#platonic in a week by hozier...?

[foxglovewritesstuff]

lay here for years or for hours // bedrock bros oneshot

Read on AO3 Warnings: none Words: 2.7k Summary:

Techno raised an eyebrow. “The library is closed. Time to go, kid.”

The boy furiously rubbed his eyes before sluggishly packing up his books. Techno had the strange desire to pat his head. Instead, he walked back through the shelves to the front counter to finish.

“Um.” The kid’s tentative voice broke the spell of silence. He fidgeted when Techno’s eyes landed on him. “Is it okay if I check out one last book before I go?”

or

Techno works at the college library and finds a boy asleep at the back when it's closing. He become more attached than he'd anticipated.

Technoblade stared at the blond boy sleeping in the back of the college library.

Should he wake the kid? Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, after all, the library was closing for the day and obviously no one could stay the night.

Techno frowned. He didn’t want to wake him. But then what was he to do? With a sigh, he reached over to jostle the kid’s shoulder.

Nothing.

Then the kid slowly lifted his head, which had been tucked into his arms on the desk. “Wh- huh?”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “The library is closed. Time to go, kid.”

The boy furiously rubbed his eyes before sluggishly packing up his books. Techno had the strange desire to pat his head. Instead, he walked back through the shelves to the front counter to finish.

“Um.” The kid’s tentative voice broke the spell of silence. He fidgeted when Techno’s eyes landed on him. “Is it okay if I check out one last book before I go?”

“Yeah, sure, kid.” Techno wasn’t sure why he said yes. The library was closed. But he figured it would only take an extra thirty seconds, and the kid seemed like he needed it. It wasn’t like the boy was being rude, he was just tired.

The blond-haired boy brought forward a book. Embossed across the cover was A History of Veterinary Science.

It made sense. The kid seemed like an animal lover somehow.

Techno scanned the book under the boy’s account, the beep the only sound in the library. Tommy, read the name on the account. Techno slid the book over and the kid- Tommy- looked up at him gratefully.

“Thanks, big man,” he said through a yawn, with half closed eyes.

Techno nodded and Tommy shuffled his way out of the library. He looked back once, and Techno caught his blue eyes. Tommy blinked and hurried away.

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

Techno placed the last of the returns from the morning back onto the shelves.

A lot of the students were on lunch break, and the library had that low hum of soft conversations. Sunlight flowed into the high-ceilinged room from the windows on the far side where he’d found the sleeping boy last night.

As Techno returned to the counter, he heard the doors push open. He looked up from the computer to see- Tommy?

The boy looked incredibly more energized than the night before, grinning brightly. “Ayy, big man!”

“Hello,” Techno said gruffly, wary of his energy but also interested.

“Do you just hang out in the library all day or something?” Tommy asked.

“I work here. Different shifts, yesterday was the closing one.”

“Don’t you go to this school? Do you not have classes?” He emphasized the word with a distaste. “What major are you anyway?”

“English.”

“Nerd,” Tommy snickered. “No wonder you work at the library. Books and shit.” He shook his head.

“Coming from the kid that asked me to sign him out another book after the library was closed and he was asleep for who knows how long,” Techno responded. A frown flitted over Tommy’s features, as if he was worried Techno was angry, but then it was gone.

“Respect the grind, library man!”

“Don’t call me library man.”

“What should I call you then? What’s your name?”

“Technoblade. My friends call me Techno, though.” Techno both disliked how energetic the kid was and envied it.

“My name’s Tommy,” the boy told him.

“I know,” Techno replied easily. Tommy raised an eyebrow and Techno nodded at the computer. “Signed you out a book, saw your account, didn’t I?”

“Do you remember all the names of the people who sign out books?” Tommy tried to hide his sheepishness.

“Only if I find them drooling all over their notes after the library’s closed.”

“Wha- hey! I was not drooling.”

“Do you remember all the things that happen while you’re asleep?” Techno shot his own words back at him. “And don’t you have something to do here?”

The kid rolled his eyes. “Yeah, off to study!” He stared at Techno with wide, unblinking eyes while he hoisted his bag over his shoulder and backed into the shelves.

Techno half sighed half laughed, shaking his head and going back to typing on the clicky keyboard. Around an hour later, Tommy walked out the door with a furious wave.

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

The day after that, Tommy made another appearance, teased Techno, and settled down to study. And the day after that, and the one after that as well. It became a little routine, and Techno found himself looking forward to the bright laughter and break from books and shit, as Tommy had said.

“Hey, mate, made a friend?” Phil, his boss and the library director, spoke from behind him as Techno shelved returns. He startled internally.

“No hello?” Techno asked sarcastically.

“I’m glad, you two seem to have fun. The kid looks bright. It can be nice to have a study buddy.” Phil gave him an awkward fatherly wink before leaving Techno to continue shelving books.

When the library was nearly empty and Niki was around to help, Techno studied with Tommy. The first time, he pulled up a chair to the desk at the back and opened his laptop.

Tommy glanced over at him with surprise.

Techno shrugged. “I got an essay to write.” He thought he heard a soft “nerd” as Tommy went back to his work.

The next day, Tommy showed up in the morning, popping out of nowhere while Techno was shelving returns in the empty library. He always seemed to be shelving returns when people wanted to talk to him.

Somehow Tommy always managed to catch Techno’s shift; it was unusually early today.

“Ayy, Techno, my friend!” he greeted. As usual, Techno had to take a mental step back at the kid’s energy, eyeing him through his pink hair, which was loose for once. Nonetheless, he found himself enjoying his time with Tommy.

“Don’t you have classes soon?”

“Shut up, I thought I’d drop by to help you with your books and shit,” Tommy replied aggressively. “How do I know where these go?” He picked up a book.

Techno leaned over his shoulder. “Look at these numbers, see? Main number for main classes, decimals for more specific categorization. Just match them to the numbers on the shelves. This pile here though,” he patted the books, “is all to go on the shelf in the aisle over there. I sorted them beforehand.”

“Okay!” Tommy nodded enthusiastically and grabbed the pile. He disappeared to where Techno had shown, and there were a few shuffling noises. Techno smiled to himself and shook his head fondly in the privacy of the aisle.

Tommy helped shelve the rest of the returns. Once Techno taught him the system, he figured it out easily. Phil was right, the kid was bright.

Tommy picked up another book and broke into raucous laughter and wheezing. “Look! Look at his face!” He thrust the book in Techno’s face.

Techno had to snicker at the overly-serious man’s face displayed on the cover.

“He looks so fucking pretentious!” Tommy said through laughter. “Suppose you’d understand, being an English major and all- hey!” he shrieked when Techno took the book and hit him gently over the head with it.

“Shh, you’re in a library, Tommy, children must be quiet-”

“I am not a child! And there’s no one here!”

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

Techno had just finished checking out a group’s stack of books on the slow computer, watching the clock tick towards the end of his shift.

Tommy hadn’t shown up.

He’d come by every single shift Techno had had ever since Techno discovered him asleep that night, even the unusually timed ones.

He tried not to think about it, to busy himself with answering questions and putting things on hold and checking on overdue books- but worry began to creep in more every minute closer to ending. His eyes darted to the door expectantly more and more frequently as the time passed.

What if Tommy was hurt? What if he was sick?

He could handle himself, Techno was sure. Logically. Nothing had happened, maybe Tommy was just busy, or forgot or something.

Techno felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright, mate?” Phil asked. “Shift ended a couple of minutes ago, and you got a lecture to run to.”

“Yeah, I better go.” Techno started to leave. “Uh- will you keep an eye out for Tommy?”

“Of course,” Phil said. “I’ll let you know if he comes by.”

“Thanks.” Techno swallowed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to care for the kid until he was gone.

The next day, Techno anxiously returned for his shift. There’d been a quick change by Phil, but he hoped Tommy would appear magically at his shift as usual. He’d decided if Tommy didn’t show up today, he would ask for his dorm to check on him.

He settled down in the chair behind the desk. The computer sat in front of him, still on from when Niki had left it only a minute prior. Niki was calming as well, more like a sister than the parental way Phil was. She had a fire in her, something Techno could relate to, though she wasn’t outwardly intimidating like he tended to be.

His shift passed smoothly, except for the low thrum of worry in Techno’s body. Tommy didn’t appear. The only mildly interesting thing that had happened was some guy wandering in, staring in confusion at the books, then loudly scoffing in offense and running out the door, slapping the top of the frame as he went.

Oh, and some kid asked him if he had any books on nukes. Nuclear engineers.

No Tommy.

Techno picked himself up, hearing Phil’s footsteps coming from the little office behind the desk.

“Didn’t show today either?” Phil asked.

“Nope. Think I’ll ask the front office if they know his dorm or something.”

“Good luck, mate, I’ll keep an eye out,” Phil told him. “My guess is that he got a cold. He’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

Techno grabbed his bag and pushed through the doors of the library. The foyer the entrance was in was nearly empty. He turned the corner into the corridor and nearly bumped into someone. On instinct, his hands shot out to steady the smaller frame.

Tommy looked up at him.

Relief washed over Techno; Tommy was unhurt and safe-looking, energetic as always.

“Techno! You’re done?” he asked in surprise.

“Yup, shift just ended. Where’ve you been?” Techno asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. He wasn’t concerned, when had he been concerned?

“I overslept yesterday, and then there was a shift change at the café, and then-”

“Whoa, whoa- slow down, it’s alright,” Techno said.

“Worried about me?” Tommy asked with a grin, his slightly worried air disappearing.

“Oh hush, child, who knows what trouble you could get into,” Techno quipped.

Tommy squawked. “I’m very responsible, I’ll have you know! Actually, I have something for you,” he added. Techno noticed that Tommy’s hand was behind his back.

Tommy pulled it out with a flourish, presenting a chocolate chip muffin. “Ta-da! From Puffy’s café, I just grabbed it at the end of my shift!” he said happily.

“Thanks,” Techno muttered, a little taken aback at Tommy’s outward sweetness. Who knew gremlin children had a kind streak.

He took it from Tommy’s hand, who was still smiling cheerfully, and took a bit.

Amazing.

“Is it good?” Tommy asked. Then he shook his head. “Of course it’s good. It’s one of BadBoyHalo’s, makes the best muffins, honestly they’re a staple at Puffy’s, I hope you like it-”

“It’s great, thank you Tommy,” Techno responded after chewing and swallowing, giving him a pat on the head.

“I was gonna study with you, but I missed your shift…” Tommy mumbled.

Techno frowned. “We can still study together, c’mon,” he said, leading Tommy down the hallway.

When they reached Techno’s dorm all the way in residence, Tommy gasped as the door was pushed open.

He eyed the bookshelves and bedspread and messy desk as Techno spread out his papers. “Is that The Art of War? You really are a nerd.”

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

Techno was utterly immersed in Wikipedia, every hyperlink bringing him deeper. Ancient civilizations were a little too interesting. And this library computer was horribly slow.

The sun was setting, visible through the large windows at the back of the library. Techno always loved those windows, nearly floor to ceiling. They let the library be illuminated entirely by natural light on most days. He could stare at the clouds or the sun or the stars while in a room full of knowledge. He understood why Tommy liked the desks back there.

“Whatcha up to?” he heard Tommy’s voice ask. He looked up to see the boy leaning over the desk.

“Library stuff,” Techno replied wisely. “Don’t you have studyin’ to do?”

“Yeah, yeah, remind me about fucking schoolwork,” Tommy said with distaste, wrinkling his nose. He gave a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. “I suppose I must. Have fun working.”

Tommy backed into the shelves, never breaking eye contact with Techno. Then he was gone.

Techno snorted. The kid definitely made things less bland.

“I’m so glad I started giving him the schedules,” Phil said a while later, stepping out of the office.

“Oh,” Techno said simply. “That makes sense.”

“What can I say, the kid was dedicated enough to ask for them and come to nearly every single one of your shifts.”

“I should probably tell him we don’t have to hang out where he knows I can’t get away from him,” Techno muttered. “Though it’s nice to have the helping hand.”

Phil smiled and lifted his hand to ruffle Techno’s hair. Then he thought better of it, seeing the perfect neat plait it was in.

“Don’t push it,” Techno grunted. They both knew it was fond.

When the stars were visible and the library empty, Techno locked the office door and shut down the computer. He enjoyed the closing shift; the night sky was beautiful through the windows, the library had a soft warm glow from the lights, and there was pretty much no one he ever had to tell to leave, except for the occasional harried students trying to finish an assignment due that night.

Or who’d fallen asleep, Techno thought.

He’d walked through the library to check for anyone left, and spotted a familiar figure at a familiar corner at the back.

Tommy had his head in his arms, on his notes and textbooks, his laptop also long asleep.

Technoblade stared at the blond boy sleeping in the back of the college library.

Tommy’s chest rose and fell slowly, his eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Should he wake him? No, he couldn’t bring himself to pull him out of his resting, peaceful state.

Techno quietly pulled Tommy’s notes out from under him, closing his books and putting them in his bag, which he hoisted onto his shoulders.

Then he carefully lifted the sleeping boy, holding him close to his chest.

Tommy exhaled a puff of air, and Techno froze.

He was still asleep.

As smoothly as possible, Techno made his way to his dorm. It was far, but Tommy was easy to carry. It was mostly their bags that caused him some trouble.

Finally, Techno dropped the bags outside his door, unlocked it, and kicked it open. He slid the bags in with his foot and closed it behind him.

Techno pulled back the covers on his neatly made bed, delicately depositing Tommy on his mattress.

Techno tucked him in.

He studied his work for a moment, pride and protectiveness washing over him. Then he sat himself at his desk to study, an ear out of his headphones to listen to Tommy’s slow breaths.

Tommy was so energetic and loud that Techno had nearly forgotten his sleep-induced vulnerability and peace. He’d seen it once before, but he had a new appreciation for it now that he knew Tommy. He had seen Tommy’s sleepy state before his active one, and he was glad he got to experience both.

Tommy could get the rest he needed. He could lay here for years or for hours, and Techno would always make sure he was safe.

[aveline-shepard]

ALSO I need you all to know that my aunt heard me affectionately talking about someone and later when my cousin drove her home, was like "I didn't know she was gay!" And, like, kudos to my aunt who was 100% cool with that (though surprised) and did not make a big deal about it in the moment, but I later had to inform her that my bestie and I are unfortunately not a couple because she is tragically heterosexual. I mean, with that said though, she is right and I AM gay.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

[michwritesstuff]

She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

 Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

 You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

[roseghoul26]

Part 2: ...It Will Come Back

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Cuddling, Nightmares, Morbid Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Mentions Of Throwing Up, Angst, Angst With Comfort, Smut, Virign!Reader, First Time, Bit Of A Pain Kink, Okay Major Pain Kink, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking (male receiving)(?), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Feelings Realization Author's Note: y’all know that one scene where he puts the cigar out on his hand? cannot stop thinking about it someone sedate me also this chapter does have a pretty grotesque nightmare scene so head up (just bloody and violent, body horror is the best way to describe it even though it’s not that accurate). Taglist: @kemi707 @moonixlity @chexrybloss0m @foreverwing223 Part 1 ❉ Part 2

It had been two weeks since that night.

He’d been over three times since then, and currently stood outside your door, waiting for a fourth. He would’ve been over more, if he had the time, and didn’t want to seem too eager, even though every nerve in his body itched to be in your presence. 

It was strange. He thought his infatuation with you would die after the novelty wore off, but it was just as strong as the first day, and even more so. Like a sickness, it had taken its hold on his body, his brain, his heart, but he needed no cure. And he found he wasn’t going through the motions of life anymore, just passing the day by until something big happened. You were the big thing; he had something to look forward to now.

Most nights were the same with you. You’d serve dinner, usually leftovers from earlier in the week, but it was still the best food he’d eaten in a while. And Logan would find some way to repay you, usually by getting you to tell him about a maintenance project you’d been “forgetting” to do. You’d given up on trying to tell him it was unnecessary, only providing an amused shake of your head. 

The nights ended with the two of you sitting on the couch, chatting like you had the first time, but nothing more. The conversations varied widely, but never once again had either of you brought up his mutation. At this point, he was almost scared to tell you about them. It wasn’t entirely his fault that it hadn’t been brought up, but he certainly was withholding information that you deserved to know. 

He’d gotten braver in a different way, or “grew a pair”, as Wade had said, letting his fingers graze against your hand, resting his hand on the small of your back as he navigated around your apartment. And, to his immense relief, you liked it, a small shiver and one of those small smiles pulling at your lips. It was the only way he knew that you wanted something deeper than a platonic relationship. 

But that was the extent of anything physical happening. That desire, that hunger, still ravaged his body, yet he made no move to relieve it. The familiarity and comfort of the “routine” the two of you had created was like a safety blanket; as long as he stayed beneath its protection, didn’t step over the proverbial line in the sand, he wouldn’t lose you. He could make himself be fine with these brief touches if that meant you were still here with him, and he’d go at your pace for as long as it took.

But now he stood outside your door, much like a stray scratched at someone’s door once they’d offered them food. Kindness. Safety. He knocked before he thought too much about it. It echoed throughout the hallway, and he shifted on his feet as he waited.

He heard some commotion from the other side, your familiar voice making him smile. He’d found he’d been smiling more, and he liked to think it was because of these late-night meetings. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he rather enjoyed not having a constant scowl etched on his features, no furrow between his brows. 

The door opened after a few seconds of waiting, your face a bright beacon that dazzled him still. Like clockwork, that familiar twist in his gut appeared, a fluttering feeling that either made him feel ill or weightless. 

You smiled at him, just like you always did; he would do anything to keep you reacting to him like that. “Hi, Logan,” you spoke normally, but you might as well have been purring his ear, the way he had to fight back a shiver. Taking a step back, you wordlessly let him into your apartment, a place that was now starting to become familiar to him, or at least part of it; what he’d give to become as acquainted with the other rooms.

The night went on as normal, eating and chatting a second nature now, a familiar dance. You’d talk, he’d respond. He’d make a joke, you’d laugh. He’d let his fingers drag over your hand, your face would duck down, a sharp inhale from you that he could only hear because of his enhancements. A back-and-forth; he just didn’t know how much longer he could go before he broke.

“Is there anythin’ you need from me, sweetheart?” I’d give you my heart if you just asked.

“Not tonight, no.” You laughed at his incredulous look. “I swear! But…”

“But?” 

“There has been this movie I’ve been wanting to watch.” You still had a bit of laughter in your voice, yet there was now an air of uncertainty to it. 

He didn’t even have to know what movie you wanted to watch. The possibility of having you close to him was the only thing that was important to him. He was getting ahead of himself; the most that had happened was those light brushes and touches. But now could be the moment to change that, he supposed. 

“I guess,” he grumbled, shooting you a playful smirk to let you know that he wasn’t opposed. Far from it. 

He hated the small flicker of relief that flashed in your eyes. Like he could ever say “no” to you. Standing, you quickly made your way to the couch, Logan following closely behind, sitting in his usual spot against the armrest. And you would’ve sat in your spot, if it wasn’t for the feline currently occupying it, sleeping without a care in the world. 

He watched as your eyes flicked from your spot to the unoccupied one in the center next to Logan, and then finally to him. You were uncertain, but beneath that, he could see the longing in your eyes. “I won’t bite,” he found himself saying without much thought, gesturing to the unopened spot, a teasing grin on his face, “unless you want me to.” It was cheesy, yes, but effective. 

That was something he’d started doing, over the past few weeks. Teasing you. No longer accidental innuendo, his words were intentional, and set on getting you as flustered as possible. It reminded him of back when he was younger, cocky and self-assured, unabashedly flirtatious. It’d been a while since he’d flexed those muscles, but they worked just as easily as they had in the past. The roll of your eyes was forced, the grin you tried to bite back telling you all that he needed to know. 

He could feel the heat from your body when you sat next to him, barely an inch between you two. Maybe he was being over-confident, but he rested his arm across your shoulder, truly feeling like a teenager on a first date at a movie theatre. And when you tensed for a second, he worried he’d crossed a line. But when you melted into his embrace, something like a relieved sigh escaping you, any hesitations left his mind. 

You were resting against his chest now, the TV screen painting the room in an unnatural glow, images flashing across the screen out of his periphery. You were saying something, too, but he couldn’t make it out, too caught up in the haze he was in at your proximity. The smell of you, God, he could get drunk off of it. And maybe he already was, with the way his head spun, unable to focus on anything but you. 

“Does that sound good?”

Shit, you’d been talking to him about the movie. He found himself nodding in agreement, and if you suspected that he hadn’t been listening, you did a good job of hiding it. You just settled back against his chest, your legs stretched out, but placed in a way to avoid Maize. 

He never thought he’d be so thankful for a fucking cat. 

The movie started, but Logan only caught glimpses of it. Some kind of action/drama, he wasn’t quite sure. How could he pay attention to the movie, when there was a far better sight lying on his chest, smiling and enjoying the movie? And when that smile broadened as he let his hand move up and down your arm, the movie was an afterthought, background noise at this point.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, time insignificant to him, when he felt your body go lax, something fluttering in his heart when he realized you’d fallen asleep on him. The pure trust you had in him, that hit like a punch to the stomach, nearly making him recoil. You… you shouldn’t place this much trust in him. You’d shoved something fragile, delicate into his hands, hands that could only drop and destroy such things. 

He should wake you, get you as far away from him as possible.

But he watched as your face furrowed in your sleep, affection and something else hitting him so strongly that he was grateful he was already sitting down. Prying the remote from your hands proved an easy task, and tried to not linger on just how soft your fingers were. Shutting off the TV, he somehow was able to get himself off the couch without waking you, completely unaware of the turmoil wracking his brain. 

Picking you up bridal style, he was glad he knew where your room was so that he wasn’t blundering around like a fool. It took some effort, only because his eyes kept landing on your face rather than the space around him, but he eventually made his way to your room, laying you on the bed gently. Wrapping the blankets around your body, he debated pressing a kiss to your temple but thought against it. He was just about to leave when he heard your voice call out, laden with sleep, nearly inaudible. 

“Stay?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But it was like you’d put a spell on him, your soft plea impossible to deny. And the way you were looking at him now, sleepy eyes so full of genuine longing for him; he found he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no, no matter how much he should’ve.

With a soft sigh, he relented, slipping beneath the blankets on the other side of your bed. As uncomfortable as it was to sleep in jeans, he refused to undress, not wanting you to wake up and see him bare, and with no clue of what transpired. He’s slept in far worse, anyway. And with the sheer presence of you surrounding him, he doubted it would be hard for him to sleep, anyway. 

He expected you to keep your distance but was proven wrong when he felt your chest press against his, having turned to face him. He didn’t get to look at you for long before you buried your head beneath his chin, arms and legs wrapping around his body, effectively trapping him. Not that he’d want to be anywhere else.

He heard you doze off again, muttering something completely indistinguishable. Finally giving into the earlier temptation, he let his lips brush the top of your head, inhaling deeply, praying that he wouldn’t wake up to your regretful face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There was blood. 

Too much blood. 

It coated everything as far as the eye could see, a scarlet paint that glistened in the moonlight. When he looked down at his hand, they seemed to be the source of it, as familiar as an old friend. His claws were out, no sliver of the metal visible. 

Glancing around, the ground shifted; what was once a flat, crimson landscape was now covered in mounds, at least fifteen feet high. Mounds of bodies. He tried to take a step, but his ankle stepped on something soft, malleable. 

Looking down, the ground beneath his feet was no longer, well, ground. Countless bodies now littered the floor, their faces twisted in horror and pain, eternally sketched onto their features. And their faces weren’t unknown to him, either, a sense of dread washing over him as with each body he saw, their faces were immediately recognizable. Xavier. Scott. Jean. Wade. Too many faces to name. 

They were all looking at him now, faces that were once twisted in pain now in anger. Betrayal. The blood on his hands now made sense, the various slashes and holes that he now saw across their bodies now painting a bloody picture. 

He heard footsteps behind him, fast footsteps, completely unaffected by the difficult terrain. He was almost like a feral animal, the way he spun with a snarl, claws ready at his side. It was like he was moving on instinct, but there was a voice in his mind, his voice, praying for all this to stop. He just ignored it, drowning it out with the slow, methodical beat of his heart. 

Boom. 

Boom. 

BOOM.

His heartbeat morphed into a canon fire, making his ears ring, as he watched a shadowed figure run towards him. They ran, yet they seemed to glide over the grotesque terrain, completely unaffected. It was as if they were made of smoke; he swore he could see through their form. 

The shadowed figure didn’t stop, not even as Logan braced himself for an attack, crouching down low. It was when the intruder got within a few feet of him that he sprung, claws plunging right into the belly of the stranger.

He expected his hands to go right through. 

Instead, they connected with something solid, something warm. Flesh. His lips were pulled into a snarl as he watched his blades sink in, which turned into a look of horror when he watched the shadow fall from their body. 

Your body. 

He could hear the air leave your body upon impact, unimaginable pain in your eyes as you stared into his. He screamed at himself to remove his claws, and he, thankfully, listened. It was like he’d been caught in a bloodlust, and he’d just now snapped out of it. 

He caught you before your body hit the ground. The ground, which was back to normal, but all he could focus on was you. The way your blood now coated his hands as it pooled out of your stomach, out between your lips. Desperately, futilely, he pressed down on your stomach, the cry of pain you let out making tears spring to his eyes. 

“Fuck… fuck…” Blood pooled between his fingers. Too much blood. Your eyes, always filled with light and joy, were starting to dim. And then the anguish he felt when he saw fear flashed through them, using your last remaining strength to push away from him, wrapping your weakening hands around his wrists. “I-I… I didn’t mean…”

It was too late. Too late for explanations, for apologies. The damage had been done; there was nothing he could say or do that could change that. He could feel the way your hands began to slacken, growing weaker by the second, your eyes fluttering close. “No, no, sweetheart,” he pressed down harder as if that could fix it, “Keeps those eyes on me. Please.”

He could barely recognize his own voice.

But you listened, your eyes opening once more. But he almost preferred if you closed them, that way he didn’t have to see the pain, the fear, the betrayal. All because of him.

He couldn’t help the pained cry that tore from his throat. And to think he thought he could have someone like you in his life and not have it end any other way. 

Your lips were moving, now, but he couldn’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was just one word, on repeat, and despite his best efforts, he could feel himself getting entranced by the way your lips moved, the horrific scene around him becoming blurry. 

Then he realized you were saying his name. 

Logan. 

Logan.

“Logan!”

It was like someone flipped a switch, your voice now hitting his ears, completely audible now. And you were no longer in his arms, but rather leaning above him, a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. When you saw his eyes, you pulled back, barely in time to avoid getting toppled over by the force he sat up at. 

His breathing came in heavy pants, his heartbeat the complete opposite of the one in his dream. Nightmare. It had all been a fucking nightmare, the relief unimaginable as he took in his surroundings. It was no longer the bloody landscape, but a room. Your room.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him. At least once a week, he’d wake with a start, claws ready to swipe at an unseen enemy, drenched in a cold sweat. He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in your bed. He was supposed to be strong, relied upon by you. God, he should’ve known better. 

He forced himself to look over to the other side of the bed, still expecting to see your wounded body. How grateful he was that you were sitting upright, kneeling beside him on the bed, worry making your brow furrow as your eyes scanned over him. Your eyes, which were no longer filled with distrust and pain, but of genuine concern.

“You… I…” He couldn’t get a sentence out, his body forcing oxygen in and out of his body at such a rapid pace.

“Breathe, Logan,” your voice was firm, but far from uncaring. “You’re alright. Just take a deep breath for me.”

It was like his body was wired to follow your orders, a shaky yet longer inhale finally gracing his lungs. You nodded your approval, yet no less worried. He hated that he was the cause of it. “Now out. Slowly.”

It took a few more deep breaths by your instruction until he didn’t feel like he was suffocating, yet his heart had yet to slow down. “Are you alright?” Was the first thing he said when he could talk, his voice surprisingly hoarse. 

Confusion flashed across your face, which quickly turned into surprised understanding. You didn’t respond, not right away. Instead, you let your fingers brush his wrist, a silent question, not sure if he wanted to be touched yet. When he nodded once, you wrapped your hand around it, but instead of pulling him away, you tugged him towards you, resting his hand against your chest. 

“I’m alright,” you finally spoke, your voice gentle. He could feel it beneath his fingers, and then the beat of your heart. It was constant. Strong. You were alright. 

“You’re bleeding.”

He barely heard you, entranced by the rhythm of your heart, feeling as his own heart slowed to match yours. You’re alright, he repeated in his head. He could barely feel the familiar sting between his fingers. 

“Logan, your hands. They’re bleeding.”

It was the urgency in your voice that finally snapped him out of the trance, finally focusing on the hand that rested on your chest. To his horror, you were right, the space between his knuckles was now splotched with congealed blood. It was nothing to the scene he’d created in his mind, but for a moment, he saw his hands once again covered in your blood, and he swore he was going to be sick.

Bolting from the bed, he stumbled over his own feet as he practically ran to the kitchen, not even waiting for the water to warm before he scrubbed his hands. 

And scrubbed.

He scrubbed until his hands stung, then faded as his powers kicked in. He didn’t hear you as you approached, calling his name out softly. But not patronizingly. He almost wanted you to be, so that he didn’t have to know how deeply you cared about him during his weakest. He didn’t want you to see him like this. 

A warm presence made itself known beside him, yet not touching. He saw as you turned off the water, a towel in your other hand. You held out an open hand, and it took a few seconds of hesitating before he was resting one of his hands in yours. 

You were so gentle as you dried his hands. Hands that had inflicted unimaginable pain unto you, you were now regarded as delicate objects, a small frown on your face as you worked. 

Nightmare, he reminded himself. It was just a nightmare. 

“Just a nightmare,” you echoed, making him realize that he’d spoken aloud. 

He watched as you dried his other hand, the act doing more to calm his pounding heart than he thought. Beneath the whirlwind of emotions that whipped around his mind, there was a warm sensation, one that started in the chest, and blossomed out across his buzzing nerves, calming them. 

The world wasn’t spinning anymore; you were there to ground him. 

“Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

Your eyes roamed over his body, and he could feel the concern radiating from you. He shook his head. He knew exactly what had caused the blood; he just didn’t know if you’d seen it. 

His response just made your brows furrow deeper, looking almost like him. “Then how…” he heard you mutter to yourself, only picking it up because of his enhancements. “You’re being honest?” Your confusion was understandable, seeing blood between his knuckles with no explanation, no wound remaining as evidence. It was just there. 

“I swear.”

You sighed lightly, your worry not letting up. Tossing the towel to the counter beside you, he expected you to drop his hand but was pleasantly surprised when you wove your fingers through his instead. If only you knew the images that still haunted his mind. 

“Do you remember when you asked me if I was more than just a construction worker?” He wasn’t quite sure why he decided now was the time to tell you. Maybe he knew you deserved an answer. Or maybe he knew he didn’t have to bear this weight alone any longer. Either way, it was too late for him to back out, your head tilting in confusion. 

“And then how I said you weren’t wrong.”

“Logan, you don’t gotta-”

“Please.” His voice was still so hoarse. “If I don’t tell you now, then I never fucking will.”

“Alright.” It was quieter than a whisper. 

“How much do you know about Wade? About his… abilities?”

“I know he can’t die,” you responded. “Grows back limbs, survives the impossible. Are… are you the same?”

“Essentially the same,” he muttered, not wanting to get into the finer details. 

If anything, you just looked more confused now. He didn’t have to read your mind to know what you were thinking. What does this have to do with anything?

“And… there’s a bit more to it.”

As much as he didn’t want to pull away from your hold, he did, holding it close to his chest. As far away as he could from you. 

He felt the familiar sting as he let his claws extend; what once used to hurt was background noise. As the adamantium blades stood in all their glory, a ring of red grew where they appeared from the skin. 

Your answer to where the blood came from.

As quickly as they appeared, they were gone, rescinding back into his skin with a soft metallic noise. And, like always, the skin began to close not even a second later, with no evidence of his claws existing besides the small patches of blood. 

He hadn’t looked at you once during this time, not wanting to see the fear, the disgust he knew he was going to see. But he forced himself to meet your eye; he wasn’t sure if he liked that your expression barely changed. You were silent, and he couldn’t stand and wait for you to respond; he was too fucking scared.

He turned back toward the sink, washing his hands for what felt like the millionth time that night. When he reached for the towel, however, he found that it was gone, nearly jumping when he felt you grasp his hand again. 

It was almost pathetic, the shaky exhale he let out when he felt you begin to dry his hands, just as gently as you had before. Acceptance. There was no disgust or fear on your face; he was foolish for thinking that you would hold that kind of reaction. He felt like he could breathe again, free of the weight that had plagued him for so long. 

Even when his hands were dry, you didn’t let go, bringing one of his hands closer to your face. You met his eye, then, your free hand hovered above, a silent question in the act. He nodded, still partially convinced it was all some trick. 

He shivered when he felt your fingers drag across his knuckles, then down, following the prominent tendons and veins in his hand. “They’re in here?” He swore you nearly sounded in awe. Just like always, there was no other intention in your questions except for sheer curiosity. 

“Yes.” His voice was shaky once again, this time because of the way you trailed your fingers across his hand, nearly reverent in your motions. 

They stilled for a second. “Do they hurt you?” There was a genuine worry to your tone; it made his heart ache. That warm feeling was like a goddamn inferno now, ready to consume him.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Another few moments passed of you simply touching him, the most you’d ever done. It made his head spin, for a good reason this time. “Were…” your voice was hesitant, cautious, “were you afraid that I was going to, well, be afraid? Is that why you didn’t tell me earlier?”

You’d just read him like a fucking book. “Why aren’t you afraid?” To any other person, those words would be a threat, one that would send them running. But he nearly sounded incredulous, suspended in disbelief. 

“You’ve given me no reason to be.”

The pure honesty in your voice nearly forced him to believe you. Nearly. “You… you don’t know the things I’ve done, sweetheart. The people I’ve hurt. Betrayed. Let down. People I know. People I care about. People I love. They’ve got reason to be fucking afraid. And you should be, too.”

He was trying to push you away. You both knew it. He just couldn’t bear the idea of his nightmares becoming reality. This was for your own good, for your wellbeing. You needed to get as far away from him as you could. 

“But I’m not.” You punctuated every word, drilling it into his brain. Your fingers now grasped his hand, squeezing it tight. “There are many things I feel when I look at you, Longan. Fear has never been one of them.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that. I could hurt you, just like in my dreams-”

“Dreams, darling. Just dreams. Nasty, horrible dreams, but dreams nonetheless.” He could feel your thumb rubbing circles into his hand. He wondered if you could feel the way his heart spiked at the endearment, body melting under the warmth of your affections. 

He could feel the pillars of his argument crumble away into nothingness, the barriers he’d forced up falling with every word from your lips, every gentle stroke of your hand. You were marching straight towards his heart, his scared, wounded heart, but your arms were open wide, free of any weapon. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” It was one last-ditch attempt, but he knew it was unconvincing the moment the words left him.

“You won’t, Logan.”

He could make himself believe you. For now. 

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stood there, you never once letting go of his hand. The urge to reach out, to gather you in his arms, tugged at him like a siren’s call, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop there. Affection thrummed so strongly in his heart, that it nearly knocked him off his feet, body burning alive. It was a welcome sensation. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya earlier.”

You shook your head at that. “You don’t gotta apologize. I understand why you didn’t say anything, but I hope you’ll be more honest in the future. I wanna help you, and I… I want you to trust me. To let me in. To be a part of your life.”

It took a few moments for him to register what exactly you were saying, and for the first time since he woke, a smile found itself tugging at his lips. Not a smirk, not a grin. A genuine fucking smile; he doubted he’d recognize himself in the mirror. 

He let his free hand sneak behind your body, resting on the small of your back. A sharp inhale left you when he tugged you close, but he could see the excitement in your widened eyes. Nervous, yes, but excited. 

He dropped your hand, but he didn’t go without feeling your skin for long. He let his hand hold the side of your face; he doesn’t think he’s ever concentrated this hard on being gentle. It still stunned him, just how beautiful you were, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes. He was scared of dimming them, but damn if he wasn’t gonna try and keep them blazing bright. 

“Can I be honest right now?”

He felt you nod, your eyes dancing across his face. The tense and despair-ridden atmosphere from earlier had dissipated, a charged and heated one taking its place. That hunger, that desire, which he’d worked so hard to reign in, was breaking free of its confines; he didn’t think he’d have to hold out much longer, though. 

“I’d really like to fuckin’ kiss you.”

Even with the way his hand cradled your face, the way he pressed you in close, you nearly seemed surprised. He watched as you swallowed nervously, teeth pulling gently at your bottom lip. How he craved it to be his teeth, dragging and nipping at your skin. You just needed to give him the go-ahead. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Your voice was airy when you spoke, nodding in tandem with your words. “Alright.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, the only proof of the fucking elation he felt. He’d no longer have to imagine what your lips would feel like, taste like. Leaning down, he heard the slight intake in your breath, the proximity making you just as dizzy as it was making him. 

His lips were millimeters away, anticipation heavy in the air. He felt like he should say something, words on the tip of his tongue, but his ability to speak them was lost. It didn’t matter; he was never good with his words anyway. His actions were what talked. 

So he closed the distance, the press of your lips sending electricity coursing through his body. His imagination didn’t even begin to it justice; he’d failed to capture the warmth. You were soft and warm and alive. A pleased hum left him, passing through his body into yours, making you shiver in his hold.

He kept the kiss short, wanting nothing more than to devour you, but he was going to take this slow, do it right. You deserved that, and so much more. Your eyes were hooded when he looked, a new hunger in them that he’d never seen before. Or maybe it had always existed, and he just refused to believe it was real. That you were real. That this was real. If he woke up from a dream right now, his disappointment would be immeasurable, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

He still held you, thumb rubbing your cheek affectionately, and you practically melted into the touch. “Logan.” your voice was hushed, already sounding wrecked, and the pure want he felt radiate from it was enough to make him stifle a groan.

“You want more, sweetheart?” 

He could feel the grip on his control falter when you nodded, a desperation in your actions that made him think you’d wanted him just as long as he had you. A question for later, then. “Only if you’re up for it.”

So much for keeping it slow.

He’d nearly forgotten the reason why the two of you were standing in your kitchen. Your words had done much to comfort him, your actions even more so, and even though there were still inklings of doubt and fear still lingering in his mind, they were easy to ignore right now. You were safe. You were alive. And for some fucking reason, you trusted him wholly. 

“I’ve been up for it since I saw ya, pretty thing struggling to get their door open.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He hated how disbelieving you sounded. 

Titling your head back gently, he let his nose bump against yours, his lips just ghosting over yours. You watched with hitched breath, eyes struggling to stay open. There were so many things he could say, should say. Words like gorgeous and stunning bounced around his head, but he was so close to kissing you again that all verbal functions in his brain ceased to exist again. “Very, very pretty,” was all he could say, before he once again descended on your lips.

The first kiss had been nearly chaste, gentle. A testing of the waters. 

This kiss was anything but that, an overwhelming neediness from both sides. He kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, lips eagerly moving against yours, fingers tightening where he held you like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

He could feel you hesitate, right at the start, but it didn’t take long until you were reciprocating, hands now resting on his chest. Your movements were uncertain, yet your eagerness more than made up for your lack of finesse. It made him feel desired, wanted, a heady sensation. 

But it made him realize just how much more experience he had compared to you. Reservations once again flashed in his mind: you were young, this was wrong, you deserved someone your own age. But with how sweetly you were kissing him, he found himself losing grip on those thoughts, until they fell to the wayside, completely forgotten.

The hands on his chest tightened into fists when he let his tongue drag against your bottom lip, a light tease. The hand on your back moved forward, over your ribs, to where it began to toy beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing the velvety skin of your stomach. With every graze of his nails, every brush of his fingers, you shivered, tensed, and hitched your breathing. He felt like he was playing an instrument, pulling those sounds and reactions from you like he’d just strummed his fingers over the string of a guitar.

“You’re so fuckin’ responsive,” he muttered to himself between kisses. “It’s been a bit since you’ve been touched like this, hasn’t it?” Just like it has been for him. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with a kind hand, at least before he met you.

You froze, pulling away slightly, looking like a deer in the headlights. He called out your name, a question, wracking his memory as to what put you off. Of course, I fucked it up. 

“I…” you trailed off, embarrassment flickering across your face. “No one’s ever…” you trailed off again, but he didn’t need you to complete your sentence.

He’d be a liar if he said the green monster inside of him wasn’t absolutely thrilled at the fact that no one had ever had you like this. Wanting. Needing. Lips swollen and parted for him. Your hesitancy over the past weeks made sense now; it wasn’t a lack of wanting, not like he feared. He couldn’t help the grin that fell across his face, a carnal need to show you all that you’ve been missing, all that you deserved, taking over his mind. 

Another realization made itself known in his heart; he was sure if it ached anymore, it would never work properly again. You weren’t lying when you said you trusted him.

“That was your first kiss?” Well, kisses, but he wasn’t focused on logistics right now. 

He could feel your cheek warming beneath his palm. “Logan…” you whined, shy. 

It made him chuckle, a low, gravelly sound. “No one’s ever touched you?” His fingers once again brushed beneath your shirt, your muscles instinctually jumping. 

Your silence was the only response he needed. 

He let himself lean in, past your lips, letting them graze across your cheek. They rested outside the shell of your ear, the temptation to pull at with his teeth a near insurmountable one. “No one’s ever fucked you?”

That made you gasp. Whether it was his crude words or how he spoke lowly into your ear, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you now had a death grip on his shirt, shaking your head in response to his question. 

He tsked, pulling back, a teasing look on his face. “And I thought we were bein’ honest with each other, sweetheart. How long were ya gonna wait to tell me?”

The look you shot him made him laugh, incredulous through the haze of lust. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s… it’s not the same as-”

“Oh, but it is. Closely guarded secret, weren’t gonna say nothin’ until I asked. Exactly the same.” The hand holding your face finally shifted down, down your neck, your shoulders, ghosting over your ribs until it settled on your hip. “Want me to change that?” He intended for the words to sound cocky, assured, yet they came out sounding desperate. Craving. 

Your chuckle died in your throat, turning it into a softer, needier noise. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who closed the distance this time, both of you surging forward, a messy collision of lips. He felt you make a surprised noise when his hands trailed down your thighs, and in one easy motion lifted you into his arms, your legs instantly locking around his waist. Not once did his lips escape yours, not even as he set you on the kitchen table, the wood groaning in warning. If he wasn’t so fucking eager for you, he would’ve taken you to the bed. He’d get there tonight. Eventually. 

Fingers once again found the side of your face, this time tilting your head back to expose the tantalizing expanse of your neck. He abandoned your lips in favor of it, immediately kissing and sucking at the delicate skin there, slowly moving down. He even let his teeth graze against the column of your throat, but never hard enough to leave a mark. Never to mark. 

Leaving your mouth free meant that he got to hear each delicious pant and noise that escaped you, echoing and engraving themselves in his mind. They drove him wild, even more so when he remembered that he was the cause of them. And no one else had ever had the pleasure of hearing them. The fact made his smile against your skin, how having reached the base of your throat, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You leaned back, your arms braced behind you, and the sound of wood creaking once again filled the room. “If the table breaks…” you warned, no real threat in your words.

“You know I’ll fix it for ya,” he chuckled, lifting his face to press his lips against the hollow of your throat, before letting his tongue drag a stripe back up your neck, tasting the salt on your skin. “And then we’ll just have to break it again. And again.”

A whispered, “Oh, God,” fell from your lips. Only me, he would’ve said if talking wasn’t the last thing on his mind. He captured your lips again, tongue pressing into your mouth with zero hesitations, needing to taste you. He could feel your responding groan, one hand abandoning its hold on the table to once again rest against his chest. He expected to feel your hand wander, but it held still, though he could feel the twitch in your fingers as you craved to feel him.

“Touch me,” he broke away momentarily to speak, and he felt your fingers twitch again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me feel those hands.”

He nearly shuddered when you finally moved, running your hand up his chest, up to his neck. Just like always, your touch was gentle, reserved, which was lovely, but he wanted to feel the evidence of his effects on you. He wanted to feel your nails digging into his arms, scratch down his back, tangle your fingers in his hair, and pull. He wanted to feel your teeth sink into his flesh; the mark wouldn’t last long, this he knew, but it would be enough. Just maybe he’d be able to dissolve those hesitancies. 

So he hummed under your delicate exploration with your fingers, letting you get used to him, the way he felt. He felt as your fingers cradled his jaw, scratching at the facial hair there, but not as hard as he would’ve liked. It was certainly a pleasant sensation, though, his eyes threatening to fall close with every scratch of your nails. And when your fingers traveled to his hair, nails running along his scalp, he couldn’t help the small sigh that left him.

He loved the way your eyes lit up at his audible reaction, and he could see you storing that away for later. God, how he hoped there would be a later. You had no idea just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger. If you told him to leave and never come back, he would, but he would live the rest of his life in misery, waiting to hear from you one last time. 

It was you who pulled him into a kiss, one that quickly turned heated. Hands were moving freely now, one of your hands still in his hair, your other wandering across the expanse of his chest and abdomen. His own were toying with the waistband of your pants, pausing to look at you. “May I?”

There were no doubts in your eyes when you nodded, Logan thanking you with another kiss. The first part was the easiest, getting the button undone, as well as the zipper. The second part, which was still easy, just required a bit more maneuvering. He felt as you prepared to lift your hips to assist, but he was already ahead of you, one hand wrapping under your arm, the other gripping the waistband of your jeans. It was no effort at all, to lift you with one arm, and to pull your pants down over your hips. And if your undergarments also came off in that tug, who was he to complain?

You were staring at him with wide eyes, a look he momentarily mistook for distaste. But the darkening of your eyes quickly corrected that statement. You didn’t say anything, just looking at him in amazement, fingers wandering down his muscled arm. But he could feel the way your legs tensed from where he stood between them, an even more ravenous hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed being lifted like you weighed nothing. Just like you had, he stored that info for later. Something to explore later, maybe even later tonight. 

The surprised noise you made when he dropped to his knees nearly made him chuckle if he wasn’t so entranced by the sight in front of him. Your mouth, glistening in the low light, parted as you stared down at him. The heavy rise and fall of your chest beneath your shirt, yet waiting for his next move with bated breath. Your exposed pussy, evidence of your arousal visible, and all for him. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

The grin he had on his face, he knew, was nothing more than arrogant, but he couldn’t help himself. Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, never once breaking eye contact.

He pressed another one, this one a little closer to your center. He was practically fucking salivating, the urge to just start devouring you like a starved man would a full-course dinner. But the desire to make this enjoyable for you helped him curb his hunger. 

The third and final kiss was pressed right at the junction of your hip and thigh, millimeters away from where he ached to be. Where you ached for him to be if the hand that carded into his hair told him anything. Who was he to deny such a simple request?

It only took one pass of his tongue through your folds for him to become addicted. 

The way you tasted, the way your thighs clenched around his head, the soft pant of his name. Fuck, he loved it all. He continued to lap at you, broad swipes that left you keening and wanting more. Your fingers, which had a hold on his hair, pulled tight, and he fucking moaned. 

He saw the alarm in your eyes before you tried to yank your hand away, afraid you’d done something he didn’t like. He caught your wrist before you could, forcing your hand back to where it’d been. You complied, but only slightly, refusing to bend your fingers. “Logan… I-I’ll hurt you,” you whispered, your speech not yet impeded by his tongue. 

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

The only way he knew you heard him was the flash of realization in your eyes, then laughing in disbelief, which sounded more like a harsh exhale, yet still not complying. “C’mon, make it hurt,” his voice was a growl at this point, and he could feel the way your body reacted to his words. You weren’t lying; you did like his voice. “I’m a big boy, I can handle ya.”

Finally, fucking finally, you sunk your fingers into his hair, and you pulled hard, pulling him deeper into you. He could die happy now; at least until he made you come. He turned vicious, like a switch had been flipped, tongue now targeting your clit with precise circular motions, occasionally pressing into your entrance, which earned him a beautiful moan from you. 

He was hardly quiet, either, groaning with every pull and tug, and he knew you could feel it. The confines of his pants were becoming unbearable now, but he didn’t dare tear his hands away from your body to fix it. He doubted he’d have to wait long, anyway, with the way your thighs shook around his head, the way your walls fluttered around his tongue. The only thing you were crying was his name, a song that would be stuck in his head for the rest of time. 

“Logan… I’m-”

“You gonna come, sweetheart?”

You made some noise in agreement, and he felt you tug him close, impossibly close. Fuck, he’d be tasting you for days. And then he felt you begin to rock your hips, back and forth, and you were using his fucking face to get off. The noise he let out at that realization was animalistic, more growl than groan; he felt like he was about to combust. 

“Fuck, just like that… use my face, yeah…” He didn’t cease the movements of his tongue, but he began to help you rock your hips. “Come on my face, c’mon…”

It didn’t take long after that, a loud cry of Logan’s name cut in the air, and he was grateful that he’d kept his eyes trained on you, the sight of your head falling back in pleasure a sight he wouldn’t forget. The muscles in your thighs tensed and quivered, a gush of arousal escaping you, coating his lower face. 

It was when your legs fell boneless beside him that he finally let up, kissing the insides of your thighs one last time before standing back to full height. Your eyes widened when you saw the absolute disarray he knew he was in, hair tufted up more than normal, face slick with your release. But the grin he had on his face made you relax, with a weary smile of your own. But there was still a deep hunger in your eyes; you wanted more, and he’d gladly give it to you. 

He surged in to kiss you, but you stopped him with a hand against his chest, a playful yet semi-serious look in your eye. You didn’t respond verbally, instead gesturing to the towel that had been discarded earlier. 

He raised a brow. Really?

You laughed. “I’m not kissing you until you wipe your face,” you finally spoke, voice wreaked. “Your choice, darling.”

“As long as you call me that again,” he muttered, quickly grabbing the towel and wiping his lower face, a small price to pay, “Then I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do.”

He stood in front of you, you still smiling from his words, hands resting on the side of your neck. He could feel your pulse, still thumping like a fast drum. “Can I kiss you now, Your Highness?”

You paused like you were seriously considering saying anything other than “yes”, but the way you leaned into him said that you’d already made up your mind. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and the small nod you gave him was all he needed before surging forward again, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. 

“Bedroom?” He knew it was a redundant question, but he needed to be certain. 

“You know the way.” Your arms wrapped around his body, legs following suit, you needing him as close as physically possible. It made it simple for him to lift you, only having to slide his hands under your thighs once again. 

The journey to your bedroom, however, was anything but easy. You were constantly distracting him with your lips, having grown more confident in your movements. You strayed past his mouth now, dotting his cheeks with kisses, an innocent way of showing affection made lewd by the rocking of your hips. And when your lips finally landed on his neck, kissing and biting, he swore his arms were about to give out. 

Eventually, after many stops pressing you against the wall and kissing the breath from your lungs, he made it to the bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed. You didn’t stay on your back for even a second, sitting upright as Logan began to tug off his shirt. 

His ego has never been so filled, the way you stared at him when his shirt was finally off. He knew he was a decent-looking guy, having garnered the attention of many people throughout his lifetime. But there was something about the way you regarded him, like he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, that made him want to puff out his chest. 

You only hesitated for a second before letting your hands drift across his chest; it pleased him to see you grow so confident around him in such a short amount of time. He heard you mutter something, too caught up in the sensation of the drag of your fingers to make it out. “What was that?”

“You’re beautiful.” 

Not hot. Not sexy. Not something he’d heard a thousand times. No, you said beautiful. He… he couldn’t think of a time when someone’s called him that and meant it. It made him falter for a second, suddenly feeling vulnerable. But he forced himself to relax; he could be vulnerable with you, at least for a little bit. 

So instead of deflecting your compliment with one of his own, at least not yet, he let the words wash over him, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. It was the gentlest kiss that night, yet so far, it had been his favorite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And just as quickly as it came, his vulnerable demeanor vanished, replaced by the confident aura he’d had all night. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, he murmured against your lips, “Lift your arms.”

When you did, he pulled your shirt from your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor, before letting out a noise that sounded wounded at the sight of you finally bare before him. He saw the instinctual twitch of your muscles as you almost covered yourself, but you kept your hands at your side.

“I think we both know who’s the beautiful one here,” he muttered, watching as you turned your head away, bashful. He would have none of that, now. Tugging your chin, he redirected your gaze to be on him again. “I should’ve said it earlier. Should’ve said it the moment I met ya. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Logan…”

“Do you know how fuckin’ hard it's been, trying to think about anything but you? Fuck, I can’t get you out of my mind. Every. Fuckin’. Minute.” He hadn’t meant for that much to spill out, but he certainly wasn’t complaining when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. The feel of your chest against his made him groan, lips opening against yours, and you used that opportunity to sneak your tongue in. You were getting so bold; it was driving him crazy. 

Pretending like your sudden small display of dominance didn’t make his cock twitch, he eased you back down on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. The only barrier between you two was his jeans, and he could feel you began to rock your hips, grinding directly against his covered cock. But when you pulled your lips away to utter a surprised oh, your confidence faltering as you felt him. 

“I’ll get ya nice and ready for me, gorgeous,” he couldn’t help the slight prideful tone; he was still a man, after all. He let his hands wander down your body, feeling and caressing as he went, making you arch your back in his hands, making a noise that nearly sounded like a laugh. When he reached your hips, you let your legs drop, and although he missed the sensation, what he was about to do would more than make up for it. 

Sneaking a hand between your thighs, he collected your arousal on the tips of his fingers, his middle and ring, to be exact. He felt your hips jump, a bit sensitive still, but the look on your face told him that the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. He debated toying with you for a moment, to see you beg and plead with him to give you the pleasure he was withholding. But when your hips bucked again, he realized you were both equally as impatient.

He kept his eyes locked on your face as he eased his middle finger into you, no matter how badly he wanted to watch it disappear. A range of emotions flashed across your face: shock from the intrusion, to a mild discomfort as he stretched you, then to pleasure. Whenever he saw a flicker of any semblance of pain flash across your beautiful face, he slowed. 

He knew he didn’t have to move as slowly as he did, but something twisted in his stomach at the mere idea of hurting you, even if it was in the name of pleasure. Those images were still too fresh, too raw in his mind. No, he was taking this slow. 

When the palm of his hand ground against your clit, making you gasp. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him; knowing his cock would soon be in place of his fingers made him exhale shakily. “You take my fingers so fuckin’ well,” he praised, beginning to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, with short, shallow thrusts. “Bet you’ll take my cock even better.”

“Please.”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, it was for naught; he’d made up his mind the moment you had asked for more. “In a second,” he reassured, pressing his lips against yours in what was meant to be a short kiss, but then you grabbed the back of his head, keeping him close. He was far from caring, especially when he could feel your moans with every curl of his finger.

Adding a second finger, he pulled away once again to watch your face, looking for any flashes of pain. It was hard to stay focused, especially when your fingers latched around his bicep, nails digging in hard. It took every fiber of control in his body not to just sink his fingers all the way back in, groaning your name, nothing short of pure desire in his tone. 

“Logan, darling-”

He had to muffle you with a kiss, stopping you from doing anything else that would make him do something reckless. His palm once again ground against your clit, giving you a moment to adjust before he was easing them in and out of you. And when he began to pick up the pace, moving his face down to lavish your chest with some much-needed attention, he could feel you slowly begin to fall apart.

“Just like that, yeah, you’re doin’ so well,” he crooned, the grip on his bicep turning deadly. “Fuck, you gonna come again, sweetheart?”

He felt you nod. As if he needed that confirmation. Pulling his head away from your chest, he saw your eyes, completely blacked out, then a flash of white as you bit your lip to stifle your noises. 

If he currently wasn’t using his other arm to keep himself propped up, he would’ve tugged your lip free, to let your noises tumble free. “C’mon, lemme hear ya. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this fuckin’ good.”

Like your body was no longer under your control, you complied, your moans and whines once again filling the air. He heard his name a few times, making him grin; who knew his name could sound so lovely?

It only took a few more curling motions of his fingers before your body seized, your voice dying, the only thing audible was a whine of air. He didn’t cease his movements, riding you through the high of your orgasm. When the pleasure-filled look on your face began to morph, that’s when he eased his fingers out, glistening in the dim light. Your eyes had just landed on his face when he stuck them in his mouth, the corners of his lips pulled into a smirk. 

He heard you mutter something about him trying to kill you, making him laugh as he released his fingers with a pop, the taste of you still lingering. “Gonna make me wipe my mouth again?” He teased, earning him a half-hearted eye-roll from you.

You finally seemed to realize the grip you had on his arm, your apology trailing off when you watched the injury immediately heal, no sign of you lingering. “Like I said, I can handle ya.” Fascination still lingered in your eyes, but not in the exploitative way he’d seen throughout his life, or the fear. When you pulled him into a kiss, he felt like he was something to be treasured, to be loved. He didn’t realize how desperately he craved to feel that way.

But he didn’t let himself linger on that thought long, especially when he felt you once again lock your legs around his waist, rocking your hips. “You are insatiable,” he grumbled, loving just how desperately you wanted him. 

“I need you, Logan,” he felt you whisper in the kiss, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. Feeling your fingers brush over his cock, intentional or not, made him bite back a groan. 

“Need you to let go of me first,” he chuckled, watching you frown momentarily before loosening your legs. 

Not wanting to be apart from you long, he was quick to undo his belt, the zipping of his pants drowning out your hitched breathing. He couldn’t help the relieved noise he made when his cock was finally freed, the rest of his clothing now on the floor after working them down his legs. He could feel your eyes on him, all of him, staring at him like you had when he’d taken his shirt off. 

It was then he realized a small, yet quite crucial part of this whole endeavor that he’d forgotten, not wanting to be presumptuous when he left his apartment earlier. “Sweetheart, you don’t happen to have-”

Like you’d read his fucking mind, you reached over to your nightstand, reaching for a box of condoms. A new, unopened box, he noted to himself, yet a smile crept across his face when you handed him a condom between your trembling fingers. “What?” You laughed.

“Just wonderin’ how long you’ve had that box for. Have you had it for a few months… or did you just buy it?” 

It was becoming clear to him that his second favorite thing to do to you was tease you. The way your eyes widened, then looked away; he was certain if he pressed his hand to your cheeks, they would be burning. “Oh, go away,” you groaned, moving to shove him with your foot, but he caught it, pressing a kiss to your calf before dropping it. 

“‘Fraid it’s a bit too late for that, now,” he muttered as he rolled on the condom. It would be impossible for him to unlearn the touch of your hand, the warmth of your body, your voice, and it would be impossible for him to unlearn the deep-rooted affections that ran so deeply for you. 

“Thankfully.”

He tried not to dwell on the fact that he could hear that same affection in your voice; he would need at least a good day to fully process it, unable to believe it right now. Instead, he let hands trail up your legs, grabbing your thighs and squeezing lightly, considering his option of what to do next. He could have you on your back, legs wrapped around his body like you’d done earlier. Or he could have you on your hands and knees, or on top of him, or-

“How do you want this, sweetheart?”

“I…” you swallowed, nervous. “I wanna be able to see you.”

You were going to be the death of him, if you made his heart skip one more time. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, merely returning to the position he was in moments earlier, and your legs instinctually wrapped around his waist as if they belonged there. And maybe they did, with how right it felt. 

Balancing his weight on one head, he used his free one to run his fingers along your cheek, then leaned in to kiss you. Your hands couldn’t decide where they wanted to rest, until finally tangling one in his hair, and the other holding his shoulder. He could feel your fingers curl when his tip nudged against your entrance, not pressing in yet. 

“Ready?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he felt, holding himself back. 

“Yes,” you responded almost immediately, sounding just as desperate as him. Thank God. 

Even though he’d done well to get you ready for him, there was still a flicker or discomfort across your face when he began to ease himself into you. But it quickly faded, your jaw going slack, and Logan was finally able to focus on just how good you felt. Warm and tight, he let out a choked noise as he continued to press himself into you, inch by inch, until finally, his hips were flush with yours. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and down his next at the exertion that came from holding himself back, but all of that nearly went out the window when he felt your tongue lap at his neck before you sank your teeth into the tendon there. 

It was reflexive, the way his hips bucked; he was the one being played like an instrument, now. “Fuck… you’re a lil’ tease now, ain’t you?” He tried to sound stern but found it hard to do so, coming out as more of a chuckle than anything. 

Your responding smile was anything but innocent, your hips moving in a wordless command. Start moving.

He was more than eager to comply, smashing his lips against yours as he set a moderate pace, prioritizing powerful thrusts over the rapid snapping of his hips. If things worked out the way he liked, he could experiment with that set your body ablaze, to find the perfect way to make your eyes roll back, make you scream his name, make you come undone. 

He felt you tear away from the kiss, head rolling back against the pillows as he thrusted into you, exposing your neck, which was just begging to be kissed. He could feel you squirm as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin, lips and tongue lavishing your neck with attention. “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. “I knew you’d take me so well.”

His name hit his ears, but nothing more, as if it was the only thing you could think to say. Smiling into your skin, he pressed one last kiss to the column of your throat before he lifted his head, wanting to watch you. And what a sight that was, your face twisted in pleasure, something twinkling in your eye before he felt your nails tear down his back.

His hips stuttered, and if he wasn’t partially expecting to feel you dig into his skin, he would’ve finished right then and there, his lips pulling into a semi-snarl. You held too much power over him, but he was far from complaining. “Sweetheart,” he panted, a warning, “this’ll be over far too soon if you keep pulling shit like that.”

“I… I wanna feel you…” 

The pure need in your voice made him groan; he could feel the grip he had on his release faltering. But he needed you to fall apart first, to feel you come apart on his cock. Sneaking a hand between your bodies, he felt your legs begin to shake with the added pleasure on your clit, his fingers quick and incessant. 

“C’mon, you can give me one more, can’t ya?”

He felt you nod without question, before yanking his lips against yours. He was done talking, anyway, too focused on making you come. With every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock, every twist of his fingers, he could feel the way you tightened your grip on him, voice rising in octave, until he once again felt your body stiffen, a mix of his name and a whine tearing from you.

It only took a few more moments before he was tumbling over that edge as well, his hips stilling as he came, muffling his noises in the crook of your neck; they were just for you to hear. After being pent up for so fucking long, the relief was indescribable, white-hot pleasure momentarily stunning him. 

He was quick to recover, easing from you slowly, apologizing when you winced slightly, trying his damnest to ignore the guilt that he felt at you being in pain. He apparently wasn’t good at covering his worry, because you shot him a look, your eyes hooded with exhaustion, yet your lips still held a smile. “It’s a good pain,” you whispered, physically unable to speak any louder. Logan, once again, was partially convinced you could read his mind.

If you read his mind now, though, it would only be thoughts of you, so he didn’t care that much. 

When he began to stand, you furrowed your brow in confusion, a small flicker of worry flashing in your eye. “I’ll be right back,” he reassured, and you visibly relaxed. He shot you a smile before heading into the bathroom. 

After discarding the condom and cleaning himself up, he glanced at himself in the mirror. As expected, there wasn’t a single mark on his body, but he was amused to find that his hair was stuck up in various spots, not just the two tufts in the back. 

He didn’t bother to get dressed before heading to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water before heading back. He saw the light was on in the bathroom, and so he let himself get comfortable on the bed, at least putting on his boxers now, your water now on the nightstand.

He didn’t have to wait long, glancing over and watching a very dishevled looking you sit back down on the bed, flashing his a grateful glance before downing half the water.

“How pissed do you think the neighbors are gonna be?” He heard you ask, making him snort. 

“If they’re smart, they’ll mind their own damn business.”

That made you chuckle, taking one last sip before scooting back into the bed, beneath the covers, and into Logan’s open arms. God, he was so fucking happy, so content, everything that just happened finally sinking in. And maybe he was a little terrified, but if this wasn’t worth it, he didn’t know what was. 

You pulled him from his thoughts when you began to examine his hands, running your fingers across the digits, just like you’d done in the kitchen. You spoke before he could inquire, your voice teasing. “So you are good with your hands.”

He was laughing when he pulled you into a kiss, and he could feel you smiling in turn. That warm feeling still lingered throughout his body, something he had been so convinced was just lust, just desire. But as you laid your head on his chest, he realized it was that, and so much more. 

He wouldn’t put a name on it. Not yet.

But it was no issue. 

He had all the time in the world now. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On the other side of the wall, a very pissed-off Al was sliding Wade a twenty dollar bill, who sat with a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“I told you they’d break tonight!”

Author’s Note: does it surprise anyone that i got carried away with this lmao.

[lskisms]

eat my love, c. berzatto

syn. carmen berzatto is a childhood best friend, your protector in everything. when he leaves for new york, he leaves you behind and in his absence, you realize just how deep your love for him runs. his return to chicago is just what you need.

gen. romance, angst (if you squint).

warnings. none.

word count. 1.8k.

playlist. restless, bibi. love scene, baekhyun. seasons, wave to earth. asleep, the smiths. wasteland baby, hozier.

forget religion, forget deities, forget all of it; you have been a devout follower of carmen berzatto for years. he’s the childhood best friend with just a few years and even more inches on you, the one who protected you in the schoolyard in elementary school, the one who showed up to the movie theater after you’d been stood up in high school, the one who made sure your college mini fridge was stocked all the time with food you only had to eat up in your microwave.

he’s been everything to you, protector and savior all in one go. so while you’re not quite sure when your feelings shifted from platonic to romantic (though it was definitely between his time in new york and his return to chicago), you’re not surprised that they have. maybe it’s the “obscene amount” (richie’s words, not yours) of contemporary romance novels you read, plenty of titles with a friends to lovers arc, that put this in your head and maybe that constantly riled up man has a point, but still, something about it feels inevitable.

when carmy left for new york, you worried about him, more than was probably necessary. it was the first time in your whole life that you’d be away from him and it wasn’t that either of you needed one another to look out, but having grown up with him as a constant presence in your life made it difficult to adjust to life without him. where he used to be a phone call and a trip on the l away, now he was a phone call and a plane ride, too many miles to fathom.

but you waited: waited for him to come home, waited for him to notice you, waited for him to reciprocate. it feels like your entire life all you’ve done is wait for him and you’ve been content with that, even if it is your own personal brand of psychological torment. because you know him like it’s etched into your very genetics, the ability to know him for who he is in a way that you can’t know anyone else.

and so when he returns to chicago, to home, to you, it feels monumental, even if it is under less than desired circumstances. he starts working his ass off almost the very second he gets off his flight; you don’t see him for the first few weeks he’s back in chicago. it’s through no fault of your own, of course, because you text him plenty and he responds, but they aren’t hitting the same beats they used to, and you worry.

but here he stands now, flannel coat and baseball cap and all, at your doorstep unannounced. it surprises you, seeing him here like this, because he hadn’t so much as even suggested the idea, but you can’t complain, not when this is the first time you’re seeing him in what feels like a lifetime.

“carmy,” you practically exhale, not even hesitating to step forward, wrap your arms around his neck, press yourself close against him. your nose buries into the collar of his coat and when you inhale, the scent is so entirely carmen berzatto; you hadn’t realized you could miss a smell this much, let alone a person.

you’re elated when his arms wind their way around your waist, both hands warm against your lower back. you stand just like this for moments that feel like they stretch into hours, taking in the fact that he’s back, he’s home.

“i missed you, loser,” you say into the thick fabric of his coat.

he scoffs against your shoulder, patting your back and pulling away from you to look you dead in the eye. “yeah, yeah, i missed you too.”

you share a small laugh, an even gentler smile, and you step aside to let him in. it’s the first place of yours that he’s never experienced. sure, he’d seen it in photos and facetime calls, but he’s never been here in person, the first place that is wholly you: no family, no friends, no college roommates. the essence of the apartment belongs solely to you.

and he sees that, sees you everywhere he looks. it’s in the way your shoes are organized by the front door, in the way that you keep one of his old jackets (stolen months before he left for new york) hung up on the coat rack, in the way that the photograph centered on your endtable isn’t one of your family but one of you two; it was snapped on senior prom night, which he hadn’t been able to attend due to his bad grades, but he’d gotten dressed up all nice for you anyways, so that you’d have nice pictures of the two of you together, even if he couldn’t be your date like you’d planned.

“nice place,” he remarks, looking around and taking in the parts of you he doesn’t know; books lined up on the shelves of your tv console, record player next to it, the succulents on the window sill. “better than that shithole you were living in when i left.”

you let out a breathy laugh, roll your eyes, close the front door behind you. “you mean the dorms? anything is better than that.”

you follow him deeper into your space, watching the way he watches everything else, takes everything in, like he’s relearning you from scratch. almost every second of the day, carmen is on, burner cranked up to high, one of the most intense people you’ve ever met, but here, you can tell he’s set to simmer, introspective in a way he’s not when he’s at work. it’s nice to see him with his guard down like this, cerulean eyes wide and searching.

the silence stretches out between you, but it doesn’t snap like a rubber band like you thought it would. quiet used to be easy with him and you’d been worried that the distance and time apart would change that, but it hasn’t; it’s still just as comforting as it had been.

but you have to break it, clearing your throat and looking away out the window. the sun is setting behind tall buildings, casting the sky a burnt orange (terracotta, maybe, you think). and with your string lights that glow soft, flaxen gold over your equally as soft sheer curtains, quiet music playing from spotify on your tv, this could not be a more romantic moment, at least in your mind.

“i worried about you, y’know… when you were in new york,” you say quietly, eyes trained on some point beyond the horizon. “i never really knew what you were up to over there and you were so far away… i don’t know, i guess i just missed being able to make sure you were taking care of yourself.”

his sneakers move gentle against the floorboards as he turns his whole body to face you. when you glance at him, he has an expectant look on his face like he knows you have more you want to say; whatever piece of you that knows him better than anything else, he has it too, he’s always been able to anticipate anything from you.

you shrug, look down at the floor. “i thought i’d be able to stop worrying when you came back ‘cause if you needed me, you’d be a train ride away again, but… carmy, you’ve been back for weeks and i think i’m worrying about you more than i did when you were gone.”

“you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me; sugar does enough of that for the both of ya,” he replies, voice soft in a way that he’s always reserved for you, special and one of a kind.

with a nod, you look back up at him, meet him with another shrug. “no, i know. just can’t help it, i guess… think i’ll always worry about you, one way or another.”

his hands fidget in the pockets of his coat, flexing and unflexing, rustling against the material. he lets out a sigh, looks out that same window, the sun lower than before. “i worried about you too. you can take care’a yourself, but… i was worried nobody’d have your back the way i do.”

“i mean… i have sugar and fak and them, i had mikey, but… they aren’t you. nobody could replace you.”

and when he looks back at you, you think he realizes that you mean it in more than one way. he’s not just your defender in everything, some self-appointed knight in shining armor; he’s the love of your life, has been for years probably. he stands here in the middle of your apartment that is every bit him as it is you and he sees you. his eyes lay you bare, roll out your psyche, understand you in a way that no potential romantic interest from the past few years has been able to because he has his own brand of knowing you, one that you’re so used to that it feels wrong coming from anyone else.

and he knows that just from staring at you. the inches between you feel like miles and your fingers twitch with unsnapped tension; you swear his do too because like clockwork, his feet scuff against your hardwood floor and he closes the distance, hands out of his pockets to cradle your face in them.

“you mean that?” he questions, his breath hot against your lips. his palms are calloused and warm, and you’re learning the feel of them in a way you’ve never had them before because this is new, but it’s what you’ve wanted for ages.

you nod, your eyelids fluttering and breath shallow. this close to him, you can make out all of the imperfections in his skin, the little dips and freckles. “wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like that, carmy. you know that.”

“just wanted to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

when he kisses you, it is unpracticed and unrefined but perfect in all the important ways: it’s him and he tastes like cigarettes covered up with spearmint gum and he is so warm. you kiss him back like you’re trying to make sure he knows the taste of your love, like a fine wine aged for years; you think he notices it.

“don’t worry about me no more,” he says against you without pulling away.

“that’s kinda my job,” you reply with a short, breathy laugh, your hands curling into the rough fabric of his coat.

“doesn’t need to be. i’ll take care of us.”

the words cut deep into a part of you that has gone untouched for years, something reserved for carmy and carmy alone. and he knows it’s there now, treats it with all the delicateness in the world as he kisses you again, apologizes for not realizing sooner, promises to make up for lost time. his touch, new and exciting, sets you alight everywhere and you are born again like phoenix out of ashes. to be loved like this by him is something you’ve dreamt of for years and now it’s yours and you don’t plan on letting go.

i’ll take care of us. you believe him.

© lskisms 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Office Party Challenge 🎉

The following are prompts including an Office Party! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🎊 Prompts 🎊

It’s a BAU kid’s birthday!

The BAU throws a ridiculously large/lavish bridal/baby shower.

It’s rare that the BAU gets to celebrate the return of an old team member.

The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B.

After sharing sad prom stories (or lack thereof), Penelope throws a BAU prom.

It’s characters first Missed Holiday Meal (MHM). It’s also the first time a holiday meal actually felt like home.

The team discusses holiday traditions. Characters decide to try a few out.

The FBI is throwing a family picnic. The playful competitions get a little… heated.

It’s the anniversary of the BAU. The team throws a party to celebrate the greats.

Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party… with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)

The BAU has been dealing with a lot of stress. Penelope plans a day at a pottery shop so everyone can make something. It causes even more stress.

The team pairs up to play the newlywed game. Someone starts to notice that, despite not being partners, A knows the answers to every question about B…

Rossi is finally (actually) retiring. The party brings together friends that haven’t seen each other in years.

An anniversary/award brings back old team members. There used to be a time when they couldn’t fathom a week away from one another, but they haven’t spoken in years.

More Prompts Below + Create your own! 🎉

Each team member has to find an obscure holiday to celebrate (pi day, random acts of kindness day, unicorn day, etc.). Character goes above and beyond.

Character has very surprising responses to Never Have I Ever. They have even more shocking admissions.

There is nothing that a bonfire can't fix.

Characters are stuck at a party, but they can't stop thinking about each other (based on "Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier).

Characters always find each other. Even at a masquerade, when their faces are almost entirely covered.

A party is the perfect place to see a new side to your coworker.

🎄 Holiday Specific Prompts 🦃

Halloween prompts / Winter Holiday prompts

It’s time for Penelope’s Halloween Party! Someone comes in an… unexpected costume.

The single members of the team decide to host a lonely hearts club dinner on Valentine’s Day. Two people leave together.

Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party.

Character accidentally started an ugly Christmas sweater tradition which somehow turned into a contest.

After an awful case, the team comes back on Christmas Eve to find that Penelope has gathered their loved ones and quickly decorated the BAU as a surprise.

Character only wanted to reveal that they are someone's Secret Santa at the BAU Christmas Party but they end up confessing a lot more than that.

🎂 Dialogue Prompts 🍰

"... Surprise?"

"What are adults supposed to do at a kid's birthday party. Does anyone actually know?"

"Whatever you do, be sure to avoid the food. I don't know who made it, but it's awful." "Oh, it uh... it was me."

"If you help me win, I'll owe you one great big giant favor."

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I think you're bluffing." "Am I?"

"You are the last person I expected to have attended clown school. I figured your clownish nature was inherent in who you are."

"So, if you had to guess, who do you think is going to drunkenly confess their love for someone else at this party?"

"The year is over. Did you accomplish everything you hoped for?"

"I fucking hate balloons."

"What's the point of a fridge on the jet if not for a celebratory drink?"

"If we're stuck here all night, we might as well have fun."

"I love you. I do. But you are a terrible Santa."

"Next time, I'm in charge of the karaoke mic."

🎈Rules 🎁

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

[cosmic-crybaby]

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 2

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returns from France, he comes back a completely different man.

Warnings: ANGST, Tommy being a jerk, talk of trauma/death/etc. Platonic(?) betrayal.

It had been what seemed like weeks after the men were shipped off to France to fight in the war. When in reality, it had been only a week. [Name] had went back to work rather quickly, her mother preferring not to have her daughter mope around the house like a widow. So, she wrote her first letter to him.

Thomas,

You've just left us and it's already quiet here. Too quiet. The betting shop, the street, and the pub are all silent compared to the liveliness we were used to when you were home. When we came back from the platform, Polly, Ada, Martha, and I had walked in silence. Even Finn wasn't being his usual disorderly self. It's almost as if no one knew how to fill the silence. No one can fill the void that you three left.

In all honesty, I am scared. Terrified something will happen, and you won't return home to us. I want you to know how much I think about you, how much I need you to come home to me. I want you to be my first everything, I want you to keep that promise you made me before you left. Even now, as I write this letter, I stare at the ring on my finger, imagining how our future would be. We will pray for you every morning for a safe return.

Stay safe and please watch over each other. We are sending our love and prayers.

Sincerely, Your love [Name].

The whole of Small Heath seemed to be silent the first few days, but the women quickly took over while most of the men were gone. She had worked and worked everyday with the other women in the shop. Polly and Ada were strong women, and they were cracking down on the books like no other. They had involved themselves with their work that [Name] didn't expect her letter to come a few weeks later. Ada came running in with the post, handing her Aunt Polly the letters, and dropping Thomas' letter on the desk in front of her new close friend.

[Name] had never pulled out her letter opener so quickly. She nearly missed the blade as her hands shook to open it. The pages of parchment fell on the desk, unfolding it to read the letter he sent. Her colorful eyes went wide as she read the first page, heart fluttering and beating fast as she imagined his voice saying these words.

[Name],

When the train had left the station, I had already found myself missing home. We Small Heath boys sat together and no one knew what to say. We try to stay optimistic but news is that the odds are not in our favor. It hits harder the further we are from home. I am currently at a training camp, and even when my face is in the mud I still think of you. Your eyes, your smile, your voice. You visit me in my dreams, even when I'm in this hell you still feel like home.

No matter how long this will last, it will be difficult for you as it is for us. But Polly with take good care of you, you are no doubt a part of this family already. You will soon be a Shelby. I had never forgotten my promise to you. You are my dearest friend, and the most beautiful girl I had ever met. I knew from the day we met, you were special.

I will be safe [Name] I promise you that. We are going to make this out alive and you and I will get married and have our future together, building our legacy. Keep your thoughts clear and your mind positive until our return.

Until I write again my Love, Tommy.

The single tear ran down her cheek. Smiling a bit as she folded the paper again, placing it back in the envelope and into the drawer. Hearing Polly and Ada read the letters out loud from Arthur and John as they laughed through the sniffles. It made her lean back into her chair, looking up from the ring to the ceiling.

"[Name]! What did Tommy say?" Ada ran into her office, leaning on the door frame. [Name] turns to the younger Shelby sibling.

"Wouldn't you like to know," She teased with a light-hearted smirk.

"Come off it, lemme see!" Ada skipped to the desk, sitting down on top as [Name] gave in and took out the letter again, handing it to Ada. She smiles brightly as she read over the letter.

"Oh, [Name], that's so nice...I've never heard him be so...well, that before," She laughed. The girl tsked and grabbed the letters back from the Shelby.

"You'd be surprised, he's quite the romantic," She arched a brow at Ada.

"Yeah sure..." She shook her head.

"How are John and Arthur doing?" She had asked, putting the letters back.

"As good as they can be, [Name]...as good as they can be..." She paused. "Have you talked to Martha?" Ada asked. [Name] shook her head.

"Is she still sick?" She asked, her voice laced with worry.

"We think so, Polly's gonna visit her after work today, give her some medicine make sure she's okay, but just don't say anything to Tommy about it...She doesn't want John to worry," Ada explained.

"Of course, your secret is safe with me," Her lips formed into a tight lipped smile.

"I'll leave ya to write your letters," Ada hopped off of the desk and left her office. [Name] lets out a heavy sigh, moving the record books out of the way to pull the typewriter forward, placing the paper in before thinking of what exactly to write. How she could pour her feelings into one letter. Taking her fingers away from the keys to take a quick prayer, the same prayer that Polly taught all of the girls at the shop.

---

It had been years since the men from Small Heath had left. During those years, the two of them wrote letters back and forth as often as they could. At some point the letters began to slow. Anyone could imagine the reason why. In the last letter Tommy sent, he gave [Name] an idea of what he had to endure. The carnage and violence was only the beginning. The deaths he encountered, the injury and damage that had happened to him physically and mentally was enough to hurt her. Just from reading it. It was the middle of July of 1918. She was writing another letter to Thomas.

Thomas,

I received your letter last night. I miss you more than words can describe. Everything is starting to feel like normal again, as normal as is can be. I suppose the women taking over the jobs while most of the male population being away was the norm for the time being. It was still strange though. However, business has been slow recently. Ever since Martha had passed Polly and I had been taking turns to take care of the kids. Cooking for them and cleaning up after them nearly every day was just as hard as I imagined, Martha made it look so easy. Please give John my condolences once again and that we are thinking of him. And let me know how he is holding up.

The horses are looking healthy, Curly has been taking good care of them. My mother and I take walks in your uncles yard after dinner nearly every night just to see how the horses are doing, and so far he has been doing a wonderful job.

As much as I want to keep this letter forward-looking and cheerful, I do hope you are doing alright Tommy. The last letter you sent me had me worried for you. You told me you were going to be in charge of digging tunnels to bury explosives, I just hope you make it out alive. You had been there for me when my father had passed, and I hope you will let me be there for you after this is all over. Of course I have no real insight of what you are going through, but I hope you are safe. You were always so determined and strong. Make us proud, you always do.

Please give my love and support to your brothers.

Your Love, [Name].

It took months to receive a letter back. Longer than usual, but you didn't question it as you knew his job was hard, but you'd be lying if part of you didn't think the worst. But those clouds that plagued your mind were clear upon seeing his letter. It was a short one this time, but you imagined that he barely had any time to write these days.

[Name],

I am writing this by candlelight, Danny and Freddie doing the same. Writing wills and writing home. I have left everything I had to the family, you included. I'm sorry it's not much or what we had planned, but this is inevitable.

Knowing what's waiting at home encourages me and I will do my best to come out alive.

I will make sure to relay your kind words to John next time I see him.

Until I write again, SMG, Tommy.

Her hands shook as she read over the short letter. Again and Again she couldn't believe what he was saying. She set the letter in the desk drawer, along with the other piles of letters, before shutting it. She didn't want to believe it, not one bit. She was still hopeful that he would live. He even said 'Until I write again,'...but she didn't expect the letters to completely stop coming after that. No matter how many letters she had sent his way, she still didn't receive one back.

Weeks had passed, as Ada and Polly were receiving letters back to back every week, while [Name] came to an empty desk, but she never told them, afraid to hear if they received his letters as well or not. It made her heart hurt to think of the possibilities.

On November eleventh, a boy ran through the streets blaring the news. The war had ended. There was a shift in the air after the news broke of the war ending and the men finally returning home. The entirety of Small Heath seemed to be rushing to prepare for the return of the soldiers. Even Polly seemed increasingly distracted as she prepared for the return of her nephews, leaning on [Name] to review additional books and records. But tensions arise further as the official date was announced of the soldiers arrival.

Ada and the other girls grew giddier with each passing day, making [Name] just want to smack them. She was happy for them of course but, how could she witness their excitement for their men if she hadn't heard from hers in months. When the day finally arrived, it felt like the entire town was rushing to the station. Polly and Ada were waiting in anticipation for the train to arrive, while [Name] kept her brows stern in worry as she kept her gaze to the cement floor. She honestly had no idea what to expect. If he wasn't to return she would be heartbroken, if he was she would be confused by the cold shoulder he gave her. The sound of people cheering and screaming caught her attention as the train approached. Polly and Ada pushed their way forward as the train came to a stop. [Name] made sure to hold onto Finn as tight as she could so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd.

"Where are they?" Polly asked, excitement seeping in her voice.

"I dunno, [Name], do you see 'em?" Ada asked as she pulled her quiet friend along. Her eyes barely scanned the area as families reunited in tears, the boys finding their family members and just melting into their embrace.

"Um..." [Name] tried to get a better look, but the hordes of people blocked her vision.

"[Name]!" Ada called next to her...and she felt your heart drop. "I see them! Aunt Pol, look! There they are!"

[Name] couldn't catch her breath as Ada pointed somewhere in the distance. She squealed as she pulled [Name] with her. The closer they got, the more her heart began to beat. It felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She almost didn't want to lay her eyes upon them. In fear she would end up like the women receiving bad news that their own soldier had died in the battlefield.

But, she finally looked up. Ada, Finn, and Polly running to hug Arthur and John. [Name] stood in her place as she met this eyes. Those icy blue eyes and suddenly the air flew back into her lungs.

He was alive.

"Thomas?" She called, he stared at her. "Thomas!" She took off from her planted state and ran towards him. Throwing herself in his arms as she held him tightly, his arms wrapped around her tightly as he burred his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled like florals, an exotic blend of jasmine and violet. She smelled like home.

"You're okay...you're alive," She whispered to remind herself that he was in the flesh. She lifted her head to look at him, tears flooding her eyes as she rekindled with him. His hair was cut, short on the sides and back, nearly to the root with longer hair on the top that draped just across his forehead. The square of his jaw was clenched and sunk at the cheeks, sharp cheek bones...sharp enough to cut glass. Dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, but the same freckles littered his nose and cheeks. He looked so different. But nothing could beat the look in his eyes. He looked like a man that had gone through hell.

She supposed he actually did.

"My love? Are you really here with me?" She asked him, bringing her hands up to his face.

"I am...[Name], I'm here," He slightly smiled at her as he kissed her forehead. She knew he was physically here, but part of her knew mentally...he was distancing himself.

As the days passed, his once beautiful, vibrant blue eyes turned dull and emotionless. Just like before, he was sweet with her at first, but he started to grow cold. On some nights, she would sleep in his small bed, just waiting for him to come home in the late hours. When he did come home late, he would be drunk and simply stumble into bed, the faint smell of roses on his neck. He was a shell of the man she used to love.

One morning, she walked into his office.

"We need to talk," She told him, standing in the doorway sheepishly. He barely looked up at her before lighting a cigarette.

"What is it [Name], I am extremely busy," He huffed. The woman rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she closed the door behind her and walked to his desk until she were standing in front of him.

"You have been acting strange with me all these weeks, Tommy...What's happened?" She finally asked.

"Nothing happened, [Name]…Is that all this is about?" He asked, standing to grab some books from his shelf to look over, still avoiding her eyes. She almost felt delirious as she just wanted him to look at her. Her eyes followed him.

"You barely talk to me-"

"We're talking now," He quipped. She refrained from tearing her own hair out at how dismissive he was being.

"Hardly..."

"What is the point of this conversation [Name]?" He asked, arching a brow as he went back to his desk, again her body followed him, facing him again.

"The point is you don't treat me like I matter to you anymore, you hardly treat me as your bride-to-be let alone a friend! Does our friendship even matter to you anymore?"

He stayed silent as he just kept his head down.

"For Christ sake Thomas, look at me!" She shouted in frustration. His head snapped up to look at her. Surprised she had raised her voice as she had been so quiet since his return.

"You want to know what really happened, [Name]? Eh?" He quickly stood up and stalked towards her, her breath shuttered a bit as she was backed away into the wall, he stood tall over her.

"I saw people die, for four fucken' years! I nearly died in those tunnels, drowning in the mud and still, you assume I'll forget that ever happened?!" He shouted, getting closer.

"I don't blame you for what happened while you were gone...I understand-"

"No you don't [Name], stop fucken' saying you understand me when you don't! You weren't there, you will never understand what happened to me out there!"

"So what changed Thomas?" She asked, her lip trembling a bit. "What did I do to make you treat me this way?"

He scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed himself off of the wall and distanced himself from her.

"I thought you died out there Thomas, you didn't respond to my letters for weeks, I...I was so scared, and to find out you were alive and now? You treat me like a stranger... What did I do wrong?" Her voice was stern, but even Thomas heard the unstable wavering of some of the words. Thomas eyed her, looking at her like she was some common woman, not his closest friend and love of his life.

"You drain me...just being with you is exhausting, I mean for fucks sake [Name], you cling to me more that a fuckin' leach from the cut,"

"A leach?...That's what you think of me now?" She shook her head.

He hesitated.

"So that promise you made me was all fake?"

'What can I say? France gave me clarity..." He shrugged. [Name] was fuming. This wasn't the man she loved. Not anymore.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I loved you Thomas...But you're not the man I fell in love with,"

Thomas bit his lip before reaching into his pocket to grab another cigarette. There was still light in his eyes but he was too deep in his memories of France that he couldn't get out. He hardly slept as he heard the digging in the walls every night. She would have made those noises from his head and those terrors in his dreams if he had just given her the chance. He'd rather spend his nights elsewhere getting drunk and sleeping with the prostitute he met shortly after returning home.

"The old me died in the tunnels..." He spoke softly. She wanted nothing but to just kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. But the memories haunted him. And therefor turned her love away.

"I suppose the new you doesn't have love for anyone?"

"No," He replied quickly.

She nodded slowly. Reaching into her left hand and debating if she wanted to return the ring he gave her before he left. Tears brimmed her eyes as she slipped the gold band off of her finger. Thomas' eyes widened ever so slightly as he watched her walk over to him, grabbing his hand and placing the ring in his palm before folding his fingers over it, moving past him as she left his office without any last words.

she had stormed to her own office, slamming the door and quickly gathering her thoughts before gathering her things. She had left the shop in silence, Polly had called her name as she watched [Name] leave without a trace.

"Where has she gone, why is she leaving?" She asked her nephews and niece before going to investigate the now empty office. Thomas watched in shameful silence as Polly confirmed that her things were gone. Though the reason was unknown, Polly accused of Thomas being the reason for the young woman's departure. After she had voiced her (harsh) words, she left him in silence again.

"Trouble in paradise?" His brother asked, smirking a bit after watched their aunt butchering him with her words.

"Shut up John," He rolled his eyes before returning to work.

---

[Tag List]

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @milljane @cyphah @diosa-ahre-blog @badlandsbrunette

[lavender-tea-fling]

Six Song Soundtrack

Thanks @sunny374940! you already KNOW who it is

My dearest lad, hilariously also Rook Volkarin (neé Ingellvar).

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following…

Event that defines your character's past:

The War of the Banners is probaby the first major tramatic event, and for that I have Pale White Horse by the Oh Hellos.

Down they fell like the children of Eden Down they fell like the tower As the land relinquished her ghost Heed the sirens, take shelter, my lover Flee the fire that devours But the sight held me fixed Like a bayonet against my throat Neither plague or famine tempered my courage Nor did raids make me cower But his translucent skin Made me shiver deep within my bones

How your character sees themselves:

Shadow by Livingston.

One foot in the ground, one foot in the grave Don't you dare make a sound (Shh) Hear you from a mile away Run from the town, all you need is your name And the sweat on your brow And the blood running through your veins Don't think twice, you'll be dead in a second Turn your eyes from your hands to the heavens Kill your pride, turn your fear to a weapon

How others view them:

Metaphor by the Crane Wives.

I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors I've gotten good at living on someone else's page I cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments You can't trust a single thing I say (Ooh, ooh, ooh) (Ooh, ooh, ooh) I keep my closet free of skeletons 'Cause I'm much better at digging graves But I always dig up bones in your sympathy I can't trust a single thing you say

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic):

With Emmrich Volkarin, Fair by the Amazing Devil.

"I've seen enough," he says, "I know exactly what I want And it's this life that we've created Inundated with the fated thought of you And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all Like petals in a storm 'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades At night when light is fading Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading Into carpet burns and carousels Christ, you'll be the death of me" And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say "Dear heart, it's me, it's me You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not 'Cause it's not like I've never heard you fart and snore And for some godforsaken reason I'm still here, love, like I've always been before"

A major fight scene:

Inkpot Gods by the Amazing Devil.

And I can hear him break And he doesn't understand And I wish that I could take his hand But where I'm going is for me and me alone And I can hear her sing If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along If I don't make it back from where I've gone Just know I loved you all along

End Credit Song:

I'm a sucker for angst. In a Week by Hozier.

We lay here for years or for hours Thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw So long, we'd become the flowers Two corpses we were, two corpses I saw And they'd find us in a week When the weather gets hot After the insects have made their claim I'd be home with you, I'd be home with you

That was fun. Your turn, @the-font-bandit @themontess @andthekitchensinkao3!

[state-of-franklin]

Alright Radiorose enjoyers (platonic, romantic, idgas) I need help: im writing chapter two of the fic (part one is COMING I SWEAR my betas are putting it off) and I need a duet for Alastor and Rosie. I’ve narrowed it down to four songs, and for context, Alastor is essentially trying to make up for not telling Rosie about his injuries from S1 Finale.

Which song would be best for this kind of moment?

[kindestofkings]

dancing in the moonlight

josh jenkinson x guitarist!reader

about: reader's sitting room sessions are like acoustic covers she posts on youtube hope thats clear, also sooo many different faceclaims I hadn't it in me to keep the same lolll ENJOY

also! you know I buzz off including alll my favs in my smaus so enjoy 🤭

yourusername

liked by sarahjones and others

yourusername the last leg of love on tour has officially begun, somebody sedate me.

📷 @lloyddddddddddddddddd

view all other comments

harryfan1 noooo why cant you keep going forever ?

harryfan3 they already have this is like year 3 of this tour lol yourusername yeahh unfortunately rest is needed

harryfan2 you are the coolest member of the love band pass it on

fan1 will your sitting room sessions end till its over?

yourusername no acc going to keep doing them on the road ! <3

lloyddddddddddddddddd sickk one

yourusername

liked by harrystyles and others

yourusername home show babyyy (kinda Im from dublin) but omg Slane you were a mad experience!

view all other comments

harryfan1 haha was that last pic added in by accident ?

yourusername hahah no I needed the pic of sir styles, bag of cans IN HAND on my grid yourusername its gonna be my next tattoo

harrystyles 🤨🤨

yourusername nah come on look at the joy on your face, just a boy with his bag of cans xx

evehewson he didnt even swim just drank the cans

harrystyles enough of the lies #fakenews

harryfan2 I love how unserious she is with harry

sarahjones you own yellow !

inhalerdublin

liked by yourusername and others

inhalerdublin We’ll never be able to fully recover from the experience of playing Slane Castle yesterday. Thank you to @harrystyles for having us open for him in such a legendary place. And to every one of you who sang our songs back to us.

See you in November Ireland x

📸 @lewsvans

view all other comments

inhalerfan1 inslayer at slayne castle

lewsvans just a small one

yourusername massive

harryfan1 same girl also in my inhaler era after them opening

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername babe wake up a new sitting room session just dropped xx

todays tune has been stuck in my head since slane, check out the video for my jetlagged attempt of dublin in ecstasy <3

view all other comments

yourmam get your shoes of that couch young lady

yourusername 😧😧 sorry mammy

inhalerdublin we're honoured ❤️

harryfan1 you are both so talented and so hot

harryfan2 frrrr I dont know if I wanna be her or with her

inhalerfan1 did you meet the lads ?!

yourusername I did yes ! but I was acc at one of their first few gigs way back when so second time seeing them live 😎 inhalerfan1 wow I did not know you were an inhaler fan! I'm seeing them for the first time in paris later this year !! yourusername ah enjoy, the place where the whole world waits to come alive 😏 ryanmcmahon_15 obsessed much?

joshjenkinson_ worryingly good, please don't come for my job !

yourusername the man that you are that bridge is sick! p.s. I could never match your dance moves ryanmcmahon_15 those would be the infamous jenkinson knees yourusername mesmerising x

harryflorals

liked by harryfan1 and others

harryflorals harry featured in one of yourusername's sitting room sessions, which they recorded during a day off on tour! the premise of the series started out as just yourusername playing acoustic covers but has become a fan favourite and she's started having guests !

view all other comments

harryfan1 no way what song did they sing??

harryflorals they sang in a week which is originally by Hozier x

harryfan2 so rogue of him but I love it

harryfan3 ughh casual harry my favourite harry

harryfan4 they sounded soooo good

harryfan1 what is their vibes? friends or can we start the ship? harryfan4 I think its strictly platonic ! she's been part of his band for ages now

yourusername posted to their story!

you can't see but major heart eyes

replies:

inhalerfan1 at who tho??? please be a josh girlie

joshjenkinson_ 😳😳

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername an emotional day at the office today. never wanted to say goodbye to love on tour but I am so greatful for the experience.

massive thank to harrystyles for bringing me along on both tours, had so much fun <33

📷 @helenepambrun.photography @lloyddddddddddddddddd @anthonypham

view all other comments

harrystyles the best in the business

yourusername what are you doing?? get off your phone and get writing another album so we can go on tour again?!?! harryfan1 listen to the boss

bobbyskeetz inhaler x yourusername sitting room sesh now?

joshjenkinson_ she'd have to be not touring for that to happen bobbyskeetz not touring ? YOU JUST FINISHED? yourusername lol yeah about thattttt

sarahjones loved sharing this experience with you sister

yourusername wouldn't have been the same without you miss jones xxx

harryfan2 you were my favourite member of the love band !! will you ever be releasing your own music ?

yourusername thanks my love! at the moment no, I'm actually joining another band for their upcoming tour so will be busy with that. buttt the sitting room sessions will continue <33

harryfan2 pity but all fun stuff! what band? yourusername all will be revealed🤫

inhalerfan1 the inhaler boys do be in her comments a lot these days..

joshjenkinson_ posted to their story! (private)

studying, taking notes

replies:

yourusername exCUSE me I think you'll find you're the rockstar, with all the groupies

↳ i'm not the one on two international tours in one year tho ?? am I?

↳ yourusername lol fair but as the president of the josh fanclub, I suggest you should do that x

elijahhewson fact: guitarist and singer is a better couple

yourusername

liked by bedfordanes and others

yourusername first of all selling pEtROL. joining the inventors of tumblr on the next of their tour so I'm returning to the tumblr aesthetic (method playing?)

see all you emos at the 1975 still... at their very best, but until then I'll leave you with a sitting room sesh (bedroom ed 😏 ) xx

view all other comments

harryfan1 do you ever rest???

the1975 tour just got a whole lot more fun !

1975fan1 no way im so excited, shes so hot

inhalerfan1 is the sitting room sesh a emo classic?

yourusername you know it, my fav the 1975 song change your ticket ! trumanblack fired for defamation x yourusername its all quite meta 🤨

1975fanupdates

liked by 1975fan and others

1975fanupdates obsessed with yourusername ever since my 1975 show. how is someone so cool and pretty??? living rent free

view all other comments

1975fan1 no cause Im the EXACT same, shes such a good guitarist aswell

1975fan2 it must be happening at every show lol. even though shes at the back matty kept trying to get the attention back on him

1975fanupdates lmao I cant

harryfan1 awh I miss her!! her boyf is soo lucky

1975fan1 noo she has a boyfriend thats heartbreaking news, who is it? harryfan1 Im not sure! there was just a bang at the start of her last sitting room sesh and she said sorry my boyfriend keeps hitting his head off my low door frame 😭😭

yourusername posted to their story!

hot.

replies:

joshjenkinson_ 2 days was not enough

↳ babyyyy I know this is the worst

1975fan1 lost my wife to a man 😭 😭 😭😭

inhalerfan1 IS THAT JOSH!!!!!!!!

ryanmcmahon_15 those infamous jenkinson knees

joshjenkinson_ (private)

liked by yourusername and others

joshjenkinson_ she really buzzes off a good windowsill

view all other comments

yourusername YOU GOTTA SLIDE OUT THE WINDOWWWWW elijahhewson 🎤?

elijahhewson ...... yourusername ........ elijahhewson slideeee yourusername yayayayyyy

bobbyskeetz day 40000 of asking for a inhaler sitting room sesh

yourusername yeah you and like 3 other people, im overwhelmed

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername yeah no big deal just about to drop a sitting room session where I sing mazzy star's fade into you with my music crush THE julien baker. 😀😀😀 feeling so normal about this

go watch it, we had a lot of fun!

view all other comments

yourusername also im putting more into the production of these so hopefully the sound and visual quality increase is a nice treat for y'all <33

julienrbaker spends 2 days in memphis and is saying y'all..

yourusername inner cowgirl was unleashed, dont force her back into the box 🤠

1975fan1 wow not my two celeb crushes together...

yourusername im weak that you're considering me a celeb

phoebebridgers take me next please

yourusername omg if I must 😳🤭

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername boyfriend reveal or the next guest on sitting room sessions? you decide what you wanna focus on xx

terrifying take of lana del rey's let the light in, we both love to hide behind guitars so be gentle x

view all other comments

harryfan1 omg this is so so so so beautiful

inhalerfan1 josh's vocals need to be louder next album/tour !! boy can sing

elijahhewson im gonna focus on how you stole my man

yourusername just cause you’re petty that you haven't been on a sitting room sesh yet xx inhalerfan1 PLEASE have him on I beg

bobbyskeetz wtf has a guy got to do to get invited to a session, sleep with you?

joshjenkinson_ you're getting a box yourusername gross robert thanks for the nightmare fuel

harrystyles this is my favourite one yet x

yourusername too kind H, such a softie for romance

inhalerfan2 omg they're dating 😭 😭 😭 😭 such a hot couple 😭 😭 😭

1975fanupdates

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

1975fanupdates its yourusername's life and we're just living in it. She came in at 60th on this list, slayed so hard

view all other comments

yn'swife I say thats my wife and Im proud

inhalerfan1 bless josh in his supportive era <3

1975fan1 she needs to go on her own tour immediately

(liked by joshjenkinson_ and others)

yourusername

liked by julienrbaker and others

yourusername this sitting room session is evidence for how annoying bobbyskeetz can be! ALL the boys of inhaler joined me in my newww (😏) sitting room for a chaos cover of dreams by the cranberries <3

p.s. thought this photo was giving yay fun! when I took it but on reflection it looks like eli and bobby are making fun of me 🤨

view all other comments

inhalerfan1 miss thank you for delivering all this inhaler content, the drought has been real!

yourusername I got you gorgeous xx

bobbyskeetz I prefer the term persistent actually

yourusername yeah and I prefer a headache free existence but we cant all get what we want xx joshjenkinson_ thought management told yous to be nicer online... yourusername its SOO hard tho inhalerfan2 its giving such sibling energy lol

elijahhewson stop the lies #falsenarrative

ryanmcmahon_15 in a band of bullies, thanks for having us tho !!

harryfan1 you're making me an inhaler fan with all this lol

FINISHED

josh girles how did I do??? love making this one

[lesbicosmos]

day 7 of @painlandweek !!

day 7 prompt: soulmate au

summary:

it takes a while to settle down after everything that happened in port townsend. grieving niko, rescuing her, realising your feelings for your best mate might not be entirely platonic... but once they've found their new normal, the boys ask the night nurse a question about their afterlife file, which gives an answer that is both lovely and somewhat unexpected.

notes:

title from francesca by hozier

also on ao3!!

i could find you darlin', in any life

It hadn’t taken long for everyone to settle into their new routine after everything was wrapped up in Port Townsend – well, after they’d managed to find that routine, anyway. That had taken several months.

The first couple of months were slow after Crystal moved to London to join the Agency. The loss of Niko weighed heavily on everyone, and for a while they were too grief-stricken to focus on any cases for long. Edwin kept staring off into space when he was supposed to be researching, and swiftly wiped away any tears or other evidence of his emotions whenever it was brought up. Him and Crystal kept switching back and forth between amiable silence, both heavily sympathising with each other’s grief; and being at each other’s throats more than ever, every feeling heightened as their emotional walls had been worn down by the tragedy. Charles tried to comfort them as best he could, turning to his usual habits of trying to make everyone else feel better while ignoring the grief that weighed heavily on his own heart. It was difficult for everyone.

It was the Night Nurse, in the end, who was the biggest help to them. She’d been attempting to avoid them since she was assigned to help, but a couple of months in her superior had scolded her for it, insisting she be there to do her job of keeping an eye on the work they were doing. She had questioned everyone’s emotional state, spotting something was upsetting everyone. When they explained what had happened to Niko, she was surprisingly sweet about it, offering her condolences. They hadn’t expected her to check in for another two weeks, as was the arranged plan for her visits, so it was quite a shock when she returned to the office only two days later – nowhere near as shocking, though, as the information she brought with her. Being 17 when she died, Niko would have been in the Lost and Found Department’s records. She had checked only to be able to give her mourning friends some closure on her afterlife but had found she wasn’t in their records where she should have been – at least not as having been processed.

Thus, they began The Case of Niko Sasaki. The boys travelled back to Port Townsend to gather more information on the lucky bear charm she had been holding from Tragic Mick, and had learned that in addition to supposedly giving the carrier luck, its intended purpose was to transport the carrier to a different plane in the event of death – similar to the spectral plane ghosts existed on, only this one was not layered on top of the living world, and existed entirely separately, requiring advanced magic to travel between.

Edwin Payne was not a person who was easily intimidated by the phrase ‘advanced magic’, and spent the next several weeks researching and practising, even turning down new cases to ensure his focus. Charles watched on as he worked, barely stopping even for a conversation. He had been worried about him, but he trusted him. He knew if anyone were able to make this work, it would be Edwin.

And that he did. Nearly four months after her death in Esther Finch’s house, Niko Sasaki had been returned to the plane of the living. It had exhausted Edwin so much that once he knew she was safe, that she was back where she belonged and so alive, he slipped into his most basic rest form to recuperate – a glowing white orb. It had only happened a couple of times in the many years Charles had known Edwin, so he knew he must have really worked himself too hard. More than anything, though, Charles was overwhelmingly proud of him. He had brought someone back from another plane. He was more than deserving of a break. Edwin stayed like that for almost two weeks, practically living in Charles’s pocket – and occasionally Niko’s.

Since there was time where Edwin wasn’t around (at least not in his usual manner - he was still there, just glowing brightly on Charles’s chest rather than rambling about banshees or something similar from his desk) Charles had been given the chance to think about him. Specifically, it had finally given him the time he needed to focus on what Edwin had said to him as they left Hell. With everything that had happened: Crystal’s memories, Esther’s torture device, Niko’s death, bringing her back… Charles hadn’t really had time to sit and collect his thoughts on the matter. He thought back on all the time he’d known Edwin, remembered so many tiny yet fond memories they had made over the years, contemplated just how inconceivable the idea of them being separated was, how utterly petrified he had been when he nearly lost him twice. Charles had soon come to realise he might just have been in love with Edwin for years, but because of how natural their relationship had been…he’d just never realised it. He’d always assumed falling in love would be just that: a fall. A rapid paced thing that would simply hit him when he least expected it, when the right person came along. But it hadn’t been like that at all. He hadn’t fallen in love with Edwin; he had simply wandered. Wandered with him for years because it felt so easy, so right. Is it any wonder he had never noticed this feeling? It had crept up on him, like the countdown of an exceptionally slow bomb, and now he had realised it, he felt it wanting to explode out of him. He wanted to scream to the world that he was in love with Edwin Payne.

It was a month after Edwin had returned to his usual self when Charles finally told him. He’d seemed in disbelief that it could be true, that so much good could be happening to him after everything. He’d got Niko back, and now he had Charles reciprocating his love in the same way? It was almost too much to take in. Take it in he did, though, and within a couple more months, it felt like barely anything had changed. This was just a natural part of their wander through eternity. It didn’t feel strange or awkward for Charles to walk up behind Edwin and plant a kiss on his forehead whilst he was reading, or for Edwin to crawl into Charles’s arms and cuddle up together on the sofa. Their love was always heading here, as if it were written in the stars.

So yes, it had taken a while for them to fall into their new normal, but once they had it was brilliant. Niko had moved in with Crystal, and their days were once again filled with solving cases and helping souls. Well, not all of their days. Only 50% of the Dead Boy Detective Agency was actually dead now, so the girls still needed rest and sleep and couldn’t just work consistently. And they’d also encouraged the boys to take a break from time to time. So, while they all worked in the daytime, there were a few evenings and nights a week where they had agreed not to take any new cases. And one day every two weeks, they did something together as a group. If there were emergency cases, they would take them of course, but they took more time to themselves now. And despite Edwin’s initial reluctance, both he and Charles enjoyed taking a break for a while.

Today was supposed to be their biweekly group outing, but they were just off the tail of a particularly taxing case, so the girls had decided to spend their day at home watching movies. The boys had joined them for one or two of the films, but eventually returned to the office and left them to their unwinding. Both Crystal and Niko had seemed strangely happy that the boys were leaving and gave each other a look that Charles couldn’t quite decipher. He supposed they enjoyed their time alone just as much as he and Edwin did, so didn’t think much of it.

They’d decided to be somewhat productive back at the office – not researching or taking on any new cases, but reorganising Charles’s bag of tricks. It had been on their list of things to do ever since a recent case required a book Charles claimed not to have brought with him, only to discover after a thorough search of the bookshelves and a near-breakdown for Edwin, that the book had been in there all along, and Charles had simply forgotten.

“You really do need to keep a record of what you keep in there, Charles,” Edwin had scolded him, clutching onto the book as though it were the only thing keeping him where he stood.

So here they were, having emptied the entire ‘for cases’ section of the backpack – which was still very sizeable. Books and weapons and magical knickknacks had been scattered around the floor of the office, and the boys were desperately trying to catalogue them to figure out whether they were actually necessary to carry around all the time.

Edwin was sitting on the sofa, the small pile of various trinkets he was currently sorting through beside him, while Charles was on the floor, lying on his side propped up on one elbow, the rest of the clutter strewn around him. They had started three piles: one for items to keep in the bag for every case, one for those things they’d keep in there just because they were needed often – such as the first three volumes of Minor Arcana (Edwin had copies of them on the shelf too, having invested in back-ups after the chaos that happened during the Case of the Haunted Museum), and one for things that seem to have been haphazardly thrown into the bag over the last year or so, never really being used.

They barely spoke as they organised, communicating only via their expressions to indicate which pile to put everything in. They’d become proficient at that over the years, being able to talk without talking. It had certainly come in handy when they were dealing with particularly difficult clients (and when they wanted to irritate Crystal every once in a while).

Whenever the silence between them was broken, it was to reminisce about memories of specific cases that objects had reminded them of.

Charles picked up a yellowish folder. It didn’t jog any memories at first, so he opened it – as it turns out, it had been a police file from a previous case. It reminded him of the files the Night Nurse had them filling out these days about almost every client, but more importantly, it reminded him of something she’d said to them recently, something he hadn’t thought too much of until that moment.

“Mate, I just had a thought,” he said, dropping the folder onto the to-put-somewhere-else pile.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“The other day, when the Night Nurse came in, she kept talking about ‘our file’.”

“The Lost and Found Department has afterlife files for everyone, what about it?” Edwin said, inspecting the crystal ball he was currently holding.

“Our file, though. Singular. Why do we have the same file? We died like 70 years apart.”

Edwin put the crystal ball down at that, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in the same way they did whenever he didn’t understand something and didn’t like being out of the loop. It was subtle, but Charles noticed. He noticed every tiny thing about Edwin these days.

“Hmm. You do have a point, there. I hadn’t thought about the implications of the phrase.”

“Shit, you not thinking about the implications? Are you feeling alright?” Charles teased, sitting upright in faux worry.

“Charles, I am a ghost and therefore am incapable of feeling ill. As are you,” he said, unable to hide the slight smile on his face.

“Never mind, everything’s fine, the smartarse is back.”

Edwin rolled his eyes.

“I do not know why we have the same file. Perhaps we should ask the Night Nurse about it during her next visit.”

“Well, if she’s in a better mood this time. Not sure she’d appreciate it if she’s as pissy as she was the other day. You know, I’m convinced you enjoy riling her up.”

“I have no idea what you mean, dear,” Edwin smirked, returning to his stack of trinkets.

“Oh, you’re such a tease.”

“You love it.”

“I do. It’s hot.”

Edwin scoffed, but Charles could see the pride in his face. That was a new development that had happened since they got together. Edwin had been more awkward than usual around Charles in the weeks following his confession, being overly careful about overstepping or making Charles uncomfortable. Charles figured part of it was to do with Niko’s absence. She’d given him so much more confidence when it came to things like this, and then when she was gone…Edwin wasn’t the same. But recently, he had brought his usual snarky personality into their relationship too and was much more openly flirty. Charles loved it, even if it occasionally seemed to break something in his brain for several minutes and had a tendency to hinder his work efficiency.

They continued sorting through the clutter until Edwin had finished his pile and promptly made the decision to move from the sofa and kneel right in front of Charles, in between him and the rest of the jumble that still covered most of the carpet. Charles sat upright again so that they were face to face, and Edwin’s hand moved up to cup his jaw before swiftly pulling him in for a kiss. Charles rested one hand on Edwin’s thigh, keeping himself steady as he leaned further in, the other hand holding the back of Edwin’s head to pull him closer. A muffled sound escaped Edwin’s mouth at the pressure, which only spurred Charles on.

They didn’t return to the mess that was strewn across the floor until the next day, but oh well. The backpack was infinite, and they had forever; surely they had a little time to spare for themselves, right?

Nearly two weeks later, the Night Nurse materialised in their office – now mess-free, after another day of organising the backpack and only getting distracted by each other a few times. She seemed significantly happier than she had been the last time she visited. Charles was convinced she was growing fond of them, though he knew she would reject the idea entirely.

After they had done their usual check-in jobs – getting more paperwork, going over case notes, filling in those dreaded files – the Night Nurse seemed content with their work.

“You boys are certainly more efficient at this than I had expected you to be,” she told them.

Charles desperately wanted to make a joke about that being perhaps the first compliment she had ever given them, but he didn’t want to push their luck. After all, they still had a file to ask her about.

“Thank you,” Edwin said for him. “We do pride ourselves on our efficiency, don’t we, Charles?” he looked up to Charles, who was in his usual spot perched on the desk.

“Yep. Best ghost detectives in London, you know?”

“You are the only ghost detectives in London, as far as the department are aware,” she stated.

Charles shrugged, smiling.

“Well, if that is all…” she began, turning away from the desk.

“Actually-” Edwin interrupted, and she turned back.

She didn’t look as annoyed as Charles had expected her to.

“We had a question.”

“As long as it’s quick, I need not remind you that I am very busy, and I do not have all day,” she said, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“Last time you checked in on us, you mentioned mine and Charles’s afterlife file. I thought it was unusual that we shared one, I assumed everyone had their own. We were just curious as to why ours is combined.”

“Oh good, for once you ask a question I can actually answer. Yes, everyone does usually have their own file. Technically the two of you do have individual forms within your file, but they’re kept together.”

“How come?”

“The afterlife knows things. The heads of the Lost and Found Department have known about the meeting of the two of you since you died,” she indicated to Edwin as she spoke. “You were always going to meet, it was inevitable, so they set up a joint file as it would be easier to keep track of you when you did.”

“Woah…so we’re like, soulmates,” Charles said, eyes full of shock and wonder as he turned to Edwin, standing as straight as he could while still leaning on the desk.

Edwin had never believed in soulmates when he was alive. He’d thought it was a silly idea people came up with to try and prove their love to someone somehow. Scientifically, he knew there was no proof of the concept, so any semblance of belief he might have had would have been crushed by the facts. Then again, though, Edwin never believed in ghosts until he returned from Hell and became one himself. That might have been part of the reason he felt his cold dead heart flood with warmth somehow at the thought, and he looked up at Charles with a similar expression…until the moment was interrupted when the Night Nurse scoffed loudly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles, it’s merely a way my higher-ups like to brag about their divine foreknowledge. They’ll just pop you in the same file and then act all proud when you finally meet. It’s nothing quite so foolishly trivial as soulmates.”

“Oh.” Charles slumped back down to sit on the desk again, disappointed.

“Now was there anything else? I really do have other things to be getting on with, you know?” she asked impatiently, peering down at her watch.

“No,” Edwin cleared his throat. “I think that will be all. Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll be back in two weeks!” the Night Nurse reassured them, before dematerialising with a poof.

As soon as she was gone, Charles stood up, moving around to Edwin’s side of the desk and facing him.

“…We’re soulmates then, right?” Charles wondered aloud, checking he and Edwin were on the same wavelength.

Edwin, despite his prior hesitancy, absolutely was.

“I rather think we might be.”

“I’ve always thought, if anyone was my soulmate, surely it has to be you.”

“I have to admit I’ve never paid the subject much mind, but I suppose if I had, I would have felt the same. It certainly feels like our souls are irretrievably tied together by now.”

And it made sense, didn’t it? The reason they felt like they were immediately connected when they met, the reason they had found each other at all, despite time and circumstance. They were always meant to find each other. They may have been very different people, who led very different lives and were still so different even after nearly thirty-five years of being around one another constantly, but deep down it was as though they were one entity. They knew each other better than anyone else, could communicate without so much as a word being uttered between them, felt like they had lost a part of themselves whenever the other was separated from them. They orbited around each other so closely it was as though they were one being, inextricably tied together for eternity.

Edwin’s thoughts were cut short when all of sudden, Charles held him by the jaw and pulled him into a swift, bruising kiss. Edwin responded in the obvious way – by pulling Charles down onto his lap to reconnect their lips. There was something ever so slightly more in this kiss. Nothing had changed as such, but it felt like there was an even more intense spark, just for a second, at the knowledge that this was always going to happen. They were always going to find each other, no matter what. They were always going to be together, in one way or another, wherever they were.

Edwin had never believed in soulmates. At least, not until he met Charles Rowland.

[shares-a-vest]

Lily. 32. she/they. Aus. Aquarius.

Currently Working On: Trying to get back into writing and my wips.

I am also obsessing over 9-1-1. My unhinged thoughts and reblogs can be found under the tag lily watches the weewoo show (I'm contemplating making a sideblog, so watch this space)

writing wip | talking | answering | fic recs tag

Joanie Munson AU: A fluffy ongoing AU focusing on Steve, Eddie, their bio daughter, Joanie, and their many cats. Eddie is trans. Most fics can be read stand-alone. No set schedule or tag list.

Platonic Stobin | Platonic Edancy | Ronance | Clarkson | Stargyle Rockie

Family Video Shenanigans: Shenanigans set at Family Video. Featuring Platonic Stobin, Steddie, and other ST characters.

Sick Fics | Post-s4 Healing Steddie | Steve Has Bad Parents™ | Vampire Eddie

Sportsball Eddie: Wherein Eddie suffers through (or enjoys) having a jock for a boyfriend. Mostly me projecting as I work through my complicated feelings about Australian sportsball.

👕🧥: Writing focused on clothes, hair etc. Typically inspired by the ST actor's other roles. Aka, I treat Steve and Eddie like they are my favourite Barbie Dolls.

STWG Daily Drabbles: Varying degrees of 'drabble' based on daily prompts from the Stranger Things Writer's Guild discord server.

Headcanons: Mostly Steddie. Plus appearances from other ST characters and the relationships listed above.

He's Gonna Save Me, Call Me Baby (wc: 1.1k | Rated: T | cw: Alcohol Consumption, Open-Ended - Happy) | Steve waits for Eddie at The Hideout and thinks over his failed relationship with Nancy. Written for the STWG Hozier Project.

I don't like sand. it's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere (wc: 2.1k | Rated: T | cw: Alcohol Consumption) | Steve just wants to take Eddie on a romantic date to Lover’s Lake. But they quickly find themselves battling a new enemy: sand. Written for Lex's Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge (Summer 2023).

Eds, I'm Hungry (wc: 3.2k | Rated T) | Steve and Eddie being sickly lovebirds as they talk over a post-coital midnight snack. Written as part of Steddie Week, May 2023.

Joanie's First Word (wc: 1.4k | Rated: G) | Wayne Munson is spending the holidays with the boys and his granddaughter. But he doesn't expect to become an integral part of a key milestone.

you should come live with me and we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry (wc: 5.8k | Rated: G) | Steve and his mother have been packing up the house and in the process, he tells her about the Upside Down and his relationship with Eddie. Written for Lex's Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge (Spring 2023).

(Individual posts contain links to the original event blogs and event creators)

Steddie Microfics (Ongoing) | Flufftober Spring Edition 2024 | Steddie Love Month 2024 | Steddiemas 2023 | Eddie Month | Steddie Week 2023 | Platonic Stobin Month | Fruity Four Advent Calendar

[demigod-shenanigans]

Show me 7, 9, and 23! ( ✿ Ò ω Ó)φ__

Afraid the answers to all of these are pretty boring and predictable 😔

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Hozier! I didn’t publish very many fics this year (six total which is miserable tbh), but choiceless hope in grief and the last locked tomb fic I did both have Hozier song titles (from “Talk” and “Francesca” respectively) so he wins. This is one of the answers that may change once I get around to publishing the lost trio week fics because none of those have titles yet and I will be abusing my friend’s song text doc for titles if I can.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Valgrace. Very, very predictably. Apologies to my tlt girlies you are still deeply beloved but I have not written anything tlt in forever and still have five completed fics I can’t even be bothered to edit sitting in my drafts so I cannot go with you two </3

The fixation does what it wants and right now what it wants is Jason and Leo. Honorable mention to Piper and Leo (platonically) who I were the focus of my first ever pjo fic for a reason, as well as Pipeyna who I love dearly but have not written nearly enough of so far

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Unless bothering my friends with snippets or asking them to edit counts, nope, I don’t think so! The closest I’ve gotten to collaborative fic writing this year is all the lore we’ve come up with for Sofía and friends, honestly

Ao3 wrapped ask game

[imeanitplsmorenamifics]

𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚜𝚔𝚜

The request ideas for the people who love Hozier! Some of these can be platonic, while some are romantic. These are also vice versa (it could be about you doing something or about them). Quick note: I will not be including Cherry Wine in the Asks. While it is a good song (one of my favorites), it is a song about domestic violence and I don't want to take away from the true meaning of the song. The same goes for Nina Cried Power as that is a protest song and I don't want to take the meaning from that either. Rules can be found here. Asks are here. OPLA Masterlist is here. Flower asks ideas are here, Taylor Swift asks are here. 💔- Angst 💖- Fluff 💌- Personal fav.

𝓗𝓸𝔃𝓲𝓮𝓻

Take Me to Church ~ Despite what everyone says, you continue to be with them regardless. 💖

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene ~ You're hooked on each each even if you're not good for each other. 💔

Jackie and Wilson ~ You dream of a life where you run away together to start a new life where you can forget about the world. 💖💌

Someone New ~ You find a new stranger to fall in love with for a night. 💖

To Be Alone ~ "You drew stars around my scars." 💖

From Eden ~ You remind them of themselves before they became who they are today. 💔, could be 💖

In a Week ~ You're going to be buried together. 💖, could be 💔

Sedated ~ You're each other's best distraction. 💖

Work Song ~ You're the only thing that keeps them going. 💖

Like Real People Do ~ It doesn't matter what you were before. All that matters if what you are with them. 💖💌

It Will Come Back ~ You only see them as a friend but they see the gestures as something more. 💔

Foreigner's God ~ You feel isolated from your own home and find a new one in someone else's. 💖

In the Woods Somewhere ~ You constantly beg for their help but they never give it. 💔

Run ~ You'll always run to each other. 💖, could be 💔

Arsonist's Lullaby ~ You were always reprimanded for your fire. You finally found someone who wants to nurture it. 💖

My Love Will Never Die ~ No matter how horrible they are to you, you could never stop loving them. 💔

𝓦𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭, 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂!

Almost (Sweet Music) ~ They lost you. After years, they find a new lover who is eerily similar to you. 💔💖💌

Movement ~ They'll always go where you go. 💖

No Plan ~ They show you it's alright to not have everything planned out. 💖

Nobody ~ They love you not despite the fact you're broken but because of that. 💔

To Noise Making (Sing) ~ They love when you sing, even if you don't think you sound good. 💖

As It Was ~ They're going to give you as much as they have left. 💖

Shrike ~ They didn't appreciate you until after everything ended. 💔

Talk ~ They never mean what they say and they say a lot. 💔

Be ~ They fall so far but ask that you love them the same. 💖

Dinner & Diatribes ~ You're very forward with how you speak to them. They love that about you. 💖💌

Would That I ~ They loved you while they were with someone else. 💔💖

Sunlight ~ Your love is the sunlight but they avoid sunlight. 💔

Wasteland, Baby! ~ They feel like their world is over but find you in the midst of it. 💖

𝓤𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵, 𝓤𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱

De Shelby (Part 1) ~ You always find yourself staying up late to contemplate who you are. You finally have someone to do it with you. 💖

De Shelby (Part 2) ~ Like De Shelby (Part 1) but it's from their prespective. 💖

First Time ~ You made them love the things they previously hated. 💖💌

Francesca ~ You tried to run them off. They don't scare so easily. 💖💌

I, Carrion (Icarian) ~ You were always helping them. They finally wondered why you never needed help. 💔💖

Eat Your Young ~ They would leave in a heartbeat if it meant there was money to be made. 💔

Damage Gets Done ~ Everything was much simpler in the beginning. 💔

Who We Are ~ You both always help someone achieve their dream. It gets to the point where the relationship is on the back burner. 💔

Song of Nyx ~ They find you playing the song you always used to play with your deceased loved one on the piano. 💔💖

All Things End ~ Both of you accept that the relationship is meant to end and you don't try to fight against that. 💔

To Someone From a Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe) ~ You tell someone who doesn't know what it's like to freeze what it's liked to be warmed by someone you love. 💖💌

Butchered Tongue ~ Being with them has made it to where you no longer remember yourself and who you were. 💔

Anything But ~ They want to distance themselves from you but you won't allow that to happen. 💔💖

Abstract (Psychopomp) ~ You remember certain moments after everything is over. 💔💖💌

Unknown / Nth ~ They misunderstand who you are and betray you because of it. 💔

First Light ~ You reconcile and everything finally works out. 💖

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓔𝓟𝓼

Better Love ~ You are their "better love." 💖

NFWMB ~ They don't like when anyone messes with you. 💖

Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) ~ When both of your love language is touch. 💖

Say My Name ~ You know that there's someone else. 💔

The Bones ~ No matter what the world throws at you, you both are always able to make it through stronger than before. 💖

Tell It To My Heart ~ There's always a fair amount of distance between you two. You confront them about it. 💔, could be 💖

Swan Upon Leda ~ You always sacrified so much for them. (strictly platonic) 💖💌

Through Me (The Flood) ~ You could never think about what it would be like to lose them. 💔💖

Northern Attitude ~ You meet them again after everything is over. They don't like how coldly you treat them. 💔

Too Sweet ~ The two of you are vastly different. It makes things a little difficult at times. 💔💖

Wildflower and Barley ~ You try to love each other while everything is still. 💖, could be 💔

Empire Now ~ Things are hard now but they won't be forever so you hang on while you can. 💖

Fare Well ~ You both let each other have whatever you want since you know things will never end well between you two. 💔💖

[lifemod17]

18, 35, and 77! 💜

hello Emma, happy timezones lovely!! thank you for the questions 🥰🥰

18) What is your Song of the week? Why Would You Be Loved - Hozier cuz ya girl is ✨going through it✨

35) Best thing to eat for breakfast? ooouuu omelette with toast and black coffee OOORRRR oatmeal with some fruits and granola plus hot choco are my go-to (peanut butter sandwich if I'm lazy)

77) Ever been in love? just a little... a little bit... everyday with someone new 😉 haha I have before, yes. and actually I joke about it but I believe you can fall in love with a lot of people and things. all vary in levels, but like, I can be platonically in love with close friends, I am in love with my doggo, I am in love with certain songs. idk if that even makes sense but yeah 💛