#sigh i wanted to ink this but im so sleepy...

[petricorah]

Zuko teaching Sokka how to dance!!!!!!

he's a fast learner [id in alt]

[dontworrysunflower]

Birthday Sex | h.s.

a/n: wishing the happiest of birthdays to my hubby harry. he has truly changed my life now come out with an album please and thank you. here's a little birthday blurb :) its been over a month so i'm sorry in advance (it's still his bday here so im posting it)

warnings: morning sex, slight subrry, horribly rushed smut.

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

enjoy! pls leave feedback and reblog!!!

The light February morning sunday’s peeks through your curtains— which did not do its job— making you blink you sleep away. You stretch your limbs, arching your back to wake up your body. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and turn over, resting your warm cheek against the hard surface. You moaned in delight, hanging your arm over the chest, cuddling yourself deeper into it.

“Mm, good morning.” You hear from above you, a hand rubbing up the expanse of your back. Harry turns over to face you, a sleepy smile playing on his lips.

“Morning, birthday boy.” You smiled back, kissing his reddened nose.

Harry stretched his legs under the covers, “Thank you.”

“What do you wanna do today, birthday boy?” You asked into his neck, your lips pecking his warm skin after every word.

He hums, his arms wrapping around you to pull you over him, your weight on him. “I want to stay home all day and have a bunch of birthday sex.” He spoke lowly, his morning voice convincing you to the activities, not that you needed much convincing.

“That can be arranged.” You nibbled at his ear before leaning down, holding up the sheet covering your body to show his lower half, his tiger tattoo peeking from his boxers.

You press kisses down to his jaw, going back up to peck his lips before leaning back down, kissing the expanse of his neck.

Harry sighs deeply under you, your own body rising and falling with every breath he took. You kiss his sharp collar bones before moving over his tattoos, kissing every single one of them decorating his chest. You look up at him through your eyelashes, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He was leaning his head back, his disheveled curls digging deeper into the pillow cradling his head.

You adjust your position over him, your hips wiggling over him when you feel something pressing against your inner thigh, You smirk, your hands rubbing over his flushed chest. “Already hard for me, huh birthday boy?” You push down your hips over his erection.

He whimpers under you, his hands moving to hold your hips. “Feels so good, baby.”

You hum smugly, wiggling your hips again before pressing a small kiss on the corner of his lips before moving back down to sit on his calves.

You lick over the inked butterfly on his chest, his breath hitching in his throat as you go farther down his stomach.

You teasingly bite the band of his boxers, the corners of your lips turning up into a smirk when he huffs under you.

“I’ll get there, baby. Don’t worry.” You mumbled against the fabric, your lips leasing his tip through the material.

You feel his legs writhe from under you, awaiting your next move. His thighs tense under you, feeling your nails drag down his leg as your face to face with his erection.

He exhales, his back lifting off the mattress. “Please.”

You stop your movements. “What was that?”

“Please suck my cock.”

You smile sweetly at him, watching his gaze go between you and the tent in his pants. “Since you asked so nicely.”

In a flash you're grabbing him from his boxers and pressing kitten licks on the aggravated tip, his pink lips letting out a strangled moan as you grip him. You hold up his length tightly as you wrap your mouth around his tip, both of you letting out deep sighs at the touch.

You press your hands on his thighs once you get a good rhythm on him, your head going up and down at a steady pace.

You never falter, your tongue feeling every curve of his veins when his hands grip your hair, helping your head bob over him. “Love watching my cock disappear inside your mouth. Looks so pretty.” He groaned, his hand in your hair pressing you down, encouraging you to go faster and harder.

He moaned as you sucked around him, your head bouncing on his length. “Oh fuck.” He moaned, his hips impulsively thrusting up into your mouth. You hand wraps around the parts you can’t take in your mouth as saliva drips down, making you move around him easier. “Keep fucking going, baby.” He growled, his hands still in your hair helping you on his length. “Feels so good.”

You switch from sucking him to just suckling on the tip like a lolipop. You moan around him, the vibrations of your voice making him mewl around you.

In a split second he pulls you off of him and switches around with you so now he was on top and you were laying under him. His lips curve up into the smuggest smirk you have ever seen him wear as he rips off your t-shirt, leaving you bare underneath him. He swiftly pulls off the boxers the rest of the way, his eyes holding a lustrous glimmer as he looks down at your glistening arousal. “Look at you, already wet.” He spits into his hand before pressing it against your core, his middle finger teasing your swollen clit.

You mewl under him as he continues to tease you, his thumb now massaging your nub as he eases in two fingers inside you, making your moans bounce against the walls. “Want you to open up for me,yeah? Good start to my birthday present.”

The oxygen got caught in your throat as his fingers curled up inside you, petting you. He leaned over you to wrap his lips around yours, his mouth capturing your sounds. “Harry!” You moaned as he continued his movements inside you, the familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.

“C’mon, baby. Cum on my fingers before you come on my cock.” His fingers quicken their pace inside you, bringing you over the edge. Your legs convulse around him, your back arching off the mattress as you ride out your high, your chest up to your cheeks heating up from the pleasure.

He watches you intently as you calm down, his hand soaked with your arousal wrapping around his hardening length, coating it with your juices.

You take in rapid deep breaths as you watch him, your tongue poking out to lather your chapped lips.

“Ready baby?” He asked through a deep breath, his hand teasing his tip as he positioned it at your entrance. He takes one of your legs and hangs it over his shoulder, his green painted nails scratching the skin of your ankle before turning his head and giving it a kiss.

You nod eagerly, your eyes observing the muscle under his etched skin, watching every groove and cut of his arms. His hands press on either side of your head, your leg coming down with him and pressing against your chest with his cross necklace dangling in front of your face. He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, one of his hands going down in between you to lead his dick, pressing it against your soaking folds. Both of you sigh in relief from that touch alone.

Before you can start to plead with him, he rams into you, making you scream. He gives you time to adjust before thrusting at a steady pace. He grunts in your ear, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter haphazardly. You curl your arms around his shoulders, your nails tangling with his curls at the back of his head.

You gasp and groan as he fucks you, the sound of skin slapping and your moans and groans filling your room so early in the morning. He makes eye contact with you, his jaw going slack from his movements inside you.

“Oh…” Your legs tense around him as you hang on the edge of the cliff.

“Give me one more, baby.” He quickened his pace, his hips snapping against yours. He grunts at his movements, his hand reaching up to adjust your leg on his shoulder to go deeper.

Your eyes widen with his new depth, your nails scratching at his toned arms. Your toes curl as your stomach tightens, your breath hitching in your throat.

His movements halter above you, his thrusting slowing down. He quickly licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit.

You see stars as he pushes in one last time. His head nuzzles in your neck as he comes inside you, a strangled moan leaving his lips. Both of your chests heave as you try to catch your breath, your shoulders relaxing and your neck easing up. Harry breathes into your neck, one of his hands moving your leg off of him for it to fall slack beside him on the bed, your legs feeling numb. His hands ride up to your hips, squeezing the soft skin gently before he kisses your shoulder.

He smiles up lazily at you, enticing a soft smile on your lips. “Happy birthday, H.” You muttered into his hair.

“Thank you, love.” He kisses your chin. “I hope I get to spend the rest of my birthdays with you.”

You chuckle. “Was the sex that good?” You teased through your flushed face, and not from the sex.

“Well yeah,” he continued, you feel his hand caress your side to go up to your left arm, his hand stopping on your fourth finger. “Plan on spending the rest of my birthdays together.”

A smile subconsciously makes its way on your face, the heat on your cheeks running down your neck to your chest. You stare into his forest eyes, really admiring the golden flecks in them for the first time that morning. “Good.” Was all that could come out from your bruised lips. “I’m glad.”

There’s a tranquil silence between you two, his body still crushing you, a mix of sweat and happiness sticking to your bare skin.

You sigh as you pat his back to get his attention. “Let’s go get some breakfast, birthday boy.”

He hums, here we go. “I don’t know what you're talking about, my breakfast is right here.” He smirks down at you before pecking your lips. You giggle when he spins you around so you’re now on top of him.

“Can my breakfast be served?” He sensually asked as he brought your hips up to his face.

+++

taglist:

@samaraaaaa @tom-hollands-wife @acciosiriusblack @aslugforharry @sunkissedchxrry @vodka-is-gay-and-so-am-i @evanjh @alienorknight @spencharry @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hello! I usually don’t request much so I hope Im doing this right. I absolutely loved the fic where the reader accidentally breaks Levi’s nose and saw that you would be willing to write a 3rd part! So if someone hasn’t already asked, may I request a part where Levi and the reader slowly fall in love. ( Maybe a little flirting along the way from the reader 😗) Eventually one of them confesses and Levi is all flustered and shy ( I heard that he stutters around his crush but I don’t know if that’s confirmed! I just thought that it was adorable🥺)

I found your blog recently and loved your writing so I couldn’t resist requesting! Sorry if this seems a little vague. Feel free to do whatever! Thank you~

yesssss!!! thank u so much for the support anon 🥺 and this was a perfect request thank u for sending it in! 

Summary: Late night paper work and early afternoon naps. 

Word Count: 3.4K (I got a little carried away 🤭)

__

In the four years that you had been in the survey corps, this was by far the busiest. You had been working under Sis, until recently when Hange began the tedious process of transferring you onto her squad. Just when she was about finished, the whole Trost situation arose, putting your transfer on pause. And by the end of it, after Eren’s trial you had just kind of...settled into a vague routine of working with Levi and Hange squads. Bouncing between the two of them. But now as you sat in front of Erwin’s desk, Levi leaning casually against the desk, looking over Erwin’s shoulder as he signed off on some last minute details. 

“Alright then... that settles it (Y/n)! Levi is under your care now!” He teased, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from Levi. 

“I do hope that you are a night owl as well.” Erwin continued to relentlessly tease him, and your hand flew to your mouth to cover the smile and little giggle threatening to spill out. 

“I think that we’ll manage just fine Commander.” You said, smirking at Levi who was glaring at the back of Erwin’s blonde head. 

“Oh I know you will (Y/n).” Erwin picked up his stack of papers and tapped them against his desk before passing them over to you. You smiled up at him and stretched a hand across to shake, his warm hand closed over your own. 

“Thank you sir.” You glanced at Levi who was now practically pouting as he stood impatiently by the door. 

“Better get going, Levi isn’t the most patient.” Erwin whispered to you with a sly smirk and a wink. You let that laugh loose now as you stood from your chair and held the papers to your chest. 

“I’ll see you around Commander.” You said with a little wave as you joined Levi at the door. He opened the door and basically stormed out into the corridor. 

“Anxious to get to work Captain?” You teased as you matched his steps, which were brisk and surprisingly long despite his size. 

“Don’t get cocky, I’m still your superior.” Levi reminded you, since this was a new unfamiliar side of you that he was unfamiliar with, he had no clue how to handle you. Maybe he could find a way to ask Hange about this foreign side of you without drawing too much attention to himself? No that was nearly impossible, damn four eyes was too keen on the little details. 

“No need to worry Captain, I know how the chain of command works around here.” You said as you paused in front of his office, waiting for him to use his key and let you in. He just rolled his eyes, not sure if he was more interested in having this version around or more annoyed. He shook these thoughts off, it was far too late for him to double back on his request for you to become his assistant now. You settled into the chair across from him and began to flip through the paper work that Erwin had just given to you. Levi returned to writing the condolence letters that he had been working on before Erwin had called for the two of you. It was late afternoon, nearly dinner time. Levi usually only got a small portion of food and brought it back to his office to eat. He hadn’t expected you to do the same. But when he dismissed you for dinner you instead offered to bring his meal to him. A bit bashfully, he accepted your offer, and was even more surprised when you came in with two portions and a tray of tea. 

You seemed unbothered with not sitting with your peers, Levi almost tricked himself into believing that you were choosing to spend time with him over the others. But he quickly dismissed those thoughts, knowing that it was most likely the paperwork that was keeping you here. He continued to sneak glances at you through out the evening, waiting for you to ask if you could be dismissed. But you remained silent and focused on the paper work before you. Levi realized that the two of you managed to finish work that usually took him all night to finish, well before midnight. He was unsure of what to do with this free time as he watched you stand and stretch. 

“Same thing tomorrow Captain?” You said with a sleepy smile on your face. Levi’s eyes narrowed and he nodded, waving you off. 

“See you first thing in the morning then.” You said over your shoulder as you left the office, closing his door softly behind you. Levi blinked dumbly after you, he felt so very...confused. He had never felt this flutter in his chest before, or the tightness in his stomach at seeing you leave. Levi stayed awake late into the night, mulling over the way that he had felt when he watched you leave, the excitement that had sparked inside of him at your promise to see him in the morning. 

He even caught himself wondering what it would be like to have you with him all night. Not necessarily in a sexual way, but in a way in which he could see you right before he fell asleep, and again when he first opened his eyes. The thought brought those butterflies back into this stomach, fluttering around in the most annoying way. 

_

The next few days continued in a similar pattern, you kept that same sass, often surprising him with your own crass jokes that rivaled his. It was a particularly sunny Sunday afternoon, the only day that soldiers had off out of the week. He had offered the day off for you but you had refused, and now you were looking like you regretted that decision. Your head was held precariously on the palm of your hand while your other hand flew across the paper as you wrote. Your eyes were closing every now and then, and Levi would pause when they did. Waiting to see if you had finally succumbed to sleep that had been chasing you all day seemingly. 

“What?” You mumbled, eyes still closed, pen hanging limply from your fingers. 

“Hm?” Levi hummed, eyes snapping back down onto his paper in a desperate attempt at looking innocent. 

“Do I have ink on my face or something?” You asked as you set the pen down and rubbed your hands down the sides of your face. 

“No... but you’re no help to me if you keep nodding off. Go take a nap and come back when you’re rested.” Levi said, waving you off, despite how badly he wanted you to stay. 

“Mkay.” You sighed as you opened your eyes just a crack as you stood and grabbed your jacket off of the chair. Levi paused his work to watch you leave, but he was surprised when you only crossed the room and fell limply onto his love seat. He scoffed as you placed the jacket over your face and curled up into a fetal position. Levi tried in vain to refocus, but the sight of you napping made him surprisingly tired as well. He placed his pen down with a loud sigh and leaned back, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the warm sunlight streaming in from his window. 

“Captain, come sit with me.” Your voice was gravely from sleep as you sat up and smiled at him. His heart did a backflip and then ran a mile around his chest at the sight of you in the sun, eyes half open as you looked at him a tad pleadingly. 

“Move over.” He simply replied as he stood from the desk and crossed the room. He leaned down and moved your feet, sitting down where they once were. He sighed contently as he rested his arm over the back of the couch and stretched his legs out underneath the coffee table. He jumped when your feet fell onto his lap, his other hand reached instinctively to swat them off and you whimpered when he did so. 

“Chill out Levi, it’s off the clock.” You mumbled as you sat up and shot him a playful smirk. 

“Go back to sleep idiot.” He said, reaching up and shoving your head back down onto the sofa. You let out a strangled laugh at his actions and he felt his heart do another little flip at the sound. You sat up, hair mussed and eyes still foggy with sleep. 

“Careful Levi, you wouldn’t want to get into another fight with me. We both remember how our last one turned out.” You teased, leaning forward and tapping the tip of his nose with your pointer finger. He scoffed in disbelief as you sat up and leaned back into the couch. He became hyper aware of how close you were now, your hand so close to his thigh that he could feel your pinky brushing the fabric of his pants. 

“You got lucky. Next time I won’t underestimate you.” He said with another dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“Ah so you admit that you would like a rematch?” You asked shuffling closer so your thigh pressed against his. He whipped his head to look away from you and hide his blush. 

“E-Eventually.” He tried to cover his mild stutter by clearing his throat, if you had noticed, you didn’t comment on his flustered state. 

“Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” You chuckled scooting away from him much to his disappointment. 

_

After that afternoon Levi found himself almost desperately seeking your presence. Admittedly, he was hogging you, denying Hange from “borrowing” you for experiments, making up embarrassing excuses for you to stay later into the evenings. If you minded, you didn’t say anything. One particular evening Levi found that he had run out of excuses to keep you, and was about to dismiss you when you surprised him. 

“Are you tired?” You asked, rather out of pocket as you leaned back on your heels from scrubbing his floor. 

“Not one bit.” Levi said honestly, he knew that you were aware of his bad sleeping habits. 

“Good, come with me.” You said, dropping the dirty rag in your hands back into the bucket. Levi was eager to follow you out of his office, which smelled of cleaning chemicals and lemons, as always. You led him through the empty corridors and out into the courtyard. You turned and started walking backwards so you could face him as you spoke. 

“Up for a midnight ride?” You asked cheekily, Levi’s brow furrowed but he found the extra alone time with you all too enticing to pass up. 

“I suppose...” He was abruptly cut off by your hand closing around his wrist, you dragged him the rest of the way to the stables. Levi went to get his tack, but you simply grabbed the reigns for your horse, you led the palomino out of her stall, Levi looked at you skeptically as he held his saddle and the blanket. 

“No time for any of that, if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss it.” You said with a charming smile on your lips. Levi found himself foregoing the saddle like you had and just taking his reigns for his black mare. Once the two of you were ready you both spurred your horses into a light trot. Levi shifted uncomfortably, he had never ridden bareback, yet you looked more than natural in the uncomfortable position. You led the way, heading off into the woods behind HQ, the trail was narrow and a tad tedious, but it was a rather short ride. You stopped along the tree line, a wide field sprawling before you. The tall grass was glowing with fireflies, swaying in the summer breeze. A small creek was between the forest and the rest of the field. 

“Shall we cross?” You asked, turning to him to gauge his reaction. He shrugged and shifted once more on his mare’s back. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggled as you kicked your horse to move forward. Your own mare waded fearlessly into the water, crossing the stream in a few steps. Levi’s own mare was undaunted by the creek, Levi was another story, he pulled his feet up in an attempt to keep them dry as his mare splashed through the water. Once on the other side you dropped off of your horse and tied it to a nearby log. Levi followed your lead and tied up his horse as well. Once that was finished you beckoned for him to follow you once more. You led him through the tall grass, to a small clearing where the grass had been pressed down, clearly someone or something had been laying there. 

“I come out here to think.” You explained as you fell onto your butt and patted the space beside you. The crickets and tree frogs sang in the background and Levi furrowed his brow but eventually sank down to sit next to you. Pleased with this, you laid the rest of the way back and looked up at the night sky. 

“Seems a bit loud to be a thinking place.” Levi quipped as he leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out. 

“Hm maybe. Truthfully I don’t get much thinking done when I’m here. I just....sit.” You shrugged, eyes distant as you looked up at the stars. 

“I see.” Levi wasn’t sure how to respond, but his head buzzed with thoughts, when did you come out here? Was it because he was overworking you? Why did you bring him out here? You rolled onto your side and reached out, gripping his wrist lightly, bringing his attention off of the sky and on to you. 

“Hm?” He hummed wordlessly as he looked down at you with a raised brow. 

“Lay with me?” You smiled a bit sheepishly and Levi felt his cheeks flare up at the sight of you bathed in moonlight, eyes wide and pleading, your mouth curled up into a knowing smile. He huffed, feigning frustration as he slumped the rest of the way into the grass and crossed his arms behind his head. He laid perfectly still, waiting to see what you would do next, he heard the sound of you shuffling closer, so that your head rested just below his arm, your side pressed against his own. It was clumsy and painfully awkward for a moment, as you waited for Levi to shuffle away or welcome you into his embrace. But he remained deathly still, and you knew that you would have to be the one to initiate the affection, not really a surprising discovery. You inhaled deeply as you steeled your nerves before you scooted up and rested your head on Levi’s bicep. You heard him suck in a deep breath as well. But he extended his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders after a tense moment. The frogs seemed to grow louder as you looked up at him, his head was craned down to look at you. His cheeks were flushed an adorable pink color, his brows furrowed still, his mouth was in a flat line as he looked down at you. 

“What’s with the face?” you whispered, reaching a free hand up to gently tap his bruised nose. 

“What face?” Levi grumbled, grabbing your wrist and holding it tightly in his grasp. You chuckled and opened your hand to rest it on his cheek, thumb grazing the soft skin on his face. 

“That one.” You giggled as you shuffled impossibly closer and leaned up so that your breaths mingled. Levi lifted his chin a bit, he had never kissed someone before, something that he was very self conscious about. But you seemed to take this in stride as you propped yourself up on your elbow, his arm that you had been laying on quickly wrapped around your waist as you leaned over him. The stars disappeared behind your face as you smiled down at him, hair curtaining over him as you leaned in once more. This time he remained still, the warmth of your breath on his lips once more, His eyes abandoned yours in favor of looking at your lips, which were opened slightly as you tilted your head to the side. A soft chuckle escaped you as you hovered over his mouth with yours. 

“I hope...that I’m not crossing any boundaries.” You were so close to him now that when you spoke, your lips grazed his. Levi had never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he wanted to kiss you in this moment. 

“Shut up and-” 

“And what captain? Kiss you?” You teased, and he blushed impossibly harder, you could tell he was flustered based off of the way his cheek burned under your open palm. 

“Yes...” He mumbled after a moment of silence. You let out another airy laugh before leaning down and planting your lips on his. You gently took his bottom lip between your own and he timidly returned the kiss. You sighed at the feeling of his returned affections and Levi was sure that his heart was going to explode as you relaxed into him once more. After a moment you pulled away and smiled dazzlingly at him, the moonlight did wonders for your complexion, casting you in an ethereal glow. He knew now that he needed to see you in the first rays of light to confirm his theory: That no matter what time of day, you always looked impossibly beautiful. 

“What are you thinking about?” You quizzed, leaning down and pecking a kiss to his lips before he could answer. 

“I’m thinking-” another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth. 

“that it’s-” this time you placed a kiss just below his earlobe. 

“C-Can you stop?” He stuttered as he turned and avoided you planting another kiss behind his ear. 

“Mmm fine.” You pouted, but buried your face into his neck, waiting for him to finish his sentence from earlier. 

“I said: I’m thinking that it’s almost daybreak.” He finished, pointing up at the sky, which was turning pink along the eastern side of the field. You groaned and nuzzled further into his neck. 

“Then let’s ride back and go to sleep. It’s Sunday after all, we can sleep in.” you mumbled, placing an open mouthed kiss to his collar bone. His hand fell back onto your back, he could feel your muscles flex as you rolled the rest of the way on top of him, resting your full weight on his stomach. 

“You’ll need to get off of me for that to happen.” He huffed as his other hand left your wrist to push you playfully off of his stomach. You moaned pitifully as you fell back onto the damp grass. 

“So tragic.” You said as Levi stood and brushed the grass off of his plain clothes. You finally got to your feet and did the same, eager to ride back and go to bed. 

_

The two of you made it back before sunrise, the sky turning pinker by the minute. After you had put your horses away you both hurried back up to his office, where his private quarters was attached. Levi kicked his boots off and you did as well, not wanting to dirty his floor that you both spent so much time cleaning. He lifted the covers for you and you dove beneath them, Levi laid down next to you and you cuddled up close, looking up with those soft eyes of yours. His nose was still purple and had a small bandage covering his cut. You leaned up and planted a gentle kiss to the tip of it before pulling away. 

“Next time I won’t go easy on you.” You teased breath fanning over his lips once more. Levi huffed and angled his head impatiently seeking your mouth. You chuckled and met him halfway, closing your mouth over his with another satisfied sigh. 

In the end, Levi got what he wanted. You fell asleep in his bed, bathed in the morning light, curled into his side as he felt sleep overcoming him. This was the first time that you stayed with him the entirety of the night, and Levi was determined to never spend a night alone again. 

___

PLEASE. I’M SO VERY SOFT FOR LEVI RN. 

I already read the manga and I can’t bring myself to watch the last two episodes, I’m not mentally stable enough for that right now. So this is how I cope. 💁‍♀️

[talkfastromance4]

piece o’cake-- poly!cake blurb

a/n: SO! this is the first time writing for poly!cake...I’ve tested the waters with poly!lashton and loved it so this dynamic is a little different for me. Let me know what you think :)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: small smut scene, rest is fluffy and kinda domestic, uses she/her pronouns

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

• • • •

She’s woken to soft kisses on her cheeks from warm pillowy lips while another set are kissing her hair, each one rousing her gently awake. This is still so new to all of them, this dynamic of being together, the three of them. Calum and Luke know the little things about each other but with her, it’s something new and exciting every day.

The first time they woke up together, Calum and Luke were being their usual loud selves. Their voices echoed from the bathroom while they utilized the facilities, laughter booming into her ears and the clatter of toothbrushes made her beautiful dream turn to a hellish nightmare really quick.

Annoyed, irritated, aggravated, and every other synonym to having her sleep disrupted, she tossed back the comforter in a huff and stomped her way to the bathroom door.

“Can you please be quieter?” she hissed, wide blue eyes darting between the two boyfriends.

“Uhh…”

“Were we really being that loud?” Calum asks. His sheepish expression eases her a little bit, but only a fraction.

“Yes,” she gritted her teeth then spun on her heel.

They watched her fall back into bed, throwing the blanket over her and she was still once again. Luke and Calum made sure to be quiet after that and apologized profusely when she officially woke up to coffee and toast that was made by them.

“It’s time to wake up, lovie,” Luke says in her ear, it tickles her skin, and she shrinks against Calum’s chest.

“Ten more minutes,” she groans.

Both their hands land on her thigh and waist, their palms are warm as they make circles on her skin, soft chuckles trickle out.

“We don’t have ten more minutes, cupcake. We’ve got a long day of relaxation planned ahead,” Calum pecks her lips quickly, but the slight poke of his tongue awakens her a bit.

“Sleep is relaxation.”

“You’ve been looking forward to our mani-pedi-massage day all week,” Luke kisses her shoulder.

She sighs and opens her eyes to be staring at the tattoos inked on Calum’s chest. Their hands continue to rub her skin with a few squeezes to her flesh with Calum’s thumb inching closer to between her thighs.

“Will we get to nap?”

“After the massage we can,” Luke smiles against her shoulder. His fingers squeeze at her ass cheek.

“Doesn’t seem like you guys want to get out of bed yet, either” she smiles craning her head so she can kiss Luke’s soft lips behind her. The turn made her legs open just enough so Calum can cup her sex with his palm, his thumb rubs at her through her underwear.

“This is the best way to get you out of bed, sweetheart,” Calum hums shifting her panties to the side. His finger teases between her folds, she gasps, and grabs hold of Luke’s curls.

“If Cal makes you cum, will you get out of bed?” Luke whispers against her lips.

She nods letting out a squeak for a yes, her lips chasing Luke’s.

“Give it to her, Cal,” Luke hums slipping his tongue in her mouth just as Calum inserts his finger.

She rests her leg open on Luke’s as Calum fingers her, his own mouth on her neck. He’s sucking and biting, his finger curling and rubbing against her spongy wall.

“Always so wet in the morning,” Calum murmurs on her skin and she moans at the tickling pleasure.

“Is Cal making you feel good, lovie?” Luke asks and she nods. “Yeah? Tell us how good.”

“So…so good,” she sighs tilting her hips with Calum’s motions. He’s using his whole arm as he fingers her, Luke hums and she feels herself slipping.

“There it is…come on baby, come for us,” Calum says, and she feels her orgasm burst forth.

When she moans, Luke and Calum press their lips to her skin until her body relaxes once more. They continue to pepper her in kisses until Calum removes his finger and sucks on it.

“Mmm, want a taste, Luke?” Calum asks.

She watches through heavy lids as Calum holds his hand out to Luke. He grins, shoots her a wink then wraps his lips around Calum’s middle finger. It disappears in his mouth as he sucks off her juices. She gets overwhelmed from the sight before her. How do they expect her to leave this bed now?

They meet in the middle to share a kiss, their tongues rolling over one another’s and she leans up to join in the fun. They both pull away before she can and she’s pouting at them while they share a smile.

“He made you cum, now it’s time to get out of bed, princess,” Luke sighs grabbing his clothes.

“Come on, pouty baby,” Calum grins and snags her ankles in his hands. He pulls her down the bed until her feet hit the fuzzy carpet. He pulls her up into a standing position, his arms wrap around her waist. “There’ll be more later.”

“Promise?” she asks, lip still pouting.

“We promise,” he gives her a sweet kiss.

After a quick breakfast of their favorite cereal, they change and are out the door to the nail salon. She sits in the front while Calum drives, his hand in hers while Luke rests his cheek on the seat by her face kissing her cheek occasionally.

When getting out of the car, Luke holds her hand while Calum opens the door for his two loves, the nail technicians greeting the trio with big smiles. They sit in silence while their feet are buffed, scrubbed, massaged and painted. They giggle as Luke nearly trips over his long legs in the oddly formed flip flops to the pedicure station, his hands held firmly in Calum and Y/N’s.

When the gel has set, they take a group picture of their new colors, Calum is a pretty purple, Luke has a nice shade of blue and Y/N chose a deep red. Three colors that blend together perfectly, just like they do.

Luke insists on paying for all them despite Calum and Y/N’s protests. He just shakes his head, curls jostling, then kisses both of their cheeks.

“My treat to you.”

Their next stop is the massage place that’s only a couple buildings over, so they decide to walk there. Calum has his hand on the lower part of Y/N’s waist, his thumb hooked under the band of her shorts while Luke has his arm thrown around her shoulders. It’s an easy thing being connected this way walking down the street. Somehow they’re always in sync, fitting perfectly together with little communication.

Since the rooms weren’t big enough, they all had to get massaged separately but none of them minded too much. As soon as the masseuse started, all thoughts and worries were gone.

Dazed and relaxed, they went back home for lunch and Y/N started to nod off against Calum’s shoulder. She always gets sleepy after a massage; her muscles feel like jelly.

“Is it my turn to carry her to bed?” Calum grins above her head at Luke.

“Nah, it’s my turn,” Luke chuckles.

Luke is much stronger than his body appears, she’s always amazed at how he can lift her into his arms. She nuzzles into his neck then makes grabby hands for him once he has her settled on their bed. She breathes in their smell in the blankets and sheets, sighing happily.

The two men join her, encircling her in their arms, legs tangled together like vines. She brings their hands to her chest, kisses both of their knuckles and cuddles them.

“After our nap, can we go in the hot tub?” she asks quietly.

“Sure, thing sweet pea,” Luke sighs kissing her forehead.

“Swimsuit optional?” Calum asks in her neck and she smiles against Luke’s throat.

“Only birthday suits,” she giggles then quickly drifts off to sleep. She’s never felt so loved, so cared for before.

• • • •

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[orionwhispers]

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

[clumsyclifford]

hello my love <3 ok it is literally the middle of the night so how about 41 ('go back to sleep.') with jalex? ily <333

we have officially moved into atl territory and you KNOW im a slut for sleepy jalex. also more family feels in this because MAYBE im feeling some typa way

read on ao3

-

Jack stirs at the sound of Alex’s voice, muffled but undeniably Alex. Not to mention it couldn’t really be anyone else; this hotel room is his and Alex’s alone.

His eyes flutter open groggily, and he casts a halfway glance around the room. Alex is nowhere to be found. His side of the bed is still kind of warm, which means at least he’d been asleep (Jack always wonders, always worries a little, because Alex has a tendency to get caught up and see sleep as a suggestion rather than a priority — he’s gotten a lot better about it, but Jack still worries). So there’s that.

Jack strains his ears, though all his senses feel foggy with sleep. The voice is coming from outside the room. Alex must have gone out. He’s probably on the phone, then, although with whom, Jack can’t imagine. Not because no one would call at this hour, but because there are quite a few options. It’s no one’s fault; the band moves time zones often enough that it would be ridiculous to expect anyone to keep track. Even Jack doesn’t keep track, and he’s living it. 

Still, though. It’s — Jack shoots a glance at the clock, which is fuzzy without his glasses but legible — two in the morning. 

It might be an emergency. Jack hopes not. Fuck. What if it’s an emergency? What if something’s happened? What if Alex isn’t on the phone, but talking to Rian or Zack or anyone else? Surely they’d have woken Jack if something bad had happened, right? 

As if summoned by Jack’s distressing spiral, the door opens, hallway light silhouetting Alex like an angelic aura as he slips back into the room. Everything is thrown abruptly back into darkness, and Jack blinks against it.

Quietly, Alex pads over the carpet back to the bed. 

“What’s going on?” Jack whispers, and Alex jumps about a mile.

“Motherfucker, you scared me,” he says, hand on his heart. “Jesus Christ, Jack, why are you awake?”

“I heard you talking,” Jack says. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Alex says, wincing. “Everything’s fine. That was my folks. Just saying their flight was delayed so they might not be able to make the show tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Jack says. The way Alex says it is so matter-of-fact that anyone else might take it at face value, but Jack knows better. 

“Yeah, no big,” Alex says. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re going to sleep too, right?” Jack tilts his head. “Not stay up thinking about this?”

Alex crosses his arms. “I’ll come to bed in a little bit.”

“Alex,” Jack says tiredly. “Please just sleep now.”

“I’ve got thoughts,” Alex says. “Song thoughts. I’m just gonna write them down so I don’t forget them.”

“You have song thoughts at the worst times,” Jack mumbles. “How long is a little bit?”

“Just go back to sleep,” Alex repeats. “I’m fine, Jack.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re not.” Jack shifts into a sitting position, crossing his legs and fixing Alex with a look. “I’m sorry your parents aren’t going to make the show.”

“They might. They’re not sure.”

“Okay, then I’m sorry they might miss it. That sucks.”

Alex studies Jack for a minute, then clambers onto the bed and settles in at Jack’s side. It’s not as good as getting him under the covers, but one thing at a time.

“It’s not a big deal,” Alex says, shrugging. “It’s not like they’re not gonna see us this tour. And it’s not even like I’m not gonna see them, since we have a day off after tomorrow. And I don’t know they’re gonna miss it.”

“Still.”

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs, leaning against Jack, head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack lifts a hand to rub Alex’s back, slow, circular motions that leave his palm feeling weird. But Alex slumps over like Jack is easing the strain out of him, so Jack doesn’t stop. “Still, though. I don’t know. It’s nice when they get to see us do a show that isn’t the hometown show, you know? It’s nice when they come to me, instead of me coming to them.” He sighs. “And I know they are coming, but I just…”

“I think it’s just late,” Jack says quietly. “Much easier to let this stuff get to you when it’s late. You should sleep. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to sleep. I really believe that.”

“I know,” Alex sighs. “I know you’re right.”

“Mm, what was that? Can you repeat that?”

“Yeah, I’m not saying it again,” Alex says with a small smile, turning to Jack. He kisses him softly, and in Jack’s dreamy half-asleep state it feels like cotton candy and clouds. Alex’s smile is so bright in the dark of their room. Alex’s presence is so bright. Some of the halo from the hallway light must be clinging to him. Jack could bathe in this light forever.

“So you’ll sleep?” Jack whispers, moving his hand to the back of Alex’s neck and brushing his thumb over Alex’s collarbone, just under the collar of his shirt. Alex almost shudders in his exhale, and he nods. Jack smiles. “Yay. They should call me the Alex Whisperer.”

“Hilarious,” Alex says, deadpan. “Because we’re whispering. Really funny. King of comedy over here. Regular Cosby.”

“Hey,” Jack says. “I take offense to that.”

“No, you’re right, I regretted it the moment I said it. You’re way better than Cosby.”

Jack hums. “Sleep time now.”

“Yeah, sleep time,” Alex concedes, setting his phone on the side table. Wordlessly, they both settle under the covers, Jack shimmying back into Alex’s chest, Alex throwing an arm over Jack’s waist. His cheek is on Jack’s shoulder, and he turns and presses a kiss to the ink peeking out of Jack’s shirt. “Goodnight. Again. Hey, this is nice. I get to say goodnight.”

“You’d get to say goodnight every night if you went to sleep at a semi-normal hour,” Jack whispers, and drops a kiss into Alex’s hair. “But that’s a tall order.”

“How tall, would you say? Six feet, roughly?”

“About that, yeah.” Jack tugs at the ends of Alex’s hair. “Go to sleep, weirdo.”

“You go to sleep, weirdo.”

“Okay, I am. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alex says, cuddling closer to Jack. “Thanks for…you know. Being rational and patient when I need it.”

Jack smiles even as his eyes fall shut. “Always.”

This time, Jack gets the immense pleasure of drifting off to an already-sleeping Alex, and he feels more at peace than he has in a long time.

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

my masterlist

send me a request

[djpurple3]

For the emotional prompts... Bliss 15 & 16 with Roceit? If you dont mind?

ohohohoh hell yea babey lets get some ROCEIT CONTENT up in this house [also a later comment im gonna edit this to try and fix the formatting bc tumblr seems to hate me and my writing style personally lmao]

—

Roman didn’t think he’d ever been happier. There’d never been a moment in his life where he’d felt so cosy and content, and so wonderfully warm, than right now, with Deceit slotting comfortably in his arms just like the prince was built for holding him.

Deceit shifted in his arms a little, trying to get even more comfortable, before looking up at Roman with adoring eyes.“Hi,” he said softly, his silky smooth voice soothing Roman so serenely.

“Hi,” Roman rumbled back, and he leant down to press a kiss into the top of Deceit’s head. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re more stunning than the moon?”

“Only a moon-addled fool,” Deceit smiled back. “In the Shakespearean sense of the word, of course.”

The object of one’s love.

“Ah,” Roman smiled. “The only sort of fool I’d ever want to be is yours, Dee.”

Deceit curled up, head on Roman’s chest, and from where they were lying on the soft green grass in the Imagination, they watched the golden light of afternoon tip over into the glorious oranges and reds of dusk together.

Roman’s heart was full. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to sing and dance and soliloquize and kiss Deceit breathless but it all stopped in the base of his throat, tumbling over themselves and silencing him before Roman could even fling them off his tongue.

His breath hitched, and he blinked furiously as Deceit looked up at him in concern.

“Ro?” he asked, voice gentle and calm against the distant birdsong. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Thank you,” Roman managed to force out, trying to blink past tears only to have them leak down his cheeks. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Deceit’s concern melted into something far more tender.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he replied, but there was an extra statement in that, under that, if Roman knew how to look (and he did).

Thank you for letting me in, letting me love you.

Roman nearly couldn’t breathe with how much the emotions wanted to come spilling out, but he just couldn’t figure out how to say it. Around them in the meadow, countless wildflowers bloomed, the most delicate but beautiful perfume filling the air (but not too strong, because of Dee’s sensitive sense of smell.

“How do I tell you?” Roman giggled, pressing another kiss into Deceit’s soft air. “How can I put the words to voice? To ink? To song? To movement? There’s so much and more you deserve, keeper of my heart. I feel like I’m going to burst.”

Deceit was smiling so soft, so wide.

“I know how you feel,” he hummed, and he crawled up so he could be face to face with the prince, resting their foreheads against each other’s. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much before.”

Roman giggled again, and Deceit sighed at him, a tender smile carving his usually stoic expression. Roman reached up to cup his love’s face, brushing a thumb across Deceit’s scaly cheekbone and enjoying watching him melt into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispered, words hanging in the still air. “I love you more than words can describe, my dearest darling.”

“And you, my prince,” Deceit kissed his nose, but whilst it was nice, they both knew that wasn’t what they wanted. “My stunning, smart, beautiful, talented, wonderful prince. I… I love you too.”

Roman found tears slipping down his temples as he leaned up, leading Deceit’s face down in his gentle and careful grip, and Deceit followed him willingly.

When their lips met, Roman did his best to funnel every thought, every admission, every ounce of love into the contact. How could he fully commit his love to words? He couldn’t. But the way that Deceit hummed deep in his throat, sleepy and loving, told Roman he didn’t need to, either.

[softforcal]

Just Friends:Soulmate!L.H

Summary: You and Luke are best friends, when you get a tattoo the same one appears on your soul mate. neither you nor Luke have ever had a tattoo and have a pact that if you never find your soulmate, you two will get together. finally on a drunken night of desperation while Luke is on tour you get a tattoo.

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: angsty slow burn fluff

You’d met Luke in LA at a party. the connection was instant, you talked all night and until the sun came up the next day. After exchanging numbers you assumed your life would go on as usual without another word from the rockstar but you were wrong.

the official hang out was much like the day you met, hanging out and talking like old friends for hours. 

you confided in each other about everything.

from what it was like being a rockstar to the conflicted way you both felt about being in your twenties and neither of you having soulmate tattoos. 

“I just don’t want to get something done and have her not like it.” Luke explained, “i also just... i don’t know, do i even want a soulmate?”

“people look really happy when they find theirs.” you shrugged.

“yeah but you just give up all this control over your life, you know?”

“i guess.”

“look, how about this,” he said, turning to face you, “in ten years, if we both still haven’t found our soulmates we should just give up on it and give this a try.”

dating in a soulmate world was difficult. most people didn’t even bother to try. Because no matter what, when your soulmate comes along they’re the one. no matter how much you love the person you’re dating you can’t just not pursue a soulmate. 

you sighed, “fine. but you and I both know the risks... are you sure about this?”

he nodded with a grin, holding out a hand, “pinky promise?”

Luke had been on tour for what seemed like ages and you were distraught. sure you tried to talk as much as you could but he was always busy and the different time zones made it almost impossible.

you were with a few of your friends, one of them had only found their soul mate a month ago and she was still so happy. “he does this super cute thing in the morning where he hides his face under the pillow and just looks so sleepy.” she gushed.

you sighed, you were happy for her but it was still tough. noticing your sad smile your friend sighed, “i’m sure you’ll find yours soon.”

“im just so tired of being alone.” you took a drink from the bottle of liquor you were sharing.

your friends eyes searched your face, “i have an idea! get a tattoo!” 

“what?! that’s crazy!”

“look there’s this new database thing where you can take a picture of the tattoo and post it and through this tagging system your soul mate will be able to look it up. so if you get like... a rose or something, your soulmate can look up rose and scroll through the pictures then find you.” your friend explained, “come on it will be great!”

before you knew what was even happening you were at a tattoo parlour with a needle pressing into your skin.

your fingers hovered over your phone when you got home, not sure what to say to Luke. you sighed, texting: ‘so i got a tattoo. wanna see?’

you knew that with different time zones, Luke would take a while to respond so you put your phone away and went to sleep.

Luke’s day was busy. he didn’t even get a chance to look at his phone until the afternoon, he frowned when he read your text, sending back: “i’d rather see it in person for the first time, only a week left then i’m home. see you then?”

as the guys drove to an interview Calum noticed Luke not being as talkative as usual, “you okay mate?”

“yeah, Y/N got a tattoo.” Luke answered.

“what?! damn, Y/N took the plunge.” Michael grinned.

“do you think it will be someone we know?” Ashton asked, “i mean, it happens sometimes.”

Luke sighed, “i don’t know.”

“you’ll find yours some day Luke. and then you’ll forget all about this crush on Y/N.” Calum insisted.

“you just don’t know what its like because you haven’t found yours yet.” Michael said.

the car stopped and they all got out to go to the interview but Luke knew nothing would distract him from the distress he was feeling.

it must have been two in the morning for Luke when he called you, “hey, how’s tour?”

“its fine.” he answered, “what are you up to?”

“just scrolling through the soulmate tattoo feed, i haven’t felt like posting my picture yet.”

“why not? are you afraid?” Luke’s concern was evident.

“i don’t know. its weird.” you answered, “hey what time is it for you?”

“close to three.”

“wow, you should go to sleep.” you laughed.

“wanted to talk to you.”

“you can talk to me anytime Luke, get some sleep okay?”

“okay, i’ll talk to you later yeah?”

“always.”

He couldn't sleep. tossing and turning all night every time he dreamt it was about you, you with some faceless guy, you with Calum (which Luke knew made no sense), you with a girl. it was all over the place.

Luke trudged through the entire day, going through sound check and then hanging out in the back room before the concert.

someone came in with their outfits and the guys all began to get changed. Luke was pulling off his shirt when he noticed Calum staring at him, “what?” he asked.

“you have... there’s um...” Calum motioned to Luke’s back.

going to the mirror Luke craned his neck to get a good look, sure enough, there was a white outline of a tattoo. the soulmate tattoo. a white counterpart for the original black on his soulmate.

“what a coincidence, first Y/N now you.” Ashton said, “congrats man.” he said, pushing Luke’s shoulder.

“you don’t think-” Luke began.

“nah, Y/N got her tattoo what? two days ago?” Michael said, “can’t be her, we would have noticed it.”

“you’re right.” Luke sighed, pulling his shirt on. 

“wait, don’t you want us to take a picture or something? you can post it? who knows, by the end of the night we could know who your soulmate is.” Ashton suggested.

“no. i don’t care.” he pushed past the guys and walked towards the back stage.

“you know,” Calum sighed, “i really thought it was going to be him and Y/N.”

Ashton picked up his drunk sticks, “we all did.”

it seemed like forever as you waited for Luke to come home. you barely talked and you knew something was up with him but you just guessed it was the stress of the last few concerts. 

you were house sitting for Luke, watching Petunia, both of you heard the jingle of keys at the same time as you both raced to the door.

throwing it open you barrelled into Luke’s chest. he laughed, his arms going around you as he dropped his bag. “missed you.” he breathed.

“we missed you too.” you said, pulling away so Petunia could get some love.

“so any luck with your soul mate?” he asked.

“not yet but i’m sure it will happen.” you answered, “can i finally show you my tattoo?”

“yeah.”

“so you know how we have always worried about getting tattoos in case the other person doesn't like it? well i decided if i put it on my back then if they don’t like it they don’t have to see it.” you explained, turning your back to him and lifting up your shirt.

Luke’s heart nearly burst in his chest as his gaze landed on the familiar ink. 

“what do you think?” you asked.

instead of answering he simply turned you around, grabbing your face and pulling it to his own. his lips were soft and desperate against yours and your hands went to his waist after a moment of hesitation.

he finally pulled away and you looked up at him with questioning eyes, “Luke-” you began.

“i know what you’re going to say but just wait.” Luke said, hands going to the bottom of his shirt he pulled it off and turned around, “Look, do you see it?”

you weren't sure what you were looking for at first before you finally made out the white lines on his skin, “oh my god.” you breathed.

he grinned, turning around to look at you, “we’re soul mates!”

“but.. how... why didn’t you say something?”

“i didn’t know! i only noticed it a few days ago and i figured that it was just some weird coincidence, the guys said-”

“the guys said?” you laughed, “well there’s your first problem. what did they say?”

“they said that my tattoo showed up two days after yours so we couldn't be soul mates.” Luke stated.

“so you’re telling me it took two days for someone to actually get a good look at your back?”

“yeah?”

“damn, i should have realized that putting it on a place you couldn't see was problematic.” you giggled, “my bad.” 

he laughed as well, grabbing your face again to press his lips to yours, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

“me too.”

[joon-bugs]

Taste

~Today marks two very important things: The first post of a Jimin smut, and my birthday! This is a gift for both you and me. Enjoy!~ 

Synopsis: You decide to wear Jimin's shirt on a lazy afternoon. He takes notice of this and comes to the conclusion that you look like a good substitution for breakfast  

word count: 2,331 

pairing: Jimin/Reader 

genre: smut 

warnings: fingering, swearing, oral (f receiving), teasing, begging, praising, kitchen christening ;)

 It was late afternoon by the time you managed to wake up. You groaned, turning to bury your face deeper into the soft bed covers. The thick blankets had been warmed overnight by your body heat and provided a cocoon of comfort, leaving you floating in a haze of bliss.  You partially blamed the excess of sleep on the closed curtains which darkened the space considerably, but also on the late night of...fun you had with your boyfriend the evening before. You blushed recalling the memories of tangled limbs, your bodies moving in sweaty unison.

     A shuffling movement beside you brought your attention to so-called boyfriend, as he adjusted himself, still asleep. His ribs were presented to you then, showing off an inked word. You brought your hand up quietly to lightly brush the letters, tracing the jagged beginning of an ‘n’, before ending at the rounded swoop of a ‘d’. The painted ‘nevermind’ was Jimin's reminder to be more forgiving of himself and to not let his mistakes suffocate him. It was his only tattoo, but that made it all the more special in your opinion. You were content to repeat your movements again when Jimin let out a low moan.

      The heat that flared in your belly suddenly made you dizzy, igniting an intense want inside of you. However, the idea of rolling over to douse the growing flame of lust within was immediately put on hold due to the sharp pain of hunger that made itself known. You sighed quietly, before deciding it was time to get up and start the day, or what was left of it.

      You sat up slowly and rubbed your eyes, before pulling on a pair of discarded boy shorts and after a thought, threw on a long-sleeved striped shirt. You inhaled deeply, reveling in the sweet yet musky scent of Jimin. You smiled in contentment as your feet made contact with the padding of the plush carpet, the cool temperature somewhat soothing the ache of arousal. You stretched languidly, your movements resembling that of a cat. You groaned lowly at the feeling of your bones cracking and tension melting away from your tired muscles. The rumbling of an empty stomach reminded you of your reasoning for venturing out of bed.

      “Fine. Fine.” You mumbled, shuffling into the adjacent room, shivering at the cold tile of the kitchen floor.  You wanted to cook something for your slumbering boyfriend and didn't want him awake and distracting you.

  That's how we stayed up so late last night. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at how overeager Jimin could be. You loved him dearly that's for sure but sometimes you wanted a moment of peace to yourself.

   You crept to the small kitchen in your shared apartment and stooped down to give the small white kitten, fondly named Lily, a quick pat. She purred immediately, loving the attention.

   “Don't  go making too much noise, Papa is asleep.” You instructed the animal, reaching into a cabinet to get down a cooking pan. Rose tilted her head curiously and rubbed against your leg, wanting more attention.

  “Later baby.” You promised, rubbing her body once more to appease her. After placing the pan on the counter, you got out the other necessary tools and ingredients for omelets and turned on some mellow tunes before getting to work.

   The soothing vocals of soft RnB filled the kitchen, your hips swaying to the beat. You did a full turn and almost dropped the eggs when you noticed a sleepy form gazing at you.

   “Jimin!” You chastised, clutching your chest. You took in the sight of his wild bed head and bare chest and immediately forgave him. He was just too adorable.

Jimin rubbed his eye and looked you up and down.

   “Is that my shirt?” He chuckled, his morning voice deep and soft. You blushed but placed a hand on your hip sassily.

    “And if it is?” You asked, giving him a grin. Jimin smirked and took a step towards you, making you swallow. He bent down to your ear and his warm breath caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

    “It looks good on you..although it would look a lot better on the floor.” He whispered, his muscled arm caging you in against the counter. He ran a finger up your bare thigh, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Oh no. I know what that look means. You thought, thinking of an escape plan. Jimin pressed his body against yours, his head lowering.

   “Jimin! Im making food you-.” You began but was cut off by Jimin taking your earlobe between his teeth. You swooned, your legs feeling weak suddenly. However, Jimin caught the back of your knees and lifted you onto the counter.

You gasped, your hands automatically going to his shoulders.

   “C'mon baby..let's play for a little bit.” He whispered, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your exposed neck.

You began to pant, one hand moving to grip his black locks. You arched your back, pressing your body close to his. You really couldn't resist him if you were being honest. And you didn't mind in the slightest.

As Jimin reached the bottom of the shirt he got down on his knees and looked up at you with heated eyes. You swallowed loudly, breathing in heavily. If there was one thing in life you were certain about: there was nothing hotter than Park Jimin between your thighs. You rubbed your legs together, hoping to relieve the building arousal. Jimin seemed to take notice of this movement and smirked, before putting both of his hands on your knees. He spread them apart from each other never taking his eyes off of you.

    You whined in irritation, distraught at the loss of friction.

    “Somebody's excited.” Jimin chuckled, tilting his head to the side innocently, his fingers digging into your skin. You huffed loudly, clenching the back of Jimin’s neck, indicating to him that you weren’t fooled by his attempt to be coy. Jimin chuckled as his hands ventured upward, the rough pads of his fingers sending tingles up your spine.

    You gripped the short hairs at the base of his neck, using them as an anchor. God this man will be the death of me. You thought, your eyes taking in the darkened gaze and thick lips of your boyfriend.

    “Kiss me.” You commanded, biting your lip. Jimin raised a brow at this, tilting his face up.

           “Oh, I plan to.” He gave you a wide smile, his eyes disappearing. You closed your eyes, lips pursed expectantly. However, you weren't ready for the feeling of a nose pressing against your clit.

             “Ah-h!” You flailed, almost kicking Jimin in the process. This didn't slow him down in the slightest though. Taking the moment in stride he gripped the cheeks of your backside, tilting your hips closer to him. You moved to grip the edge of the counter, both thrilled and afraid.

           “Jimin wha-,” you began but was quickly silenced as he buried his face into your crotch, inhaling deeply. The warmth of his breath caused you to pant, your underwear growing damper.  

           “You smell so good, baby..” Jimin accentuated this statement with a long lick up your middle, wetting the shorts you were wearing. You blushed, feeling a bit odd at this action but nonetheless turned on.

"And I know you taste good too..” Jimin wet his lips before rising up to his full height, the new angle causing you to fall back on the hard surface of the counter. You winced as your head connected with the laminate material, and you gave your smiling boyfriend a glare. He gave an apologetic kiss to your knee before hooking the v of your legs over his shoulders, his arms bulging. You scrambled for purchase on the slick countertop, but finding none, settled for grasping the top of Jimin’s waistband.

“J-Jimin.” You stuttered, looking up at him, sweat sticking your hair to your face. In your months together you two had done a lot of sexual things. But the kitchen was an area you had always been hesitant about exploring. The idea of food near bodily fluids really didn’t appeal to you. But something about the spontaneity of this moment was getting to you, and you found yourself not caring about how much cleaning you would have to do.

The new position of your pelvis seemed to aid Jimin in his ministrations, for he appeared pleased by how much more control he possessed. His hands wrapped around your knees, clutching them tightly in place.

“How nice of you to make breakfast for me.” He glided his mouth on the inside of your right leg, pausing every so often to suck bright red marks in his wake.

“Besides, you always know what I want to eat.”

The fabric of your shorts and underwear soon became a hindrance as Jimin ate you out feverishly. You begged him to take them off but he only sucked and nipped at the cloth, making them tighter and more uncomfortable for you. You threw your head back, digging your nails into Jimin's lower back, breathing in short gasps. You wanted his lips to meet your flesh, for you knew it would feel fantastic.

Your hands flew down to slap the counter beneath you after one particularly hard bite.

"Fuck!” You yelled, tears of frustration forming in the corners of your eyes. Why did Jimin always feel the need to be a tease? You jerked your hips, trying to get as much out of what he was giving you as possible. Jimin growled as your fingers began to scratch down his abs, and his hand ventured under your shirt in response. It tickled your skin, but before you could even think about laughing, you found your chest exposed to the cold air as your shirt was yanked up.

Your nipples hardened immediately and you gasped at the contrast in sensations.

"Jimin, ah-”

"Touch yourself for me.” He commanded, his voice husky. He lowered himself back down, his hands still holding your legs. His body heaved with the force of his heavy breathing, and you could see the outline of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“What?” You had heard him but were too distracted by the sight before you to obey him. He freed one of his hands and brought one up to flick a nipple and you saw white, scrambling to follow Jimin's wishes.

“Start playing with these or I won't make you come.” He threatened, soothing the abused bud with his thumb.

You started to caress and fondle your breasts, moaning at the feeling. You glanced down at Jimin to gauge his reaction and was pleased to see his full bottom lip pulled between his teeth aggressively.

“You’re such a good girl for me Y/N..I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

At this statement your soaked shorts were ever so slowly pulled down and off your hips, hitting the floor with an audible plop. You quickly tried closing your legs as the air assaulted your exposed genitalia, but your boyfriend was still between them, effectively stopping your attempt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now?” Jimin asked, giving you a once over. You were sure you looked quite the sight.

“Just-ngh! Touch me. Please. Touch me.”  It really should have been embarrassing how much you were begging, but with Jimin you threw all caution to the wind, carefulness be damned.

He smiled then, all teeth. Predatory. He leaned away from your crotch, never breaking eye contact.

“I love it when you beg. It's so fucking cute.”

You let out a huff of air, irritated that you were being ignored when something thick and cold was shoved inside of you. Your back arched, your mouth opens in a silent scream. The ‘something’ became two and they scissored into your cavern, wet squelching noises following their motions. The fast pace had you thrashing violently so Jimin pressed his free arm across your stomach, holding you in place. Your legs were trembling, toes curling.

        “Ohhh you're taking me in so well baby.” Jimin crooned lips on display in a pout.

Your hands had abandoned their attention on your chest, instead choosing to claw at the arm restraining you. Jimin winced, digging your nails out of him and moving your hand to his head.

“Hold on to this baby. It doesn't hurt.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You gripped the base of his neck as if your life depended on it, clinging to the dark strands of hair. His fingers resumed their brutal pace bringing you closer and closer to that rapturous edge. You bucked against him, riding his digits.  He grunted, the exertion pushing beads of sweat down his forehead, sticking his hair in his eyes.

“J-im-min! I think, I think-”

“I know, I can tell you're close. Fuck, you look so good like this.” He growled, curving his fingers upward. You clenched your eyes tight, your body quaking. You were preparing to climax, as you scratched light cuts down Jimin’s shoulders.

That was when the awful stench of burning eggs hit your nose, ruining your euphoric high.

      “Oh my god, our breakfast!” You yelled, shoving at Jimin until he got the hint to move. You jumper off of the counter, ignoring the wet feeling in your nether regions, and hurriedly took the now blackened pan off the stove.

      “Dammit!” You cursed, moving your ruined meal to the trash. You pouted and sighed deeply, letting out a long groan. So much for yummy food. You thought sourly, barely noticing when your boyfriend came up and wrapped his hands around your midsection.

      “Baby..forget it. We can eat out. My treat. But after I finish some business.” Jimin said, pulling you back to the bedroom.

   “Business huh?” You asked, with a quirked brow.

Jimin only gave you a huge smile, his eyes twinkling playfully.  

Written by Rose

[buttercuppete]

tucked in [peter parker]

spiderman stumbles upon you failing to pull an all nighter for your final [2.3k words]

warnings: none, all fluff

a/n: this is the first fic im posting im sorry for typos and errors aa

One would have thought that Spiderman would immediately retire to his home after his nightly escapades of keeping a safe neighborhood. This was partly true, concerning that he was a superhero by day and genius student by night, but he rarely ever came back to his own home to relax. Today, just like most days, Peter was tiptoeing at the sides of a certain apartment complex, his sight aimed at the second window from the left.

It was such a common occurrence for him to be sneaking into this specific window that anyone who was watching could probably presume that he lived there. This was not fact - he only found comfort in taking nightly visits to one of his best friends.

As much as Peter enjoyed taking the piss out of you by surprising you, he still had some morsel of integrity in him to always message you before he would sneak in. Though it would’ve been an interesting sight, he didn’t want to end up seeing anything beyond his or your boundaries.

It was almost two in the morning when he finally finished up with his vigilante routine and daily report, which was nearly three hours after the usual time he came. His squashed sandwiches were long consumed, and he had a few cuts and scratches to tend to. He almost decided against coming over to your apartment tonight, but god knew he needed some sort of blessing to make his night. And unsurprisingly, that blessing was consistently you.

Parker had checked his phone prior to arriving at your complex, considering that it had vibrated in the middle of his brawl with a convenience store burglar. A few reactions to his new story, some messages from his project group chats, and a missed video call from Ned - yet he couldn't help singling out a certain message that came from you.

you like hot choc n cheese pizza ?

It was sent five hours ago, which promptly sent him into a flushed frenzy. He didn't even bother sending back a reply, but clumsily shoved his phone back in his backpack and swung around downtown to get to you asap.

It seemed quite off-putting to Parker that your lights were still on at this hour. For a moment, he thought that something had happened to you, and his little heart jumped in immediate panic. With a peek at your window, his fears were well buried by the fact that you were leaning over a stack of papers on your desk.

With one quick motion, he was easily able to slip into your room without any noise. He had planned to crawl on the ceiling and surprise you, but upon closer inspection, he noticed that your head was resting against your forearms and the slow and gentle rising and falling of your shoulders. The absence of some snarky remark or a flat, exasperated sigh that normally came from your awareness of his presence signified to him that you were asleep.

If he wasn’t the typical Peter Parker, he would’ve cooed at how cute, even adorable, you looked. But he was, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling heavy hearted at how tired you probably were. Scattered around your form were papers full of notes and graphs in various ink, almost two to three math textbooks filled with post-its, and several pre-calc quizzes similar to his own. It hit him that for the past few days, you had especially been worried about the upcoming math final to the point that you regularly skipped on movie and lego dates with MJ, Ned, and him to study. He always knew you were extremely hardworking and always liked coming out on top, but sometimes you went too far and pushed yourself too much. The last two days he had visited, he could barely squeeze in a conversation between your constant scribbling and typing.

It kind of made him happy to finally see you rest up.

“Hey, are you asleep?”

He almost cracked a laugh from how stupid he sounded. It was probably ridiculous for him to be asking you when you were obviously sleeping, but he just wanted to make sure.

He took a few moments to compose himself, pulling his mask off and taking a seat at the edge of your bed. Parker then took the liberty to examine your room more, eyes trailing from your black and white checkered duvet to the painting-filled walls, to your prized collection of finished remade-into-lego wonders of the world, then back to your desk. This time, his eyes landed on two distinct things - that while you were sleeping, you still had a bright yellow highlighter in your hand which bled plentiful on your notebook, and that there were two pairs of mugs and plates on the table. And with connecting two and two together, he could already assume that it was what you had asked him earlier - homemade hot chocolate and cheese pizza.

It tugged at his heartstrings a little when he saw that neither of the hot choco and plates had been consumed, which, in his head, translated into you waiting for him to swing by before taking a bite or sip. To be fair, he was true to an extent.

Whenever Peter slipped in your room at night, he usually stole away at your secret stash of chips not only to bide some time, but also to catch up on his very late dinner. You knew his superhero lifestyle wasn’t exactly the healthiest, and he had been so kind to you lately, so you wanted to pay him back with a kind gesture.

[If you were being honest with yourself, you’ve already been leaving food out for him. The drawer for your secret stash didn’t leave itself ajar, after all.]

Peter loved your hot chocolate recipe. It was a lovely concoction of lukewarm cocoa and milk that complemented the big marshmallows that floated atop. He didn’t hesitate to take a big gulp of what he assumed was his mug, which had an endearing, kiddy Spiderman design at its front. The taste engulfed him like a tight hug, and he ended up nearly finishing the whole drink within a minute. It didn't initially strike him that he was this hungry.

After he devoured a big bite of the cheese pizza, he observed your sleeping figure with utmost silence, unconsciously taking note of your soft and patterned breaths. For a moment, your breathing stopped, and he nearly jumped from your sudden movement. He thought that you had woken up from his movement, but it turns out you had only changed your position by twisting your head to the right.

...Which meant that you were facing right at him, your lips slightly parted and messy hair and all.

If only you were awake, you would have caught sight of a wild Peter Parker blushing the brightest red. Fortunately for him, you weren't, and he was able to contain himself from showing anymore signs of flustered. It took a few minutes for him to compose himself, because staring at how peaceful and heavenly you looked whilst having a tiny crush on you did not help in the slightest. He couldn't help it, though. There was a reason why he kept on coming over even though you never asked him to.

And there must be a reason as to why you never stopped him.

Parker could stay amazed at how soft you looked all night, but something, for whatever reason, felt wrong to him. It was only with enough observance that your eyebrows slowly started to furrow inwards. Perhaps it was his spidey sense telling him that something was wrong, but he was unsure if that kind of power applied to more mundane situations. Either way, his internal qualms were squashed by the fact that you started shifting in your seat, grunting and huffing. Clearly, you were uncomfortable.

Peter Parker didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

No one would, really. But the next thing he knew, his arms were already placing themselves just below the creases of your knees and the small of your back, lifting you up from the terrible bed of a wooden chair. His mind was buzzing with all sorts of thoughts: I can't believe I'm doing this, I’m totally going to wake you up, good god you're so pretty, I kind of want to kiss you, but you're asleep. The noise in his brain was so loud that he failed to recognize the yellow highlighter you were holding dropping to the carpet, and that he nearly tripped on it. Thank God he wasn't dumb enough to do so, but it still woke you up.

Well, kind of.

You were in an odd, hazy state. The only thing you could see was the bottom angle of Peter's face, and you immediately cracked a smile. He looked at you, horrified for a quick second, expecting you to be annoyed at him for making a commotion. When all you gave him was a big, crescent-moon-eye-smile, it became clear that you weren’t exactly in the most conscious state.

“Parker! You pervert,” you say in an unnaturally loud voice, “look at you, sneaking into girls’ bedrooms at night.”

He panicked, shushing you. God knows what he would do if your parents suddenly busted into the room, and what interrogation he would receive upon being seen carrying you. He found it a little funny with how your words were slightly slurred and how you talked even with a large kindergartener-esque grin.

“For your information, I literally sneak only into one girl's bedroom every night,” he huffed, laying you down on the soft surface of your duvet. “And that's you.”

“Aw, that’s pretty nice of you, Spiderman.”

He giggled at the manner of how you garbled, lids just half closed from how sleepy you still were. It was probably a given that you weren’t conscious to fully understand what was going on, and it was so tempting to fool around with your current state [in the most appropriate context]. And although Peter Parker could be a ridiculous asshole sometimes, he was one who was deeply in love with you.

You cozied up under the blanket he tucked you in, resting half of your face under the soft material. Peter watched your eyes instinctively closes at its fluffiness, and his heart instantly clenched as a reaction.

“You comfy?”

You nodded fervently, eyes opening and fixating on Peter. He had a small smile on his lips, as he tugged on the edges of the blanket so you were fully covered.

In some crook of Peter Parker’s teenage brain, he felt a little tempted to take some photos of you as blackmail to tease you about, but he was much more content with your soft, drowsy form. He couldn’t help feeling sleepy himself, thus promptly yawning as he tucked you in.

“Did you see the hot chocolate?”

“I did, it was really good.”

You smiled. “Okay, I made sure to make it extra chocolate-y, just for you.”

Although your eyes were closed, Peter’s cheeks flushed involuntarily. “Just for me?”

“Of course.”

As if it was an instinct, he mimicked you by silently mouthing your small ‘of course,’ with the tip of his nose wildly turning a violent red.

You always, in some way, sent his heart into a frenzy. He preferred to chalk it up to you being charming, even though in the back of his head, his undeniably massive crush on you was probably the reason. Maybe he could’ve gushed over you a little more, but as he saw you yawning for a second time, he realized that he was pretty drowsy himself.

Your eyes opened slightly, catching sight of a sleepy Peter Parker, his jaw mid-open from his yawn. Out of whatever pity was in your heart, your hand poked out of the nearest end of the blanket and clung onto his Spidey suit.

“What's wrong?” Peter mumbled with incredible delicacy, as if any louder would upset your environment.

“Nothing, I know you’re sleepy.”

It was silent for a second, but he immediately began spouting bouts of denial, saying that it was just a long night and that he would prefer to be with you. Half of it fell out of your opposite ear because you wanted him to rest too, but the other half you carefully listened to. Maybe Peter would forget all the things he said to you tonight, but it made you feel like he valued you more than a friend would.

“- well, you know, being a good friend, I’m kind of concerned for you, okay? You study real hard and you gotta rest-”

“Superheroes deserve sleep too,” you argued, voice still under a whisper.

He opened his mouth to bite back, but he closed it anyway with the fact that you were completely right. He was tired out of his damn mind.

“And with a loud ass voice like yours, I bet my mom would come marching in.”

There was some part in your body that could sense him suppressing a laugh not only out of fear, but also out of the fact that you were, again, entirely correct.

Peter decided to follow. He revelled in the fact that you cared for him deeply, and allowed himself to lean in closer to you, hand caressing yet barely touching the top of your head. A sweet and quick goodnight from Peter Parker was whispered in your ear after a few strokes of your hair, followed by light footsteps leading in the direction of your bedroom window. You heard the sound of the window slowly sliding up from its hatch, and suddenly, you missed Peter's touch.

“Sweet dreams, Spiderman.”

[You’d like to think that he was out of the room before you muttered it, but Peter heard everything.]

[under-atomic-skies]

Never Too Late

Summary:   Three years after moving to Gravity Falls, Ford gets a call from an old colleague regarding one of his patients with a fake ID who looks a lot like Ford. Could this man really be Stanley? Written as a request for Pineslover123 (AO3)

Feel free to send me requests

Warnings: implied suicide attempt

Word count: 4885

AO3

Winter was finally giving way to spring, but with the warmer weather came the storms. Stanford didn’t mind the storms all that much as he used to as a kid. There was something relaxing about listening to the sound of the rain hitting the roof or the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. It was sometimes annoying when he had work to investigate out in the woods, but luckily he had plenty of work he could do indoors to keep him busy.

He settled himself into one of the tables near the window so he could watch the storm outside. A cup of coffee rested beside the thick, maroon book he was making notes in. On the front was a golden six fingered hand with the number 2 written in thick, black ink.

He’d moved to the sleepy, backwoods town of Gravity Falls, Oregon not three years ago. The area had drawn his attention by the unusually high reports of anomalous activity, and to his pleasant surprise, he couldn’t get much farther away from his home town if he tried. More or less, he made a home for himself here. It wasn’t homey in the normal sense as it was filled with specimens he’d found and pages upon pages of notes he’d written or read, but he’d built the home with the help of some local lumberjacks and it was his own space.

It was everything he had wanted. He’d finally found a place where a person like him could fit in.

As the heavy rain beat down on the house, he could only distantly hear the sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen. Luckily, his friend and research assistant, Fiddleford McGucket answered it.

“Hello, Pines residence,” he said into the phone. His voice, twinged with a southern accent, tang above the sound of the rain. Finally noticing there was a call, Ford turned his head towards the direction of the kitchen.

“Yes, he’s here,” Fiddleford said. There was a pause before he spoke up again, “Sure, I’ll go get ‘im. Hold on.”

Footsteps neared the front room and Fiddleford emerged from the hallway leading from the kitchen.

“Stanford,” he called from the doorway, “Ya got a phone call.”

Ford sighs quietly and shuts his book, the gold hand on the front reflecting in the overhead light. Reluctantly, he stands from his desk and approaches his friend.

“Who is it?” He asks. They didn’t usually get too many phone calls here. Usually, it was Fiddleford’s wife, or occasionally his mother that called, but if that were the case now, Fiddleford would have just said so.

“Ed something? He says he knew you back at Backupsmore.” Fiddleford reports.

The name Ed did sound somewhat familiar. It wasn’t like Ford had gotten close to anyone apart from Fiddleford, so why would he be calling?

Intrigued, Ford squeezed past Fiddleford and went to the kitchen. The phone had been set on one of the counters, and Ford wasted no time in picking up the receiver and holding it to his ears.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

“Hey Ford, it’s Ed White,” the voice on the other hand said. There was a pause as Ford tried to connect the name to where he remembered the man from. Ah, yes! Ed has taken some courses with him. Psychology or something? Ford wasn’t one to like to dabble in the softer sciences, but had taken some courses none the less.

“Ed,” Ford finally spoke up, “I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

The other laughed a bit awkwardly, sounding almost forced, “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this either if I’m frank.”

‘Frankly is the only way I speak’, his fathers voice suddenly rang in his head, causing him to wince.

“Was there a reason you’re calling?” Ford asked somewhat curiously.

“Yeah, about that,” the voice on the other end was a bit hesitant, “Look, I’m not sure if I’ve got the right guy, but I have a patient here that looks an awful lot like you, but he came in with what looks like a fake ID. Does the name Steve Pinington mean anything to you?”

Ford’s body stiffened at the mention of someone looking similar to him. Steve Pinington? He didn’t know anyone by that name, but the name sounded awfully similar to Stanley Pines. It also sounded like the kind of name Stan would give himself for a fake ID.

But what use would his brother have for a fake ID? They had turned 21 several years ago, so he couldn’t possibly need an ID to forge that.

“Not exactly, but Steve Pinington sounds awful close to my brothers name.” Ford replies, debating on whether or not he should hang up now. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in seven years, not since his brother had sabotaged his chances of getting into West Coast Tech.

His hand tightened around the receiver at the memory. Seven years had done little to lessen the anger and resentment Ford harbored for his twin.

His muscles were practically itching to hang up, but something stilled him. Ed has mentioned he was a patient, a patient with a fake ID none the less.

“Just what kind of trouble did my brother get himself into?” Ford asked with a sigh, pinching his nose. He didn’t have time for this. Stanley has ruined his life once. He should hang up and forget this conversation happened so he could get back to his studies.

“A lady called in to report a man passed out in his car a few days ago.” Ed began, his voice suddenly much quieter and softer. It put Ford on edge, “When the authorities got there, they found that he had taken a bunch of pills. They took him in to pump out his stomach and once he was recovered enough, he came to me.”

Ford felt like he was going to be sick. Stanley has taken pills? The stubborn part of his brain wanted to believe it was an accident, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging part of him that knew it was no mistake.

“You still there, Pines?” Ed asked.

Ford jerked out a nod, then remembered Ed couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I’m here.” He murmured quietly, “He came to you, you said. What does that mean? What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor at the Utah State Hospital. I treat the patients that come in here, and your brother is one of them. Since he had a fake ID, we couldn’t find any medical records or family to contact. I only happened to see that he looks fairly similar to you.” Ed explains patiently. Ford sits heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

What if they had found family to contact? They would have called their parents first and what if Filbrick had been the one to pick up? Ford winced to think that Filbrick would hang up, not having a single care for the son he had kicked out of his home.

Was Ford really any better though? He had watched Filbrick kick Stan out and hadn’t lifted a finger. He’d been so angry at Stan that he hadn’t cared he’d been kicked out. He’d briefly thought about his brother over the years but told himself that Stan would be fine and dismissed the thought.

Now Ford knew for a fact that Stan wasn’t fine. He’d downed god knows how many pills in the solitude of his car. If he had died, would Ford have even known? Ed only knew to contact him because of their similarities in appearance. If Stan had died, Ed wouldn’t have been there to connect two and two together and Stan would have been thrown in a nameless grave.

The thought made Ford feel sick. Swallowing his bile, he spoke up again, not caring how his voice wavered. “I’m coming to see him.”

He found a piece of paper laying around and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket to write down the address Ed gave him. Ford estimated it would take him 12 hours (five or take) to get there and Ed said he’d be waiting.

Ford said goodbye and hung the receiver back up on the wall with a ‘click’ and finally had a moment to take everything in. Fiddleford slowly crept into the kitchen, finding Ford leaning against the wall with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

“Stanford?” He asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“My brother,” Ford forced the words out with some difficulty. The lump in his throat was making words hard to get out, “He— he tried to kill himself.”

Six fingers tightly gripped the edge of the counter. Fiddleford’s eyes widened and Ford realized bitterly that he wasn’t even sure if he ever told Fiddleford he had a brother.

“Stanford, I’m so sor—“

“I’m going to see him.” Ford cut him off, not wanting to hear his sympathies. He didn’t deserve it.

Fiddleford merely nodded. “Ok.” His voice trailed off as Ford pushed himself away from the wall and began pacing.

“Ed said he’s in Utah, which means it should take me around 12 hours to get there assuming I don’t stop,” he rattled off, mentally charting his course, “I’d have to stop for gas a few times, but if I keep it short, it shouldn’t put me back too much. But I...”

He continued to rattle off his thoughts, one hand behind his back as the other gripped his hair. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Fiddleford’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t drive for 12 hours straight, Ford. You need to eat and sleep too.” His voice was soft, reminding Ford of their college days when Fiddleford used to remind him to nap when he’d be studying for too long.

“I can’t do that! I already failed Stanley once; I can’t keep him waiting any longer!” It was unspoken, but Ford was terrified he’d try something again.

Fiddleford’s hand squeezed, grounding Ford. “I’ll come with you, ok. We can take turns driving so you can get some sleep and we can stock up on food so we won’t have to stop.”

Ford considered his words. That would be practical, but he couldn’t ask his friend to do all of that for him.

“I dunno—“

“Stanford Pines, I think you misunderstood. That was not a suggestion. I’m not letting you drive for 12 hours in the state that you’re in. You’ll be of no use to your brother if something happens and it’s not like I have something better than helping a friend here.” Fiddleford’s words are firm and Ford knows better by now than to protest. He jerks out a nod and Fiddleford squeezes his shoulder once more before dropping his hands to his side.

“Good, now let’s pack up and hit the road.”

Twelve hours later, the pair found themselves in the lobby of the state hospital. Ford nervously fiddled with his hands as he approached the desk.

“I’m here to see Stanley Pines.”

The desk worker, a woman who looked downright bored, barely refrained from sighing as she looked through the files.

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.” She reported.  

“Oh right, try Steve Pinington.” Ford said, forgetting his brother was here with a fake ID. The woman doesn’t refrain from sighing as she looked again.

“I’ll call a nurse to take you up.”

Ford nodded and Fiddleford sat in a near by chair with Ford quickly following suit. Ford anxiously fiddled with his hands as they waited for the nurse. After a moment, Fiddleford rested his hands over Ford’s.

“It’ll be ok, Ford.” He murmurs quietly. Ford isn’t so sure, but luckily doesn’t dwell on it for long as the nurse finally arrives.

She leads the pair through the hospital halls which seem more like a maze than any planned out path. Finally, they come to a stop and the nurse finally faces them.

“He’s just returning from therapy, so he’s in this room for now. Don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t recognize you at first.” She said and promptly leaves before Ford can ask what that meant. He shared a look with Fiddleford before letting himself into the room.

The room was small with only one bed in it. A form lay on the bed, prone and still. Ford’s heart caught in his throat. Even with all the years spanning between the last time he had seen his twin and now, it was odd to see him so quiet and still. It was so different than the loud, boisterous, energetic version of his brother he remembered.

Slowly, he approached the bed, eyes drinking in the sight of his brother. His hair was longer than he remembered and wasn’t slicked back anymore. A big, bushy mustache adorned his face and Ford was distantly angry that he could sort of pull it off.

“Stanley, what happened to you?” Ford whispered. A groan sounded from Stan and his eyes fluttered open. The breath in Ford’s chest stilled as he looked at Stan, not sure how he was going to react upon seeing the brother that abandoned him at his bed side.

Stan’s eyes were glazed, almost unseeing as he blinked at Ford. There was no spark of recognition, no anger, no anything. It was as if Stan wasn’t seeing anything at all.

“Stanley?” Ford asked, reaching a hand out to take his brothers hand, noticing now that he was still restrained to the bed. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep back were welling in his eyes.

“Stan, what happened to you?”

Stan’s lips parted as if he was going to respond, but no sound came out. He stared at Ford with a dull, expressionless face. The tears were spilling down Ford’s face as he threw his arms around his brothers shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Stan.” He whispered in his twins ears, all too aware that Stan hadn’t responded to his hug. As teens, Stan had always been the one to initiate touch, whether it was a large arm slung around his shoulder, or Stan hoisting him off his feet.

Ford couldn’t help but remind himself that Stan might not even want Ford to hug him if he was aware of what was happening. Ford hadn’t even so much as bat an eye when Stan had been kicked out. In the seven years since, he hadn’t tried to contact him once, barely even spending more than a few moments to think of Stan.

He didn’t deserve to be here for Stan now but Stan needed it. He needed someone to be there for him, and his selfish brother would have to do.

Ford wasn’t going to abandon Stan again.

“Uh, Stanford,” Fiddleford’s voice hesitantly spoke up. Ford had forgotten he was there. He released Stan from the hug as he straightened up to look at Fiddleford. The mechanic held a clip board from the end of the bed in his hands and was looking at him with a look that sent chills down Ford’s spine.

“You should take a look at his chart.” Fiddleford said, holding the clipboard out to him. Ford gulps as he reluctantly takes the board.

Ford wasn’t a medical doctor by any means but the long list of medications was concerning. God, was it even necessary to have Stan on so many medications? He was practically a vegetable by this point.

As his eyes scanned down the long list of procedures and medications, Ford’s eyes froze on one word, feeling his heart still. Suddenly, Stan’s behavior made so much sense as the words ‘ECT’ glared back at him.

“Oh God,” Ford whispered. He looked up to Fiddleford who wore a silent expression on his face. Ford turned his gaze back to Stan, still restrained and staring blankly at the ceiling.

“We’re getting him out of here.” Ford said, matter of fact. He wasn’t letting his brother sit in this hospital to be ‘treated’ any more. He remembered reading papers in college about ECT; how they were a horrific treatment option at first glance, but yielded good results in many patients.

Stan obviously wasn’t one of those patients and Ford wasn’t going to abandon him again.

“F, can you please stay with Stan whilst I talk to someone about discharging him?” Now that he had a task to do, his eyes were hard in determination. Fiddleford nodded, lips tilting in a ghost of a smile knowing what that look in Ford’s eye meant all too well.

Ford wasted no time and left the room. After taking to several orderlies, he was finally directed to the person in charge of discharge. After explaining Stan’s true identity and his relation to Ford, they began the paperwork and sent someone to help with Stan.

When Ford finally arrived at Stan’s room again, he noticed that Fiddleford had taken up place beside Stan’s bed. He was quietly murmuring something to Stan as he combed his lanky fingers through Stan’s dirty hair. Ford hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see Fiddleford interact with his son seeing as Tate was in Palo Alto, but he could tell from how he was treating Stan that he was a good father.

Certainly a much better father than Filbrick had ever been.

“They’re getting the paper work settled.” Ford said. The orderly that had led him to the room brushed past Ford, now with a wheelchair in tow. Fiddleford stepped aside as the other man wordlessly started undoing the restraints on Stan’s wrists.

Fiddleford joined Ford at his side, putting a comforting hand over Ford’s shoulder.

“Little help?” The other man spoke a few moments later as he coaxed Stan to sit up. Ford darted from Fiddleford’s side to Stan’s, helping the orderly to get him to his feet.

“Wha—?” Stan groans out, turning his head slowly, as if he was moving under water.

Ford and the orderly helped Stan shuffle a couple of steps closer to the wheelchair, “We’re getting you out of here, Stanley.” Ford replied, smiling hopefully. They lowered Stan into the wheelchair and Ford could swear he saw a hint of recognition in Stan’s eyes. Whether it was because Ford was here, or because of the change of scenery, Ford wasn’t sure and frankly, didn’t care.

For so long, he’d thought Stan’s loud, brass behavior had been so annoying— dare he even say suffocating.

Now he’d give anything just to see a shred of the Stan he used to know.

Ford took the handles of the wheelchair and nodded to Fiddleford. They left the room, following the orderly as he led them to the front door. As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Stan flinched ever so slightly and squinted his eyes as he looked around slowly.

Not wanting to dwell in this place any longer, he wheeled Stan to the car as Fiddleford jogged ahead to open the door for him. He smiled thankful to notice that Fiddleford was offering up the front seat to Stan.

What he had done to deserve a friend like F, he didn’t know.

Together, the pair helped guild Stan to his shaky feet and lastly, into the car. As Fiddleford returned the wheelchair, Ford buckled Stan into place.

“St’nferd?” Stan asked, voice slurring syllables together. Ford’s head snapped up to see Stan slowly blinking at him with a confused expression.

“It’s me, Stan,” he said, relieved that his brother recognized him, “I’m here. We’re getting you out of here, ok?”

There was a pregnant pause before Stan jerked out a nod, resting his head back against the head rest.

Fiddleford has returned by this point and climbed to the back seat. Ford quietly shut Stan’s door and hurried to the drivers side, eager to get far away from the hospital.

Stan had fallen asleep shortly after the drive started. Fiddleford had also nodded off at some point, leaving Ford by himself at the wheel.

His brain was spinning a mile a minute, trying to figure out the next course of action. They’d have to clear out some space for Stan to sleep in. He also supposed he’d have to figure how to get Stan’s car back at some point. What was trickier was figuring out how to help Stan.

He wasn’t a fool to think that simply being there for Stan now and offering him a place to stay was going to fix all of his problems. Ford was terrified of the idea that Stan would try anything again. He owed it to Stan to do things right by him.

He doubted that Stan would consider talking to a professional, and like hell he was going to let Stan be admitted to another hospital. Maybe he could find someplace reliable to get Stan some medication that wouldn’t make him catatonic.

A groan from beside him broke the silence in the car. Ford’s gaze briefly flickered to Stan before darting back to the road.

“How’re you feeling, Stan?” Ford asked softly, occasionally darting his eyes to Stan.

There was still a glazed look in his eyes, but rather than looking like he wasn’t seeing anything, he looked like he was waking up from a deep sleep.

“Uh, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan groans, adjusting in his seat sluggishly. His voice is still somewhat slurred, but it’s infinitely better than he was before.

“I imagine you’ll feel like that for a bit longer until all the drugs in your system wears off.” Ford said. His voice drops timidly as he continues, “Stan, I— I don’t know where to even start. I’m just— I don’t— I’m sorry.”

Stan’s looked at him, a tired look of surprise on his face, and Ford couldn’t help but smile softly. “Ok, ok, maybe now’s not the best time for this.”

Stan blinks slowly, “Where are we?”

Oh, right. “We’re in my car. My friend and I came to get you when we caught news that you were here. We’re on our way back to my home in Oregon; there’s about nine hours left in our trip.” Ford briefly wondered if there was any more relevant information to add but decided to wait until Stan was a bit more alert.

Stan looked back towards the road, not saying anything. Ford reached a hand over, covering Stan’s hand in his. As he glanced over, worried if it was ok, he saw a ghost of a smile on Stan’s lips as he closed his eyes, drifting back asleep.

Hours later, Fiddleford pulls down the winding drive way leading to their house. He had switched seats with Ford at some time during the trip, and Ford has fallen asleep promptly afterwards. Luckily, Stan stayed asleep for the rest of the line.

As Fiddleford saw the house coming into view, he reached a hand back, tapping Ford’s knees. From the mirror, he saw Ford’s eyes blink open.

“We’re home,” Fiddleford reported with a smile.

The car rolled to a stop near the porch. The sound of seat belts unclicking and doors opening woke Stan up, who looked around at his new surroundings with confusion.

Ford was at his door in a moment, a timid smile on his face.

“Welcome Home, Stanley.”

Stan’s eyebrows were bunched in confusion. He certainly seemed more aware now then previously seeing as the drugs had at least 12 hours to work its way out of his system.

Ford offered him a hand, “Let’s go inside. We can get you something to eat, and i can explain any questions you have.”

Stan lifted a hand, hanging it in between the two of them for a moment, hesitating before taking Ford’s hand. Getting to his feet still took effort, but whether it was because of the effects of the drugs, or from being crammed in a car for 12 hours was unclear.

Slowly, the twins made their way through the lawn to the porch. Ford paused to unlock the door before throwing it open for them. He led Stan to the kitchen, helping him sit down in the chair.

“What can I get you to eat?” Ford asks.

Stan merely shrugs.

“It’s been at least 12 hours since you’ve eaten anything; you gotta eat something.” Ford says.

Stan doesn’t look up from his hands resting on the table. Ford continues, to babble on about food, starting to fidget his hands.

“I don’t want food, Ford.” Stan cuts him off, sounding exasperated. Ford doesn’t seem to notice apart from getting more fidgety.

“But you have to—“

“I want answers, Stanford,” Stan finally bites out. His hands are clenched tight into fists. Ford falls still, looking at his twin with an owlish expression, “You bring me here, acting like nothing ever happened between us, doting on me like I’m an invalid. I just don’t— I don’t get it!”

Ford sighed and sits down across from Stan heavily.

“You kinda were,” Ford replied in a whisper, “You didn’t see how you looked, Stan. It was terrifying to see you like that. You weren’t... you.”

Stan crosses his arms over his chest, “How would you know if I wasn’t acting like me, huh? It’s been seven years, Ford. You didn’t give a shit about me in any of that time until now.”

Ford winced. He had a point. Wringing his hands, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment. “I was wrong.”

Stan’s jaw dropped, looking at him with a look of shock as if he never expected Ford to admit he was wrong. Ford continued.

“I was so wrong, Stan. About a lot of things. I shouldn’t have stood aside and let Pops kick you out. I should have heard you out, or tried to find you, but I was so angry, stupidly so, that I convinced myself that you were ok. I—“ Ford broke off, covering his face with his hands, “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if you had—“ his voice trailed off, not able to finish that sentence.

Stan’s demeanor changed completely as Ford broke down in tears. “Woah, woah, relax, Sixer.” Stan replied. He pushed himself to his feet, kneeling beside Ford’s chair as he put a hand on his brothers shoulder. Ford peaked out from behind twelve fingers, eyes wet with tears.

“You called me Sixer.” He whispers pitifully, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“Uh, yeah.”

Ford frowns, “What happened to us? How did one stupid fight ruin how close we used to be?”

Stan was silent, having wondered that question many times himself over the years. Ford reached out, gripping Stan’s hand on his shoulder with a desperate grip.

“Stan, I’m sorry. I know I messed up so much in the past, but please let me be there for you now. I don’t want to lose my brother again.”

Stan sighed, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t want that, Sixer. You’ll just get tired of me eventually; you just feel sorry for me now.”

Ford shook his head, “No, Stan, I swear I won’t, but, uh, if you really think that way, why don’t we at least take it one day at a time, ok? Just give me a chance to make it up to you. I want us to be brothers again.”

It was Stan’s turn for his eyes to well up with tears. He pointedly looked away from Ford, biting his bottom lip. Ford rested his hand on Stan’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

After a moment, Stan looks back to Ford, soft smile on his lips, “I’ve missed you, Sixer.”

“I’ve missed you too, ya knucklehead.”

“Just, uh, just ‘cause we’re having a moment here, your project really was a mistake. I would never intentionally ruin something I know was so important to you.”

Ford smiled softly, “I know that now, Stan. I should have realized that back then.”

Stan’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief. He and Ford share a moment as they look at each other, hopeful expressions on their faces.

Finally, Ford gets to his feet, helping Stan up with him.

Once they were standing, Stan wraps his arms around Ford, pulling him into a tight hug. Ford didn’t hesitate as he flung his arms around his twin, glad to finally feel his twins arms around him once again, to confirm that Stan really was here and was ok.

They linger in a hug, until they at last reluctantly pull away.

“Now,” Ford says as he makes Stan sit back down, “You really should eat something. How does some soup sound?”

Stan opens his mouth but is promptly cut off by a loud rumble from his stomach. There is a moment of silence before the brothers both start giggling together.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ford laughs, pulling a can of soup from the cabinet. Stan’s laughter bubbles back down to quiet chuckles.

Fiddleford eventually joins them, sitting across the table from Stan with a warm smile. For the first time in years, he feels lighter, hopeful even. His future was still uncertain, but it was a hell of a good place to start.

With his brother by his side, they were capable of taking on anything the world could throw at them.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Bargaining Chip: Final Chapter

Negan x Asexual Original Female Character

Summary: Negan takes Blossom captive after the lineup scene instead of Daryl to keep Rick in line. 

Warnings: Angst, Alcohol Intoxication, Michonne, Bare Feet, Rick’s Curls, Emotional Daryl, Escape from the Sanctuary!

Read the rest of the story HERE

Tags: @acutecupidity @80s90steen @negans-network @collette04 @mblaqgi @haleyea @sourwolf-sterek32 @toxic-ink @divadinag @annablack1102

She woke to cold fingers wrapped around her lips, startling her in bed from their sudden contact. Had Negan lied to her after dinner? Was it all just a ploy to get her to trust him so he could take what he wanted while she slept?

“Shh,” Rick whispered, tilting her head so she could see him crouched down next to her. He put his other fingers to his lips as he motioned for her to get out of bed.

Rick… Rick… Rick! Her eyes widened with excitement when she realized he wasn’t some kind of vision, some drunken hallucination her brain had fashioned to help her get through this night. He was actually there, his axe in his hand and the moon in his hair. But wait, what if Negan…

Rick pointed at Negan’s snoring form as he let go of her mouth, beckoning a second time for her to get out of bed. His eyes were wild with fear and determination as he took an account of all the exit points in the room.

Blossom wished to God she hadn’t gotten as drunk as she did earlier. Why did she have to drink four glasses of champagne? Why couldn’t she have just drank one? Why couldn’t she have stayed alert enough to take in everything he told her? Maybe then getting out of this bed wouldn’t be so goddamn difficult.

Rick held onto her as she stumbled out of the down comforter, catching her limbs before they could make a sound against the hardwood floor. His familiar scent flooded her senses, placing her back to the day they first met on the road while reminding her how powerful a drug alcohol really was. The sweat from his curls dripped onto her neck in an uneven pattern as she wrapped herself around him, his heart beating erratically against his chest.

He took in a deep breath before lifting her up, doing his best not to run into anything as he made his way to the large window that made up most of the wall. He set Blossom down against the couch as he opened the window and glanced back at Negan. He let out a sigh of relief to find that he was still asleep.

The window opened to Michonne as she reached her hands out to Blossom, her sword secure in its sheath on her back. “Come on,” Michonne whispered, lifting her up and over the barrier.

Blossom winced as she climbed out of the building, the pebbles on the rooftop piercing her bare feet as she stepped out of view. She held onto Michonne, doing her best to keep her balance as she stepped over the dead body that was supposed to be standing guard for the Sanctuary. His head had been sliced in half.

Michonne looked her up and down, taking the scarf off her head and ripping it in half with her teeth. She bent down and wrapped each half around Blossom’s feet, giving her makeshift shoes while she stood on the uneven rooftop. She smiled as she finished tying her left foot and stood up as Rick climbed out of the window.

“Let’s go,” he mouthed to them, playfully shaking a walkie talkie he stole from Negan’s bedside. He pointed to the opposite end of the roof and slid his shoulder under Blossom’s arm, watching Michonne follow suit as they started to make it across the pebble-covered surface.

Blossom did her best to move her feet as the alcohol continued to make her sluggish. She held onto her friends as tightly as she could, grateful they had risked coming to get her, but afraid of what Negan might do if he woke up. Would he kill them all? Would he spare Rick again? It was hard to tell. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he hadn’t noticed her absence and realized they had reached the end of the roof.

“Nice and easy, okay?” Rick held onto her as Michonne climbed down the ladder first. His eyes scanned her wavering figure, his concern for her paternal as he patted her down for any injuries. He could tell she was impaired and not just sleepy, his late night calls at the sheriff’s station flashing back to him, but didn’t bother asking her about it just yet. Who knew what Negan made her drink while she was with him? Or what he made her take? He would have time to ask her all that once they were safe in Alexandria.

“Your turn,” he coached her.

Blossom backed up onto the ladder, the sweaty silk of Michonne’s scarf slipping on the rungs coated with a fresh morning’s dew. She could hear Michonne whisper to her, the sound of her voice warm and comforting as she took each step closer to the ground. She kept her eyes directly in front of her, on her white knuckles as she clasped onto each rung in fear of losing her balance if she looked anywhere else. The last step turned into more gravel beneath her feet as Michonne pulled her away from the building to make room for Rick. She must have been moving a lot slower than she thought.

A quick whistle sounded, forcing Rick to pull his axe out of his belt and Michonne her sword from its sheath. Blossom turned around slowly to see Daryl with his crossbow at the ready.

“All the scouts are out. Let’s go.”

There was no time for emotional reunions outside the Sanctuary walls when they stole her from her sleep. Daryl tossed her over his shoulder as they ran off into the woods to find a car they’d fixed up on the side of the road. Rick had wanted something different after Negan saw their vehicles on his previous visit, although he would probably figure out who took her. The four of them rode in silence as Blossom drifted in and out of sleep in the back seat, her head safe in Daryl’s lap.

She barely woke when they drove through the gates of Alexandria, the sounds and sensations of Daryl getting her out of the car and up the stairs failing to phase her in her current state. As far as she was concerned, it was just another drunken night before the world had ended, and her friends were taking care of her after a bad night out at the club.

Only it wasn’t a bad night out, not even close. She rubbed the sleepy intoxication from her eyes as she sat up in bed, watching Daryl unwrap the shredded bits of scarf from her feet.

“Daryl,” she smiled.

“It’s good te have ya back,” he grumbled, his lips turning up just enough to display a smile in the Daryl Dixon code of facial expressions.

She pulled her foot away as the scarf rubbed against a pebble that had gotten stuck between the cloth and her skin, cutting into the curve of her foot.

“Sorry,” he whispered, rubbing the skin around it. He pulled a clean roll of gauze from beside him and wrapped it around her wound, glancing up at her every now and again as he continued to wrap it like a mummy.

She winced, glaring at Daryl as he taped the entire roll of gauze around her tiny cut. Even as it wore off, the alcohol had made her touchy despite how overjoyed she was to be back in her own bed. No more Negan, no more Dwight, no more fear. She was home.

Daryl stared at his handywork and nodded, holding onto her foot for dear life as he weighed the pros and cons of his thoughts in silence. Worried eyes shifted back and forth under messy brown locks as her foot rested on his knee. He cleared his throat and squeezed her ankle tightly before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Rick said he found you in his bed.” He wasn’t accusing or speculating. His tone was more factual, but she could still tell he was confused.

“He made me sleep there,” she told him.

“He made you?” His eyes shot daggers whether he wanted them to or not. “He make you wear that dress, too?”

She lifted her foot off his knee and turned away from him, the chill of his words freezing her shoulders. She didn’t expect her welcoming party to be so goddamn judgmental. “He locked me in a cell before that. Gave me a piece of moldy bread every few days when he remembered I was there.” She sat up and scooted to the opposite side of the bed, refusing to look back at him.

Silence.

Daryl was always quiet, but this was different. This silence was thick, filled with dread and regret as it rang loudly in her ears; or maybe that was just the alcohol. She could tell that his wheels were turning, the worst fears of someone like them in the hands of someone like him playing out in his brain. Had it kept him up at night? Worried him sick until he convinced Rick and Michonne to come along with him? She didn’t imagine Rick was the one to initiate her rescue party.

“Did he try to…” He couldn’t bring himself to even finish his sentence, the possibilities at the end too grave for him to deal with.

“No,” she eased his mind, shaking her head. “He didn’t. He wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to explain her encounter with him without sounding sympathetic.

“Hey,” He cleared his throat and sat down next to her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “We’re gonna get ‘im.”

“Promise?” She asked, leaning into his shoulder.

“Promise.”

[skizmin]

Ravenclaw Woojin

genre: fluff of course, sorta?? enemies to lovers but?? not really???, an adamant y/n and a soft woojin,,,, none of the other members appear which i didnt even realise until i finished

okay so woojin is ravenclaws most trusted prefect as hes the eldest one and literally does The Most to make himself available for others

seriously once he asked the defence against the dark arts professor for a 2 week extension on his assignment so he could tutor 5 people for the upcoming charms exam 

like,,,,,,,, damn

anyway so you actually do this extended course of charms, youre in the same class as woojin and for some reason??? the fact that hes so naturally good at it pisses you off

especially when youre falling slightly behind in that class

okay a LOt behind

your like,, only friend in that class is dropping it next term to focus on her divination classes and she doesn’t get it either but it doesnt affect her grades not nearly as much as it affects yours. 

shes all “dude just ask for woojin to tutor you” and youre like 

No NO no

no way are you being tutored by kim woojin. the idea just embarrasses you

you’re usually fine with getting help from peers but woojin?? everyone goes to him for tutoring and you sorta just dont??? wanna put yourself into that group???

you feel like it makes you inferior to him for some reason which is the worst feeling ever

(even tho you totally arent bc youre beating him in potions anyway)

anyway so its a wednesday morning and the class is about to end to allow the students to go have breakfast (you know how extended courses are out of normal school times ye??)

you’re tired as fuck

confused as fuck

hungry as fuck

everything as fuck

but then “y/n!” called you to your senses and you stopped packing your things

your professor had just called you up, an ancient tiny little man who was apart of the great battle of hogwarts some time ago

“yes sir?”

“come here would you?” 

you shoved your ink jar into your bag and nodded, walking out from behind your desk and saying bye to your friend who was leaving already

god she really did hate this class you thought lmao

the majority of the students were still packing their things away in a slow drawl probably instigated by the dim, sleepy light of the chilly morning

“anything i can help you with?” you awkwardly asked your professor who smiled at you, stepping down from his place standing on books to look up at you

“yes actually, ive noticed you’re falling behind.”

you cringed, hard, not even wanting to turn around and see who was watching

“i suggest you get a tutor if you wanna get an A for this semester, y/n.”

“sir, i don’t have time to be tutored!”

“well then i guess you’re going to fail this course y/n. just be tutored enough to catch you up on the syllabus and then i can help you with the rest, okay?”

you internally groaned. this was bad

“you’re smart, it’ll only be about 2 weeks before youre caught up. im sure theres plenty of people that would tutor you.”

you nodded and politely fare-welled the teacher before turning to walk out of the classroom

the classroom was surprisingly empty, and you were happy to see that, not really excited about your professor sharing the fact that you were failing the course

sighing to yourself, you walked out of the door, planning to go meet your friends in the great hall

“hey! wait! y/n!” 

you whipped around, half scared to death

the halls were practically empty yet

there was kim woojin

standing right next to the doorway you had just exited

your head tipped back. had he really been standing there the whole time?

“do you wanna meet tonight or something? we can go to the library?”

you gave him a pointed stare

“what? why?”

woojin was a little taken aback, he grew smaller under your gaze.

“oh, so i can- you know, tutor you? i heard you were behind by a bit.”

he looked almost embarrassed at how you were responding to his offer as you sharpened your gaze on him

“i dont need you to tutor me. i can find someone else.”

and with that you left a frowning, dumbfounded woojin standing in the hallway as you stalked off to the great hall

stupid woojin

who did he think he was asking you to meet him in the library

surely you can catch up on your own, you really dont need his help. you’re like, shaking your head lmao

smh

but anyway, the end of the day comes and you grab all these phat stacks of parchment and take you study charm books to the library and sit at the farthest ever table away from literally everyone

you start studying properties of all the spells youve learnt this second term

you get to the third spell, aparecium, one youve been having a lot of trouble remembering

you groaned, looking up in your book what exactly the spell meant and remembering it was in fact a revealing charm and you didnt have any pages with invisible ink on them. 

you began flipping further into the book, trying to find the incantation for concealing ink writing so you could practise 

“h-here.” 

you fuCKING LEAPED IN YOUR SEAT

BITCH TF

THAT SCARED YOu oh my god what was he doing here

“s-sorry for scaring you b-but, its got concealed writing on it so you can, like- practise?”

he sounded sorta hopeful as he slid the paper over to you, hands nervously twining with each other in front of him afterwards

your pride was getting to you tho so

“i’m good at that spell, i don’t need to practise it.”

woojin blinked and squinted at you a little, trying to figure out whether or not you were lying

“ooookayyyy. anyway, anything else you want help with? i can explain it a little bit for you?”

you resisted the MASSIVE urge to roll your eyes at him

we get it, youre good at this

“im okay, thanks.”

you expect woojin to leave then, and it seems he does too as he stutters in his movement before clenching his eyes shut

“do you not l-like me or something? or did i-, did i do something to you?” he peeked an eye open to gauge your reaction

he looked almost

scared?

oh no, oh no

what was this guilt? you could feel your glare softening in an instant

why are you liKE THIS

“n-no! i dont!” you stuttered out a reply, eyes widening slightly

and then, he smiled. and he smiled wide

you felt blinded almost, your heart started palpitating. so this is what it was like to have woojin smile at you, and you only.

you were fucked

“oh! okay then! sorry i just-, i just thought i’d annoyed you or something so..” he trailed off, tapping his shoe on the ground suddenly very interested in the lamp on the library desk

“anyway!” he spoke up again. “i’ll uh, i’ll leave you to it. and don’t forget to practise aparecium. it’ll be on the next test for sure.” he grinned at you again and you sorta maybe might have felt heat crawling to your cheeks.

“t-thanks woojin.”

he nodded at you, still smiling before leaving

you banged your head on the table, what in the world was that interaction

whilst burying your face in your hands you noticed he had left the enchanted paper with you, you shrugged

might as well use it, right?

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, shit

1 and a half hours later yu were groaning out of pure frustration with yourself. no matter how perfectly you practised the incantation or how directly you swished your wand at the page, nothing appeared

no writing or anything

you were beginning to wonder if woojin gave you the right piece of parchment, that this was the one with the invisible ink

you shook your head, looking at the clock closest to you and deciding it was too late to be studying and that your brain mustnt be working right,

you packed up your stuff and went back to your dorm, making sure to get as good a sleep as possible because you had another extension charms lesson tomorrow morning

,,,

anyway so you woke up late in the morning with a sore neck and red eyes. 

this was Not Good

quickly tugging on your robes and frantically shoving things into your bag whilst brushing your teeth you rushed out of you dormitory and ran all the way to the charms classroom

you ran in out of breath, your professor looking at you with an unimpressed look. “glad to see you could make it y/n.” he drawled before turning back to the blackboard

you whined as you saw him writing a test warning for 2 weeks time, sleepily stumping your way over to your friend who was laughing at you loudly

unpacking your things, you glanced around the room. eyes landing on woojin who had a hand resting under his chin staring right back at you

your cheeks went a bit red when he smiled at you, giving you a small wave before turning his head to the board again

your friend next to you shoved you a little bit, when your turned your head you face her she simply mouthed an i saw that

you rolled your eyes and paid attention to the rest of the lesson without any distractions

anddddd thennnnnn it was over

you blinked, your notes were cleaner today than usual

“hey, y/n!” you looked up to find woojin standing in front of your desk, toothy grin on his face as per usual

your heart sorta skipped a beat before you were able to tell it not to

“hey woojin :))” you smiled, trying your best to sound friendly whilst not looking like an absolute fool

he sorta squinted at you a bit before “so uh, how was studying?”

it was your turn to look at him sceptically this time

“it was,,,,,, good??” you questioned, unsure of how to respond

woojins smile sorta falters before coming back with a somewhat sad lilt to it

“ah, right. well i gotta go. my friends are waiting.” and with that he nodded at you and left

you were confused as fuck

well, that was certainly weird

anyway, for the next week and 3 days, woojin completely avoided you

you’d be fine with this of course if you hadnt gotten that little soft spot for him a while back

it sorta hurt when your smiled at him and he sorta just sadly smiled back and looked away, or if you were gonna say hi to him he’d scurry away before one word could leave your mouth

you were really down about it honestly

bUT you also didnt have time to worry about it

your test was in FOUR. DAYS. 

AND you had studied everything else to the best of your ability apaRT from the revealing charm, aparecium.

you wanted to cry, no one could explain it well enough to you and you could say the incantation right bc everyone spoke too fast and apparently you had to use it MULTIPLE times on the tes to maKE QUESTIONS APPEAR. 

QUESTIONS

INVISIBLE QUESTIONS THAT COUNT TOWARDS YOUR MARK

basically, you were having a mental breakdown and you knew there was only one person left to try and explain it to you

kim woojin

again, he was A V O I D I N G    Y O U

which made you angry bc you neED TO GET AN A

anyway, so your class on a tuesday was an afternoon class and you sorta just planned to corner him there after class

flitwick usually left 10 minutes early to arrive at his choir practises on time and put a charm on the door so no student could leave early

so the time comes, the bells ring and students rush out of the class you go and lie in their beds or whatever most teenagers do nowadays

and you make your way over to woojin’s desk as he packs up his things, he was always the last to leave

you coughed to get his attention, when he looked up his eyes widened

“i need your help.” you stated, eyes boring into his, you could swear you saw pink flush over his cheeks

“im uh, im busy. sorry y/n-”

“just one charm? please? i really need it, no one else can explain it.”

woojins eyes softened and he bit his lip. he was contemplating.

“okay.” you smiled at him widely “lets try now, okay?”

you nodded, placing you bag down and grabbing out some enchanted pieces of parchemnt, including the one he gave you

you sat down next to him and he look confused

“whats the paper for?”

“the aparecium charm.” you replied simply, turning to face him

a look of realisation dawned over his face

“i thought you said you were good at that charm?” he muttered

you looked at him weird, why was he acting so strange?

“i lied, i didnt want help back then but i do now. so,”

and then he grinned widely, taking a piece of paper that wasnt the one he gave you and telling you to watch closely

“aparecium.” he said, clearly. swishing his wand almost expertly

you looked at the paper in front of you and saw the writing of hello appear on it in your cursive handwriting

you looked up at him in aw.

“can you say it again? slowly? i dont think im pronouncing it right.”

woojin giggled

G I G G L E D

and repeated himself, clear and slow. you nodded at him, taking a random piece of paper and clearing your throat

“wait!” woojin yelped “use this one!” 

you furrowed your brows as he shoved the piece of paper he gave you in the library in front of you

“uh, okay?” you replied, glancing up at his smile

clearing your throat again, you swished you wand and spoke clearly. “aparecium.”

nothing happened to the paper and you groaned loudly

“oh, y/n, your pronunciation is perfect. its the swish thats wrong.”

you bored your eyes into him “what?”

“youre doing it this way. youre supposed to do it this way” he flourished his wand to demonstarte to you the wrong doing

you still furrowed your brow, not really seeing the difference between the two

“here, i’ll show you”

o hMY GOD HE 

HE JUST GRABBED YOUR HAND HOLY SHIT

SIRENS CALL THE AMBULANCE

YOU REALLY ALMOST CHOKED ON AIR

suddenly you felt fire all over. red surely covering your face as you tried to concentrate but holY SHIT

“okay so youre going like this.” he moved your hand in his own, making out the movement you made before

“but you should be doing this.” 

o h

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh

now you get it

you wanted to bang your head on the table for being so dumb about it

“oH RIGHT! woojin you’re literally a life saver!”

he laughed again, retracting his hand from yours as red splashed over his cheeks and onto his ears

“well, go on! try it!

you smiled, looking down at the paper and saying a strong and clear incantation whilst moving your wand exactly how woojin showed you to

you squeALED in excitement as ink dotted onto the page! 

you grabbed woojin by the forearm and raised it above both of your heads in celebration

he laughed and cheered along with you before you settled down, beginning your massive thank you speech.

“seriously i couldnt have done it without your help i could have faile-”

“y/n, read it.” woojin smiled at you

“what?” you replied, confused

“read the parchment.”

eyebrows furrowing once again you looked down at the parchment with now visible ink

do you wanna maybe go to hogsmeade with me this weekend?

your eyes widened

no way

no way no way no way

you snapped your eyes up to meet his

this is why he avoided you! he thought youd rejected him in such a selfish cold hearted way!

“i’ve uh, actually liked you for a while. we missed last weekend but im down to go next weekend if you want?”

“i- i, i mean, y-you! of course! i’ll go with you, yeah! oh my god i am so sorry you mustve thought i was such a bitch i shouldnt have lied im an awf-”

oh my fUCKING GOD

CODE FUCKING RED HIS HANDS WHERE ON YOUR CHEEKS

AND HIS LIPS ON YOURS

BREATHING? WHOS SHE

your eyes clenched shut as you reached to grab the front of his robes, kissing him back

you felt so goddamn dizzy, your mind cloudy at the absolute bliss of the feeling of his lips and how they moved against yours

he started smiling against you and had to pull away, his eyes glimmering and heart beating out of his chest

“i’ll pick you up at your dorms at 10, okay?”

god, youve never smiled harder.

[blustersquall]

I asked for some prompts about a week ago, and @bohemiantea-scorpiocoffee (seriously tumblr?? why won’t you tag?!) suggested:  “I’m sorry that I woke you.” on the post itself. So, this is what I came up with. I’m in a really Gladio/Isla mood at the moment, so... aha... n_n;;;

@ffxvhoe @ffxv-ocs-unite @mp938368

The trek up to the house at Caem always felt like the longest part of the journey to Gladiolus. Weeks on the road and the walk up the hill seemed to take an age, the house never getting closer and the distance going for miles. Of course, that was just the tiredness talking. The tiredness, the aching muscles, the longing for a hot bath, and a soft bed. As much as he enjoyed camping, sometimes even he wanted some basic luxuries.

Given the late hour, he didn't talk much with Noctis, Ignis, or Prompto as they entered the house, stepping quietly and closing things softly so not to awaken the other occupants. The kitchen smelled of Monica's cooking, and the three Cactuar figurines already in Talcott's possession stood in pride-of-place at the end of the table.

"Give 'im the new one in the morning," Prompto suggested, watching Noctis turn the one they found at the Imperial Garrison over and over in his hands. "It'll be a nice surprise!"

"Yeah..." Noctis returned the figure to his pocket. "I'm turning in."

"Same."

"An excellent idea," Ignis pushed his glasses onto his nose. 

“No early wake-up calls, Iggy. Please?” Whined Prompto, following both Ignis and Noctis towards the stairs. No reply came from Ignis.

The four of them retired to their various rooms in almost total silence, except for a few brief ‘see you in the mornings’ exchanged. Gladiolus walked past the room Iris had adopted as her own, and further down the hall to the last room on the landing. There was a low light spilling out from underneath the door, the tell-tale sign that Isla was in there. Since Insomnia she struggled to sleep without a light on. He didn't mind it so much. It helped with keeping her terrors at bay.

Pulling his shoes off before entering, he opened and closed the door behind him making as little noise as possible. He put his shoes to one side, stripped out of his trousers and his jacket and draped them over the vacant chair in the corner. 

Isla was asleep on what she dubbed her side of the bed: the left, furthest from the door. Curled up on her side, her back facing him, she slept apparently undisturbed by his arrival. He climbed into the bed beside her, leaning over to at least lower the brightness of the table lamp. As he moved to settle in beside her, skimming a hand over her waist so he could spoon around her, Isla stirred, eyes scrunching up briefly, relaxing, and then she rolled over.

She blinked slowly, blue eyes unfocused for a few moments as she woke. When her gaze found him, a slow smile slid into view and she reached her hands towards him, stretching.

"Hey," Gladiolus kept his voice low and invited her into his embrace. An invitation she took, sliding her arms around him and shifting for comfort. After burying his face in her hair, Gladiolus took a deep breath, something that was becoming a ritual whenever they were reunited. The smell of her was enough to settle some of his anxiety. Caem wasn't exactly a secret place, the Niffs could find it easily enough, but those worries somehow lessened when Isla was close by. "You smell good."

She did. She smelled of sea spray, which made sense given Caem's coastal location. She smelled of the rich black dirt in the gardens, and of Cid's workshop, of the oil and grease used to fix up the royal barge.

"You just got back?" Isla asked, hands lazily winding down Gladiolus's back and his arms. 

"Yeah," he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so she was kneeling above. Her hands came to rest beside his head, fingers winding through knotted and sweat clumped strands of his hair. "Maybe ten minutes ago."

"Hmm..." she hummed, both thoughtful and sleepy in tone. Gladiolus began to run his hands up and down her back underneath the t-shirt she wore to bed. He could feel the texture of the burn scar under his palm, and his fingers slipped over the divet in her back from the gunshot wound. Stark and painful reminders of what she witnessed, what she put herself through to get out of Insomnia.

In moments like this, in the quiet and the sanctuary of this room, he could pretend they were normal people. He could pretend, for a few seconds, that she hadn't barely survived Insomnia's fall by the skin of her teeth. He could pretend the Niffs weren't around every corner, and their dreadnoughts weren't patrolling the sky looking for them. He could pretend everything was fine, and this was just for them. That they were a normal couple, indulging in a normal ritual of pillow talk.

Of course, that wasn't true. The whole world was falling apart. Nights were growing longer, daemons were more numerous, the Niffs were everywhere, King Regis was dead... So much was wrong, but it was nice to simply try and pretend. Even if that never lasted for long. 

"Missed you," Isla interrupted his thoughts, gently tapping the end of his nose with her finger. 

Gladiolus sighed, "missed you, too." 

She kissed him after that, warm and heartfelt, carding her fingers back through his hair and humming contentedly into the kiss. Gladiolus returned it, tilting his head back, lifting one hand to cradle Isla's jaw, winding his fingers back through her hair. Isla broke the kiss and flopped onto her side, her eyes still just barely open by sheer force of will. She nestled closer, all but burrowing into Gladiolus’s neck and shoulder while leaving her top arm to rest over his chest, fingertips tracing the inked feathers on his skin. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Gladiolus said, kissing her forehead. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Isla shook her head a little, “I prefer when you wake me. It means I get to see you sooner.”

Touched by the sentiment in her words, Gladiolus smiled to himself. He cuddled her closer, allowing his eyes to slip closed and welcoming what he hoped would be a restful sleep.

UGHHH endings. Shameless fluff because I can and I will. 

[deardudley]

dream come true (sirius x reader); 1/3

you & sirius go to hogsmeade together bc remus is a mess and james/peter are just. really sleepy. sirius ends up being a total nerd, and a sap for a bit. it’s cute. stuff gets awkward. the usual.

Word Count: 4775

Genre: fluff

Warnings: cussing, sirius black being a total and utter nerd, talking about drowning people in hot chocolate?

A/N: honestly this is just me living out my deepest sirius black fantasies but for the entire internet to have access to so yes please enjoy the first installment of this super lame fluff. i didnt even proofread this so its probably trash but im trying to avoid doing my summer homework so here y’all go anyways.

Your nickname: submit What is this?

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year was always a cause for celebration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Even first and second year students felt the excitement fluttering through the school, and for good reason; they’d get the common rooms to themselves for the majority of the day and likely would spend it huddled in front of the fireplace, playing games of Exploding Snap and Wizard’s Chess. And of course, the older students would be able to splurge on Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Cauldrons, and Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks.

Much to your happiness, said Hogsmeade weekend was soon approaching. You were running low on ink and some other basic supplies — Marlene’s cat had a habit of getting into your bag and chewing on your quills.

Every year, Hogsmeade visits tended to be both the most hectic and the most enjoyable days you spent with your best friends. It was always the five of you: yourself, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Even though the boys had the tendency to be massive idiots and always got you in an endless amount of trouble, they were your best friends. You did almost everything together, from attending classes to causing mischief across the castle (much to the chagrin of the general Hogwarts population). But that’s why Hogsmeade visits were your favourite. It was you and your mates, goofing off and spending an unnecessary amount of money on sweets and Zonko’s products.

On the long-anticipated morning of the visit, you woke up to the sound of Lily and Alice chatting and changing out of their pajamas. It was 7:00 AM, and you got dressed as quickly as you could while joining their conversation about Flitwick’s weekend homework. You elected to wear a simple ensemble of hiking boots, jeans, and a Gryffindor Quidditch shirt (a Christmas present from James you’d received a year prior). Before leaving, you stopped for your daily obligatory petting of Marlene’s cat.

With almost childish energy, you bounded down the dormitory staircase. The Common Room was empty — breakfast didn’t start for another 15 minutes — and the fireplace crackled in the background. You briskly made your way up the boys dormitory stairs and arrived at the door in record time. Your smile had already been wide in anticipation, but it widened even more when you knocked and heard the groggy call of “Come in!”

You opened the wooden door with renewed gusto. All four boys were still snug, wrapped under the heavy sheets, and Remus and Peter still seemed to be asleep. Their chests rose and fell with their heavy breaths, and Peter was snoring. Sirius, on the other hand, was staring at the ceiling with his eyes open, and James’ head was turned towards you.

Remus had already decided that he wasn’t planning on going to Hogsmeade. The latest full moon had taken its toll on him, and he was still recovering from the combination of his transformation and loads of homework. The stress was quite visibly apparent, too. He was jumpy, falling asleep in class, and the bags under his eyes were pronounced like never before.

He planned on spending the day catching up on schoolwork and getting some well-deserved sleep. You didn’t blame him, either — running around as Animagi during the full moon was exhausting for you and the boys. You could only imagine how difficult it was for Remus.

The rest of you had all offered to stay behind and spend the day with him, but he declined. Thoughtful as ever, Remus had reasoned that he didn’t want to ruin your day. Though, you had all rebutted saying that you’d prefer to make sure he was healthy, rather than meander around the grounds in the cold of November.

Though James had already been looking at you, Sirius turned to face you as well, and they both grinned.

“Hey, (Y/N/N),” James said through a yawn. “What’s up?”

“Not you guys, that’s for sure,” you replied, earning you a chuckle from Sirius and a glare from James. You crossed your arms over your chest and continued, “Why are none of you out of bed?”

“Peter and I are staying behind with Remus. We shall be personally catering to his every need,” James spoke with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You felt a strong urge to hit him with a pillow.

“In other words, they’re going on kitchen and library runs,” Sirius joked. This earned him a halfhearted glare and a middle finger from James. “We can still go to Hogsmeade if you’d like, (Y/N/N), but it would just be us…?”

You could tell that James was hiding a smirk, and he sent you a knowing look with his hazel eyes.

The boys had been your best friends since you’d met them on the Hogwarts Express in your first year  — but if there was one thing that you wished they didn’t know about… it would be your gigantic and embarrassing crush on Sirius Orion Black. They had only found out because of a game of veritaserum-induced Truth or Dare. You’d played when Sirius was serving a detention for McGonagall, luckily. You’d made them swear not to tell, but that didn’t stop the relentless teasing you’d endured for the greater part of two years. They kept their word and never told the black-haired idiot, but they still made fun of you whenever possible.

“I’m sure our lovely (Y/N/N) would love to go,” James replied for you, not missing a beat.

You made a mental note to proceed and hit James with a pillow whenever possible.

“Yeah, sounds fun,” you chirped. “As long as we go to Honeydukes first, and we buy some stuff for Remus while we’re there.”

“But of course, m’lady,” Sirius joked with a thumb’s up directed towards you. “Allow me to get ready and we can be on our merry way!”

He flipped his covers off and stood whilst rubbing his eyes in tiredness. Lazy as always, he took his wand from his nightstand and flicked it at his trunk seated at the foot of his bed. It flipped open and Sirius went over, picked out a jumper and jeans, and went for the bathroom.

As soon as he closed the door, you stomped to his bed and took one of his pillows. You then turned around and whacked James with it. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right, you wanker.”

You moved to have a seat on Sirius’ bed, bringing the pillow back with you and setting it in its rightful spot.

With a sigh, you pulled your wand from your back pocket and twirled it between your fingers. It was a nervous habit you’d picked up from your parents several years ago. James turned to the other side (likely to try and fall back asleep) and you continued with your fidgeting and tiny sighs.

Sirius soon left from the bathroom, eyes bright and hair disheveled in a somewhat pretentious manner. Your heart practically skipped a beat at the way he smiled at you. God, that smile was just infectious — you were certain that the boy would never have to learn a defensive spell. He would only have to smile at someone and they’d be disarmed from the sheer beauty. Bloody hell.

He walked to his trunk again and pulled a pair of socks and his trainers. Soon enough, he was adorning his signature black shoes and socks. He looked back at you after pulling them on, but he frowned at you instead of flashing you his normal grin.

“Something wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side and scrunching your eyebrows. The boy seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes raking up and down your figure in a way that made your (already uneasy) stomach churn.

“Well, love,” Sirius said while crossing his arms over his chest, “it is the middle of November, after all. Don’t you think that shirt is a little thin? We don’t want you getting sick.”

You frowned, looking down at yourself. The material of the shirt was quite flimsy, and the sleeves were rather short… Perhaps he was right.

“Maybe,” you acquiesced with a pout. “But I don’t want to go all the way back to my dorm and change…”

The laziness was overwhelming.

Your declaration had Sirius rolling his eyes in a dramatic, Sirius-like fashion. He grumbled something under his breath and opened his trunk again, rummaging through it until he had found what he was looking for.

Before you had time to react, he threw something at you and it smacked you right across the face, then fell into your lap.

You gave Sirius a malice-filled glare, to which he replied with a sheepish grin and a thumb’s up. When you looked at the object in your lap, though, all anger disappeared immediately.

It was a jumper.

If you wanted to borrow a jumper from someone, Remus was always the first to offer. He had taken up a habit of keeping an extra one in his bag during winter for you, and they were quite possibly the warmest, fluffiest jumpers ever . They also smelled of him — of chocolate, old books, and the cologne you’d bought for him as a birthday present in your third year (he had begun regularly buying it ever since). While sometimes Peter and James lent you some as well, Sirius never seemed to wear them.

Seeing him in one was rather new, but the fact that he had at least two… bloody hell, it was time you started borrowing his instead.

“You’re lazy, but you should be glad I’m such a good friend!” Sirius declared. You grabbed the pillow from next to you and threw it at him in response.

“Hey!”

“Wankers. The whole lot of you are ruddy wankers, honestly.”

Sirius pouted in response, but then ushered you into the bathroom to change.

Not long afterwards, you stepped out of the room with your Quidditch shirt in hand, Sirius’ jumper now in its place. The wool was soft against your skin, and you were very pleased to notice it smelled of him: a strange but comforting concoction of vanilla, sandalwood, and myrrh.

“Lovely!” he said as soon as you’d emerged from the bathroom. You could’ve sworn his cheeks had tinged pink, but you assumed it was just your imagination.

He took the Quidditch shirt and tossed it onto his bed so that you could grab it upon your return.

“Bye, Prongs,” you spoke in unison. James grunted in response as you headed for the door. You left the 3 sleeping boys alone in their dorm.

“Bloody hell, Sirius, let go of my arm!”

Breakfast had been uneventful; Sirius had shamelessly flirted with Marlene, much to your disappointment, but Marlene had fired back with her trademark sarcasm and snark. Lily had gotten into an argument with Dorcas over whether a half-mangled Cornish pixie or James Potter was more attractive (they unanimously decided the Cornish pixie won). You made fun of Sirius for grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice while ranting about how disgusting pumpkin juice was. So, all in all, a regular day at the Gryffindor table.

You all stayed at the table for a while longer, and only left once students from the other tables started filtering out of the hall.

Excitement renewed, you all but grabbed Sirius’ arm and dragged him out of the Hall. He had laughed and tried to keep up with your rapid maneuvers through the corridor. Though he’d never admit it, you saw him stumble a few times over his own feet.

“Merlin, (Y/N/N),” he whined as soon as the village was within your field of vision. You’d returned to a walking pace, and Sirius was just slightly out of breath. Slightly. You let go of his arm before you stopped talking, a tinge of embarrassment settling in your brain like the fresh, crisp snow that had begun to coat the grounds of the castle.

“You could at least warn me before you take off like a bloody startled hippogriff!”

“But that’s boring,” you complained in response. Sirius nudged you with his elbow but said nothing back.

However, as soon as you saw Zonko’s in the distance with a few third year students already gathering near the entrance of the esteemed joke shop, you knew you were in deep, deep trouble.

Sirius turned to face you with a wicked grin, the excitement obvious on his boyish face.

Without another word, he grabbed your arm the same way you’d grabbed his back in the Great Hall and starting dragging you towards the shop, running even faster than you’d been running earlier.

You screeched in a combination of fear, surprise, and irritation. Of course, you made a note to smack him with a pillow as soon as you could.

“What in the name of Merlin’s beard happened to warning people!?” you barked at him. You could barely even able to keep up with his ridiculous pace.

“What’s the fun in that?” he yelled back over his shoulder, eyes bright and grin wide.

“Bloody hell, Sirius, let go of my arm!” You scolded the boy, but that seemed to only spur him on, if anything. He ran a smidge faster and it took all your willpower to not stop him in his tracks and hit him in the arm. Hard.

Soon enough, you’d reached the store, and your idiot of a crush best friend slowed to a stop with a chuckle and a gentle squeeze of your arm. He let go of you, and you took the opportunity to kick him in the leg and scowl.

“You, Sirius Black, are a wanker,” you deadpanned, opening the door and walking in without another word. Of course, you weren’t actually angry with the boy, but you had to at least give him the impression that you wouldn’t forgive him immediately… right?

You went straight for the explosives aisle, as you knew James would want some more of his beloved fireworks. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Sirius was trailing behind you with a pout. You just rolled your eyes and kept walking.

As you meandered through the store, he kept following you, not even looking at the various products on the shelves. You’d bought fireworks and a variety of other explosives, Sugar Quills, Hiccough Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and other items you and the boys used for pranks. Sirius hadn’t picked any of them up. Instead, he resigned to following you around with a small frown on his lips.

When you stepped up to the cashier with your basket of items, you were surprised when Sirius stepped forward and wordlessly paid for your items before you had a chance to even reach for your coin purse. He took the bagged items when the cashier was done, holding them in his calloused hands.

A little stunned, you exited the shop and stopped walking about 15 steps from the door. Sirius walked into your back on accident, and you stifled a giggle.

You turned to face the downtrodden boy with an eyebrow raised.

“Sirius, why are you following me like a lost puppy?”

His pout deepened and he brought a hand up, scratching the back of his neck and diverting his eyes.

“Did… did I make you angry, love?”

Your heart almost broke at his meek question.

With a smile, you shuffled forwards, resting your head on his chest. He set down the bags and his arms tentatively came up and wrapped around your waist.

“Oh, you bloody idiot,” you sighed. “I could never be angry at you, Sirius. I just like pretending to be angry with you. It’s a lot of fun.”

He pinched your side, and you shrieked and jumped away, swatting at his arm.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

He snickered and picked up his bags, back to his usual self.

You gave him time to pick the bags back up, then dragged him off towards Honeydukes.

“Oh, bloody hell, there is no way James is prettier than a Cornish pixie!”

“Half-mangled Cornish pixie, (Y/N/N).”

“Yeah, but he isn’t prettier than a regular Cornish pixie, either.”

You sat with Sirius in The Three Broomsticks. Your several bags of sweets, pranks, and stationery were under the table of your booth, and you sipped on butterbeer in the midst of your conversation. Out of boredom, you’d restarted Lily and Dorcas’ debate from breakfast; Sirius had taken Dorcas’ original side, and you were on Lily’s.

“They’re… they’re just short blue house-elves with wings!” Sirius declared, gesturing wildly to demonstrate his point

“House elves are cute, though,” you rebutted. “Like, with their cute ears and everything… Every girl loves house-elves, Sirius. Not all girls love James. Therefore, house-elves are objectively better.”

“But we’re arguing about pixies, love, not house-elves!”

“You’re the one who said they were practically the same!”

“I said no such thing! I said that they look the same. Cornish pixies are bringers of evil and they’re just full of bloody spite, (Y/N/N). House-elves are nice! They make hot chocolate! Cornish pixies drown people in hot chocolate!”

“Are you claiming that Cornish pixies are drowning people in hot cocoa, Sirius?”

“Well, I mean — it’s not like they’re doing that now, but if they had enough hot chocolate, they’d definitely be drowning people in it.”

“Where in the bloody hell are they even going to get the hot chocolate? This plan is downright awful, Sirius.”

“This is all hypothetical! If they could drown people in hot chocolate, then they would! They’re evil, ugly little buggers.”

“Then why aren’t they just going to the house-elves and asking for a bunch of hot chocolate? Then they could drown people in it.”

“That’s an idiotic plan, (Y/N/N).”

“You’re the one who suggested pixies drowning people in hot chocolate, Sirius. I’m just explaining the logistics. I’m not sure why you want to drown people in hot chocolate, though. That’s rather sadistic, you know.”

“I’m not going to drown people in hot chocolate, love.”

“I never said you were going to. I said you want to.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Then why’d you suggest it?”

“I didn’t! I just said that pixies would do it, not me! I’m not a pixie!”

“Oh, you’re not? Huh. Could’ve fooled me.”

“Really?”

“Well, you say that James is prettier than a pixie… that means you’re probably a pixie or something, yeah?”

Sirius glared at you for a brief moment with a scowl.

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles not even ten seconds later. Your butterbeer sat forgotten on the table.

You’d returned to the castle not long after your ‘debate’, still giggling and joking about the logistics of drowning people in hot chocolate. It earned you several judging stares in the corridors, but you were both too involved in the conversation to really care. Or notice.

Upon returning to the Gryffindor Common Room, you agreed to go up and visit Remus, James, and Peter in their dorm. Sirius carried half of your bags and you carried the rest, lugging them up the stairs to the dormitory they all shared.

Sirius opened the door, stepping inside with a smile.

He greeted them with a pleasant “Hello, lads~!”

“Hey, Pads,” Remus greeted with his groggy voice, smile weak but genuine. His eyes were a lovely and deep shade of brown, and able to comfort you as soon as you looked in them. They had an immense calming effect unique to none other than Remus John Lupin.

“Hello there, boys,” you said, following Sirius into the room. “Remus, are you feeling better? Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yeah, (Y/N/N), I’m okay,” he chuckled. “I took a nap for a while and got all of my homework done. You don’t have to worry about me, y’know.”

You frowned at Remus, and he raised an eyebrow at you in response.

“Of course I have to worry about you, Rem. You’re my friend, after all.”

You didn’t give him time to argue — instead, you trudged to Sirius’ bed, dropped your bags at the foot, and flopped down onto his mattress. You buried your face into the covers with a muffled sigh. Sirius, unbeknownst to you, froze in his place for a moment. His face turned a soft shade of pink as he stared at your exhausted form sprawled out on his bed, but he soon shook his head out of his short trance and made his way to the bed after you.

“Comfortable?” He joked, placing the bags he held next to the ones you’d set down already.

You grunted in response.

Careful not to disturb you, Sirius snuck his way onto the bed as well, leaning against the headboard and pillows.

He nudged you with his foot and raised an eyebrow.

“You can move closer to me, love. I won’t bite you. Probably.”

Even though he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes and scooched closer to him. Your head found a place in his lap, and his hand — as if on impulse — moved to play with your hair.

At first, you tried to fight off the overwhelming desire to sleep, but when Sirius murmured “I know you’re tired, (Y/N/N). Take a nap,” you couldn’t help yourself, and you let the sleep cradle you away.

Sirius had let you sleep on his lap for about two hours, and you’d only moved because you woke up (just in time for dinner, much to your happiness). The entire way to the Great Hall, you scolded him for allowing you to just sleep for two hours straight. James, Peter, and Remus followed close behind, inevitably making fun of your insignificant argument.

You trailed off in the middle of your sentence when you pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. After all, who wouldn’t rather eat than carry on a meaningless conversation?

You all found your usual seats near the girls from your dorm, and Sirius almost immediately resumed his teasing flirting with Marlene. The rest of you were used to this, and you began interrogating Remus on what he’d done that day, and making sure James and Peter weren’t being total doofuses like you had expected them to be. Remus assured you that he’d completed all of his classwork and slept for a few hours — not to mention that James and Peter managed to find a book he’d asked for with only a minor setback.

You turned to ask Sirius a question, but you didn’t even get a syllable out when he let out his loud bark of a laugh at something Marlene had said. Biting your lip, you looked back at James (of whom was sitting across from you) and ignored the sympathetic look he and Peter had given you.

Lily was seated next to James (much to her disappointment, it was the only seat left when she’d entered the hall after you guys), and she noticed the looks you all exchanged. She sent you a concerned look, but you just shrugged and hoped that she wasn’t suspicious of anything.

Next thing you knew, she leaned in to Marlene and whispered something to her while Sirius was talking. You watched as Marlene looked at you with wide eyes, and an uneasy feeling settled deep in your gut.

She looked back to Sirius, giggled at something he said, and bid you all adieu. All of you watched as she got up and moved down the table to sit near a boy in your year. You couldn’t quite remember his name, but he was in the same Ancient Runes class as both you and Remus, and he always sat a few tables away from the two of you.

Sirius frowned at her sudden disappearance but turned to face the rest of you anyways, joining you in making sure Remus was okay.

You didn’t know if you were thankful or upset towards Lily.

Dinner ended soon, and you all retreated back to the Common Room. The seats regularly shared between the five of you were unoccupied when you arrived, so you all huddled around the fireplace on your usual 3-seater couch and a loveseat.  Embarrassment creeped up your neck like a spider when you realized you were still wearing Sirius’ fluffy jumper.

Your conversation was casual and uncharacteristically quiet. Either way, you were all exhausted; Remus was still tired from the full moon, James and Peter had been running around all day, and you and Sirius spent hours of your day in Hogsmeade. You were about ready to fall asleep right on Remus’ shoulder.

“Hey, (Y/N/N),” he murmured to you, shaking you awake. “James and Peter went upstairs, and I’m about ready to head to bed too. You should probably go up and get some sleep, kiddo.”

You smiled, weak, and sat up with a groan. You stopped to rub your eyes before you stood, and Remus followed suit.

“Night, Rem,” you said in the midst of a yawn. He gave you your usual hug goodnight, and you smiled into the fabric of his jumper.

“Goodnight, (Y/N/N).”

He left you standing there. Sirius was still on the couch and seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the fireplace.

You shuffled over, poked him in the shoulder, let out a loud yawn.

“Sirius? Pads, you okay?”

He jumped, eyes wide, and stared at you for a second before relaxing.

“O-oh, yeah. Sorry, love, I was just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you joked. He just laughed at your joke, smiling when you extended your hand out to help him up. His calloused fingers laced around your smaller ones, and he stood; the thing that made your stomach churn, though, was that he didn’t let go. As you walked towards the two dormitory staircases, he held on. His grip was loose but it made your heart pump out of your chest.

When you reached the point where you went your separate ways, you let go at the same time, and turned to face each other. His face was again tinged pink, but you assumed it was just from the red decorations littering the room that made everything seem a bit redder. It was a stretch, and you recognized that fact, but there wasn’t any good reason for him to blush. He could probably date any girl in Hogwarts if he wanted to, and you were just a friend he made on the Hogwarts Express on his first day of school.

“I had fun today, y’know,” you said, smiling notwithstanding your tiredness. “Even though you’re a right moron, it was fun.”

“Good!” Sirius said. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

He stepped forward to hug you, his arms finding their natural place around your waist with a quiet sigh. Your forehead settled on his chest, near his shoulder, and your arms came up to wrap around his neck. When his chin settled on the top of your head, you had to hold back a laugh.

“G’night, (Y/N/N),” he mumbled, and you smiled.

“Night, Pads.”

The next moment, almost in the blink of an eye, turned into a moment you knew you’d regret. As soon as you carried out the seemingly insignificant action, the remorse crashed over you like a wave; you felt it in your bones before you fully even thought it through. Oh, you’d regret it for sure. For days. Weeks. Months.

You said the words.

You said “I love you.”

Even if the boys would always and forever be your best friends, that was one thing you’d never said. It was a sort of line — a boundary none of you had ever thought to cross because you were friends, and considering how bloody close you all were, it didn’t need to be said. You reserved it. Had the three-word phrase tucked away for any potential relationship you might find yourself in. Hell, you didn’t even think you meant it in a romantic way when you said it; it was just a small schoolgirl crush, after all! You didn’t love Sirius Black any more than Peter did, James did, Remus did. You just had a little… extra set of feelings for him. But your idiotic ass said it anyways.

You could feel his stare on you like lasers on the back of your neck. You mumbled something incoherent and turned away, walking up the dormitory staircase without another word.