angry with me for it. Most of them were rather indifferent, especially after I’d told them about how he’d changed. I never expected them to forgive him, though. I wouldn’t believe how different things had become if I hadn’t seen how he’d changed for myself.

But he truly did. And it was incredible.

During the breaks I’d take from writing, he was usually excited to tell me about the muggle books he’d been reading. Sometimes out of surprise at the content, and sometimes just because he appreciated the writing.

The icing on top was being with him and running into Ron and Hermione. The looks on their faces when he was gentle and kind in their interaction was absolutely priceless. She’d written me days later to ask if I’d found his long-lost twin, not quite believing that he was capable of being anything but who he used to be. But, as I’d repeatedly told Draco himself: it’s not only possible for people to change for the good, it’s probable for those who care to.

So, our days passed comfortably. He only became more kind and, frankly, affectionate, as time went on.

It was on a beautiful August evening when he knocked on my door, our plans already set in place.

I tugged the door open at the sound and took him in, my brows raised slightly. He was in a white button-down and a black sweater vest. There was a messenger back slung across his chest, one hand with a silver ring adorning it held the strap. His cheeks were slightly pink from the weather outside, and he practically glowed. For lack of a better word, he just looked pretty.

He furrowed his brow, looking back at me.

“Everything alright?”

I nodded fast. “Yeah. You just look really nice today.”

“Oh,” he replied, cheeks suddenly flushed. “You also look nice. I like your blouse.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought something,” he said, giving me a shy smile.

“Okay,” I said curiously. “Are you going to at least take off your shoes?”

He shook his head. “No. In fact, you should probably put yours on.”

I furrowed my brow, though I listened anyways. I started pulling on my shoes.

“I thought we were going to have dinner here first, and then go to the cinema.”

“Change of plans,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” I laughed, still unsure.

He pulled a small object out of the bag he carried, unfolding the cloth around it to reveal a small stone statue. I quirked a brow, looking down at the little object.

“What’s this?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“On the count of three, reach out to it and hold on.”

“Draco, is this a portkey?”

“One…”

“Is this one even legal?”

“Two…”

“You’re insane.”

“Three.”

We both held onto the small statue, and in an instant we were in some alleyway. I took in a sudden breath, feeling out of sorts from the transport.

“Where did you get that?”

“My family has had it forever,” he said, wrapping it back up and tucking it into his bag.

“Where are we?”

He smiled at me, taking my hand. I followed him along blindly, until he lead me into a building. I looked around at the tall ceilings and the beautiful chandelier that hung in the middle.

“Wow,” I said, mostly to myself.

He walked us up to the front desk, greeting the clerk in French. My eyes widened as they continued a conversation, ending only when he took a key from her. He then began leading me towards the elevator, still not loosening his grip on my hand.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

He smirked as he pressed the elevator button.

“I brought a few things with in my bag, but I didn’t bring any clothes. I thought we could get whatever else we needed here.”

I quirked a brow as we stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the right floor.

“How long were you planning on staying?” I asked with a laugh.

“Just tonight and daytime tomorrow. We could stay longer if you want to?”

“No, that’s plenty,” I replied, a smile stuck to my face. “This is crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Practically clinically insane.”

He laughed, pulling me out into the hall. He walked us down the hallway, opening the right door when we arrived, and letting me walk in ahead of him. The room was huge. It had a beautiful sitting area, and judging by the height of the curtains, I was sure the windows would be gorgeous. He called me over as he entered the bedroom through large double doors, and I took it all in. He dropped his bag and flopped down onto the huge mattress.

“Whoa,” I said finally, shaking my head. “I don’t know what else to say.”

I fell down next to him on the bed, smiling over at him when he turned his head to me.

“You like it?”

“This is too much, Draco. Really,” I began. “But, it’s amazing.”

“I have one more thing to show you before we get dinner.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“You’ve seen the eiffel tower before?”

I shook my head. “Only in pictures.”

He stood quickly, and I sat, watching him circle the bed. He grabbed the tall curtains, pulling them apart with force. I stilled before scrambling to my feet and meeting him at the window. I looked out the practically-floor-to-ceiling windows to see the tower glittering against the night sky. I sighed, absolutely wonderstruck.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One thing I’m sure the muggles got right.”

I laughed, unbelieving, turning to throw my arms around his middle. He held me against him, resting his head on top of mine as we looked out the window again.

“We’ll have all night to stare out the window if you’d like to, but I don’t think the restaurant we’re eating at will wait as long.”

I looked at him, a smile still stuck to my face. He smiled back, just as gently, tucking some hair behind my ear. I felt my heart beat a little faster then, especially as he didn’t look away from me this time. Usually at this point, one of us would have come up with some clever distraction from whatever tension laid between us. It was silent, but not uncomfortable. There was almost a whisper of ‘tell the truth’ floating there, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to open my mouth to speak. He moved forward the slightest bit, though before anything could happen, he did speak.

“We really should go,” he said as a whisper. “Our reservation is in five minutes, and I’d feel horrible if we missed it.”

He gave a boyish smile, one that I couldn’t help but to return, even if I’d secretly hoped for a different outcome. I nodded silently, accepting his hand again once we walked to the door. We apparated near a relatively quiet street, stepping out onto the sidewalk in order to integrate into the other pedestrians. We walked into a small restaurant hidden through a wall. I hadn’t expected him to take me to a wizards-only restaurant, but especially not one that had me forcefully closing my jaw after it had involuntarily dropped.

“Dray, this is incredible, but it might be a little above my pay grade,” I mentioned, leaning in a bit to speak quietly.

He hummed. “That’s why instead of splitting the bill how you like, I’m just going to pay for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Just let me be nice,” he said, turning the tables to scold me for once.

“Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”

“You look beautiful. Quit worrying.”

I attempted to drop my hand from his as he spoke with the hostess, though his grip only tightened a bit. I felt my cheeks flush a little when he flashed me a knowing smirk and the raise of a brow. We started walking back into the restaurant behind the waitress after a moment.

I spoke quietly as we went, “What, are you trying to romance me now, Malfoy?”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe I am. Are you opposed?”

I hid a smile. “No.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from me.

Dinner was beautiful, and wildly delicious. It definitely helped that I wasn’t terribly worried about the bill. I also can’t say I hated the idea of his family’s money going towards the meal of a wizard who was against practically everything they stood for. It felt like a small victory. Though, it was a bit strange to be surrounded by wizards who weren’t preoccupied with staring at us.

We stepped out of the restaurant, and rather than zipping someplace else, he was determined to walk to our next destination. He held my hand in his like he was afraid he’d lose me if he didn’t, swinging our arms along without a care.

“You seem happy,” I commented.

“I am,” he affirmed, bumping into me slightly. “I’m with you, for one. Plus, we haven’t received a single sideways glance from anyone around here. It’s nice that you’re the only person who knows me.”

I smiled to myself at that, letting him start swinging our arms again. He grinned over at me as we walked past crowds of people that grew increasingly larger. We probably looked ridiculous, but I certainly didn’t care. Not when I’d never seen him happier.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” I said.

“Go on, then.”

“Why did you bring me to Paris?”

He glanced at me again, eyes a little wider. I raised one brow in question. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember, but we were in some class. I don’t know which one, I think it was in second or third year,” he shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Oh,” I said, drawing his attention away.

We both looked up, suddenly seeing the peak of the tower come over a building. He made a decision to table my question, instead opting to tug me along as he started running ahead. We bolted forward, avoiding tons of people as we came up on the glittering structure, out of breath from both the run and the laughter at how silly we’d become over a hunk of metal. We walked the rest of the way until we were close enough to really look up at it. I held onto his arm with my free hand, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Wow.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.”

We stood quietly for a few moments, just to take it all in. The only thing I could really hear was the beat of my own heart and indecipherable conversation being had by the other people nearby. I finally looked back at him, and somehow he was still more gorgeous than everything else I’d seen that night.

He looked at me, a glimmer in his eye as that same old sweet smile showed on his face.

“So, what was the rest of that story?” I asked.

“Ah,” he said with a curt nod. “Well, in that class, someone had asked about portkeys. But before the professor had started to explain it, they called on you to pick anywhere in the world you’d like to go. I guess to demonstrate that a portkey could be enchanted in order to get to that place. You said you’d want to go to Paris and see the Eiffel tower.”

“You remembered that?”

He merely nodded. I tilted my head.

“How did you possibly keep that in mind after all this time?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve… I just remember when it comes to you.”

“That’s crazy,” I laughed. “I don’t understand how you could remember something that happened in a class almost ten years ago. We weren’t even friends then.”

“Well, I,” he began, eyes going starry and somehow prettier than they’d ever been, “I suppose I’ve always loved you.”

I fell completely quiet, about one billion thoughts speeding through my head. Only one rose above the others: I love you. But I still wasn’t saying it. Why wasn’t I saying it? Why wasn’t I saying anything at all?

“Sorry, that was too much to—”

I interrupted what would surely be a lively rambling session from him, and threw myself at him, our lips finally connecting for the first time. As soon as the shock wore off for him, he kissed me back. His lips were soft and careful against mine, his arms wrapping around my middle to pull me in closer, and my hands pressed against his chest. I smiled into the kiss, leaving a few lingering pecks against his lips before we broke apart.

I looked at him, taking in everything that I could about that moment. I sighed.

“You’re so pretty,” I said softly.

That definitely wasn’t what I meant to say.

He laughed. “Yeah?”

“Sorry,” I groaned with a laugh of my own, leaning my forehead against his chest.

He lifted my face with one hand under my chin, pressing one more soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you, is what I meant to say,” I noted.

“I knew this trip was a good idea.”

“So this was the plan from the start, hm?”

He smirked. “Not the plan. Just a hope.”

We went back the hotel room, thought not without my genius idea to grab a cheap bottle of wine first.

It felt more fitting than champagne given that we’d spend the rest of the night staring out of the window and laying lazy kisses on one another.

We found ourselves back at my flat a week later, almost as if nothing had changed. But really, everything had changed. Completely and totally.

We sat on my couch, our tea cold from sitting without any attention on the coffee table in front of us. He talked to me about nothing for hours, and there’s nothing else I’d wanted to be doing than wasting away the day with him. It had quickly become my favorite activity.

“You know,” he started, “inviting me over for tea that day after I’d made quite the reputation for myself was probably a stupid idea.”

“But?” I prodded.

“But,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before continuing, “I am utterly thankful you did.”

“Aww. My pretty boy,” I cooed, earning a groan from him.

“You can’t keep calling me that.”

He grabbed my hand as I reached to pinch at his cheeks, kissing my knuckles softly.

“Yes, I can. You secretly love it.”

He blushed. “I love you. There’s a difference.”

I sighed, cuddling into his side. “Does this mean you’re going to take me home and introduce me to your parents as your girlfriend, now?”

“I’m pretty certain I’ll have to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m going to inherit the manor one day.”

“And?” I questioned, laughing.

He kissed me again, speaking quietly against my lips.

“You won’t be my girlfriend forever,” he said with a smirk. “Gotta make sure you’ll like the place.”

[cheezbites]

Dating Soap

✎: I know this is quite short compared to my other ones, but I'm falling asleep as I write. :(ENJOY!!! (Bf!Soap x F!Reader)

♡Summary: Headcanons of dating Soap <3

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Bf!Soap was sharing headphones with you on a rainy day, and a sudden thought crossed your mind:

“Wait, I need to show you a song, ‘kinda reminds me of you.” You muttered, reaching for your phone before playing it.

Your head on his shoulder as it played, completely clueless as to how grand your gesture was to him. To you, it was just a song that reminded you of him each time you listened. But to Soap, this was his newest prized possession. Ever since that day, he listened to it incessantly. Either if he was running errands, driving, or humming the melody when he was stressed.

Bf!Soap’s greatest quality was his striking mohawk; (duh) and he protected it with his life. He undoubtedly deemed it his greatest responsibility. He also trusted you with his life, so every now and then he let you trim split ends or unkept strands. (He would've never let anyone else do this in a million years, Simon being the only exception).

Bf!Soap enjoyed the lengthy philosophical conversations you’d randomly have, going from discussing your favourite animals to how the universe began and if there really is a greater power. And although he can be goofy and silly at times that man is genuinely smart.

Bf!Soap perpetually teased you the moment he discovered you couldn't read a clock:

“What time is it, bonnie?” he asked, his eyes glued to the TV playing a football match.

You had no access to a digital clock as your phone was dead, so your gaze instinctively shot to the wall clock.

“It’s, um... something something... PM,”

And the moment he came to terms with his newfound discovery, he laughed so hard he got excruciatingly painful cramps and started seeing stars.

“Ugh, I just couldn’t be bothered to learn when I was younger. We have technology and stuff now!” you proclaimed, defensively crossing your arms.

“Oh my word,” he mumbled while clutching his stomach, still wheezing out a few dry chuckles.

From that mildly humiliating experience, he taught you how to read one instead of continuously laughing at you.

"So, bonnie," he began, "You see the big hand, right? That's the minute hand. ‘Tells you how many minutes have passed."

You nodded, feeling a bit sheepish but willing to learn.

"And the wee hand - that's the hour hand."

You watched the hands move, slowly beginning to grasp the concept. "Okay, I think I'm getting it.”

Soap could sense the lingering doubt in your tone. He leaned in closer, his warm brown eyes locked onto yours. "You sure, love?"

“No - of course I do!”

…

You hesitated, then sighed.

"Okay, maybe not entirely."

"Let's break it down again. Remember, big hand is minutes, wee hand is hours."

He patiently explained it once more, a softness visible in his tone. He took the time to answer your questions and clarify any confusion.

As you finally began to grasp the art of reading a clock, he rewarded you with a proud smile. "See, you've got it now, haven't ya?" he laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

(Clock reading is too simple for someone to not understand, obviously. BUT just imagine soap explaining something complicated to you until you understand - like being so patient, not mansplaining in the slightest. Like ooouuhh🏃🏽‍♀️)

Bf!Soap was thoroughly amused as he watched you go to town on uninvited moths around the house. You grasped a nearby kitchen towel and started ruthlessly thwacking it. Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to deal with the spiders and insects - as you thoroughly enjoyed making them suffer a harsh and unnecessarily truculent death. Maybe it was a bit much, sure. But who asked them to be here, anyway?

Bf!Soap telling you about his dreams alongside your guys’s morning caffeine refreshments was your entertainment for the morning. His dreams almost always included you and were oddly specific and vague, yet so realistic all at the same time.

“So, babe,” he'd start, settling down on the couch next to you “last night's adventure was a doozy…”

“I’m intrigued.” You sipped your coffee and mentally prepared yourself for the most diabolical tale you’ll ever hear.

“I was in a Jaffa Cake factory, right,” he clicked his tongue before continuing, making an effort to recall all the details “and you were there, too, of course. We were both wearing tangerine suits, whilst Price was throwing potatoes at us, telling us to get back to work and whatnot - no joke.”

Bf!Soap has occasional cooking contests with you. You pick random ingredients, and each of you have to create a dish using those ingredients. Both of you fail oh so miserably- you’ve nearly burnt down your house numerous times. Maybe you guys should stick to Tesco meal deals and Deliveroo.😔

A/N: Sorry if I yibber-yabber too much in my writing… I just love going into detail.🤞

Price version

Ghost version

König version

Gaz version

Masterlist