#thought of all this the other day so this is as far as ive daydreamed

[wribbles]

The Daddy rape au - izuku's pov in aftermath (a potential)

Transfers out of school bc inko aint having it - probably does online school for a the end of middle school

Still ends up meeting all might & getting ofa

Before that tho he absolutely gets invited to the hospital when hitoshi is born & is the first person after shouta to hold the little hero (he is immediately dubbed godparent & uncle)

Shouta and izuku dont see each other often in the next year, but izuku does get into UA, shouta's class like in canon

Theyre both v happy to see each other again tho shouta really wants to know wtf is up with the quirk situation (izuku tells him eventually - no secrets between them, esp dangerous ones that adult figures are telling izuku to keep without letting him have a support network - we're not having that shit again)

They have a chat and decide to change their nicknames to be less triggering, so shouta goes from ainiki to nii-chan, and izuku from izu-chan to zuku/zu-kun

Izuku doesnt change clothes in front of the others bc The Whole Ordeal made him extremely sensitive to being naked around others and/or sexualized in any way (first time someone flirts with him sincerely he freaks out)

Meanwhile, mineta is a *-phobic bigot and when he talks some transphobia in the class, izuku rails against him so hard (secretly in defense of shouta) that mineta calls him trans and izuku doesnt deny it (even tho its wrong, bc thats not the point), so at least half the class suspects izuku is in fact a transman (theyre fine w that its nbd)

Kaminari, in a bid to show how totally trans friendly and accepting he is, invites izuku to change in the locker room w the rest of the guys, insisting that its all good he's got nothing to worry about, cmon!

Except he goes a little to hard and persistent with it with little explanation of why he's so insistent, which ends up with izuku becoming so uncomfortable he gets shouta for morale support and musters up courage to pull kaminari aside and tell him to "please stop trying to get me to take my shirt off its creepy and im uncomfy" and kaminari backpedals hard and immediately, apologizing and becoming a defender of izuku's right to keep his clothes ON.

(Izuku also tells him hes cis and kami believes him)

(And that aizawa was there bc he and izuku are personally close, not bc he was gunna give kami detention or smtn - they dont explain the closeness other than saying they met some years ago)

Kaminari is also there for izuku's above mentioned flirtation freakout and he gets aizawa to help. He learns that izuku doesnt like being sexualized & that aizawa is "nii-chan" brother to izuku.

Months later in the dorms (fuck canon storyline and timeline, idk and idgaf) someone (probly ashido) ends up pulling izuku's shirt fully off him to like look at an injury he's got and izuku freezes, feeling exposed. Kaminari walks by and yells at them, gets izuku back into his shirt and then takes him fully out of the building away from that bs.

Izuku pulls himself together mostly and gives kami a hug while (trauma-dumping) telling him that he was repeatedly raped a few years ago & thats why he cant be naked around others. Kami is understandably shocked and appalled, and izuku decides they both need a curative dose of hitoshi hugs to feel better.

Kaminari ends the interaction w the (somewhat incorrect) understanding that aizawa was the hero who saved izuku from the rapist. And also becomes friends w the 3yo hitoshi who is delightful and loves his sparks.

Later that night kami has nightmares about izuku being hurt and goes to him asking for more details (pls god say it wasnt a family member...) and izuku tells him a little more but still doesnt elaborate on shouta's presence or why he calls hitoshi "little hero".

As this all happens first/early second year, kaminari is currently the only person aware of izuku's trauma in any way - bakugou knew he was involved in Something when they were younger that pulled izuku out of school but he didnt care enough to look into it and doesnt know more.

Kami and izuku are good friends

(kami's occasional casual flirting & his compliments to izuku's appearance hint at a possibility for something more, which izuku picks up on and they have a vague talk of "im not ready for anything", "hey no worries, i didnt ask :] no pressure". They dont follow up on this other than keeping the potential in the back of their minds.)

This status quo is mostly maintained thru school and past graduation.

By then izuku is dating todoroki (they have not had sex but izuku has told him some of his trauma) and they move in together after school

All goes well for the next year-ish until izu and todo try to have sex and izuku forces himself thru it despite horribly triggering himself and desperately wanting it to end. After they both finish, izuku is sobbing and locks himself in the bathroom eventually getting kami tocome over and help mediate between him and todo.

They try to talk it out and work things out the next few months, but they dont manage to return to a comfortable status quo and break up. (Izuku, as much as he tries, cant feel comfortable being touched by todoroki anymore and ends up moving out before they fully breakup)

During the "we can work it out" period, izuku spends a lot of time being comforted and distracted by kaminari

Shouta makes note & comment that they clearly have affection and care (and probably love) for each other, is that going to go anywhere? Izuku just says he's not ready, and kaminari says he's not asking rn

Kaminari, jsyk, isnt committed to dating anyone rn but does often have casual sex w a few fwbs (this is also part of why he hasnt asked, but izuku does make clear later during some midnight talk that if they did date, he wouldnt ask kami to stop having sex w other ppl - honestly he feels like it kinda takes the pressure off him)

After a short stint living w shouta, izuku gets his own place. He spends a lot of time hanging out w kaminari - at both their places.

And during one hangout, izuku thinks back to highschool when kami tried so hard to make him feel like one of the guys, able to hang out casually without a shirt, and he decides to try it out now. He takes off his shirt - no sexual intentions - and watches kami play a video game on the couch, aggressively trying not to make a bug deal out of it.

When kami notices, he picks up on that and while he smiles proudly at izuku, he doesnt comment and just makes izuku play the game this turn, cmon im sure you'll do great at it!

This goes a loooong way towards making izuku feel more comfy in his own naked skin and they practice until its no more than a hesitation - a self-check-in - before izuku will take off his short around kami (who also regularly joins in the nakedness, no need to make izuku feel alone!)

And when their skinship leads to making out leads to stumbling through mostly-clothed sex (that izuku actually feels comfortable during, even with the multiple hesitations and stop-starts and "pls dont say/do that actually"s. Tbh all that actually contributes to his comfort), izuku feels ready and denki asks him out

And they fit Very Well together

Sex is Not Frequent and theyre both still exploring izuku's boundaries and hard limits, but izuku finally feels comfortable and safe enough to try.

He tells kami not to call him baby or sweetheart, so instead he goes with "pretty boy", which makes izuku blush every time, and they find a safe middleground with "babe".

If izuku closes his eyes for too long during sex, he tends to forget who he's fucking, so he gets kami to tap him with a safe little spark every now and then to remind him (kami fucking adores how izuku's started relaxing at the little jolts)

They are Endgame and this is why/how.

Eventually kaminari finds the old case report & trial 'Midoriya v. Shinsou' that goes into the detail of what all happened and how aizawa was actually involved and how they finally got out (their little hero...), and when izuku comes over he helps him process what he just read bc fucking hell izuku you were 12 years old- and aizawa was- for a year?? Fuck-

They go over to aizawa's house, hang with little hero hitoshi (who really isnt so little anymore, he's like 11 now and shooting up in height) and talk to shouta and hizashi and all of them help kinda talk him through it and offer their support

#daddy rape au #kaminari #finally decided izuku needs a fuckin plotline in this too #not just shouta #thought of all this the other day so this is as far as ive daydreamed

[satoriberry]

niko ikki crushing on you!! :>

❥ summary: headcanons with a pining niko [requested by anon]

❥ pairing: niko ikki x gn!reader

❥ watch out for: nothing!! just cute stuff with some crack + reader is oblivious asf btw not proofread

- let me preface by saying that i love this guy so much

- ok lets start

- you're a student at his school and you just happen to catch his attention

- maybe it was your charm, maybe it was the kindness that you treated everyone with unconditionally, but whatever it was, it pulled on his heart strings and made him a sucker for you

- you're just so perfect and beautiful and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <- representation of his thoughts about you

- everytime you walk past him, he just feels the urge to turn around and pull you into his arms but he can't because no.

- that's not how real life works

- even if you're not in the same class as him, he'd still try to find where you're hanging out in the school so he can sit far away and.....observe you.

- he does that a lot. his afro allows him to hide his eyes so you wouldn't tell whether he was staring at your or not

- doesnt have the courage to talk to you directly, but whenever he can, he tries to join conversations with mutual friend groups. he gets to hear your voice more closely :)

- he's an avid anime watcher (canon) and what he watches is influenced by his current life status

- so when he falls for you, you bet your ass he's watching all them cheesy shoujo anime where the male love interest is a suave, cool hottie so he can project onto him

- but at the same time, he feels so cringe because he thinks you'd definitely see him as some kind of weird loser with no social life

- tries to understand you by piecing together stuff his friends and classmates say about you, like favourite colour, food, celebrity, movie etc

- buys merch of your favourite band in hopes that it'll catch your attention and you'll walk up to him to talk :(

- he's bad at dropping signals and thinks that the most subtle gestures will attract you. they don't. you're too fucking dumb.

- his friends tease him for that a lot

- "bro, doodling their favourite character on your notebook will not make them notice you" "shut the fuck up, you don't know shit."

- seriously, he's so romantically inexperienced and doesn't know how to go about it

- during a particularly windy day, his bangs flew up and revealed his eyes when you were sitting on the rooftop (him alone and you with your friends). he ran off from embarrassment but left behind the book he was reading

- later that day, you walked up to him to return his book and while doing that, you slipped a complement about his eyes and how they were cute

- he screamed into his pillow when he got back home.

- but!!!! he can now talk to you!!

- buys your preferred candy by "accident" and gives it to you because "he pressed the wrong button on the vending machine"

- loves the little smile you wear when enjoying it ♡

- started to give you little acknowledgement nods when crossing each other in hallways. his brain melts when you nod back with a grin

- he daydreams about you a lot and even does that dreamy sigh thing with his cheek against his palm

- he....

- he has a manifestation journal and sporadically writes affirmations with your name in them...

- anyways.

- wants to invite you to soccer practice so you can watch him pull off sick tricks but doesnt know howwww >:/

- asks his friends to say good stuff about him so you can think he's cool

- "yeah niko regularly helps at a cat shelter", "he tutors my brother every sunday", "ive seen him adopt strays"

- at some point they started to say some ridiculous things so he had to force them to stop 💀💀

- watches your mannerisms closely and subconsciously copies them

- the way you open your drinks, tap your feet against the floor to make sure your shoes fit right, pop your neck in specific directions

- when he realizes what he's doing, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a high pitched scream with his face turning into a dark shade of pink

- gets really mushy when thinking about you, writes your name in hearts a lot

- turns into a mess when you're cheerfully talking to him about something you like

- once caught you napping in the library and took it upon himself to sit next to you and make sure nothing bad happens

- by the way that's a lie because nothing that bad could've happened and he wanted to gaze at your calm sleeping figure

- literally squealed as he watched you softly adjust your head on your arms

- so. we can conclude by saying that niko is really awkward when it comes to you and he has some pretty unorthodox methods of expressing his feelings, but he never loses hope that, maybe one day, you'll see him in the same light (he's a dumbass that can't see you already do)

#berry.requests <3 #berry.writes <3 #niko x reader #niko ikki x reader #ikki niko x reader #niko ikki #ikki niko #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock

[fromthepinnacle2thepit]

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 Papa Emeritus IV x reader

so i’ve had this idea for a while and finally was able to put it into words!

summary: our beloved papa has had a crush on his assistant for quite some time, except there was one issue, he didn’t know it yet. one day, you decide to go to one of his concerts with him. as he’s performing Mary On A Cross, he realizes he’d rather sing this song only to you. that he loves you.

enjoy!

⊱ ────── {⋅.𖤐 𐕣♱ ✯ ♱𐕣 𖤐.⋅} ────── ⊰

“No no, please, cara. You don’t need to do that.” he said, nervously brushing off what you’d just said.

“Papa- Copia, I insist. I’ve already bought the ticket, please, let me come support you. I want to see you, you’ll be amazing, pleasee?” you asked him, looking up at him with hopeful eyes as he turned to face you. In his eyes was a very different look. One of determination but also worry, hesitance.

The tour began today. It was starting that very evening. Copia had been very nervous. He wasn’t always this particularly nervous about performing but for some reason, this time was getting to him. You had racked your brain trying to think of reasons why it could be, but to your utter confusion, you could find no reason whatsoever. Maybe someone had made a rude comment and it got to his head? Maybe he was trying something new? Maybe he had bad memories from the venue? You didn’t know. You may not have understood the reason for his anxiety, but you wanted to support him. You cared for him- deeper than you should, you thought. And you wanted to be there for him. Luckily, this first night of the tour was close to the ministry. By working hard, (and a lot of convincing Sister Imperator), you were able to go! You had been able to scrounge up the money for tickets in the pit, right in front of the stage, where you could see Copia perfectly. You mentally sighed happily at the thought of getting to see him, up close, doing his thing, performing for all the people, being amazing. Though you were snapped out of your happy daydreams by Copia apparently repeating your name.

“Y/n?” he asked, waiting for a response.

“Yes sorry what did you say, Papa?” you asked him, embarrassed he had caught you in your daydream, and that he was needing to repeat himself.

“Please y/n, it’s Copia, I’ve known you far too long and know you far too closely to continue with such formalities.” he said with a smile muttering “Papa..” to himself, as if in disbelief you would be so formal.

“Then, Copia, what did you say?” you said, emphasizing the Copia. You gave him a playful smile as you waited momentarily for his response.

“I asked why you bought the ticket, mio caro.” He said, turning to scan over papers that would he waiting for him when he got back from the tour. And telling by the look in his eyes, he wasn’t exactly bursting with excitement. Since his eyes were busy running over the pages, they were too busy to notice the smile that had come onto your face from the name he called you.

You might as well come right out and say it, you were in love with Copia. Ever since his first days as Cardinal, you had loved him. It had only grown with time. Passing comments between you two had grown into long evenings discussing life, the beliefs of the church and Lucifer, and soon, his role as Papa. On occasion, Copia would invite you to his room and you two would play video games together. Other nights, you’d help him write his next sermon. You both learned so much from each other. You would trade books, discuss rituals. To anyone’s eyes, you two were a match made in heaven- wait no- would it be hell? A match made in hell? Oh well. One thing was for sure, to anyone who had eyes it was clear, you loved him deeply. And he loved you. (Even if he doesn’t know that yet-)

“There’s a million reasons. I want to support you, see you doing your thing, all of those kinds of things. I thought it was a wonderful idea.” you said, looking mildly sad. Did he not want you to go? Was he annoyed?

“Oh y/n, you know I’d love for you to be there.” Copia replied, sympathetically resting a hand on your arm. With his words and the feeling of his leather gloves on your skin, all your worried were relieved from your mind. You felt yourself warm up from his touch. He had always had this effect on you. Some days you wondered if it was really Lucifer you were worshipping or just him. You would’ve been happy either way.

“You would?” you asked, not wanting the happy moment to end. Mismatched eyes met yours, a content air falling around you two in the comfort of his office. It was moments like these when you hoped. You hoped that maybe someday, it would be more than light touches on the arm, more than the longing smiles you gave him, more than the desperate longing to be something more.

“Yes, yes, of course! Come now, do you really think I’d reject your presence carissima?” he responded. You suddenly became very aware of his hand still on your arm, even more aware of the small circles he was tracing into your skin with his thumb. Damn it. Why did he have to look at you like that? His smile was causing yours to grow. Like the sun to a budding plant, he lit you up. You had never been looked at like that. It was a smile of utter comfort and interest. Like he would hang on to your every word, like he was ready to give you every ounce of reassurance in the world.

He didn’t know why, but moments like these- moments with you, warmed his heart in a certain way. One he couldn’t put into words. What was this feeling for you? He wanted things to stay like this, for a long long time. He wanted his hand to stay there. What if he hugged you? No- he couldn’t- not now. You would think him weird.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to be appreciated.” you said softly, not able to look away. Ever drawn in by the mismatched eyes, you loved them. You loved him. In times like this, it felt like the entire world was left behind, it was all so far away. You didn’t care about your anxieties about tonight, you didn’t care about tomorrow’s work, or the day after that’s, or absolutely anything else, until the end of time. You were so entirely wrapped up in who he was, it was hard to see the rest of the world for all the pieces of him were everywhere you looked. He was there in the dark of night, a flickering candle, he was there when you would take your walks at night throughout the ministry. He was always there- in your mind, and your heart. Surely, you thought, this can’t just be only my feeling. He has to feel something, or know I feel something. It was ironic to you, sometimes. To the rest of the world, the person you held dearest would be considered entirely blasphemous, terrifying, doomed to spend a eternity in hell. To you, he was your greatest joy, your safe place, the person whom you loved with your entire mind, soul, body, and heart. You adored him with every ounce of life you had in you. You loved him with every ounce of life you had in you. And if the day came where that life was taken from you both, you would even follow him to hell. To you, true hell was an eternity without him. Not whatever is in the bible, or other ancient scriptures.

“You,” he paused, turning his head to look at his desk, but this time his eyes weren’t scanning over documents or papers or work of any kind. They looked like they were thinking of all the words in existence, trying only to find the right ones for this moment. “You are more than appreciated.”

What did that mean?

He was desperately searching his head for any explanation as to how he felt, what was this burning in his chest, this eternal longing?

Going ahead and speaking your thoughts you shot a question at him. “What do you mean?”

He only looked at you. The room was horribly silent, if only his voice would fill it with noise.

All at once, the door burst open and Sister Imperator practically flew in. Copia removed his hand quickly from your arm, and you two stepped apart as she scanned the room fiercely.

“Ah, there you two are! Wonderful, how do you both feel?” she asked, obviously nervously anticipating your responses.

“Good!” you said, a little anxious under her seemingly ever-watchful gaze.

“Oh, yes, yes good. We are good. Thank you, Sister. Uh, how are- how are you?” he asked, his awkward demeanor emerging dramatically. You couldn’t help but smile internally at this, you thought it was so cute. You also noticed he was much more calm when it was only you two. Did he really trust you that much?

“Perfect, well you both are to leave in an hour. And y/n, I expect you can get ready in that time?” she asked you.

You were surprised at the lack of warning before hand but since she was messing with her hands nervously, you suspected she had her own worries about tonight and decided it best not to argue. “Yes, Sister, sounds good.” you said in reply.

“Terrific, thank you child. Now, uh,” she stepped towards him, as if wanting to say something, possibly give him a hug? You didn’t know. But she stepped away before anything could happen. “Do well.” she said before hurrying out the door, muttering to herself about other duties and jobs she had to attend to, all while being wrapped up in this evening.

You turned back to your dear Papa, “So, we have an hour!”

“That we do.” he nodded, seemingly in thought.

“I’d better go get ready then! I’ll see you soon Pa- sorry, Copia.” you excitedly said with a smile, you turned quickly and left the room, just in time to hear a goodbye from Copia.

He watched as you left, and he was excited too! He wondered what you would wear, how you would look, what you would think. What song would be your favorite? Would it be appropriate to Cirice you? Just like you, many questions ran through his mind. Dancing around like falling leaves, swirling and mixing in a beautiful array of wonder.

You hurried through the halls, excitement burning deep within you along with the need for more air. Damn- habits can be hard to run in. You passed other hallways, leading further and further into the ministry. You passed elaborate paintings depicting Lucifer, worship of Him, Eve, Lilith, and more. Statues of these figures laid about the halls as well. With the ceilings high above you, rushed past many Siblings of Sin. Until finally, you reached your room. Practically throwing the door open, you stepped in. The outfit you had picked out for this evening lay all ready on your bed. You tossed off your habit, tearing off every garment of clothing you wore over your undergarments. Soon, your carefully planned outfit was no longer laying on the bed, but now your body. And you looked…good.

It fit your body just how you had wanted it to, it accentuated every little bit of your beauty. You were certainly not disappointed.

You only wondered what your beloved Copia would think..?

You hoped he would like it.

You were bursting in excitement as you finished with all the little details of your current look. Any makeup or accessories that had needed to have been added were added and you felt you were ready. You only worried lightly about tonight. You were worried about how your love for Copia would grow. There was no way you’d be able to see him up there, with those beautiful outfits adding to his powerful look, singing so wonderfully, without falling even more in love with him. Unholy fuck, you could practically picture it already. And your stomach was filled with a nervous excitement. Or very very aggressive butterflies. Rabid birds maybe. You didn’t know. You only knew you couldn’t wait. And that you hoped that maybe, just maybe, Copia might appreciate your outfit too.

You grabbed what other things you may need from wherever they were, took one last glimpse at yourself in the mirror, and headed over to your door. Just as you were about to open it, you heart two short noises.

Knock, knock.

Who on earth would be at your door now? You desperately hoped that the universe wasn’t trying to keep you from going to this concert; cause by Satan, if you needed to go up against the universe to get to this concert, then the universe better be ready.

“Child? Sister Y/n, are you ready?” called a shrill voice.

Oh.

That’s who.

You opened the door to see an even more frazzled looking Sister Imperator. You silently thanked the universe for not getting in the way of your going to the concert.

“Ah, ok. Good. Now, follow me.” she said, nodding a few times before sharply turning on her heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

You had no choice but to follow her.

You followed her through a couple hallways, expecting Copia to be joining you any moment. When he didn’t, you hurried and caught up to Sister Imperator.

“Sister? Where are we going?” you asked her.

“The car that will transport you to the venue of course, what else?” she asked you. She had stopped now and turned to look at you, a confused look on her face as if there was no other place in the world you could possibly be.

You took a second to process that. You thought you would’ve been meeting Copia.

“So, where is Papa?” you asked

Sister turned and continued walking, her sudden movement caused you to pause then hurry after her.

Damn this woman is fast.

As you followed her, her response rung out through the halls.

“He has already left for the venue. We decided to send him early. Sound checks and all, you must know.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself, you were a bit disappointed that you weren’t able to see him before he performed. But that was ok. There wasn’t anything you could really do about it now, was there?

Soon enough, you and Sister Imperator reached the entrance of the Church. You walked out the doors and into the bright air. It was not yet sunset, but it would be soon in a few hours. A black car awaited your exit out of the church. And in the drivers seat…was a Ghoul!

“Alright. Now then, you have everything?” asked Sister Imperator.

“Yes, thank you very much. I really appreciate this.” you smiled at her, thankful she had helped you achieve getting this opportunity.

“Of course. Well, you’d better be off now, shouldn’t you?” she nodded in return to your smile and you could’ve sworn you saw a small one playing at the edges of her mouth.

“Yes, I should. Have a good evening, Sister.” you replied and opened the door to the backseat of the car, where you assumed it was appropriate to sit since the Ghoul was driving, and it seemed more formal.

The car started and you watched it pull away from your dear Satanic Church. The dark walls which held secrets, had also come to hold your home, your heart. It had come to hold a place of love and beauty. You were allowed to be human there. Good, bad, and all.

You had also been allowed to love.

And oh, how that love burned in excitement as the church grew further and further away.

You swore you could still see Sister Imperator standing by the entrance.

You hummed quietly to the music playing over the radio as you watched the landscape pass by. You thought about the fact that Copia had seen this on his drive too. Oh how you loved him. You wondered what he had thought of the passing trees, the buildings, everything. You wondered if he thought about you. Of course, he had. But you had no way of knowing that yet. All you knew was that he made the world so much more beautiful. You had never understood how beautiful one person could make the world until you met him.

You couldn’t possibly know this, but at that moment, Copia was getting out of his car, thinking about you. Thinking about the fact you’d see all his singing and dancing and performing. It was one thing to come back from a tour and simply tell you about it, it was another to actually have you there. He couldn’t ignore the anticipation that rose in his stomach more and more.

After a few more passing minutes, you found yourself in a slowly stopping car.

You were here.

You could barely contain yourself.

You were surprised when the ghoul came around and opened your door for you. You stepped out, giving the ghoul a warm smile.

“Thank you very much,” you said to him. He nodded, in what seemed like a grateful way and held out his hand. You looked at it, for just a moment. You then put yours in the ghoul’s and the ghoul shook it. It was a small gesture, a polite one. But you felt it meant more than that.

You had always been kind to the ghouls, a sort of friendship had formed between you and them. You were always very polite and treated them as individual equals. Not simply the protectors of Papa or simply things that performed by his side, not as something below others in the ministry or the siblings, but as those who did very hard work, and deserved the right to be treated with compassion. Through your kindness, they had given you respect in return.

Once your hands were separated, and you had made your goodbyes, you walked towards the venue. Unsurprisingly, you were the first one there, other than the workers.

A few of them made small-talk with you, and for a bit you waited around doing typical waiting things. After a bit, other people started to show up. You admired all their outfits, the merch if they had any.

It was the best wait you had ever experienced. And you knew every second would be worth it.

All of this was wonderful and all, until an opening of a gate caught the attention of many. It was a ghoul and a worker of the venue. The ghoul stayed behind the gate as not to get trampled, though getting flooded audibly by the cheers of the thrilled fans. But the worker stepped out through the gates, and headed towards you.

“Are you y/n?” he asked you, seemingly in a rush.

“Yes. Why?” you replied, very confused as to what was going on.

“Alright, please come with me. You’re needed backstage.” he said, and turned. But not before motioning for you to follow him.

You showed the other workers your ticket as you entered, they looked confused too, but they let you pass.

Once you were through the gates, you were led into a building. As you walked through it you saw many other workers, along with a ghoul here and there.

“Where are we going?” you asked the worker who was leading you.

“A dressing room, you will see. He told me you were needed, insisted, actually.” the worker replied to you, not slowing their pace at all.

After a minute, you got to a long row of doors, the ghoul that had accompanied you waved to you, opened one of the doors, then disappeared inside. Eventually you came to a door near the end of the hallway.

“Right in there! Thank you for coming, I’m sure this all seems very strange.” the worker said.

“It’s ok, thank you for coming to get me and bringing me here.” you replied.

The worker gave you a smile and a nod, then turned and walked down the hallway, off to throw themself into some other pre-show chaos.

After watching him leave, you turned back to the door. You took a breath in, and opened it.

Inside were multiple mirrors, a couch, mini fridge, and very, very, bright lights. In the center of it all, was Copia. Beloved, amazing, Copia. You quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind you, that seemed to startle the man out of his thoughts and turn back towards you. You watched as his gaze fixed on you. You couldn’t miss how his eyes widened. Was it wonder, amazement? Unbeknownst to you, yes. Yes it was. It was pure wonder and amazement. And later as Copia would find out, love.

“Ah, cara mia. There you are.” his tone was calm, but his eyes were still wide, he moved towards you, quite quickly.

“Is everything ok?” you asked. You couldn’t hide how your eyes had widened too, he looked incredible.

“Yes, yes, all very good. I was just eh, worrying, and uh, wanted to see how you were doing.” he said, looking at you with such happiness.

“I’m doing quite well, thank you! You look amazing, you’re going to be amazing.” he smiled as you said this

“I can already hear the cheering fans!” you joked and you both chuckled.

“Ah, well, thank you. I appreciate that.” he said. “I should uh,” he motioned to his makeup, which he was just finishing putting on.

“Oh! Mhm, do you need help?” you asked him.

“Sure, uh, ok, so..” As you both worked, his makeup was finished, leaving you two to laugh and talk, and have precious time together. Though, eventually, it was almost time where you would need to leave and take your place in the crowd.

“There was…another thing, I wanted to uh, talk with you about. Before we you know, go on.” he said

“Hm? What is it?” you asked

“Just, nerves, you know?” He asked. And yes, you did know.

“Hey, you’ll be amazing. You always are. There’s not a day that passes where I don’t think that. You’ve done this many times, and everyone always loves it. You’ve got this! You’re gonna take their breath away, Copia.”

And you were right. He would take their breath away. Sadly after you said that, a worker notified you that they would start letting people in the gates in about five minutes. And you had to take your leave.

Within minutes you were in your place in the pit. Right in front of the stage, in the center, right up front.

Soon, everyone else were in their places too.

Next, the opening band started.

After that, the opening band finished.

And then, it was time.

You swear, when you first saw him come out on stage, time was frozen. He looked more amazing than you’d ever seen him. He radiated confidence. Cheers roared louder than you’d ever heard. He was a fire, he was the sun. He was illuminating everything, it felt like.

And of course, he saw you.

Many times, he looked your way, danced and sang in front of you. You loved all of his costumes, his jokes, all of it.

Then the time came for Cirice to play.

Wanna guess what he did?

Ciriced you.

The night went on in a beautiful blur of love and ritual.

Soon, Mary On A Cross began to play.

By the time the first chorus came, you felt you could melt. He was looking at you. He was smiling at you.

In his mind, he was thinking about you. He thought how you’d spent the night dancing and singing, he thought about the way you two were together, how you were to him. And eventually, came in to that burning happiness in his chest.

Soon, the slower part of the song came.

“You go down just like Holy Mary, Mary on a, Mary on a Cross, not just another bloody Mary, Mary on a, Mary on a..”

And with the next few lines, he would realize that maybe it wasn’t only Lucifer he worshipped, but you as well. He loved you. He loved you. Satan in hell, he loved you. He was in love.

You were what had been keeping him going, you were so so beautiful in every way. You brought him to life, you were what he sang every song to. You were his muse.

“You’re beauty never ever scared me,”

With that, he made eye contact with you. There were so many people around the two of you but for those moments, it felt like only the two of you. You two were meant to be. He was yours, you were his.

Your beauty had never scared him.

It had been you, all along.

He loved you.

He loved you, he worshipped you, you were the flame burning deep within him.

As the song came to an end, he kneeled down at the edge of the stage, right before you. Your hand joined his, as he held his out to you. He kneeled down close, close enough so only you could hear.

“I love you,” he whispered to you.

⊱ ────── {⋅.𖤐 𐕣♱ ✯ ♱𐕣 𖤐.⋅} ────── ⊰

a/n : i hope you all like this! i might do a different ending to this. but anyways, i hope you like this. remember to take care of yourselves!!

#copia #papa emeritus x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #re imperatour #ghost x reader #ghost band #ghost fanfic #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus the fourth #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #papa x reader #papa emeritus 4

[voidcat]

— withering away

characters: dazai osamu, you

genre & warnings: comfort/angst if u squint, mentions of knives, implied use of said knives

a/n: you can tell this is heavily influenced by my sudden increase in listening to Blue Hair & Cigarette Daydreams. This can work as a stand alone too but I think it fits nicely into my dazai long fic Bad Luck (esp the “pm route”) ik all Ive written/posted so far regarding badluck is the dark era but I think it’s easy to guess the type of dynamic mc and dazai have. Anywyas I’m always here for Qs regarding ideas/fics so ask me whatever u want. Kith kith bye

Many sides to him, literal and metaphorical, Dazai’s blind side is always taken by Chuuya.

Standing by the side he once covered with patches and bandages, his right arm man, at his right side, always, Dazai reserves his seeing side to you always.

Sun rises and sets, the sky darkens at the end of each day, and still you stay, remain in the same spot with those dull, doll, glass eyes.

Nothing and everything, the empty glass to match his pitch black orbs.

His seeing side reserved for you because even in the most intimate of embraces, a dagger is pulled out, the memory of the cold kitchen blade hidden under the pillows still fresh.

Between the lines of laughter and hysteria, there is a melancholy that floats. A yearning for something you will never have, grief for what could have happened long ago, had things developed a little differently perhaps.

Arms wrapped around loosely, an act of symbol at most– for that is the most he could even offer. Both pairs of eyes staring ahead, onto the ground and into nothing. No haze, no thought, no emotion behind them;

just plain old void, emptiness, sucking everything in and devouring it whole, Denise of your humanities, or the ideas of them.

Two ghosts drifting off in the endless stream of life, no place to haunt, no one to hover around, no purpose to go around and say ‘such is life’

Then the flood comes, in the midst of another action done for the sake of being done, to fill that void of silence in the room, to have anything else going on– silent tears and barely shaken shoulders, an impressive show of man’s control over the body, like they’re not crying at all and this is all part of their show, their little impromptu Dance under the cold sun.

Yet the nothing remains, that lack of purpose, as well as reason.

And so the other party merely stares, knowing there is nothing to be done, no outcome to be changed.

No magic fingers snapping, no shift in the universe nor a miracle dawning down from the heavens above, sacred and all-bright.

And thus the pair of ghosts continue on their fleeting, with the occasional murmurs to accompany their bottomless pits: ba-dam-bamp, ba-dam-bamp, ba-dam-bamp.

#dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #gender neutral reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #a case of bad luck

[delicrieux]

ᴀ ɢ ɴ ᴏ ꜱ ᴛ ɪ ᴄ

pairing—eddie munson x fem!reader genre—comedy, romance, coming of age drama, angst warnings—swearing, drinking, smoking cast—y/n, dustin, eddie, mike, max word count—3.3k

—you know of him, and he knows of you, but neither of you know anything about each other. you’re on the cheer squad, little miss perfect queen supreme right after chrissy ‘lovely’ cunnigham and he is someone you never thought about…that is, until detention one year before graduating.

author’s note: part twooooo! sorry for the delay ive been busy. we got angst at the front and fluff at the back, party people!!! lets gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo also this is written from eddie’s perspective bcs all of my fics must have a change in perspective or else i will die

masterlist. kofi. check out the summer features here! back to part one ♥ part 2.1

PART 2: TRUE BLUE HOW ARE YOU

If God is real then the only reason he put Eddie on Earth is to suffer. Ashes to ashes, he doesn’t even like David Bowie, but ashes to ashes, funk to funky, everyone knows Eddie Munson’s a junkie, strung out in heaven's high, hitting an all-time low.

He never believed in a higher power, and honestly, he thought that whole worship stuff is kinda cult-y – and not the cool cult-y, but like the weird, creepy cult-y – but this song plays on the radio as he sits in his truck and it’s gotta be a sign, it’s gotta. He’s willing to believe just about anything right now, especially after kissing you.

You, kissed you, you as in the cheerleader high school darling everyone adores, you as in pretty face and pretty smile that existed in his peripherals as nothing more than an impossible daydream. He never really thought about you, not in seriousness at least. Sure, there was the passing thought of what it would be like if he was nothing like himself or you were nothing like he thought you were. But it was an idea he seldom entertained, not wanting to deal with a consequence of an unrequired crush. He never had a chance with you to begin with. He’d rather save himself the hurt.

…What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Maybe it was just a very realistic and intense hallucination. .

He’d believe that, no doubt. Only if he couldn’t still smell your lingering perfume when he closed his eyes.

This is a waking nightmare. He’s going insane. He knew one day it’ll happen, but now it’s happening for real.

As if school couldn’t get any worse, but seeing you pass by without even a glance in his direction feels like a stab in the chest. Either that or his stomach cramps up whenever you’re within his radius, or years of smoking are finally catching up to him. Whichever one it is, he has to fight the urge to throw himself in the opposite direction. He’s ashamed, and shame burns like acid and weighs him down like lead. Ashamed of what, exactly? That memory of you in the janitor’s closet, the small plight of hope he felt when you clung to him, how he ran away. He’s good at that, running away — has had plenty of practice. He wonders if that’s just how it’s gonna be his whole life, now: shamefully fleeing at the sight of danger.

And it is dangerous being involved with someone like you. You come with an added risk of a hard beating if he looks at you funny and slow acting poison that is the absolute psychological torture of you being so close yet so far. He hears your voice in the cafeteria; sees you rushing down corridors in your tiny cheerleader skirt; notices you smiling, a bit flustered, when you find flowers in your locker. He wasn’t the one to put them there. He wouldn’t dare. Fucking coward.

People started noticing. He’s distracted, distressed, more eccentric than usual. He’s trying so hard to appear normal (whatever it is that is normal to Eddie Munson), that he’s acting abnormal.

“Dude,” It’s Dustin, Eddie’s chickadee that he adopted into his little club of misfits. He breaks the brief silence hanging between them in the cafeteria, “are you okay?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes promptly flee from your form at the other side of the room, “Yeah,” he blinks, rushed, “why?”

Dustin shrugs, “You just…been acting weird. Weirder than usual. And that says something, cuz you’re a fuckin’ nutcase, man.”

Eddie grins, and he wonders if they can tell that it’s shaky, that he’s nervous, that he thinks they’ll figure it out soon, and if they do, he’ll never be able to live it down, “Oh, I’ll show you weird, Henderson.” He’s about to do something stupid – jump on the table or scream or whatever his first instinct is, but you suddenly pass by hand in hand with Chrissy and take all of his resolve with you. His eyes pathetically follow after you, and so do the heads of the boys in Hell Fire.

A collective realisation washes over them like a cold wave.

Dustin gapes, “No fucking way.”

“Dude.” Mike utters, eyes wild, “Are you for real?”

“That’s fucked.” Dustin comments.

“What?” Eddie snaps, “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You,” Dustin points his fork at him, “and (Name).” The hand holding the utensil forms into a fist and he smacks it onto the table, “Fucked, I say.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Eddie whines, leaning into his seat and throwing his hand over the back of the chair, “She just…walked by and I looked. Sue me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s totally what happened. Sure as fuck you weren’t just checking her out when the basketball team is right there. You have a death wish or something?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. Maybe he does have a death wish. Only blissful oblivion would save him from this…this tightness in his chest, the shortness of breath, the sudden spike in anxiety whenever you’re around. The harsh slap of disappointment. He knows it can never be anything than what it is right now, he always knew, and still it’s a hard pill to swallow, still he chokes on it.

The questions continue and slowly transform into jeers. They think it’s funny, funny how you suddenly caught his eye, but they don’t know, they just don’t fucking know, man, that for a moment, a single instance, he had caught yours, too.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe you meant what you said that you make-out with anyone who’s just…there. Right time right place. If it was anyone else but him, would you still have done what you did? He’d like to think that no, you’re not like that. But as of now, as of this very moment, he doesn’t know what to think. He feels confused and maybe a bit used. Like a toy thrown out after it outlived its purpose. You had your weed and your kiss and an entertaining detention – isn’t that what he’s known for, entertaining? He got what he deserved, and you got what you wanted.

It’s an early fucking morning and he’s drunk and high and barely makes it back home into his trailer. The small steps upwards had never been so strangely placed, and if he was one shot deeper he could swear they were upside down. He’s back from whatever hole he crawled out of and in this state of numbing drunkenness and on the verge of passing out he thinks that, hey, life’s really not that bad, eh? Sure, he failed like the fucking loser he is and, and, get this – guess who wasn’t present during graduation? Bull’s-eye! This guy! Not like they had anything for him, anyway. Whatever. Who gives a shit? Third times the charm or whatever.

It’s always whatever, because if it’s even once not a whatever it’s suddenly holy shit I really am a fucking failure I really am just like my dad. Best not to think of that. He spits that thought out right into dirt beside his trailer. Who knows, maybe a flower will grow there.

Swings open the door, tumbles in, doesn’t bother locking it. He’s probably being loud but uncle sleeps like a log so it’s not like he’s gonna wake up and do anything – what would he even say if he did? Eddie’s not in a creative mood, so he refrains from commenting and instead stumbles to the sink. The tap is running and ringed fingers submerge under ice cold water. He splashes his face. Sighs. He feels hot and nauseous and vaguely curious what would happen if he let the sink fill and dipped his head in. Probably would wash out all of the shit from his system. His brain needs a good cleaning.

And so the baptism commences.

“Fuuuuuucckkkk this,” He hisses out, rivulet dripping from his hair, his chin; his eyes are fixated out the window and into the pale morning, “stop,” he mumbles, rubs his face, “fucking haunting me, for fuck’s sake.”

Not even in his drunken, delirious stupor can he escape you. The image of you will probably plague him long after you have moved away to California or wherever your heart desires; long after you’ve left Indiana and high school behind.

But here you are, and now that he gets a better look at you, you don’t really look how you usually do. No new fine clothes or fixed hairdo – just some t-shirt that’s way too big for you and shorts (jorts?) that should rest on the middle of your thighs but cover your knees.

But that’s not any of his clothes, so it can’t be a dream. He’s also pretty sure no one you hang around would give you a ‘Best dad!’ shirt to wear, unless, of course, you’re married. He doesn’t think that you are, pretty sure he would’ve heard that at school. God he hopes you’re not married. To some loser, especially.

Why is he thinking about this, again?

Right, you’re dressed incognito in Hawkins’ shittiest neighbourhood, just back from wherever the fuck with a pair of binoculars and a bag. Not suspicious at all.

He leans onto the sink, cusses under his breath when the water overflows and promptly turns it off. Closer and closer to the window and suddenly another player makes themselves known: a kid from a nearby trailer that moves here fairly recently. Ah, fuck, what was her name again? He can’t recall, but he sure as shit recognizes that sour facial expression and, yeah, that’s Billy’s sister.

He groans. Hits his head a few times on the glass. He’s too drunk and too tired to figure out what are you doing with Billy’s sister, but his mind hates him so he physically tries to get away from those thoughts. Staggers into his room and throws himself onto his bed. The mattress bounces a few times and the hinges squeak and he closes his eyes.

Billy was…terrible. To Eddie, especially. Liked to throw hands and nearly took Eddie’s eye out once. Maybe he just hated the fact that Munson had better hair.

But it makes sense, makes so much sense he’s honestly astounded that even half-lucid he’s still a genius. Billy was popular. You are popular. Billy probably tried making a move on you, and judging by the fact that you’re hanging out with his sister at five in the morning, it probably worked. He’d heard rumours, something about Hargrove having the hots for (Lastname), but he never really paid them any mind. God, Billy’s winning even beyond the grave. Fucking asshole.

No, wait, that was rude, Eddie takes that back, he doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead. Even if he doesn’t like Billy, he supposes he couldn’t have been that bad if you liked him. Then again, Eddie’s a loser and you made-out with him, so your judgement might be at least somewhat untrustworthy.

Who cares. Huzzah, an end to another bitter day.  He’ll just fall asleep now and forget all about you and Billy and that shirt really doesn’t suit you – not that it looks bad, you don’t look bad in anything, but Eddie thinks he could find you a better shirt, one of his, of course, maybe the Black Sabbath one? It’s clean, so that’s a plus, and it would look too big on you, which is also a plus, and—

He hits his head a few times. Turns out he wasn’t lying when he said you’d be the death of him.

Another cool summer morning. The fog lingers behind his windows and dew collects on the glass. His uncle had been out for the night and so good boy Munson stayed up playing his electric guitar. Enthusiastic cords gradually died down into sombre melodies as tiredness seeped in. Eventually, his most beloved guitar was replaced with an acoustic one.

Summer had, so far, been the same as it always was – shooting the shit and trying not to think he has to repeat a year again. At least uncle wasn’t as disappointed as Eddie was, but then again, uncle seems to believe in him for reasons unknown. Hi faith is misplaced. Nothing good will amount from the youngest Munson and maybe…that’s okay.

It was automatic. He just looked outside as he was putting away his guitar and saw you. You, again, different shirt, but still with your bag and binoculars. Each time he stayed up to see the sunrise he’d see you, too. It felt oddly comforting, knowing that you lurked around here, almost like wishing him goodnight. It’s getting hopeless, he’s getting hopeless. But since school is out, and he tries not to frequent where he’s unwanted, this, here, in the city of trailers surrounded by woods and grass that hasn’t been cut in long time, is the only place he ever sees you anymore.

“Night.” He whispers, noting how you turn back and wave Max over. Maxine, he finally figured out her name. Even Maxine doesn’t look as disgruntled as she usually does, just a bit pale. But you have that effect on people. You just make those around you happy (or miserable, but he thinks he’s the exception). It’s good that you keep her company. He doesn’t see her talking with anyone these days.

It’s the end of August and he’s smoking outside his trailer. He isn’t exactly waiting for you to emerge from the trees like some sort of wraith but he’s not exactly blind to the fact that you’re here, either. He taps his foot, jitters with his hands, fiddles with his rings, takes in a few shaky fumes. He’s exhausted. Dishevelled, also, to put it mildly. School’s gonna start soon and so will the campaigns to get him off of the grounds. He always makes himself a joke before anyone else can. It’s wearing down on him. God, what a mess.

But here you are, donned in your ‘Best dad!’ and jorts, truly, it’s a sight for sore eyes. It doesn’t take you long to notice him and the casual step you had been walking in halts for a moment before continuing. Maxine is absent, it seems, and your eyes and he thinks school would be a bit more bearable if you just looked at him. Scratch that, life would.

He manages to give you an awkward smile and an even more awkward wave. You’ll probably ignore him – he would if he was in your shoes, his excommunication was completely warranted by the shit he pulled, but can you blame a guy for being nervous? It was instinct, and shitty one at that, he didn’t even consider that his escape would hurt you, didn’t think you’d care enough.  Nah, who’s he kidding, he just thought about himself.

He nearly chokes when you approach him, and you’re wearing such a neutral expression that he can’t even begin to guess what you’re thinking, “Morning.” You say in a light, raspy voice, as if everything was completely, and always was, fine, “What are you doing up so early?” You inquire, and now he’s sure that he’s dreaming, because a hello and a what’s up is just too good to be true.

“I, uhhh,” He scratches his head, “just—just smoking. Couldn’t sleep.” He admits, flicks his cigarette. Ash lands in the dirt. Ashes to ashes, “What about you? Not your usual scene.”

You hum, “You’d be surprised.” You hold up your binoculars and smile a little, “Bird-watching.”

He whistles, “And here I thought you were out here up to something diabolical.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t.” You counter, though not unkindly. Friendly, maybe even playful, just like the first time you met. Best detention he’d ever had, hands down, “I just, you know…” You look around as if an explanation would become evident once you do, “It’s peaceful here. No one’s up walking their dog or on an early morning jog, or...I dunno. I come here often. Haven’t seen you once, though.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“I’m sure you are.”

A brief silence lingers and he racks his head for something to say, but nothing really comes to mind. He wants to talk to you a bit longer, admire you a bit more, but the fact that you probably hate him and are only doing this out of politeness unnerves him. He extinguishes his cigarette, stands up and—you are shorter than him, that’s cute. You’re cute. He’d like to tell you that, but he’d probably fumble and bite his tongue or you’d kill him with your binoculars. Max would help you bury him in the backyard. He can see it already.

“Well—“

“—So—“

You both speak at the same time, squeeze out the same painful smile. He motions to you to take the floor, and you nod, “Well, I best be going now. Gotta sneak back in, and all. My parents don’t exactly know that I come here, and,” You look into his eyes and his heart skips a beat, “I’d really appreciate if no one knew about that.”

He lands a hand on his heart, “Your secret’s safe with me, (Name).”

It feels good saying your name again, like it’s meant to roll off of his tongue. It’s tasty, like your kiss.

You smile, “Thanks, Eddie.” But it’s even better hearing you say his. You tilt your head softly to the side, “We’re good, right?”

He sputters. So, wait, you don’t hate his guts? Is this some sort of joke? Will Jason jump out the bushes with a baseball bat and whack him on the head if he replies?

“No, it’s not a joke, and no, Jason isn’t here.”

Dear God, he actually said that aloud. He wonders if cardiac arrest is possible from embarrassment, or at least an aneurysm, because he would take anything at this point, “That’s, uhhh,” His hands land on his hips, “that’s—that’s good to know. And yeah, sure, of course we’re good, you don’t even—didn’t even need to say it.” He catches your gaze, “You’re always good in my book.”

“I mean you did  kinda hurt my feelings but—“ You shrug, “uhmm—well, well it’s not really important now. Just, I just wanted to know if we’re good. ‘Cause I, like, met Robin the other day and all—we went shopping, Gosh, you should have seen the outfits she put me in—and, and I just, I guess I…Thought. About you. If you’re okay. And I wasn’t mad anymore, not really.” You laugh – it’s an airy, pleasant sound, “I mean, I wasn’t even mad at Andy for getting caught so it was stupid of me to be mad at you. So…” You hold out your hand, “Truce?”

It’s a silly question, “…Truce.” He shakes your hand. Small, warm. His shoulders relax. He doesn’t let go instantly but you aren’t quick to pull away either, “By the way, did Robin style you today as well?”

You shake your head with a laugh, “No, no, this I…I came up with myself. Best dad.”

“You’d make an awesome dad, (Name).”

“Thanks, I think so too.”

It passes by in a blur, you, here, talking, smiling, and then he’s one foot in his trailer and watching your retreating back. But you turn around and stop and his heart does, too, “And, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He calls.

“Don’t be sad. About exams, I mean. It’s gonna be your year, I can feel it.”

He smiles. It feels like the first genuine one he’d had in a while. If you believe in him, than he has no more doubts.

’86 is gonna be his year.

hope you liked it xx

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #reader insert #eddie munson x you #one shot #angst #fluff #agnostic

[dayundying]

can you tell us more about nort please im so curious about him :)

NANA I LOVE YOU YOU ARE MY BESTEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.

Um um ok for starters his name is Nort, obvs! And it is just straight up his name, im sure in character, to Nort his name is meaningful and important but to me? Nort just struck my mind! Im pretty sure it was inspired by Norm from PaF which haha is fitting cause Nort is my owb poster child, robots!!! Haha. Although it also makes me sad because my first fallout oc was named Norman actually... but he wasnt named after norm he was named because he was a normal man ANYWAHS NOT IMPORTANT.

He uses solely he/him and basically ONLY presents masculinely but like ive SOMEWHAT expressed before he feels kind of weird about gender simply because well, human gender is so human and he really hates being human, he does not feel male at all, but defintely not female, im not sure if hed know the term nonbinary but its him and he would be it (nort LOVES transgenderism.)

The topic of how he feels about gender i think is a good segway to whatever he has going on in the sexuality department, i feel like hes defintely had relationships in the past and has and does feel attraction for other people but after the whole getting shot in the head nd getting to affirm his person and ideals he hates himself for feeling that, he hates all of his human desires and needs, he stuffs basically all of his feelings like so far down deep. So what he is with that label??? Agh idk lol. Hed loooooove to be nonbinary but he gives no shit to label anything else

Now! What IS up with his beliefs? Well at first I envisioned him as a avid transhumanist but then when i actually made him my idea for him as a nerd went out the window and he became totally tough and gruff, he still is a transhumanist and believes in it very much, but he is also incredibly survival of the fittest thinking if that makes sense (i want to say he believes in survivalism but i realized the actual definition of it sounds dumb.) I kind of think of it like this: he is incredibly trusting in machines and technology, but due to the wasteland being the way it is, he cant just be a robot like he very much wants to be, he cant have robot arms and put chips in his skin, he has to be the human he was born as, and eat and drink and fight, so yknow, he does.

Idk, hes barely 2 days old, hes still being developed, this stuff IS subject to change

But i am not done!!!

Deciding how my ocs feel about stuff is great, i will never skip out on explaining their opinions on factionsss <3

Hoof, looking them up, i realize theres more factions in nv then i thought there were...Ill get into his opinion on the more minor factions another time cause id TOTES love to, but i think right now the main stuff is supes important!

He LOVES mr house, er like, his politics wise, he sits and nods to everything he says and thinks because he simply completely agrees.

Thinks the ncr are some bunch of cowards, he does have a personal intrigue with how its set up though. Sometimes he daydreams about if he was in charge of all of the ncr, the changes hed make.

He doesnt think an independent new vegas would survive at all and does not support it. He simply believes itd just crumble and cave into itself !

Similar to how he feels about the ncr, he alsp has intrigue with the legion, but hates its lack of progressiveness and movement, i dont think he believes he could save it, just one of those things hell certain will just blow away into the sands of nevada, as weird history of that one time that happened.

#long post #oc: nort

[sm1l3b0t]

recently ive been thinking a lot about my transness and masculinity, and more specifically how when i was younger it was something i really struggled with and really had to fight for. i remember being 14 and getting into screaming arguements with my mother about not shaving my pits/legs and trying to train myself to not cross my legs and buying clothes from the men section whilst looking around scared like i was committing a felony. i used to daydream about having a boys name and make myself cry. and now my mother doesnt even bother to tell me to shave. ive had to start training myself to not manspread as wide. i feel entirely comfortable in the mens section and i go by victor at my university and with my friends. all these little signs of masculinity i used to have to fight so hard for are so easy for me now. im not nearly as far along in my transition as i want to be but there is a comfort with myself that 14 year old me could only dream of and i dont even notice it most of the time

and it makes me think about what other parts of masculinity will be easy for me in the future. right now i cant bind effectively and dont bother most days but one day will i forget i ever had anything but a flat chest? right now im trying to train myself to talk in a deeper pitch and one day will i do it without thinking? will i look back and my 19 year old self and think 'that poor soul. i hope he knows he doesnt have to fight for those things anymore' the same way i do with my 14 year old self? all of these things that i want so bad - will they be easy one day? the thought of that makes me really happy

#personal post #transmasc #sappy as hell

[cryptid-amongst-the-cosmos]

never really thought about it but saw that post now im curious. how does being otherkin work (at least in your opinion) ?

thats actually a great question, and not one that is answered concisely or easily.

how us nonhumans feel about our nonhumanity differs wildly from person to person (or creature to creature, i guess). my experiences are not universal. i just felt that i should point that out before going into this.

to me at least, being otherkin is a feeling of being other. of knowing that this form, this body, this species, is not yours. i guess.

the problem that ive been having with trying to answer this is that i feel a bit detached from the otherkin label despite using it because ny nonhumanity is... complex, to say the least.

so the main thing that pushed me towards initially identifying as nonhuman was my own perception of myself. almost everytime i would try to daydream i would inevitably conjure up a self-insert character that is very much nonhuman. and it felt so much like... me, i guess.

for me right now, id say that one of the biggest factors in my nonhumanity is this massive feeling of species dysphoria, as well as not feeling like i belong in this body. its almost unbearable, given how often it occurs. even small things like taking a shower or getting ready in the morning can sometimes trigger it. and if im being honest, if i didnt have my earbuds and my playlist, i dont think i could make it through the day.

i also do get phantom limb sensations. basically, theyre sensations from body parts that dont exist. i most commonly get these in the form of phantom wings. sometimes ill just be sitting there and i can suddenly feel them open and stretch and i have to lean forward in order to not be uncomfortable from being compressed against the chair. other times ill be talking to people and try to gesture with my wings only to realize multiple seconds later that they're not there.

i also do get other kinds of phantom limbs, but they come far less often and are usually relatively tame.

i also get the instincts to do creature things sometimes. like in bed ill try to curl up into a ball only to remember i cant do that. or sometimes ill just get an incredibly strong urge to bite something or someone. or i feel like i all of a sudden need to become one with the shadows or just be on the ceiling or just be formless.

its noting that all of this is really tricky to talk about since its not something that can be put into words easily.

so i guess what im trying to say, if im saying anything at all, is that im otherkin and nonhuman because i just feel and act other, i guess. i just dont think of myself as being human.

theres also a lot of stuff that i havent mentioned such as being homesick or belief, however this is long enough as it is and my attempts to explain this have resulted in 14k+ words and no end in sight.

so yeah. its complicated, i guess

#the creature responds #bugsoda #otherkin #nonhuman #sorry if this is a bit of a non answer #its tricky to explain

[luminberry]

Prompt- How about a pred that has been holding themselves back from nomming their new prey friend until the urge drives them up the wall and they snap, eating up their prey friend then coming to their senses and apologizing? Turns out the prey friend was wondering why it took so long to get eaten.

stealing @acorncake 's sher1ff bull bc yes.

cause hell ye ive thought long and pondered this one for a while but writing everything building to it takes so long. blame me being a picky fuck for writing plenty to do it right.

but snippets tho...snippets work for shenanigans

He was always a kind and patient sorta man, being a M4g more or less called for it if you didnt want to wind up destroying everything on accident. He had gotten good and holding himself in check in regards to alot of things, it had earned him many friends and the trust of most of the base he found himself calling home now.

Still...being this big came with repercussions, some he had to learn to live with, but thankfully they grew to be manageable.

All but one that unfortunately was causing him trouble for the last week or so.

A new man had turned up at the base, a cowboy much like him surprisingly. Smaller than most by a tiny margin but he held his head high, something that drew the M4g to him both out of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite name just yet.

As it turned out, the man (whos name was Zeke it turned out) was surprisingly easy to get along with once Bull broke the ice. Easy to get along with and even easier still to talk with..Soon both sides found themselves in the others company far more than any other on base.

It was around this time one of the repercussions started to kick in. Bull started to wonder what the smaller man would feel like sliding down his throat, what he might even taste like. It started as idle thoughts and grew to daydreams while the object of said thoughts sat in his hold completely unaware of his want to devour his newfound friend.

Naturally he pushed the urge down, Zeke didn't know about his...strange little habit and he didn't want to scare the man away. He'd resist the damn urge as long as he could stand it.

His will broke about near the end of the week around Sunday evening just before dinner was about to be called. Zeke had gotten accustomed to Bull more or less carrying him around while they talked, it made things easier on both parties considerably.

Bull wasn't quite sure what broke his resolve, the smell coming from the mess hall, how close Zeke was to his mouth at that particular moment but before he could stop himself his hands moved of their own accord.

His stomach growled as he felt the shockingly delicious treat moved from mouth to throat and beyond with so little resistance he wondered why he wasted so much time holding back until now. It wasn't until he felt the little yet familiar weight of prey settling into his stomach that he came to his senses and damn near fell over from the sense of shock and guilt hitting him.

"Oh..oh shit, ah I'm sorry Zeke...I shoulda held back a bit longer...Damnit..I'm real sorry..are ya alright in there?"

"Ah...w-well I'm mostly surprised? I'm fine but..well that was certainly a experience. Alot different than what the others told me it'd be like that's for sure.."

He felt some relief that the smaller man now tucked away wasn't upset or cross with him-wait.

"Hold on..run that by me again? Ya'll knew bout...bout my ah...little bad habit?"

"well yeah? It got mentioned once or twice since I'd be dealin with a few M4gs daily..they gave me a few days of trainin and info for it..But uh..readin bout somethin and havin it happen first hand is a big difference..Ya'll are gonna let me back out right?"

"Of course! Shoot I ain't that kinda fella..just sorry I got weak so close ta dinner..Gimme two minutes and I'll get ya back out so we can still get some proper food okay?"

"Alrighty..Just uh, warn me next time alright big fella?"

"Sounds fair ta me."

#mawdness combat #g/t vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling

[aroaceconfessions]

figuring out about my asexuality was the easiest part of my identity issues to deal with, but trying to understand whether i feel romantic attraction or not has been taking the best of me for a few years now. lately ive been thinking that maybe i do feel it? i can like people romantically, maybe i do want romantic relationships, i might actually be able to crush on people. so i thought back to the one person when i was a pre teen that i thought i had a crush on (the same person that made me believe i might be aromantic), and then i met this girl when i was visiting a nearby town, and i also started finding one of my classmates attractive - all in different moments. i started daydreaming about them and i didn't feel as against the idea as i did before.

i study in another state, so i went back home for vacation and i came across the guy i thought i crushed on from when i was a pre teen (not surprising, we live in the same neighborhood) but i found out he's dating and i felt okay about it. i found out the girl from the trip is and lives in another country, and i didnt have enough courage to ask for her number, so we never met again. and, a few minutes ago, i saw my classmate with who's probably his girlfriend. it kinda made me want to laugh of myself? bc i didn't feel bad about it, it just made me think how this is some sort of sign screaming to me that i probably don't feel romantic attraction, im just lonely. im in another state, without my family, without my best friends, getting stressed day and night about college, my future and thinking im not good enough, having to worry extra hard about my well-being bc no one else is here to notice if something's wrong and, even though i do have a friend here, i feel like i still have nothing . i really like her, but i also feel like she's one of those friendships that wouldn't last if we lived far away from each other. it's really clear that im lonely, i thought that it might be it before, but my brain just keeps making me question myself over and over again and it's making me feel even worse.

#asexual #ace #acespec #aspec

[offical-ranter]

SPOILERS FOR MS. MARVEL

ok guys i expected this show to be pretty average.. nope. it was great. just 1 episode in and its already one of my favorite marvel shows. heres a bit of my thoughts on it -its so cool to see more representation. im not Muslim or Pakistani so i cant say anything about those aspects (tho im sure u could find stuff about it online from those more knowledgeable) other than its great to see other cultures and languages in a production like this. and like MoonKight they had what i assume to be cultural music, which was also rlly cool -ITS SO RELATABLE! LIKE SKDFJSGS;, i dont have the words. the fact that she daydreams all day about being a superhero, doodles during class, is a literal fangirl, and has parents who doesnt understand what she likes, is. so. relatable. this is the most ive ever seen myself in a marvel character, which is kinda the point of the show. but still. i was watching her talk about making her cosplay and looking at fanart and its just, i do those things. i have marvel shirts and dream about going to cons. the amount of, just feeling, i felt when her mom completely shut down her plan to go to AvengerCon is just, immense. like wow, so many ppls parents judge their kids for the things they like. the scene where Kamala tried to put something around her hips after her mom told her the outfit was too skimpy or tight (without even seeing it i might add) was something i just immediately felt. she didnt even need to monologue about why she felt the need to do it, i could instantly understand based on her action and expression. i cant put into words how this feels like a show that just gets us -her friendship with Bruno (im still not over that song why would u do this to me Disney). its so accurate to how friendship is and its so wholesome to watch. Kamala feeling out of place in school and being quite to meeting with Bruno and talking about the con? thats great, thats the friendships i wanna see. there was no romance, tho there may be based on the look they shared on the roof, but im surprisingly open to it. i usually never like romance in action based shows but they understand each other so well. their struggles and dreams, like even if their love is just platonic its still there. and i love to watch it (not to mention its the literal perfect superhero partner dynamic, the one who fights and the one in the chair) -the directing. ive had a lot of problems with Disney directing as of late (cough cough Boba Fett) but marvel shows have always been fine. WandaVision was rlly unique in its idea, so was Hawkeye, but none have stood out in just plain directing so far. until this. theres no weird shaky camera for no reason, no weird up close face shots (im looking at u The Falcon and the Winter Soldier), nothing like that. just good camera work and going 100% with the theme. the drawings coming to life on the walls and their texts becoming signs and Kamala's planning being animated/drawn. its like spider-verse and i love it. it seems so true to her character and the vibe of the show. reminds me of a movie i think exists where some guy in high school has the ability to make the things he draws real, but im not sure if i just made that up lol -references. some ppl call them easter eggs but either way their great. like me tell u i was screaming whenever i saw something from the greater mcu. even before the show started i noticed how MoonKight is now in the intro logo. there was a lot but some things i remember r the og captain america song at the con, the drawing mentioning his ass, also at the con, the trust a bro truck and original ms. marvel design as art during the end credits. im sure there was more and im kinda disappointed im not remembering them after just watching it -the mysteries. whyd the bracelet (idk if thats what its called but for now bracelet) give her powers? who r the ppl in the end scene (i dont think any other marvel show has had an end scene first ep)? will her old friend refriend her? OMG SHE STILL HAS THE POWER TO EXTEND HER LIMBS?? BUT NOW ITS LIKE CRYSTALS???

#ms. marvel #ms. marvel spoilers #ms marvel series #show review #sorry for the rant #i just have so many feelings #i love this #theres only one episode out #and i already love it #personal opinion #fangirling

[lokbobpop]

Imagination

As Im walking imagination on eqafe I’m finding it very interesting, and new things have opened up lots more things have opened up, like i feel im starting all over again until i realize well i have been doing and getting better at seeing my mind but this opens up the point within me of how much deeper i need to go to see all my minds in perfections, down to the smallest daydream as it were, as i call it away with the fairy’s. Im distracted with the fairy’s of the mind frequently even listening to the eqafe recording ill be distracted by my mind several time within only a half hour listen lol so this is whats im working on at the moment still keeping an eye out for my comparisons to others as i see this is a deep seated within myself and need to be checked lol. So lets look at what comes up when im writing here? Very little as im writing im concentrating on my words, but i know only to well the mind will either come up with a distraction for me to think about like my mum is arriving today and all the things i need to get ready lol well something like that, as after to long being free of the mind it drags you back in like come on look over here :) so the look over here how can i support myself better i know i wrote about this the other day and looked at the word awareness to be more present in self and so on but i want to do it step un my game even more so less slip through, like you know when your lost in a thought you feel very relaxed you enjoy it until the mind throws in a curveball of an energetic reaction hey. So here’s to upping my game to the mental images that come up out of the blue that have been sitting in my unconscious mind and subconscious mind and of cause on the quantum physical and mind level to see who i am within the slightest of being taken away by the fairy’s

So im going to sit and wait and watch what comes up and what happens to myself on a mental and physical self.

A wood pigeon came close and is calling that lovely wood pigeon song and i was immediately taken back to growing up in the uk and listen the this call and how i felt like it was summer and joyful being outside playing. Then i stopped the mind and i know it would have taken me on an adventure of maybe a good childhood memory or a bad one. So to the next one.

The thought came up was, theres so many birds about and chris is still in bed, you wait till he gets up and i say how much he misses in the morning because i cant get out of bed, i see at the root of this im annoyed he’s still in bed and just want to wined him up to say ffs just get up and cause friction because i want him up.

I wonder if all the birds are here because they know what im doing lol yes self importance comes here like they must be, they must know what im doing and must be supporting me lol

I noticed ive crossed my arms and i thought why am i causing a barrier between myself and what i see? But it was a sort of come on then mind what’s next what are you going to show me about myself like i was ready to fight this take it on like ive got yu now, but with crossing the arms i was trying to protect myself i felt front the attacks of the mind warding off all evil :0

I went into thoughts of the lower back as im having trouble sleeping and blaming the mattress without considering the thoughts that contributed to these like giving my energy away to all these imaginations and not being here in the now.

My daughter just rang and said what are you doing and I could tell straight away she wasn’t interested and just wanted to get off the call and not go into some deep convo with me lol which she did.

I could probably sit here one day and do this for the whole day and write out all thoughts and imaginations that come up, it would be write one sit a few moments or mins and another one, this is how much of my time im actually only in my mind, where else would i be if i wasnt in my mind is the question. Far more active than i am already thats for use, being held back by the mind from living and myself is criminal so why so i let it happen??

[jawllines]

There was very little Y/N could take from Anne’s brief testimony. At this point from the judgment of character alone Y/N had long since abandoned the idea that he could have killed his wife. The part of her that is immersed in the world of stories, dark literature, and mystery, tells her that she’s naive to trust him so wholly. That certitude like this would personify, walk with her hand-in-hand off the ship on a wooden plank, and there she’d find her naivety with a sword to her throat, telling her to jump. 

Y/N could be intuitive when she wanted to be. When she truly opened up her heart to a situation and saw it for what it was, and despite quite a few attempts of trying to make the accusation of murder make sense, she simply couldn’t. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear it straight from his mouth though. Just because she had made up her mind about the idea of him killing her, didn’t mean she knew the details that led to that judgment from the town. Who heard when about what and why; there was no way to know other than the two ideas she’d come up with: 

1. Break into the police department and look through classified records. 

2. Ask Harry. 

She thinks she’d try her luck fighting off a policeman first. 

or

Y/N’s questions are answered and Harry’s been through a lot, hasn’t he?

(TW: mentions of murder, suicide, abuse, alcohol/drug use)

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

For four years, Harry had been stuck in a meadow.

Not a beautiful one that flourished beneath a vivid blue sky, with colors aplenty and life in abundance. It was cold; clouds hung low and heavy with icy rains that pierced his skin with every drop. The world was grey, the flowers were dead, the life was dormant, and Harry was alone. Stagnant in old memories that he wished to forget, haunted by new ones as the days passed and grew shorter, the night came quick and stayed long, his insides hollowed and his skin froze. Each passing day felt empty, bunnies with chubby paws and gurgling, giggly faces brought small beads of happiness but bunnies had to sleep, and he has to work.

Numb -- he felt numb and bitter, starving for warmth in four years of winter. Even his tears had frozen, the hot sting no longer brought comfort but more pain. And he lay there among the dried yellowed grass, wondering when it might get better. He lay there the first year wondering if his marriage was a mistake, and the second year he questioned if it would’ve been better if they had not met. The third-year he ponders if he were ever meant to be loved-- he wonders if it was supposed to feel this rotten. Had love stories no truth to them? Had all the authors been lying? Within the bad, there was always some good, but Harry hadn’t felt much good for three years by then. The fourth-year he wondered if it was his fault, all of it, just as the wind whispered in his ear. Maybe had he done something different then nothing would have happened. Maybe if he had been different then everything would be fine. Maybe then the bunnies wouldn’t have eyes that didn’t match his own.

It had started with a speckle of sunlight. The kind that appears at the end of a sluggish storm that came in the afternoon, filled the streets and soaked the soil of ditches with rain. Clouds withdrew, revealing the sun had begun sinking past the horizon, only thirty minutes or so until night inked the sky, but even for those few minutes there’s comfort. Reddish hues cut through the gloom, half the sky is dense clouds that ease to another town and the other half are cooed promises of a stormless day come morning. That’s how it started. . .just a little bit of sun with a giggle that drowned out the thunder.

The next day, the rain stopped. He blinked up at the clouded sky questioning why it had stopped pelting his skin like glacial stones -- it had been so long of this he panicked for one moment, maybe two (maybe three), but he tried to make do with it. His hollow stomach growled for the first time in ages, the scent of almond jam tarts slithers through his nose and makes his mouth water. The sun peeks out through the clouds to giggle again, teasing him with a few minutes of warmth -- the bunnies came to bask in it too, from beneath the burrow he’d made for them. One he lay on top of to keep them from the rain. They nudged at his back, demanding to come out, and so he rolled over and let them and they enjoyed the heat as well.

Each passing day the sun shows itself more and more, first timidly -- meek and mild, a little unsure. It smiled at Harry though he rarely smiled back. . .his cheeks were frozen how could he? But slowly he thawed; he could move his head again, look side to side, visualize the grass was now lush, healthy green, and wildflowers in an assortment of colors had begun to bloom. When the sun first came, he’d been so guarded. . .so worried. . .so angry that he couldn’t welcome the feeling of it kissing his skin. As each day passed the sun grew warmer and brighter, and as each day passed, the grass grew greener and the flowers more lively, and as each day passed, Harry’s smile grew bigger.

Harry liked laying in this field much better, bathed in golden rays.

And Harry liked waking up with Y/N beside him.

She was a rather heavy sleeper, or so Harry found which confused him greatly. The few times he’d woken her with his nightmares, somewhere behind all the murky fog of him trying to gain his footing back in reality, he would wonder how she woke so easily. Was he really that loud or did she rise at the sound of a pin colliding with linoleum? It had been the second night she’d coaxed him back to sleep that he realized it had been the former as it was easy to quietly slide out from the cocoon of her arms and the blankets that she’d made to bring him comfort. Y/N slept like a log -- he’s sure she could sleep through a marching band storming up and down the halls of the hotel -- but she always woke for him. Woke for him and coddled him.

Harry hated needing it, but he loves it while it’s happening. In ways it felt like a guilty pleasure; something that he indulged in though he probably didn’t need to, akin to an extra scoop of ice cream on his waffle cone, or staying up an hour later to finish binging a show. As he came down from the horror that his subconscious had fed him, to melt in Y/N’s arms was very pleasant. She felt like sun but she smelled like spring rain, and she held him like she knew how much he needed it. Like she knew how good it felt for him to be in someone’s arms. . .how happy he was to not wake up alone.

He preferred this though -- to wake with Y/N beside him, no memory of a night terror tormenting his brain as he blinks his eyes open. Y/N was not curled as close to him as she had been when they’d fallen asleep and while this made him pout for a moment, he is glad to watch her from this angle. She was close enough to him that he felt her warmth diffuse from her body beneath the sheets, but far enough that he could make out all of her features without having to move his head. All he does is press the corner of the pillow from his face with his fingers so his view isn’t obstructed at all.

This wasn’t a creepy thing -- he knew if she woke it might look like a creepy thing, him just watching her, but Harry was simply looking. He enjoyed the calm that her face contained; soothed and undisturbed. He could tell from one look at her face when her mind was racing, whether it be the faint furrow in her brow or the way she starts playing with her lips with her fingertips or nipping at her nails absentmindedly. That spacey glow in her gaze when she stares out the windshield of the car lost in a daydream that Harry wished to join her in. What does she think about when she spaces out like that? Harry would love to know but he found himself too shy to ask most days.

Too shy? It was novel, the idea of him being shy. Had anyone in his life known that he got absurdly shy and flustered when it came to this girl, they’d find it laughable. He wasn’t like this normally. . .even after everything that had happened, he was able to put on a brave face and fake the character that he’d always presented himself as. To make people more comfortable, to force the pity out of their stares when he walked into a room, to make himself feel normal when he had every reason not to.

But when he was with Y/N, he felt all jumbled and rearranged, his thoughts knocked together like the beads inside Charlie’s little rattles. It made little sense to him but his feelings never made much sense to him, even the ones he thought he’d understood. As a young boy, he’s always felt his emotions so intensely, like they could encompass his being sometimes, both the good ones and the bad ones. Rarely did they ever make him act out, but his mind was constantly going, it felt, and his mum always told him he was governed by his heart. And when he grew and chose to be more analytical, he’d thought he’d pressed that all aside. At the point that Y/N had entered his life, he’d made the assumption he’d grown out of it.

He’d been wrong.

That was okay though, wasn’t it? It was alright to feel things but they were so big. That’s the only way he knew how to describe them -- incredibly big, ardent, impassioned. Did she feel these just as he was? When she saw him, did her heart race unreasonably fast? Did she feel bashful beneath his gaze? Was she happier when they were together? Why couldn’t Harry just ask?

Why couldn’t Harry just ask?

The ache in his knuckles reminds him of what he’d done the night prior, mixed in his emotions regarding it. His reaction to Emmett had been boorish, and how he took the guitar even more so. After the little anecdotes, Y/N had shared with him about the kind of man Emmett was, it filled him with such hatred. Such hatred and spite for a man that he had not once met, but had raised memories from Harry’s own brain that he could not leave ignored. He hated him. . .he hated him for what he’d done to Y/N -- hated him for the broken look in her eyes at the thought of him, at what life he’d taken from her.

And he hated him for his own personal reasons. . .selfish reasons.

How could there be so many of the same type of person in the world?

Y/N wriggles in her spot, her brow pinches as her arms emerge from the covers and reach toward the headboard, a soft groan stirs from her chest. Harry held his breath for a moment -- should he look away? If she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, would she be unsettled? Would they be okay like she said they would? He hoped so. . .he really, really hoped so.

Her eyelids flutter first, before she blinks, squinting against the sharp morning sun that filled the room. Only a moment passes before she turns to him, a small, sleepy smile pulls at her cheeks. Eyes puffy from sleep, Harry struggles not to coo aloud -- she’s terribly cute.

“G’morning.” Her voice sends sparkles through his body; glittering, dazzling, iridescent bubbles.

“Good morning,” he cleared his throat after his gravelly response, and watches as Y/N pushes herself up from the mattress, but her bottom lip pouts, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She nodded, “Mhm,” it’s gentle how it leaves her mouth, it makes him want to protect her from the world, “You made me all sticky last night.”

Harry’s brows raised -- he hadn’t thought she’d mention it. If anything, Harry half expected them both to pretend it hadn’t happened. It probably shouldn’t have but at the moment, Harry had not considered what it might mean afterward. All he’d known was in that moment, he needed to touch her, and taste her, and feel her in every way imaginable.

It would hurt, Harry thinks, if they had to pretend that things hadn’t changed. Harry’s body, his mind, his heart sang too loudly for him to drown the sound of it out and play pretend. He had felt her against him in every way imaginable the night prior and still it hadn’t felt like enough. It had been a part of the reason he’d tried his best to hold out for as long as he could. If that were to be his only time with her, he wanted to make it count, but even then. . .even with how much they did and how long they did it for -- he just wanted to be even closer.

And he almost can’t stand it. Almost can’t stand how much he wants her.

“I cleaned you up, Sweetheart. Did I not do a good job?”

Y/N tilted her body toward him, and very suddenly did she plop across his torso, words muffled from where her face was pushed into the covers, “You did alright I guess, but I need a shower.” He smiled, laying his hand flat across her back, rubbing circles over the cotton fabric of his shirt she wore and he felt her melt; her muscles ease and her bones jellied, “Don’ wanna get up yet.”

“Don’t have to,” he murmured, “Can sleep as long as you like.”

Y/N’s response is a low hum that vibrates from her chest to his belly. The familiarity in her actions brings relief to the tension he’d been stacking in large blocks throughout his body. He had filled with such dread that they might revert back to their old, sheepish tendencies in how they regarded one another. Part of the reason he’d watched her wake, he’d admit, was because he’d been so happy that she was still there and he had to make sure for the first few minutes that it wasn’t a lovely dream. That Y/N was right beside him resting, not sat in her room in deep contemplation about how to go about reorienting their situation to how it had been.

Of course, if Y/N told him that she was uncomfortable and that things were weird, he would respect whatever decision she’d make in response to it.

He is, however, more than delighted that that wasn’t the case.

Still, he voices his concern slightly, in case he was reading her actions wrong. He doesn’t stop rubbing on her back as he begins speaking, and she startles some as he’d just woken her back up, “We are okay, yes? We’re still good how we were?”

Y/N re-earths her face from the blankets, lying on her cheek so she could face him. Her face looked so soft -- Harry’s tempted to reach his fingers out to stroke against her cheek, but he stops himself, “Are you worried?” He does not waste a moment before giving a solemn nod, swallowing thickly when her fingers find the bare skin of his chest, stroking there gently, “Why?”

His brows furrow, trying to deviate his attention from her careful caresses, “I. . .we did a lot last night,” he murmured, “I’m worried that you might regret it a little.”

“I’m glad you said it, ‘cos I was g’na say I was worried you regretted it but I’d been too embarrassed to ask,” she moves her hand to cradle his cheek, and Harry’s face warms as he lets his eyes flutter closed, leaning against her soft palm, “I don’t regret a thing,” her words were sincere, “We’re silly.”

Harry nodded, a small smile painted his face as he allowed himself to get sucked into the moment. Free of his memories, free of his worries, free of anything. . .anything at all that doesn’t have to do with being in this bed. It feels good. Harry doesn’t think he’s felt this good in a long time.

Harry doesn’t think he’s felt this good ever.

“We’re silly.” He repeats.

                                                             .                       .                       .

Feeling things could be a lot sometimes.

Emotions could be cumbersome.

At least that’s how they had felt before, especially with Emmett. Y/N always felt like her emotions were trudging through sludge, grappling for the edge of a riverbank but being dragged back into the murky water. They were conflicting and confusing; they didn’t feel good at all. And they dwindled so thin that by the time she was packing her things in her car, the tears she cried were out of frustration that she was the one who had to pick up and move her life around, not because she was sad she lost him.

But these feelings for Harry have always felt so. . .light? That didn’t feel like the right word. Not light in the way that they weren’t intense for her, because they were earnest and enthusiastic -- but they didn’t feel heavy. It had felt like Emmett was always at her hips, yanking her down to the deep end of a pool she’d drown in. With Harry, he pulled her hands gently toward fields and hills of green, where they floated just above the soil, giggled and tumbled and skated their fingertips along the morning dew.

She felt calm with Harry. . .her feelings were big, and they were good.

For the rest of their time in the city, things had felt as if they changed but in the same breath, they hadn’t much at all. Harry is still as tender as he always is, and he still trips and fumbles over his words. As they had grown to know each other his stony exterior cracked progressively but it had felt that he’d dragged down a full wall for her. Maybe two even; she’d taken a chisel and sledgehammer to the mortar fixing the stone together and carefully broke it. A soft glowing center had been revealed but only sometimes, she found. Only sometimes would he hold onto her for a little longer than normal. Only sometimes would his gaze linger. Only sometimes would it look like he might kiss her, but he pulls his lips into his mouth instead.

Y/N doesn’t push him because she knew there were at least two more walls left fixed around him, and both of them are components of life before her. Whatever had happened, had left Harry a broken man, and no matter how desperately she wanted to know everything about it, she wouldn’t pry. She even tried to stop quietly theorizing about it all, though Anne does not make it very easy at all.

Last night they all went out for one last dinner together, and when Harry and his father excused themselves to go to the restroom it was only Y/N, Anne, and Charlie left at the table. Charlie had found his way into Harry’s lap at some point throughout the night, and Harry passed him off to Y/N’s lap when he’d left the table, but he pulled off one of his rings so that Charlie could keep playing with it. Y/N held the marching teddy ring between her thumb and forefinger as his chubby hands gripped around it and he marveled silently.

Anne smiled gently at her as she pierced a piece of steamed broccoli onto her fork, “I want to thank you, Y/N,” she had begun, before she twisted her body around to look at the direction of the bathrooms then turned back to face her, “I’ll be quick about it, the two of them never wee for long. I want to thank you because. . .well, I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he seems less. . .less miserable than he has been these past few years. I know part of it could just be the healing properties of time, but something tells me you bring a lot of light into both his and Charlie’s life.” Slowly she shook her head, “He’s misunderstood, a lot of the time. He always has been, even when he was a child.  Just loves with his whole heart and some people take advantage of that. I don’t know the nature of your relationship but I just ask that you continue to treat him kindly, no matter if it is platonic or not. God knows he needs that after what she put him through,” she hovers the broccoli over her mouth, “Though I hate to speak ill of the --”

Y/N wanted more. She wanted to take Anne out for coffee after dinner, find themselves a secluded booth in the back, and ask her every question that she could possibly think about what she didn’t know. Deep in her marrow, she knew it would be wrong to find out from someone who wasn’t Harry, but it would be easier wouldn’t it? Y/N would know and Harry wouldn’t have to relive the traumatic events for her to know. It would be the easiest solution, she’d think.

But before Anne could even finish her sentence, Harry appeared. The worst of it was she couldn’t even be irritated with his sudden reappearance, because the smile he gave her was sweet enough to melt her heart as he placed his hand on her shoulder then squeezed past her to get back to his seat, “Through the windows, I saw a candy store. It’s the same chain that has those fudge-dipped Oreos you like. Would you like to stop there after dinner?”

There was very little Y/N could take from Anne’s brief testimony. At this point from the judgment of character alone, Y/N had long since abandoned the idea that he could have killed his wife. The part of her that is immersed in the world of stories, dark literature, and mystery, tells her that she’s naive to trust him so wholly. That certitude like this would personify, walk with her hand-in-hand off the ship on a wooden plank, and there she’d find her naivety with a sword to her throat, telling her to jump.

Y/N could be intuitive when she wanted to be. When she truly opened up her heart to a situation and saw it for what it was, and despite quite a few attempts of trying to make the accusation of murder make sense, she simply couldn’t. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear it straight from his mouth though. Just because she had made up her mind about the idea of him killing her, didn’t mean she knew the details that led to that judgment from the town. Who heard when about what and why; there was no way to know other than the two ideas she’d come up with:

1. Break into the police department and look through classified records.

2. Ask Harry.

She thinks she’d try her luck fighting off a policeman first.

How could she just ask? There was no way to, she was certain of it -- no appropriate way to, at least. Any way that she tried to phrase it in her head sounded too nosy, too forward, too abrasive. Not only had she come to the conclusion that she didn’t believe he could kill his wife, but she’d also come to the conclusion that it was simply impossible to string the right words together so she could question why everyone would think he did. What was their relationship like before? He’d said they’d gone on trips -- that she’d liked the sun, and her only solace moving somewhere as dreary as the vacation town they inhabited was the beach. And she knew that Anne didn’t like her, for some reason or another -- that she put Harry through a lot. But that’s it.

That’s it.

If she thought about it for too long, her head ached. And when her head ached, her brows knit and she’s staring off into space without thinking all too much about it. So she hadn’t realized that Harry had even appeared back beside her in her hotel room, until she felt the tenderest of caresses just along her jaw, something he typically only did at night. When she turned to face him, his fingertips met her face, smoothing out her brow with the pad of his thumb, “Your head is hurting,” he murmured knowingly, the icy mint scent of his gum flutters along her nose, “Do you want to rest? I could finish packing for you.”

“How did you know my head was hurting?” Harry continues to rub her brow until she’s relaxed the muscles in her forehead, and the tension begins to dissipate from her shoulders.

“I’m observant,” he murmured, letting his hand fall away from her face but he slips it down, letting it rest on the curve of her throat, “You slept very little last night. Could feel you tossing and turning.”

It was true; she’d fallen through the rabbit hole of her thoughts as she’d spent many nights doing, only now when she was doing it, chances are she was laying beside Harry. One of the things that had changed was their need to find an excuse to sleep in the same bed, which was a blessing. Now, how Harry asks, is by offering her a shirt to sleep in while he feeds Charlie his last bottle for the night, cradled in the crook of his arm. Y/N gives Charlie plenty of cuddles and kisses, they lay him down in his crib, and the both of them get ready for bed themselves.

All of it feels very domesticated, especially the bits where after they’ve washed their faces and brushed their teeth, they crawl into bed and Harry finds them a movie to watch that they inevitably speak through half of, then get invested in the last quarter. Y/N thinks Harry finds it easier to touch and cuddle at night; this is when things feel most different than what they had been. He indulges in soft caresses, gentle squeezing, pulling her flush to his body, and skimming his fingers all along her skin, giggling when she shivered like he found joy in rousing goosebumps in his wake. The way Harry holds her spoke for how touch starved he’d been, and Y/N melted beneath the attention. Especially since this was when he was most open and willing to give it.

The night prior, he’d fallen asleep after one movie and the half of a second one (typically he tries to wait for her to fall asleep first, but she had taken to combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and when she peeked up at him as his eyes began to flutter shut, he scrunched his nose at her, “Thank you, Darling”), and she’d stayed up. Her mind chattered at her, tweeted thoughts like a rose-ringed parakeet. What had Harry gone through? That would make him have horrible nightmares? That would make people think he was capable of murdering his wife? That his mum would thank her for bringing light into his life? The whole dark mess of it was so lost on her. It just made her want to hold him, kiss his rosy cheeks, protect him from the world and only share him with the sun and the moon.

After she had gotten up to have a wee, checked on Charlie, and crawled back in bed, she didn’t want to disturb him by weaseling her way beneath his arms again so she stayed on her side. So she tossed and she turned, wondering and searching for answers she couldn’t pull from thin air. Maybe she could just call his mum -- she’d given her, her number -- she could call her, ask her, sit on the phone for hours because she loved to talk (Y/N would guess that’s the outcome of a relatively silent husband) and she’d divulge every nitty-gritty secret Y/N knows she’s been nearly frothing at the mouth to tell.

But she couldn’t. . .she just couldn’t.

It was after she’d sighed to herself, quiet enough that there was no possible way she woke him up, but she felt a hand meet her side. His forearm slid along her hip, tucked around her body, and dragged her from her spot to meet him back in the middle. Y/N gave a questioning hum as she rolled around to look at him, but his eyes were closed, and he still appeared to be asleep. That is until his lips parted, a small, tiny smile at the corner of his mouth, “Sleep now. I’m giving you half of my sleepiness to help you.”

She rested her head on his chest, packaged all her inquiries in a tightly bound bundle, and tossed them outside for the night.

His notice reminded her of this, and her shoulder slumped as she tipped her forehead against his chest, “Aish, I forgot I woke you up last night. I’m the worst bed buddy.”

Harry rests his chin on her head, “Don’t say that,” he murmured, “You take away my nightmares and you smell like how I think the moon might, so you’re the best bed buddy.”

So gentle. Soft. How could he ever even hurt a fly?

Did he have something dark in him? Y/N wonders what it might have looked like to see him with Emmett, as she slid her arms around his waist and hugged him to her body. This rare display of daytime affection made whatever relationship they were developing feel real. More than just a drunken romp after emotions had run high; something tender and warm. Something that Y/N could get lost in.

“I reckon you take the title of best bed buddy. You gave me half of your sleepiness, remember?”

Harry hums, “Mhm,” he pulls back, letting his lips touch to her temple, “And I’ve just given you a quarter more. Lie down Sweet thing, I’ll pack the rest.”

Just as Y/N’s flipping back and forth between lying down for the nap or sucking it up and packing the rest of her things after taking paracetamol or two, there was the telling babble that told them both someone was awake. They unwind from each other, turning around to see that Charlie had woken up from where he’d been napping in his car seat. Y/N peeks around Harry, brows rising at the big, bright eyes that stare at them tiredly, “Well look at that! The absolute sleepyhead just woke up.” She made her way to Charlie, clicked the buckle that secured him to the seat, and fit her hands beneath his armpits, “C’mere, you little sloth. Say good afternoon, Daddy! I slept so long so that I could have an extra good time on the way back home, hm?”

Charlie lies his head down on her shoulder, holding out his chubby fingers toward Harry who made his way over easily. He took Charlie’s hand and kissed each of his fingers, before pretending to eat them, and smiling triumphantly when a bubble of giggles is the result. The scene makes her heart warm, but not nearly warm enough for her to not remember their check-out time was briskly approaching.

“Here,” she murmured, handing him over to Harry, “Cuddle, and I’ll finish packing, yeah? I’ll save my quarter of sleepiness for later.”

“Could I --” Harry began, just as she was about to move toward the bathroom. When she pauses and looks back toward him, he has that shy look on his face again. . .the one that appears just before he starts to fumble over his words a bit when he asks her something. Whether it be for a cuddle, or if she’d like to visit someplace with him, or if he wants his hair played with, “--could I kiss you?”

She tries not to smile too hard as she pushes up to kiss him.

And she presses an exaggerated kiss to Charlie’s cheek too.

                                                                   .                      .                        .

Being back at home is. . .different.

They got home around dusk; the sun sank low in the sky, disappeared behind the tree-line, and with it the end of their trip together. Coming home from a vacation always felt a bit off, after pretending another place was your home for a little while. Rooms were stiff, the air was stale and un-lived in, and it took about two hours of lighting candles, pushing open windows, turning on fans, and turning on every light and telly so that it wasn’t so quiet. Silent, and weird, and lonely without the people she’d been with.

Even though Y/N had technically had her own hotel room, by the end of their trip they had been spending every night together. She was with Harry, Charlie, and Marzipan which was much preferred than the stillness of a flat post-vacation. If she were honest, she struggled not to tear up as Harry was helping her take her suitcase from the trunk, and to hide her emotions in an effort not to appear clingy, she hugged him and hid her face in his throat. Harry curled his arms around her tightly. He knew though -- in the weird Harry way, he knew how she felt, even though she was making good on not letting it show on her face,  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Sweetheart,” he dipped his face into her hair, pushing a chaste kiss to her head, “I don’t start at the university again until next week, and I’ve only got a bit of work to do at home, so you’ll be bothered with me all day.”

Harry kissed her cheeks and sent her to her flat with Marzipan. She aired the place out, desperate to make it feel less uninhabited, and had even shoved her linens in the wash before she showered (which made for a very cold shower -- after so long of being gone, she’d forgotten that warm water for her sheets meant frigid water for her body). Marzipan reacquainted herself with her surroundings and though it all smelled of her, she even appeared to be discontent with the change.

Around 10 PM her phone buzzes on her bedside table, just as she had moved her linens into the dryer while simultaneously regretting washing them at all (she just wanted to lay down at that point). Brows pinched, she reaches for it and sees Harry’s contact on the screen -- had she forgotten something? Why would he be calling her?

“Hello?” She held the phone close to her ear, “Harry? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” Harry responded, and he paused for a moment, just silent on the other end until he cleared his throat, “I -- well, I believe this was much less embarrassing in my head. I don’t mean to sound as if I’m fixed at your hip, but I missed your voice.” A dish clatters on the other end of the line, and he mutters a small ‘shit’ before continuing, “It’s -- um. . .it’s very quiet without you here. Not that I think you’re loud or anything I just. . .yeah. I just miss you.”

Y/N is incredibly fond; her heart swarms with warmth that stretches it three sizes too big for her chest, and she feels soppy and softened. Her lips curl in a tiny smile though he can’t see it, she wonders if he’ll be able to hear it in her voice through the receiver, “I miss you too,” she responded, brushing her hand against her cheek, “It just feels weird.”

“I’m not keen on it. Which is why I -- well, I wondered if you would like to stay on the phone with each other? Would just tell you to drive over now but it’s so late, I don’t want you on the roads.” He explained to her, “I had thought about just coming to get you myself, but then I’d have to strap Charlie back in his seat and for some reason, I feel he would not appreciate being woken up.”

Soft -- she would say it again, and again, and again. Harry made her feel so unbelievably soft, she’d reckon if someone tried to hug her right now she’d mold into the shape of their body. It’d been so long since someone had evoked such strong emotions from her and she just isn’t used to it anymore. All the heart racing, the stomach flutters, the sweaty palms, the goosebumps. . .everything.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she sat down on her bare mattress, tracing the diamond-shaped dips and curves of the upholstery, “If you’re falling asleep and I’m talking too much, you’ve got to tell me though. I’ve just put my bedding in the dryer so it’ll take me a minute before I’m actually lying down.”

Harry hummed, “I should’ve thrown mine in the wash, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

“No you shouldn’t have, ‘cos I’m miserable now,” she lamented, “Would give anything to just pop my head on the pillow and pass out.”

“Poor thing,” he murmured, “You don’t have extra bedding?”

She flopped down, tucking the phone between her ear and the uncovered pillow, “Harry, I’m lucky to even have the ones I do now. Hate spending money on bedding, it’s too much! Especially if it’s anything worth sleeping in.”

“I get what you mean,” the sound of running water cuts on, and she hears the sound of ceramic plates clinking together again, “Plus, it’s few and far between you find something aesthetically pleasing, innit? And then it’s got to match your room. White is the easiest to match but I reckon if you’re an on-the-bed-eater then that could be a bit problematic.”

“No kidding,” she agreed, “I guess for like -- I dunno, cum stains -- white works out though.”

”Christ,” she could picture it, Harry shaking his head in the way he does when Y/N says something he wasn’t expecting that may have been on the side of vulgar -- he did it several times when she would briskly and casually mention the fact that he’d morphed into something short of a male Aphrodite. He’s shy -- he’s always been shy, but he just manages to get shyer in the bits that he should be confident in. “I guess -- I guess, yeah for cum stains, that’d work out wouldn’t it?”

“Mhm,” she let her eyes close for a moment, “What’ve you got to do tomorrow? Tell me all about your engineering and I’ll try to keep up.”

He does.  Harry explained the project that they were currently working on and Y/N attempted to understand the large words and abbreviations he was using, but eventually she did have to tell him to bring it down to a freshman at college level so that she could at least kind of follow. It made sense that he was a professor, and a good one at that, because he knew so much but was able to break it into smaller bits and pieces so that she could digest it. When she had questions, he had full-fledged answers that swiped away the dark areas. By the end of it, she was halfway certain she could take a crack at computer engineering (like running their coffee orders and half understanding what they were discussing around meeting tables, but still a better understanding than she had in the first place).

Around 12 AM, Y/N’s made her bed up and sat star-fished staring at her fan blades whipping above her, listening to Harry’s syrupy voice tell her about his trip to Scotland he took with his parents when he was around 15. Explained to her that he met a man there who taught him how to play guitar in the two weeks they were there, and connected him to a woman who would further his learning in London. Harry had mused about how he had used to hope to be a musician of some kind, but he never thought he’d been good enough. Y/N told him that he’s silly because she thinks he’d be lovely.

“You’ll have to play for me,” she told him, rubbing the corner of her pillowcase between her thumb and forefinger, “On the telecaster. Y’know that’s yours now, don’t you?” Knuckling tiredly at her eyes, she suppresses a yawn so she could continue speaking, “Not to re-gift something from my ex or anything, but it’ll only collect dust in my closet.”

Harry, who had long since finished his nighttime routine (he’d politely excused himself to brush his teeth and wash his face), sounded like he was shuffling in his bed, “Wouldn’t you want to sell it? You could make a pretty penny off that, Sweetheart, especially the one you bought. It would feel wrong to have it wasted on me.”

“Wasted on you?” Y/N scoffed, “How could it be wasted on you? I don’t care about the money, I just want it to have a loving home. Now if you don’t want it because it’ll just be a hassle I’m sure I could pawn it off on someone, but nothing could ever be wasted on you. You’re the whole reason I even have it back!” Lulling her tongue over her mouth, she wiggles her toes at Marzipan who eyeballs her from the floor, where she had been sat for the past twenty minutes falling asleep, “Which -- could I ask you about that?”

He’s silent for a moment -- a pause long enough to make her regret asking, to disrupt how smooth the conversation had been going before her question -- but he does respond eventually, “You can ask me anything you want. Anything at all.”

“How did you get it back?” She swallows, “Like, I’d assume from your knuckles he hadn’t just handed it over.”

Harry, again, pauses for a moment but this time it seemed like he was only gathering his thoughts, “When you had gone to the bathroom, I went to the green room they had to get it back for you. I know you hadn’t asked but. . .well, it didn’t seem right for him to have it. Not after what he had put you through, you know?” Y/N hummed, encouraging him to continue, rolling out the muscles in her shoulders that had gone stiff in her idle sitting, “So I went in and I asked for it back, and he was. . .difficult about it. He offered to pay for it and then told me I was trying too hard and that you weren’t “worth it”. . .so I punched him and said a few choice words. I’m --” he sighed to himself, “I’m not a violent man, I just couldn’t -- I can’t stand when someone acts like that. . .like he deserved that guitar. I apologize for resorting to violence though. I shouldn’t have done it without speaking to you first, and now that I recount the details I feel a bit silly. Barbaric or summat -- like -- I’m sorry for talking in circles, I feel like I’m talking in circles. ” He does another deep sigh, Y/N can almost feel it against his cheek, like the content ones he lets out after they’re finally cuddled in bed but with a slightly annoyed lilt, a warm and gentle puff, “It frustrated me and I acted out, but I don’t regret it. It’s your guitar.”

Y/N dipped her face back into the pillows, tingles zip down through her body like sparks of electricity as he recounted the story and began to fumble around his feelings. He doesn’t realize how much she appreciates it though -- how refreshing it is to hear him speak. It always sounds so open and raw, like he’s saying the words as soon as they pop in his brain. Brisk pauses, talking in circles, expressing how something had made him feel and how he feels now because of his actions.

“Harry?” She shuts her eyes, pretending that he’s laying across from her.

His voice is small but clear, “Yes?”

“I think you’re amazing,” she began, “And I think, you don’t have to apologize for anything because if you would have first cleared it with me I would’ve suggested more barbaric antics, like kicking him in the chest and something with fire.” A breathless giggle comes from the other end, she smiles a dumb, big smile that makes her cheeks hurt, “Thank you for standing up for me. If anyone ever says something to you, I’ll kick their ass, how about that?”

Another chuckle leaves him, Y/N feels as if she’s swallowed it, feeling it warm her bell, she keeps her eyes closed and melts into the mattress while Marzipan jumps up and claims the space behind her back.

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”

                                                         .                             .                            .

It was rare that they went into town together.

Well, not so much rare as it was relatively nonexistent. The only time they’d been here with each other, they had made a beeline to a private beach where they couldn’t be disturbed. It was simply them, the fine grain sand in tiny hills and mountains and the gentle plodding of waves against the shoreline. They hadn’t even stopped for food or sweets, and Y/N couldn’t blame him -- if it were her in his situation, she would avoid the town at all costs.

So, it was safe to say she had been surprised when he suggested it.

They’d been back from their trip for four days, which they had spent re-acclimating to life at his house again. Y/N got back into the pattern of her regular nanny duties while Harry got back into his work, though he does take a few more breaks than he had been prior to their trip. These breaks last a bit longer than the old ones did as well, and are typically ended with a kiss to her temple and a raspberry blown into Charlie’s neck. If he takes a break while she’s sat in Charlie’s room during his naps, he scouts her out with a snack of some kind and will sit in there with her for a little while as they share it.

One night, Harry had asked if she would like to stay over and of course, she had agreed to it. Their day went as normal, Y/N put Charlie to bed while Harry finished up the course plan he’d been working on for several hours. After she showered and got ready for bed, she slunk down to the kitchen and brewed lavender vanilla tea, before pouring the both of them a cup and finding her way to his office. Despite the door being cracked open, she knocked first and waited until he called for her to enter before she did so.

“I made us tea!” She began as she entered, smiling gently when his eyes met hers, “It’ll help get you ready for bed too, since your brain has been so busy all day, reckon it should calm you down.”

Harry looks surprised -- the kind of shock that might light someone’s eyes if they weren’t expecting something. She thought he’d have heard her bumping around in the kitchen, but she wonders if he’d assumed she was only making some for herself. If he had even paid mind to the disturbance in the quiet at all. The apathetic look he’d been giving his computer prior to her arrival is replaced by one of gentle delight; his lips pluck up at the corners, “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured as she set the mug down on a coaster, “Thank you -- I appreciate this a lot.”

“Of course,” she smiled before fixing her handle on the mug, about to pivot on her heel to make her way out of his office but his fingers loop around her forearm suddenly, “Oh! --”

“Why are you leaving?” He inquired as Y/N steadied herself, and he plucked her wobbling mug from her hands to set it down on the desk.

She nodded toward his computer, “I figured you were still working,” she explained, then motioned to herself, “And I didn’t necessarily want to annoy you today.”

The skin between his brows crinkles as he shook his head, “You could never be a bother to me,” he responded, no teasing lilt in his voice that would have matched her own -- he seemed almost offended that she would even suggest such a thing, “Stay with me. We can drink it together.”

“Yeah?” Harry nodded earnestly, “Well, alright. I guess I’ve always kind of wanted to try sitting on that couch --” she turned again, her mind set on going toward it, but Harry’s grip only tightens around her wrist, stilling her. 

“Wait --” he began, but when their gazes locked, his cheeks pinkened quickly; she thought it was cute, how easy it was from him to blush, and she thinks if she reached out they would be warm to the touch, “ -- I. . .well, this feels silly now,” he shook his head at himself, and sighed heavily, “With you, I always act and speak before I think things through, it’s very -- it’s troublesome, for me. I get flustered too easily.” 

“That’s okay,” she told him, “Just means every word out of your mouth is authentic. Plus,” she succumbed to her desire, reached her fingers out, and touched the warmth of his cheeks, “I think it’s a bit cute.” As always, he leaned into her touch like he was starved for it -- just wanted her near. . .as close as possible, and then even closer than that. “What were you going to say?” 

Harry’s hands found the hem of her shirt and he ran the pad of his finger along the seam but he was never one to avoid looking into her eyes. No, instead he stared at her, pupils fixed on her face, “I wanted to know if you’d like to sit in my lap? Not in a filthy way!” He rushed to say, “I just wanted to hold you for a little while, if that would be okay?” 

“Of course!” She used her knee to push his chair out further, plopped down on his thighs, and wiggled until she could settle. Y/N would have been a little coyer about it had the situation been with any other person, she thinks, but Harry responded much better to this. He asks for things like she’ll judge him for them -- like he’s worried her reaction to his inquiries will be poor, that she will be disgruntled or angered by them. And Y/N’s goal was to make sure he knew there was not a doubt in her mind when she agreed to do something that he suggested. He had good ideas, she wanted him to know that. 

Albeit startled, he acclimated to her position on his lap easily. He slung his arm around her waist, and held her still and close, scooting them both nearer to the desk. He reached for her mug and placed it into her hands before picking up his own. After a sip, he hummed low and dipped his forehead against her shoulder, “You’re always so warm,” he murmured, “And soft.” Once he set his mug down, his fingers floated up toward her neck, stroking against the delicate chain of the necklace he’d gotten for her, “I’m glad you like this.” 

“How couldn’t I?” She responded, raising her hand to his knuckles, “It’s a very thoughtful gift. How did you know I liked rubies, hm?” 

“I didn’t,” he spoke into her shoulder, “Really, it was one hell of a guess. The jewel was just so beautiful it reminded me of you.” 

Y/N felt her face heat up, “Aish, here you go -- always buttering me up,” she turned some, craning her neck to look at him, “Flattery will get you nowhere, y’know? If you want me to do something for you, all you’ve gotta do is ask.” 

Harry nuzzles back and forth, his face brushing and crumbling the back of her shirt. She’s not sure if he’d been doing it to shake his head or if it was a sign of his affections, but either way, Y/N hummed and poked his thigh, pushing for a response. “I’m not buttering you,” he murmured, “You deserve to hear these things. They’re the truth after all.” 

“So there are no ulterior motives to all these sweet words?” Harry shook his head once more, “Then what’s poking my bum?” She had noticed it after she had shifted on his lap the first time in an attempt to get comfortable and had been toying with the idea of mentioning it. They hadn’t done anything sexual since New Years', just cuddles and caresses, but the opportunity really hadn’t arisen. And Harry, well, she couldn’t imagine him initiating anything, with how much he second-guesses himself.

His response had been to squeeze her tighter, and tuck his face deeper into her shoulder, and she hummed once more “Hm?” 

“Sorry,” his words muffled, his tone bashful, “I -- I get them sometimes, when. . .it doesn’t have to necessarily be because I’m turned on, y’know?” 

Y/N leaned back into him, “Ohhhhh,” she tutted her tongue, “Like an affection stiffy then, yeah? You big softie.” She slid her palms against his forearms to carefully unwind him from around her waist despite his protesting whines, as she sunk to the ground, the thud of her knees muted by the rug, “Get your kit off, I know a good remedy for affection stiffies.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to,” he murmured as she fit herself between his legs, her hands firm on his knees when she split them apart, “I could do you instead.” 

Her brows pinched and her mouth pouted as she looked up at him, “Hm? But I want to do you,” she told him, then tilted her cheek against his knee, keeping her gaze fixed on his, “Do you not like blowies?” 

Harry’s cheeks are such a rosy pink -- he’s so damn shy, she couldn’t stand it (in the best way). Such a domineering, strong-willed man all flustered and red-faced from just her speaking about having her mouth on him. It made her head spin in circles. 

“No, I -- I really like them, but --” he shuffled his hips, his hand found her head and he stroked her temple, and if not for how mesmerized by him she was, she might have let her eyes flutter shut, “-- I just don’t feel like I deserve one if I haven’t made you cum yet.” 

For fuck sake. 

Y/N slid her hands up his sweatpants and pulled at the drawstring of his sweatpants until the knots are undone. She tucked her fingers into the waistband and started to tug, before he finally raised his hips to help her get them down, “Technically we’re at an uneven orgasm ratio. You got me off four times, I’ve only gotten you off once.” Y/N found quickly that Harry hadn’t bothered with underwear at all, and she swallowed thickly as she looked at him. It felt like the first time all over again; the delight and the nerves, the way her mouth waters. The head is swollen, ruddy, and wet -- he was so big that she knew once she got her lips around him, only a quarter of the way down would feel like an absolute mouthful. She could already feel the ache in her jaw. 

“Well, you’ve -- oh,” he paused when her fingers looped around the base, “I mean if we’re being. . .if we’re being technical, you’ve made me cum plenty. The thought of you at least.” 

She didn’t know what to do with the information. The knowledge that Harry got off to the thought of her -- the imagery that invades her brain is enough to make each of her cells feel electric; sizzling and sparking as she pictured it. Harry is in his bed, surrounded by his crumpled bedding, face heated and body flushed as he works over himself. She imagined what it must have been like. Had he been trying to fall asleep but his mind danced toward her? Had it started out as an affection stiffy or was it pure arousal? What did he imagine when his fingers were wrapped around his cock? Was she riding him while he sat on the couch? Did he fuck her roughly over his desk, or was it soft sweet, and tender in his fresh cotton sheets? Maybe he’d even imagined sticking his prick deep in her mouth and fucking her face? Did he look as shy as he did right then? 

It was difficult to bite back the lewd noise that crawled up her throat, so she plugged her mouth with the head of his cock and stifled it against him. Harry’s head tossed back as her lips stretched over the tip, lulling her tongue against the slit where precum deliciously oozed. Y/N mustered all the spit in her mouth to drool over him -- she wanted it to be wet, sloppy, and messy for him -- wanted it to feel as if he’d dipped his cock into a warm pool. He deserved it, or at least she thought he did. 

Plus, she thought, if he kept looking down at her so shyly, with his knuckle tucked between his teeth as he watched her, she would just have to clip off a part of the moon and hand it to him. 

Despite her desire to keep watching him, Y/N had to tilt her head down so she could take more of him into her mouth. Her tongue stroked against the underbelly, slicked across the throb as she forced herself downward. Though her gag reflex was dodgy, she hummed to suppress it, sending vibrations down his shaft. His thighs squeezed around her body, her eyes watered once she got him to the back of her throat. She was only able to keep him there for a few seconds before she had to slide off, popping him out of her mouth before she gasped wetly. Strands of spit and his precum attach them to each other, but they bow and snap once she starts to twist her hand up and down quickly. Her lungs burned as she sucked in a breath to make up for the fact she hadn’t really been breathing well through her nose. 

She cradled his prick to sponge wet kisses down the side of it, down to his balls where she suckles and drools as she peeked up at him and felt a shiver run down her spine. Harry already appeared so fucked out, his chest heaved, his knuckle still tucked into his mouth to keep quiet. “Hey,” she panted, swallowing the spit that had collected in her mouth, “I want to hear you.” The hand that wasn’t preoccupied with his cock, she used to grab his wrist and pull down, “Let me hear you.” 

“Sorry,” he let her take his hand, but he maneuvered them so that he could slot their fingers together, and he held her hand tightly before he rested them on his thigh, “Haven’t had this done to me in a while, and with it being you I -- well, I’m just a bit of a mess.” 

“I like messes,” Y/N murmured against his head before she flicked her tongue along the frenulum, “Do you wanna hold my head? Or you could stand up and fuck my throat -- I’m good with either.” The moan that left his lips was well worth taking a moment to breathe, and she shivered at his whimpers when she circled the pad of her thumb at the underside of the head, “I just want you to feel good.” 

Harry squeezed her hand again, “I don’t know, Sweet girl, I just -- oh! Oh, fuck, baby,” Y/N had sunk back onto his prick by then, without a thought other than sucking him down and sucking him dry. He deserved it -- she thinks that if she could for him, she would stay on her knees for days on end and leave her mouth open for him to use as he pleased, “You’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that.” 

Again she hummed and sank as low as she could go, her throat spasming around the head while she used the other hand to cup his balls and his thighs tighten around her again in a little hug. It restricted the movement of her hand a bit, but he mewled, goosebumps pebbled over her skin as she felt him throb against her tongue once more. She drags off of him again for another breath, only this time she doesn’t tug at him while she does so. 

Y/N wondered what she looked like to him from this position. She’d only ever let one boy take a polaroid of her before when she’d been on her knees for him, and when she’d witnessed it after the fact she cringed. It was blurred, but the angle was awful and his thumb was halfway in front of the lens, so after he fell asleep she took it, cut it up into little slivers, and saved it to burn in the next bonfire she attended so that she would never have to look at it again. It had put her off blowies for a while, actually, but she had thrown all caution to the wind when it came to the man sitting above her. She hadn’t concerned if she looked pretty or not, she just wanted him to feel good, but now as her chin is wet and her lips no doubt reddened and swollen, she wondered if he thought she was still pretty. 

Maybe with anyone else, she would be far too self-conscious to ask, but with Harry, she doesn’t worry about it. Isn’t even the least bit nervous when she swallows and asks, “Do you think I’m pretty?” She murmured, blinking up at him.

Harry didn’t waste a second to respond, “I think you’re beautiful.” 

“Even like this?” Her hand began to move over him slowly, and she watched with delight as his eyelids fluttered, “Even all messy?” 

Another whine slithers from his throat, long and drawn, low and pitiful, “I --” he sucked in a deep breath, she watched as the air filled his lungs through a heave of his chest, “I always think you’re beautiful,” he admitted, “I think you’re an angel.” 

Satisfied with his answer, Y/N tucks the head of his prick in between her lips again but stays put. Only lets him sit against her tongue, trying hard not to smile when he makes a little desperate noise, “Baby,” he wiggled, “Please!” 

“Hm?” She hummed against him, and he bucked his hips a little in response. 

His hips stuttered away from her, “Sorry -- sorry, I --” she squeezed the hand she still held of his, encouraging him to do it again. It took him a minute to understand what she meant by it, but when she stayed in her place and squeezed his hand a second time, he rocked his hips up into her mouth again, “You want me to --” 

“Mhm,” she hummed again, and Harry does it again, and again, and again, stroking against her tongue and fucking shallowly into her mouth. She feels him throb again, and she knew it was going to happen soon; her insides bristled at the thought of him filling her mouth.

“So good,” he murmured, his head tilted back, “So, so, so good, fucking hell,” he panted, “Your mouth -- I’m g’na cum,” his hips jutted forward, “I’m g’na cum, I’m g’na cum.” 

The ache in her jaw burned only slightly, but she began to bob her head and started moving her hand. She wanted him to cum, and the quicker the better, honestly, because she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up. Y/N thinks she would have pushed herself just to make sure that he came, no matter how long it would have taken, but this was much better, she’d say, at least for her mouth.

His other hand did eventually find her head, and he doesn’t slide his fingers through her hair but he does lie his hand on the back of it. The pulse drums in her mouth, she tilted the head against the inside of her cheek and all his muscles go taut as a bow while he squeezed her hand tightly. His groaning is loud, he didn’t bother to muffle it at her request as he began to spurt into her mouth. It’s warm, so much of it filled her mouth and if she could smile at the joy of it then she would have but she had to keep all of it. She worked him through it, twisting her palm against his shaft until he squeezed her hand again, this time for a different reason as she kept on him until he was twitching and sensitive. 

Y/N pushed herself from her spot on the ground, and took hold of Harry’s chin, and used her thumb to pull his lips open. It took him only a moment to understand what she wanted, and he opened up for her easily, as she fixed their lips together and pushed his cum into his silky mouth. Harry moaned against her as he tasted himself, and once she parted with another little peck, she pulled back and swallowed the rest. He swallowed as well, staring at her with spit-slicked, fuchsia-colored lips as he panted. 

With the back of her hand, Y/N dragged it across her mouth to dry it, “You cum a lot,” she was careful in how she handled his softening prick, tucking it back into his sweatpants that she helped him tug up, “It tasted good though, so I guess that’s alright.” 

“Thank you,” he wrapped his arms back around her waist when she sat back down on his lap, where she had been before, “You’re wonderful. I’ll make you cum next, yeah?” 

“Mm,” she hummed, “I’m good for t’night, just wanted to do you.” The lavender tea was still warm, she could feel it from the ceramic that heated her fingertips, as she passed it off to his hand, “Since I have the most wonderful-est mouth in the world though, you could make me cookies or something.” 

Harry took a drink, she wondered if it sank warm and comforting in his belly, “I don’t have anything for making cookies, Pet, I’m sorry,” he continued before she could pout, “But -- well, I thought maybe we could go into town tomorrow. A picnic on the beach might be fun if you’d like that -- it’s supposed to be a bit nicer out than it has been. We could even stop by that bakery you like so much and get sweets, yeah?”

“I love picnics, but --” she stopped herself, the words dance on her tongue but she shot their feet and watched them crumble because she couldn’t say but you hate going into town, don’t you? Since they think you killed your wife? -- no, that wouldn’t do. Her stupid brain had been just seconds from ruining a nice moment, and no matter how badly she wanted to know the truth, she didn’t necessarily want to find out after his prick was in her mouth. It felt like a heavier conversation than just post-orgasm cuddles on his chair, “-- but I didn’t bring my basket.” She settled for instead and she watched as the concern that had been building on his face dissipated, “I’ve got a wicked picnic basket but I think I either lost it in the move or it’s still at my old place.” 

“That’s alright,” he began to rub her back with his free hand, “I’ve got one. It may not be as spectacular but it will do.” 

She pushed a kiss to her cheek, “Okay, good,” she told him, “Now finish your tea, I’m exhausted.” 

                                                         .                             .                           .

They cuddled that night; Harry liked to be a big spoon so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

There is a nightmare -- a small one, nowhere near the extent of the other’s that she’s woken him from -- so she doesn’t have to wake him up as abruptly nor aggressively. She merely spun in his arms and petted at his face, murmuring for him to wake up only two times before his eyes blinked open. Before she could say anything, he reached up and held her hand closer to his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice gravelly, “I’m awake?” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, “You’re awake.” 

Harry nodded, “I’m awake,” he agreed quietly, his eyes fluttered shut again, “I love you.” 

Y/N’s brain doesn’t really catch it -- how could her brain catch anything, really? She was so sleepy, and Harry was so warm, and soft, and she wormed her body closer around his. 

“Love you too.” She murmured but her mouth is filled with marbles and her brain doesn’t catch that either. 

                                                              .                          .                         .

“Baker bezzy!” Adam cheered when the bell on the store door’s knob clinked against the glass at their arrival, a grin stretched wide on his mouth as he stuck his arms out high in the air, “Oh, how I’ve missed you -- but the cash registers have missed you more, m’sure of it.” His brows shot straight to the sky once his gaze shifted over to Harry, “Mr. Styles, always a pleasure! And Mr. Charlie, looking dashing.” 

Y/N loved a warm welcome and Adam was always keen on giving them. Charlie was strapped to her chest in his best picnic gear, dungarees beneath his purple coat and buckled shoes that Y/N knew she was going to pop off at some point so he could stuff his toes in the sand. He held her finger in one of his hands, flashing gummy smiles with a singular tooth that had begun to sprout, and Adam waved at him with three fingers. She was appreciative of his treatment toward Harry most of all though; despite his clear surprise that he was seeing him for the first time in what may be more than a year, he covered it well. 

“Hello,” Y/N smiled brightly, “My wallet surely hasn’t missed you though if I’m honest.” 

He holds his hand over his chest, “You wound me, but I’ll let it go. Lucky for you, I’ve just pulled your favorite out of the oven.” 

“Cinnamon rolls?” She gasped, and Adam used both of his hands, waving them toward himself. 

“Yes, yes, you can say it -- Adam, you’re the best, you’re so cool, oh my god what would we do without you -- wouldn’t be the first time I heard it, and you know what?” He plucked off the glove on his right hand, typing something into the register quickly, “They’re on the house, ‘cos I missed you lot so much. Take me on your trip next time.” 

Y/N thanked him about a dozen times before picking out what else she would like, and looping one of her fingers in Harry’s belt loops to tug him closer to the display, “D’ya want a chocolate puff? I dunno’ what that is but it sounds yummy.” 

She effectively racked up a little too much, but it’d been so long since she’d been here so she deemed it only appropriate. Plus, she got free cinnamon rolls which made it a little better. Y/N tried not to spend so much time speaking with Adam as she usually does, especially when she’d realized quickly that Harry was not adding much to the conversation. He probably felt awkward -- Y/N might if she hadn’t been down walking about town for a while, unknowing of how he might be received. Adam had been kind outwardly, but were his thoughts filled with malice? Was he looking at Harry up and down, debating on whether or not he was a cruel being?

Adam had been the one to bring it up to her, but he was also the first to disagree with the population consensus. Harry didn’t know that though -- all Harry knew was that Adam was working smack in the middle of a town that thought he’d killed his wife. Y/N couldn’t say that she would be up for much conversation at that point either, but she still tried to incorporate him into the conversation though he was more so responding with polite smiles and nods. There was little tension behind it but she could still sense his discomfort and ended the conversation with a wad of cash as her gratitude; he told them to come back soon and sent a wink in their direction.

She thought nothing of it -- he always winked, whether it be to her, or the older women that come in, she reckoned he was just being a flirt. It had been so insignificant, actually, that after they made their way to the private beach, laid his lavender-colored “bleach blanket” out to sit on, and unloaded the basket (that was filled with sandwiches, chips, fruit and veggie slices, the cinnamon rolls they’d just gotten for dessert, and some mashed peas and sweet potatoes for Charlie to eat), when Harry said, “He likes you,” Y/N is more than confused.

“Who, Charlie?” She had pulled him from where he was strapped on her stomach, flipping him around so he was sitting in her lap, leaning against her torso and staring out at the ocean, “I’d sure hope so, he has to see this ol’ mug often enough.” Y/N popped open the container of mashed peas, while she let him hold onto his spoon, his fingers wrapped tightly around it while he marveled at the ladybug figure on the handle.

Harry shook his head pensively, “No, not Charlie,” he responded, and in turn, Y/N’s brows furrowed, as she took the spoon from Charlie and dipped it in the peas, “Your baker bezzy. . .Adam.”

A scoffed laugh left her mouth as she gaped at him, “Adam?” Her movements pause, the spoon stopping just short of Charlie’s mouth, and a frustrated whine peels from the back of his throat, “He absolutely does not like me!”

“I think he does,” he twists his ring at the bottom of his pinky finger, but instead of bashfully looking to the side his eyes bore into her own, “How he looks at you and talks to you -- he winked at you and gave you free cinnamon rolls. . .” he trailed off, before repeating firmly, “I think he does.”

“I think that he’s just a bit of a friendly flirter and I leave good tips,” she shook her head again, “But like me? Not like that, I’m certain of it.”

Harry straightened out his back, “How do you know?”

It hadn’t been what she was expecting, and she’s flustered as she fumbles over, “Because I just know! I figure I could piece together if someone had feelings for me or not.”

“You didn’t know I had feelings for you,” he pointed out, reaching forward to wipe away some of the food that had dribbled onto Charlie’s chin before wiping it away with a napkin, “I’d been -- I’d been enamored by you since the first week we’d met, and you had no clue, did you?”

Her eyes bulged wide, as she exclaimed, “No you weren’t!” Because she wasn’t that blind, was she? The first few weeks they knew each other Harry had been so cold and closed off; she would shuffle back and forth anxiously behind him while he methodically made his morning coffee hoping he wasn’t moments from telling her she was fired. As time went on, they’d certainly gotten closer, but she would have had to say that bridge was crossed further than just a week of meeting, “Harry, I thought you hated me that first week.”

“I was incredibly fond of you. More so than I should have been and more so than I particularly cared to admit at the time. You smelled like fresh linen and sweets all the time, and your smile always reached your eyes; I never imagined you would feel even remotely the same for me, so I tried to be as distant as possible with you working in my house but it was difficult -- you made it very difficult.” Again, Y/N wishes that even for a moment he would break away his gaze, because she’s captivated by his words and mesmerized by the way the sunlight brought sparkles to the green of his irises, “When you held me for the first time, it felt like my insides had melted and it was all I could think about for weeks after.”

Her heart was hammering, thundering in her ears, “Harry --”

“And I was so cold toward you because I hated myself for feeling that way, but it felt good to be warmed in the light that you emit. All of that is beside the point,” he huffed out a breath, pointing his finger toward himself, “If I could hide that right under your nose, then he could definitely hide liking you behind free cinnamon rolls and cheeky winks.”

It took Y/N a while to find what to say, her mind racing a hundred thoughts a second, but she felt as if no response she conjured up would be good enough. Her heart filled with butterflies, that fluttered down to her stomach and made her giddy all over. She felt like a kid again, as she flushed warm, so it was only reasonable that in true teenage fashion her response was to nudge him with her foot, trying not to grin as hard as she wanted to.

“Harry,” she began, “You’re jealous.”

A disgruntled look took his face, and for a moment Y/N almost regrets saying it, but then he responds.

“I am,” he admitted, shoulders slumped and for the first time he shifts his gaze from her to the ring he’s twisting around his finger, “Like a petulant child,” he sounded upset with himself, giving a strong sigh, “I am jealous that you may have feelings for him because I think you two would do well with each other. And I -- I fear that I’m not very fun.”

His honesty is a lot, but it’s refreshing. Like breathing the air of a meadow far from the city smog that sat heavy in the lungs, where the grass is green and dewy, the flowers have all blossomed, it feels like living in a painting and it smells like renewal and it’s clear as looking through crystals. He speaks from his heart; his words are sincere, and it makes her feel like she’s floating. She wishes he didn’t look so grumpy about it though -- and she wishes he didn’t think that he wasn’t fun.

So Y/N plopped the spoon back into the peas and set it off to the side for a moment, placing her hand on Charlie’s tummy and keeping him pressed to her body as she began to shuffle from where she’d been positioned. She carefully avoided the food they had set up, but she urgently pats at his thighs until he gets the hint to spread them open. Y/N spun around so she faced out toward the water again, only this time she pressed her back up against his torso and lied against him, settling Charlie back in the cradle of her crossed legs, taking the peas in hand.

“If I had feelings for Adam that surpassed friendly, then I would be in the bakery kneading bread or summat. And if I didn’t have fun with you Harry, then I would avoid every chance of seeing you outside of your house for more than a few minutes at the time,” she tilted her head back, craning her neck so that she could look up at him some, and she finds that he’s looking at her, “If I wanted to be anywhere else right now, then I would be, but I’m not because I want to be with you.” She knocks his foot against hers, “Aish, you’re silly.”  

Harry smiled, his hand cradled the side of her face and petted at her jawline tenderly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the waves crash against the shore in a particularly loud burst but he’s so close she can still hear him clearly, “I know I worry too much. I’ve never had this amount of reassurance before.”

She grinned, “Well if it’s reassurance you need, then I’ve got a load of it!” Y/N dipped the spoon in the peas and fed Charlie again, “I love a bit of reassurance myself, so I try to dish it out as much as possible, y’know?”

He dips his forehead against the back of her head, and breathes in deep, wrapping his arms around both her and Charlie.

Harry says nothing but he doesn’t have to.

Their lunch is pleasant, the sun is warm, and Charlie fell asleep soon after they had finished, resting with his cheek on her chest and his arms slung around her body. Y/N was moments from sleep herself, with her belly full and her mind swimming in drowsy clouds. It hadn’t helped that Harry was petting so gently at her arm, accompanied with murmured stories of his childhood by her request. Harry had always told her that he’d grown up with money, and from the time spent with his parents that much was clear, but she was curious by the extent of it. Growing up her family hadn’t been in the worst shape, but definitely not the best, so the polarity of their younger years was interesting to her.

He’d told her about the birthdays that he had, one of which included him and his four closest friends taking a trip to Disney World. His parents covered the entirety of the visit, along with bringing Harry’s nanny along so that she could watch over all five of the nine-year-olds (which clued her in that paying for nannies on their trips was a standard practice Harry had carried over). Nothing had been off-limits, he’d told her, that whatever he had set his eyes on he got and Y/N mused over the possibilities of all the things his nine-year-old self had determined he needed. Shirts, stuffies, figurines -- he told her his mum had kept them all, and each year on his birthday she sends one of the stuffed animals with his actual gift (which she’d been doing for eight years now, meaning that he had gotten at least eight stuffed animals and with the price of those things? Christ!).

And then he told her about his first kiss, back when he was 11 under an apple tree at his Nan’s farm, with the daughter of a family friend. He told her it was horrible, and he’d been so nervous that he’d cried leading up to it, but he regarded the memory fondly. Harry kept in touch with her for years after and had even been the first person she’d come out to when they were teenagers -- he came with her on her first date and spied from a distance because she had watched one too many crime shows and had been positive she was going to be kidnapped, but it went well. When the date had gone to the restroom, Harry slid over to the table and slipped her money to pay the tab and get ice cream afterward.

Y/N had inquired about his schooling, and he told her all the ins-and-outs of the private school that he’d attended. He said it had been pleasantly boring, but went on to tell her an extensive four-part story about a student-teacher relationship that somehow managed to last three of their four years there. It had pulled her from the dreamy state she had slipped into, finding that she’d slipped down so her head was in his lap as she opened her eyes and gaped up at him, “That’s like -- like, incredibly illegal.”

“Don’t I know it,” Harry had agreed, “I always knew something was up with the bloke — he ate raisin bread every lunch period.”

A horrified gasp left her mouth, “No, the monster! Why every lunch period?”

“Couldn’t tell you. It was very unsettling.”

After that, Harry started describing a trip that he’d taken to Japan during cherry blossom season, and went into extreme detail about how the air smelled, and how the wind felt against his skin. He told her that words and pictures would never be able to translate how beautiful it was, but he tried his best to as he traced looping patterns with the tips of his fingers onto her cheeks. That’s when her eyes had fluttered closed, and that’s when she started falling into a pleasant slumber. Harry still spoke though she knew he could see that she was falling asleep, but he doesn’t mention it other than caressing her jaw and murmuring, “Sleepy thing.”

Y/N is unsure how long they are there, but she is very sure that she’s never been more comfortable in her life. And as he coaxes her awake, she opened her eyes, squinting at the sun that still sat high over them while she tried to refocus on his face, “Hm?” She hummed and Harry giggled brightly.

“I said let’s get you two home, Angel,” he helped guide her from his lap, but he doesn’t rush her -- just a gentle hand on her back as she cradles a still-sleeping Charlie to her body as she sat up, “When I checked the weather they called for rain in an hour or two. Reckon it wouldn’t be very fun to get caught up in the storm.”

They clean up after themselves thoroughly, and Y/N carefully places Charlie in his holder that was fixed on Harry’s chest this time. As they walk toward the car, Y/N can tell that Harry is deep in thought but she doesn’t question him on it -- she didn’t like to pry or push him to say things if he wasn’t ready to, which made it all the more gratifying when he did open up to her, even about little things. Though this thing, apparently, had felt very big to Harry -- at least the furrow in his brow was telling her that.

“I --” he began, and Y/N paused, her hand wrapped around the handle of the door, humming to let him know she was listening, “I need to go to the store.”

She controlled her features well enough, she’d say, because her brows don’t skyrocket at the suggestion of going in an even more public area than the bakery, “Oh? What d’ya need?”

With a clear of his throat, he explained, “We ran out of creamer and paracetamol,” his fingers are clutched tight around the keys but he finally digs the pad of his thumb on the button to unlock the car, “It’ll only be a moment.”

Y/N popped the door open, “Well that’s easy enough! I can pop in for you if you want. Or we could go in together too!” It rolled off her tongue -- she tried to act as natural as she could about it; she couldn’t let him go into that store alone. The thought of it gave her hives all over, “I might as well pick up a few things myself.”

Harry gave a ruminative smile, one that barely reached his eyes and only twitched the corner of her mouth by the smallest of quirks. It was very reminiscent of the sort of smiles she’d been privy to when they’d first met, and she’d not realized how much she hadn’t missed it at all. She liked the smiles that she received now, big and bright, rosy cheeks but a beautiful light behind his gaze. No, this one was cold and contemplative -- this one spoke of loneliness and pain.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to go in by yourself.” Harry questioned and she didn’t waste a moment, nodding quickly.

“Of course,” she popped the door open, “Yeah, we’ll both go in then. In and out, right?”

He was nervous. Even if Y/N had not an inkling of a clue about his past (and his present, she guesses) with this town, she could feel the tension thick and heavy in her chest. It makes her shuffle uncomfortably, silence filling the car apart from the tick of his blinker as they made their way to the market. Her heart hammered as he parked the car, and it continued to hammer as they got out of the car, Harry placed Charlie into his holder against his body and they walked toward the store. Y/N tried to lighten the mood even just a little, and again she got that tiny little smile, that made her shoulders sink just slightly.

She thinks the tension eases when they walk through the doors and are not immediately stoned. Y/N isn’t a hundred percent sure what the both of them expected, but she guesses something to that extent was what had built up in their heads. A deep breath in and she tried one more time, and squeezed his shoulder once as a silent reminder that she was right there beside him, “They have those red bean buns here, right? I’ll get us some of those.”

Harry scrunched his nose at her, “I think your body functions solely off sweets now, doesn’t it? If not for me  you would not eat any real food.”

It felt as if both of them had been holding air in their lungs but finally sighed out, and each passing minute without a scene breaking out among the others in the grocery, the more they both relaxed. While she could still feel Harry’s worry, he had even begun joking some with her, not letting his guard down but making an effort not to let on how uncomfortable he was to her.

Y/N had really thought they’d made it through the whole store without any trouble, as she slipped the red bean buns into their basket. Harry had been right in the middle of asking her if she’d like anything else while they were still here, just as they passed a woman in a purple knitted sweater. If Y/N hadn’t been staring at one of the stitches at the back of the neck that was just a bit loose, she may not have caught it, and maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t. Maybe it would have been better if her ears hadn’t perked up to hear the uttered, “Disgusting,” that left the woman’s mouth as her gaze caught Y/N’s.

Her brows dip as she paused, her upper half had already been turned and her bottom half followed so she faced the woman fully, “Excuse me?” Y/N said it without thinking, and Harry hums as if he thought she was speaking to him, “Ma’am, what did you say?”

The woman had little shame as she turned to face Y/N, face pinched as if she were revolted, and Y/N’s heart began to sink as she realized what was happening, and with Harry right beside her no less, “I said disgusting,” she put emphasis on the word, “For him to show his face here. We all thought he’d moved.”

Y/N scoffed, “Listen, you need to --”

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice cut through her sentence, his hand resting idly on her shoulder, drawing her attention from the woman, “It isn’t worth it. We should go home.”

The pain in his eyes makes her heart sink lower; she felt as it eroded in her stomach’s acid, and the fight in her had been snuffed out like a small flame beneath a shoe. Y/N looked from the both of them, perturbed by the situation, conflicted only slightly as she swallowed and began to turn away from her. She would have left to -- for Harry’s sake, she would have left and pretended that it hadn’t happened at all until he felt comfortable enough to bring it up -- she would have, really.

“Yeah, why don’t you go home? Wife killer.”  

She really would have.

“Actually, I think you’re the disgusting one,” Y/N had begun as she turned back around, “To say something so cruel. He lost his wife and you’ve decided that it’s his fault? You’re the worst kind of cruel -- downright evil,” her nails pinch into her palms, “You’re awful!”

“Y/N --” Harry tried again, but the woman cut her off quickly.

“He’s the awful one!” She seemed shocked Y/N could have even suggested otherwise, “You’re new here, Honey, so I’ll let you in on what your boyfriend did. He killed his wife after treating her awfully -- cheating on her!” Her words were vile, and to say all of this in front of Harry. The rage that lit through her vessels was enough to make her feel like she was burning up, “And he got away with it ‘cos he can afford fancy lawyers to cover up the truth. So before you go around calling people you don’t know evil, look at the man beside you. And learn some respect.”

Y/N took a small breath, just a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Fuck off.”

“Excuse me?” The woman’s brows raise.

“Respectfully, Fuck. Off.” Y/N’s glare was undeviating, but she could feel eyes on them -- other people watching them closely, though they wouldn’t show it outright, “Were you there when it happened?” She stepped forward, “Or are you God? Some deity?” The woman appeared confounded, like her argument should have been able to sway Y/N, “I don’t think you are -- I think. . .I think you’re a foul creature that thinks you have the right to judge a situation you had no part of. And I think you should think about someone’s feelings before you start saying something with no real basis other than word of mouth from other people just as rotten as you. You really need to do some soul searching if you think that this is the proper way to confront anyone about your feelings. I hope you think about this before you go to bed at night.” She stepped back, closer toward Harry before taking another small breath, “You’re lucky you didn’t wake the baby, or you would have really upset me. Goodbye.”

With this, she turned back on her heel,  and carefully guided Harry by his shoulder to follow her as he let the basket sit on the ground where they’d been. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration and anger, as the look on his face when the woman had first stopped them replayed over and over again in her head. Maybe if she had fought him on it -- maybe if she had just fought him a little harder, he would have stayed in the car and she could have spared him from having to hear that woman. She gave in too easily, and when he tried to get them to leave, she stayed to fight which. . .well, she doesn’t regret saying anything that she did, but she does regret making Harry look bad if she had.

All she had done was bring more attention to them -- she blew it out wide open and brought everyone into his business. She wouldn’t be shocked if he were upset with her. . .no matter her defending him.

“Y/N,” he says her name, but she doesn’t respond at first, swallowed in her thoughts she barely registered that he’d said anything, “Y/N.”

“Yes?” She responded, her hand sliding from his shoulder and back down toward her side.

He paused for a moment, “You knew?”

For a moment, everything freezes.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart hiccuped over a beat; Y/N’s fingers twitched where they sat at her sides, her lips hung open waiting for her brain to muster a response -- anything. Could she figure out something to say? Anything at all?

“Y --” she sighed, her blood roaring in her ears, “Yes,” she answered, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I knew. But not -- I didn’t know at the start at all.”

“How long?” Charlie began to blink his eyes open, slow as a pleased cat, “You knew for how long?”

Was he angry with her? Y/N couldn’t tell -- she couldn’t read him at all and it made her palms sweat. She hadn’t been technically lying but she still felt immense guilt suffocating her at the realization that she hadn’t been entirely truthful either. Not that she ever had the opportunity to just. . .bring it up, but still -- fuck, she didn’t know what to do.

“Since the third week.”

                                                       .                            .                         .

The ride to his house is silent.

Not the comfortable one that they sometimes fell into; like when she’s so focused staring out the window that no words come to her mouth, where the engine’s lulled purr and Charlie’s small giggles and babbles fizzled through the quiet. The kind where Harry had much recently started placing his hand on her thigh, resting it there with no real purpose other than to touch her. One where she feels content and calm, and if she let her eyes flutter shut she could drift off to sleep, the sun disappearing and reappearing as they drive past trees creating pink flickers behind her lids.

No, this wasn’t like that at all.

There was no noise. It felt like even the car had sensed the tension and held its breath waiting for one of them to slice words through the quiet. Her gaze was trained out the window but her fingers shook and her heart raced -- she could hear it thumping in her ears. She should have kept her mouth shut, she’s decided that if she hadn’t said anything at all then everything would be okay. If she had ignored the woman’s tasteless murmur, then she and Harry could have been laughing right now. Maybe they would have sat at one of the park benches, or pushed Charlie on the swing. Maybe Harry would share one of her sweets with her while the sun began to sink. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so downtrodden and gloomy.

Clouds thick with rain pulled in from the North and had Harry not mentioned them earlier, she would have thought the weather had changed with the mood. It was befitting, at the very least, the heavy drops spatter the glass as the gates open for them, and the loud iron hinges that usually make her cringe is a welcomed piercing into the silence. If it were a normal day, Y/N would joke that they should ditch the gate and invest in a moat instead  -- she thinks Harry might have chuckled.

Y/N half expects him to tell her to go home, but he doesn’t. The first words he spoke after about 20 minutes of nothing was a gentle request to take Charlie in, and warning her that Niall would be stopping by for something. She vaguely remembered him mentioning Niall earlier before all this, so she doesn’t panic that he was lifting her of her duties and going back to how things had been before her, but the thought had still arisen, no matter how fleeting.

“Do you need help grabbing everything?” She inquired, but he only shook his head.

“I’ll be okay.”

It was rotten -- this feeling that had begun to overcome her was as rotten as the wood in a forgotten cabin and as dense as sludge from the bottom of a polluted river. This was her fault. . .god, if she had just kept her stupid mouth shut!

But how could she? The lady had been so spiteful and so cruel, and to witness it happening rather than just theorizing about it, made it much too real. At that moment, the weight of what Harry had been going through here had finally settled deep in her chest and it made her sick. She didn’t know what happened but she knew he had vivid nightmares -- she knew the lost, faraway look that would take over his face at the mention of his wife, and she knew the pain that crossed his features every moment he’d uttered how he doesn’t really go to town.

They all so viciously passed judgment on them for something they knew absolutely nothing about and Y/N defended him for something she knew nothing about. It felt as if it had happened either seconds ago or hours ago like she was caught in a figure-eight of time that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be -- seconds, minutes, hours. Tears still burned behind her eyes but she refused to shed them, as she hid away for a little while with Charlie in his playroom. The only time she comes out is just a little over two hours of them being home when it was time for Charlie’s supper. Just as she’d stepped onto the hardwood from the last step, the doorbell rang and Y/N was quick to answer it.

Niall is revealed once she pulls the door open, and the warmth of his grin combats the chill of evening air that rushed in the foyer, “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hi,” she smiled, stepping out of the way so that he could step in, “How was your winter break?”

Niall loosened his scarf from around his throat, “If Mr. Styles asks, it was dull, boring and I couldn’t wait to get back to work, but between you, me, and Charlie, I wish we had about four more weeks of it.”

She led them in and went to the kitchen while Niall made his way to Harry’s office. Y/N fuddled about making Charlie’s dinner, but could only stomach a glass of water for herself as she fed him. Normally she would dance between giving Charlie some, then eating a bite of her food, and making idle chatter with him as she did so. She still tried to chatter at him so he didn’t notice the difference, but she knew he could feel something was off. Babies were smart little things, and they could read energy better than anyone in a room like they had built-in radars that either dampen or strengthen with time.

Instead of feeding off it in a bad way and getting fussy, he’s just extra cuddly though. Held one of her fingers while she slid mashed carrots into his mouth and cooed at his puckered lips while he tasted it. No matter what happened today, this little guy knew no different -- just another day for him. . .she longed to switch places.

Just as she had wiped his face clean of his food and filled the dishwasher with what she used, the door to Harry’s office opens, followed by a call of, “See you, Mr. Styles!” So she turned her body toward the opening to the kitchen so she could bid him a farewell too, and soon enough he pops into the frame, “Hey, I’m heading out. Mr. Styles said after you lay Charlie down to come speak with him,” Y/N’s breathing hitched, Niall raised his fingers that he had crossed with a grin, “Hope it’s for a raise. See you later!”

“See you later,” she called after him but it was weak, and her heart (that had just finally begun to settle) began to hammer again. It continued to do so as she pulled Charlie from his seat, and all throughout his nighttime routine. She still tries for him, smiling at him, humming, and talking as she washed him clean of the day, blew raspberries into his tummy after she lotioned his skin, and dressed him in something warm and cozy. Charlie would fall asleep if she set him in his crib, she knew that, but to soothe herself and prolong what may be an intense conversation, she sat him in her lap and read him a story. Even after he’d fallen asleep in her arms, she pressed her nose to his soft hair and tried to calm herself down.

Eventually, it couldn’t be helped any longer. Her nerves got the better of her and she lowered him into his crib, turned off the light, clicked his sound machine on low, and crept out of the room quietly. She knew Harry would still be in his office because she hadn’t heard him go to his bedroom, so she walked down the steps and tried to soothe the worry from her bones as she grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen. No matter what, it was still Harry -- still the man who was always so gentle and kind with her. Today had thrown him off -- it would throw anyone off, so she understood why he was so quiet and distant. She would be too if the circumstances were flipped.

Still, she hated how this felt, as her knuckles knocked against the wood and she held her breath, waiting for him to speak.

“Come in.”

One more deep breath and she pushes the door open, and instead of making her way to his side like she had been doing, she stood at the door awkwardly, waiting for him to speak first. If she had been the one to initiate this then she would have prepared something to say, but she stays quiet -- he invited her down, so he had something to say, and she was keen on hearing it. Harry stood in front of his desk, his bum resting against the lip of it with his legs outstretched, and he held himself up with his hands on either side of him. He doesn’t avoid her gaze, locking it with her own, and she watched as he took a deep breath of his own, blowing a small stream of air through pursed lips.

“First, I want to apologize,” he finally started, and Y/N swallowed thickly, “I shouldn’t have -- I shouldn’t have subjected you to an environment I knew could have been hostile. We should have gone home and I should have just ordered it.” Her brows knit immediately, and she opened her mouth to refute that, that could have been his fault in any way but he held up his hand, “Please, Sweetheart, I -- I need to -- I need to get through this.”

She nodded, the twist in her belly partially satiated by the term of endearment -- he wasn’t mad at her, at the very least -- that helped a great deal.

“I should have, but I hadn’t because  -- because things just feel so normal with you, and I wanted that. . .I wanted to go to the grocery store with you how we could in the city, and to be normal here. I thought that maybe we could, but for my own selfish reasons, I didn’t think it through nearly enough.” He shook his head at himself, “And I apologize for shutting down the way that I did on the ride home. It was naive of me to believe you could work for me this long and not know what is thought of me here. I think a part of me thought you might know but you had always -- you had always treated me so kindly, and you never asked questions so I had suspicions that you may have heard a passing word of it but not in great detail.” One of his hands, he combs through his hair, sighing before he started again, his voice shook only slightly with the first syllable before he got a hold of it, “I told myself several times that if you. . .if you had ever asked what had happened to my wife, I would tell you everything. I would open my heart to you in every way imaginable before you could -- before they could say anything to you. So I was frustrated finding out that you had already heard that side of it, and that I wasn’t able to speak with you before you could think that I was a murderer --”

“I don’t,” she cut him off firmly, “I don’t think that at all.”

His lips twitched again, in a small smile that just barely reached his eyes that tilted down to the floor, “I want to tell you,” he took in a shaky breath, “I need to tell you, but I’m scared. I haven’t. . .I haven’t really told anyone the whole thing, but --” he looked back up to her, “Do you want to know? Are you -- are you willing to listen to me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she answered with assured conviction, without even a moment passing by, “I want you to tell me everything. If you want me to know then I want to know.”

He nodded,  “Okay,” he murmured, “Can we sit?”

They positioned themselves on the couch, and Y/N took the decorative pillow that would be pressed against her back and sat it in her lap. She curled her arms around it, her fingers idly playing with the tassel at the bottom left corner just to give herself something to do. Harry was preparing himself to speak, and despite how relieved she was to finally get the story, she felt her heart clench in pity for him. Re-living it would be difficult, but he wanted to tell her -- he said he needed to tell her -- so she would listen.

“Ebba and I had met when we were 18 but had only been officially together for 2 years before we started to have problems,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably on his side of the couch, his fingers fixed around the ring he’d been playing with earlier today, “It was little stuff at first -- little fights and grievances, but we both had decided that it was normal, that kind of thing. Couples bicker and argue because they love each other enough to, that’s what my mum had always said and it had always sounded about right. So we would have tiffs and make-up and it would be well again, but. . .well, the arguments started getting a little worse, especially around our anniversary. She kept accusing me of cheating on her, again and again, and again, but I hadn’t even so much as thought about another woman since I asked her on our first date.” He stared at a spot on the floor -- he looked far away, “And it’s a shit feeling being accused of something like that, so I would fight her back.”

“You’d think we would have taken a break or something to cool off from each other, but we were 23 so instead we moved in together. Thought maybe if we were around each other more then questions of infidelity could be shattered because we would be around each other more. This is around the time I started really gaining my footing in the industry, you know? And Ebba -- well, she’d already had a well-established place at her mother’s company so she was doing just fine. We played happy home for a little while in the new place in the city but it went. . .it went bad again, a few months in. She became very. . .aggressive when we fought, like -- like smashing things and breaking things, but I always figured that was kind of my fault. Could never admit when I was in the wrong about something so I’d just keep pushing her, y’know? Or it had felt that way at least, like no matter what I said I would just push her and push her and push her. But we --” he dipped his head down, staring into his lap, “We loved each other so much, we didn’t want to end things. Had plenty of conversations about ending it, and she’d even packed her bags a few times but we’d never go through with it. If she left, she’d show back up at our flat the next day.”

He took a small breath, pausing for a moment like he was collecting his thoughts again and Y/N offered him the water that sat at their feet. Harry nodded and took two drinks before he continued.

“My mum suggested couple’s counseling, ‘cos she and my father had once when they were younger, so we did. The woman they had gone to see was still in practice so we went and did about 12 sessions. It worked for a little while, or well enough that I thought proposing was the next best step -- we had re-entered that honeymoon stage again and it felt like we were on top of the world. So I proposed and we got married, and it was good for a few months but then I got a promotion,” he twisted the cap back on the bottle, setting it back where it had been on the ground beside her leg, “So I was traveling less with her, and I had less time off but that was a decision I made for myself, the company hadn’t made it. I wanted to -- for selfish reasons. . .it was all for selfish reasons. I wanted more money and I wanted to climb up the company and to learn from the best, but I couldn’t do that if I was spending summer weeks in Cabo. But I never -- I was never clear behind my motives for doing it, so she thought I was just trying to avoid her. Avoid her and “fuck some old computer prick’s wife” is what she would say. And the more we would fight, the longer I would stay at work, the less we would see each other.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning; it felt like Harry was dropping pieces of information that she followed closely behind to collect, fixing them into a timeline that he’d created. Her heart was still beating quickly.

“The first time I caught her cheating, she cried to me after I walked in on them -- it was some bloke from her job, I think, but she had thought I was gone at a business conference for a week. We’d had a massive fight before I left about me leaving, so I had changed my flight a day early to surprise her. The flat was trashed and she was there on the bed with him in our room. I wanted to leave -- to stay at a hotel for the night but she was sobbing, and she was drunk, and I couldn’t leave her alone. So I stayed, and the next few days were rough but then we talked it out, and we cried, and it was good again.” He gave a small self-deprecating smile, “That happened only one more time in that flat, but it technically “didn’t count” because we were on something of a break. I didn’t really see it as that kind of break, but I hadn’t been clear, I suppose.”

It was hard to hear him reflect on it, still finding fault in things that he shouldn’t at all find fault in. Her chest ached for him.

“I went back to school for my Master’s in an accelerated program when I was about 25. I told her I wanted to teach because I wanted to share my knowledge and help students put their best foot forward how some of my good professors allowed me to. Which was true, for the most part, but most of me just wanted to be away from her. I couldn’t handle it anymore -- the fighting, and the breaking, the yelling and the. ..and the hitting. It just felt good to not be home, but instead of being honest with her, I just found more reasons to not be alone with her for more than a dinner or two. I regret that. . .I regret not being honest.” He took in a shaky breath, “2ish before she died, we moved out here, and that was the real end for us. It started out kind of good, like always but then she started disappearing for days at a time. She had started drinking a lot and partying, and the worse our fights got. I tried to get her help -- I could see she was unhappy and this was never the life she wanted to live. It was too close to her father, and she hated it, and so I tried but she didn’t want it. She would say that she wasn’t addicted to anything, she was just having fun because life with me was miserable. I told her I wanted a divorce.”

His eyes had started to become glossy, she noticed how dewy they looked from the glow of his lamp, so she placed her hand on his knee and stroked it carefully with her thumb.

“At first she didn’t fight me on it, only packed her bags and said she would be with her mother for a while. A week later she came and told me that Charlie was in her belly and he was mine -- it was bittersweet. For once I understood why people tried to make marriages work for a child’s sake, and for nine months we were. . .fine. We weren’t awful but we weren’t good either -- we were just fine. But when Charlie was born I. . .” he paused, “When he was born I just had a feeling. A sick, disgusting feeling but it was there nagging at the back of my head and I couldn’t quiet it. So one day when she had gone out with her friends, I took Charlie and we got a paternity test.”

Y/N forces her face to stay neutral.

Her breathing pauses entirely.

“5 days later I found out that Charlie wasn’t mine,” his brows furrowed, and he shook his head, “I confronted her about it. I didn’t -- I didn’t care that he wasn’t mine, I had already fallen in love with him but I needed her to know that I knew. I wanted to know who his real father was. I wanted to know why, if there was any doubt that he could have been mine, did she not tell me. She got upset, she took Charlie and went to stay with her mother again. I didn’t see either of them for 4 months, until -- until one day someone knocked on my door but they were gone before I’d gotten there, and in their place was Charlie. It was too cold for him to be out there so I brought him inside first and I made sure he was warm and taken care of before I called her. I called her again, and again, and again, and again. Niall was there for that, which -- well, he really shouldn’t have been here even while he’s a TA but he was struggling with the material for an exam in one of his other courses and asked me to help him. I hadn’t been on campus so he drove out and we’d been studying in my office.” He explained, wiping a tear from his cheek, “I wonder. . .I always wonder what must have been going on in his head to see his professor like that. Couldn’t bring myself to look at his face but he was playing with Charlie for me, while I was pacing.”

“I checked her location and saw she was in the city, and I -- I apologized and begged Niall to sit with Charlie while I went to see if everything was okay. I just had this horrible feeling, because it hadn’t felt like the other times where she would just disappear and not answer my calls. If she was in the city already then it couldn’t have been her to drop Charlie off, someone else had. Halfway there I got a call from her mum and -- she was sobbing, and asking if Ebba was with me. If I knew where she was, and I told her I was on my way there. She told me that Ebba had written her a letter and left it on the counter for her, for when she got home. She said she was going to -- she said she was done with it all. With everything -- with life.”

It’s getting harder for him to continue, tears fall freely from his eyes now but he still won’t allow himself to truly break and Y/N’s hold on his knee tightens.

“She was at this bridge -- it used to be really popular a decade ago but they started construction on it that never finished, so it was basically deserted. By the time I had gotten there, the police were already there and they were -- her body was covered at the river below the bridge. I cried into the dirt, and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed until an officer’s hands touched my back and he sat me up. Her mom showed up around then too. It was awful. . .it was so, so, so fucking horrible.” He wiped at his face again, “When they actually looked over her, she was -- she had a lot of different drugs in her system.”

“And everyone. . .everyone in this fucking town had thought I killed her and after. . .and after all this time, it started to feel like it. I would have -- I hadn’t seen her for months at that point, there was nothing I could have done, but they look at me like I’m a fucking monster. Like I pushed her off the bridge myself. There stupid fucking theories -- they didn’t think I could hear them but I could. How I didn’t act like Charlie was my son because I resented him and his mother. I love him with my whole heart but those first few months after her death and even sometimes now I’m just so. . .I’m so scared that his biological father will come for him. I didn’t want to -- it sounds stupid now, but I didn’t want to get too close so it wouldn’t hurt as bad when he was taken from me, but even that didn’t work. I’m stiff and stuffy but I love him, and even though the whole relationship was nothing but tattered ribbon by the end, I would have never hurt her. I had. . .I didn’t love her anymore. I hadn’t felt any true love for her for years at that point, but I didn’t want her dead, and with a child in this world no less! But no -- no they made me out to be a killer.“

Y/N is overwhelmed by all of it -- every single word had been more and more difficult to process, and there was no hope of her being able to formulate a response that would do him any good just moments after he’d finished telling her. Sympathy and sorrow weigh in her muscles as she moves forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Harry’s body and dragging him into her own. As if had taken a sledgehammer to the last stonewall he had up around him, he sobs. He holds her close, even tighter than he has after a nightmare, and he lets every emotion that he’d been bottling up out all at once. It’s heartbreaking; her own tears wet her cheeks.

She isn’t sure how long he cried, but it wanes slowly, reduced to hiccups and sniffles. Y/N would have held him to her chest as long as he wanted -- all night and into the morning if that’s what he needed -- but when he’s finally settled, he begins to withdraw. His cheeks are red and wet, his eyes are puffy, his lips are bitten swollen and fuchsia red -- he looks absolutely fucking exhausted. Y/N cradles his face in her hands and guides him to look at her, stroking the damp skin of his face with her thumbs as she spoke.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it must have been very hard,” he nodded, “I don’t think I could ever have the right words to say, to absolve you of any guilt you’re feeling, or to make any of your pain go away, but I do -- I do want to tell you,” his lips quiver, “That Charlie is your son, even though you don’t share blood. You’ve raised him, and you care for him, and when he sees you you can just tell that he is yours, and no matter what happens nothing can change that fact. And I wanted to tell you, that you were not at fault for her death. There was nothing you could have done, so you cannot blame yourself for that, because she was sick Harry.  And you can’t solely take the blame for what you’d been through in your relationship either -- it was abusive. You’ve been through so, so much and nobody should ever have to go through anything like that,” she leaned forward, and pushed a kiss to his forehead, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I wish I could take it all away.”

Harry took in a shaky breath, “Thank you for listening to me,” he murmured, “And for. . .and for not believing them and what they said about me. And for telling Mrs. Stuart off in the grocery. And for. . .for everything,” he dipped down, touching their foreheads together, and he giggled a small bit, “I want -- I want to get better. To process all the trauma of it so I can be the best version of myself for you and Charlie. Reckon I should probably look into therapy.”

Y/N breathed out a laugh, “I think that may be beneficial, yeah. Think everyone could use a bit of therapy -- nothing shameful about it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded to himself, “I think I’ll do that.”

                                                     .                              .                               .

Y/N had not foreseen how light the air around them would be. Even lighter than before; if a week ago it felt like floating on clouds with him, then now they move when the wind blows even a gentle gust. It’s good and it’s freeing, and if it feels as if there’s a weight off her chest then she knows Harry must feel a weight off his.

It was a lot — all of it was so much, and she doesn’t think she could truly comprehend the pain that Harry had suffered through but though it hurts to know, she’s glad to understand him more. To understand all his stony bits and all his worn, weathered bits. To push a piece that had been missing in the puzzle and see the full picture — and while it was agonizing to retell, she noticed how even now Harry has softened more, and she had already thought he was as soft as he could’ve been.

As if he were porcelain, Y/N treats him delicately. She knows how he must feel right now, exhausted and raw; his inner thoughts and the source of his nightmares cracked open and spread out before the both of them. He deserved to be touched kindly, and gently. With warmth and love and care. Y/N knew it wasn’t her responsibility to pick up the broken pieces and tape them back together -- that would be too much work for any one person to do for another -- but she vowed right then to help him. In her mind, she promised to hand him bits of tape when he was sticking parts together or helping him reach his back. She’d support him in any way she could because she. . .she felt so deeply for him. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt this way for anyone before -- she knows she hasn’t, actually.

She drew him a bath and sat with him while he soaked in the tub, the both of them just wanting to be close. Needing to be close. He had offered for her to climb into the tub but she politely declined, “Let me take care of you for tonight,” she murmured, “I’ll take you up on that tomorrow though if the offer still stands.”

“The offer will always stand.”

Y/N shampoos his hair for him, massaging his scalp and soaping up the strands for no other reason than she knew it would feel good. They understand it without words, which is why Y/N simply sheds her clothes and digs through his drawers for a shirt to sleep in as he dries off. And it’s why she crawled into his bed beside him, immediately adhering to his side, their legs tangling and their arms wrapping around each other like if they even for a second thought about letting go, the other would float away.

Y/N pushes kisses all over his face, loving on him in every way that she could because she could and he accepted it happily. His smiles were soft and sweet and made her melt. She just wanted him to remember that he was with her, right now, in the present -- away from that. Away from the pain and the hurt. The look in his eyes when she paused and just stared at him for a little while said everything that she needed to know without words, but when he said it aloud, it felt even sweeter.

“You mean the world to me,” he hummed, the pads of his fingers smoothing over her temple, stroking down to caress her jaw, “I love you.”

Her heart swells full, and she bites down a grin that threatens to split her cheeks.

“I love you too.” She responded, lowering down so her face was pressed to his chest. He’s warm -- she lets her eyes flutter closed as she immerses herself in him. His essence and his being; she breathes him in greedily.

Harry is quiet for a moment, long enough that she thinks they may be going to bed for the night, but he chuckled suddenly.

“Weird,” he murmured, “Feels like we’ve said that before.”

#WOOOOOOOOOOO #YAHTZEE #SHE'S FINISHED :D #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE HER #WRITING #HARRY SMUT #LOVE THESE GUYS #LOVE YOU GUYS #WOOOOOO

[mbti-enemies]

hi! i just started following you and honestly, i'm OBSESSED. i can't believe it took me this long to find this page. i'm infp and i can 100% say that all these posts about them are hilariously true! you've got me to ship INFP x ENTJ and most importantly, i'm in love with ENFP and INTJ dynamic. they definitely give me sunshine x grumpy vibes and enemies to lovers kinda feelings. they're fighting at one moment, and then something happens to enfp? suddenly INTJ FLIPS OUT AND THREATENS EVERYONE? like hello?

can you pleaseeeee me more about their romantic dynamics and how it would all pan out? me, an infp, a hopeless romantic, is definitely rooting for them. ALSO MORE ABOUT INFP AND ENTJ.

(okay so theres gonna be a whole load of these posts coming through but heres some little snippets and headcannon type things so far- but pls look thro some of the other posts !!- intj)

ENTJ and INFP

- infp talking animately over their favourite disney movie and entj just staring at them , transfixed and j nodding along not really listening but god damn why are they so cute ive lost all rational thought ability

- entj starts to realise they have feelings for infp and being all like no no way this isnt happening before giving in and being like dammit this is happening i must protect them at all costs im theirs now

- entj feeling such warmth blooming in their chest every time infp looks at them with such faith and loyalty cause it makes them feel as if they can do anything , and for infp.. they really would do anything

- infp adoring the way entj can be all focused and straight forward and loving how entj makes them stronger and more determined everytime entj encourages infp and supports them in whatever they do

- cue entj's breathe hitch as they forget how to breath every time infp absent mindly intertwines their hands with entjs or nuzzles into their side while watching tv

- infp being the one person around whom entj lets their guard down and entj being the person around who infp feels safe, secure and its with them that infp realises that they no longer have to get lost in daydreams cause for once real life is just as great..maybe even better

- moments in the dark of night where theyre reading together and entjs reading in a whispers that echo off the walls while infp runs their fingers through entjs hair , getting lost in their voice and into the world of the story thats being brought to life

- simple moments just existence in peace together , no words need to be said for they both already know that its in the others company where life seems to run by best

INTJ and ENFP

- intj going around insulting and being sarcastic to enfp all day but the second anyone else even indirectly says anything against enfp ..there'll be war

- intj feeling oh so special and proud whenever enfp acconplishes smth little (or not so little) and being like aww look at this ball of sunshine (*heart melting j a lil*)

- intj ever so subtly recpricoating enfps feelings by litlle thungs like playing with their hair , having a hand on enfps shoudler, resting their chin on enfps head ..just these subtle touchs which might seem like nothing but enfp knows means a whole lot more

- enfp trying to get intj to be all happy(!!) and more excited(!!) about life while intjs just there like 'can we go home p l e a s e'

- intj being all like yes theyre an idiot but theyre MY idiot so wherever they go ive gotta be there

-enfps literally acting like a puppy on sugar for every small thing while intj just tags along very amused and having fun while watching enfp completely lose their mind over something as simple as a light up keyboard or smth (intj will never admit this but they admire how enfp manages to find such joy in everything..makes the world seem that much more wondeful)

- arguing about almost everything and intj resolving to being cold and distant but if enfp walks in all teary eyed then screw it *cue intj silently walking up to enfp, gingerly tilting their head up and looking right into their eyes and murmuring in words dripping with danger "tell me who did this to you" (even god cant help the person who messes with enfp)

#intj #entj #mbti #enfp #infp #ask #mail

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 15

(masterpost)

another exercise in triggering col, haha. ever since ive had whumpy daydreams as a child ive liked thinking about the caretaker brushing the whumpees teeth. this was meant to be fluffier but i like how it's become something unique to colton <3

CW: NSFW, triggered whumpee, heavy references to n0ncon oral sex, dehumanisation, pet whump

-

Something was bothering Linden as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror one morning. He could hear the uncertain thumps of Col’s footsteps downstairs- sometimes he could hear him dragging his feet, scared to lift them entirely off the ground. He turned his attention back, trying to figure out what was annoying him.

Then he realised, as he looked into the small jar on the side of the sink. Col’s toothbrush was bone dry. There weren’t even flecks of toothpaste down the handle. He frowned. He really, really couldn’t let that happen. He thought about how if Colton only spoke, he might have noticed sooner, might have caught it on his breath, but he stopped himself. It’s not his fault.

The bathroom looked directly through to the staircase, and as Linden walked out he caught the familiar pair of eyes peering up at him, before Col quickly drew himself back behind the wall.

But Linden had seen him, and they both knew it. It was as if Col could tell already that he was in trouble. He rarely pulled back from Linden in any way, but today he was already halfway across the room by the time Linden had descended the stairs.

“Have you been brushing your teeth?” he asked plainly, not knowing how else to go about it.

Col shook his head, of course he did, but there was a brief second where Linden could see that he was considering lying. He liked that.

. . .

Pet had to confess, but it made him feel hot and prickly with fear. He had been bad. Master’s voice was firm and clipped. He was disappointed in him.

“You have to,” Master ordered, and Pet nodded immediately. Okay, okay, I will. I won’t hesitate. “Why haven’t you so far? Were you- was it because you thought you weren’t allowed? Or were you… scared to? Does it hurt?”

Pet’s head started to spin, and he cringed hard as Master sighed, heavy with frustration. “Sorry, sorry. Way too many questions, I know. Besides, it’s not- wait!” Master suddenly looked up at his pet intensely, and like a poorly-behaved dog, he flinched. Master hardly seemed to notice, though, as he continued, “You said the other day, didn’t you, that you can’t hold a pencil well? It’s hard to grip it? Is it… is the toothbrush too hard to hold properly?”

How did he know? Pet nodded, defeatedly. He had tried, fuck, he really had, fighting a losing battle in the wee hours until he could have wept with frustration. He glanced down at his hands. For a brief moment there weren’t clean and unbound, they were bleeding, the wire was cutting into him, cutting to the bone it felt, and he could barely twitch without the pain shooting all the way up his arms. The memories were so real, sometimes. And wasn’t it helpful that the pain never truly left? It had followed him from his old owner’s house to the streets all the way to Master’s front door and beyond, a phantom trailing along his joints, keeping him reminded of his place.

“That’s okay. I can help.”

Master’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, thankfully, and as he turned to stride upstairs Pet followed him meekly, hands cradled before him.

He was ordered to sit on the lid of the toilet while Master busied himself. It made Pet stiffen up. It looked eerily similar to when his old owner had something big planned, and he made his slave sit helplessly and watch. When Master turned to him, holding the toothbrush like a weapon, the association was so strong that it made Pet whimper and duck his head. Oh, god, he was so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Master said, and it truly sounded like there was feeling behind the words, like he really meant it. It was cruel. “I don’t have a choice.”

You do, Pet thought, even though it was disobedient. Master always has a choice. Master controls everything.

“This is for your own good,” he said. “You understand, Col?”

Oh, Pet understood well. He had endured many horrors for his own good, and this was not among the worst. He would gladly submit to Master’s strange ritual.

But then- “I promise it won’t be too bad. Can you open up?”

Pet gasped. He was back, he was back there, not again, please please please not again. He was strung up and completely defenceless. He wasn’t in control, he never had been, he was an object and he was being used.

He opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue sit over his teeth. Master punished him if it even looked at if he’d try to bite. The corners of his vision started to gloss over.

Then. A hand gently brushed his jaw. Fingers pressed into his skin. Holding him in place? Making sure he stayed good?

He let out a pathetic cry of fear.

. . .

“Col, Col, I’m so sorry, I can tell you’re scared,” Linden said, as Col’s eyes started to glaze over. He hardened his voice, “Col! Stay with me, sweet, come on. You’re being brave, come on.”

He should just get it over with, he realised, and pushed the toothbrush in. Col started to close his mouth, and Linden gripped a little harder on his jaw. He wanted to at least exhaust all his other options before he physically pulled the boy’s mouth open.

“Keep your mouth open, there we go. Now just hold still.”

I’m giving him orders. But it was the simplest way, it was so quick, it was to help the boy. Linden gritted his own teeth. He could worry about the ethics of it later.

Colton’s teeth weren’t as dirty as he’d feared, and Linden made light work of brushing them down. He checked in on Col every so often. His eyes were still glassy, but he seemed at least half-there.

“You okay?” A small huff of affirmation. “Good. Almost there.”

It felt so strangely intimate, brushing his teeth. As if he hadn’t already seen him stark naked in the damn bath. I dunno, he thought. I’m so close to him. He’s sitting so still. There’s nowhere to run.

He finished up just as a strand of frothy toothpaste started to crest over his lip and drip down his chin, some of it along Linden’s fingers. Col rinsed, scooping the water into his mouth with his hands in a rigid claw shape, and then looked in Linden’s direction for the next order.

“Well done, Col. That was important, and you sat there like a wonderful rock and made it so quick and easy. I’m very- I’m very happy with you. We’ll work on holding the toothbrush, yeah? But for now we can head downstairs and get on with the day.”

Col nodded, a bit dull, but Linden decided not to push him.

. . .

Pet felt himself coming back as soon as he was allowed to close his jaw. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. It felt as if Master had just brushed his teeth, like he said. And yet-

And yet he was rinsing out his mouth, and the taste wasn’t minty anymore but something far more foul, and he was being told how well he took it, how he made it so easy, how he made Master happy. He was back there because he could never escape, never truly.

Master finished talking, evidently, and turned to leave. Pet trailed after him, his eyes filling with tears, but he managed to keep his shaky breaths quiet. Master was happy with him and Pet’s feelings didn’t matter.

-

first half of the taglist!

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

#pet whump #linden and colton #dehumanisation #pet whumpee #slave whump #conditioned whumpee #mine

[insufferablelust]

[𝒲 𝐸 𝐿 𝒞 𝒪 𝑀 𝐸] ~ 🪽

Hello and welcome to my tumblr! I go by the name vaa, and I am 21 years old (at the time this is edited). for those seeking pieces of fiction writings you have come to the right place. Before you dive in, please adhere to the rules of this blog. If you can not respect these rules then I do not consent on my writings to be read or shared.

I write ONLY for people of the age 18+ please respect that I do not consent nor do I recommend MINORS to read my writings or just to come to my blog.

If you are a MINOR, do NOT interact in any way, and that includes do NOT read my fiction/posts.

My writings are completely FICTIONAL and does not in any way reflect or represent the characters in real life.

So far I have written for Criminal Minds character, Matthew Gray Gubler, and Byun Baekhyun. However I have works in progress on many other characters that may be present in my writings.

You may send asks/requests, my inbox is always open but I hold no promises of getting to them in time solely because I prioritize my health, especially my mental health due to my illness. So please understand if I do not get to your asks quickly.

Masterlist to all my works (so far, will be updated as new fics come) is just below here, enjoy:

MASTERLIST! ❤️ (18+ only)

hello everyone! this is the long awaited masterlist, hope you enjoy! blurb and taglists are open!! thank you, xx d.

HERE FOR LATEST ANNOUNCEMENT/UPDATE.

please note that i’m suffering from borderline personality disorder which associated with impulsivity and inconsistency, and i experience varying manic episodes during the most inconvenient times so if i don’t upload for more than few days or update, i apologize beforehand.

Byun Baekhyun

Mrs. Byun

How does waking up beside the love of your life feels like?

Criminal Minds

The Artist And His Muse 

the one where Y/N is a Supervisory Special Agent at the BAU  in Quantico, Virginia along with the mysterious Dr.Reid, whom know too much about her past than she wanted him or everybody to know for that matter. her dark past is the only thing that could destroy her or save her, and along with it comes more trouble when their relationship entangles. 

Warnings : Dark fic!, Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, SMUT, Detailed description of gore, murder, blood,psychological and physical abuse, slow burn, BDSM relationship, masochism, exhibitionism, sensory deprivation, impact play, Subspace, praise kink, breath play, bondage, rough sex, degradation, humiliation, orgasm control, switch!both, vanilla stuff. ITS FILTHY AND DARK, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK PLEASE.

Chapter I : Picasso’s signature.

Chapter II : Stuttering daydream.

Chapter III : My cherry lollipop.

Chapter IV : Secrets in C minor.

Chapter V : Swan lake’s ballet.

Chapter VI : Dominance, Submission.

Chapter VII : Worship, Submit.

Chapter VIII : Broken healer.

Chapter IX : Haunted Wisdom. Coming Soon!

On process!

Pretty Little Thing

Started out as an innocent encounter between a student and her professor, Y/N turned out to be not as innocent as Spencer thought she was. In fact, she might even be the eviler twin of cat adams herself.

WARNINGS : SSA + PROFESSOR!SPENCER REID x SUPPOSEDLY UNSUB!READER, Dark kinks, smut, murders, isolation, psychotic behaviors, mentions of cat adams, extreme manipulation and gaslighting, dom/sub undertone, Dom!Spence, Sub!Reader, Switch!both, Knife play, Gun play, Breath play, Masochism, BDSM, hard dark kinks you’ve been warned. It’s a dark fic okay.

Chapter I : Pure as dew.

Chapter II : Clean Puppets.

Chapter III : Temporary revelations.

Chapter IV : His forbidden desire

on process!

THRILLED (Matthew Gray Gubler fic)

There is duality in some people, and by some- it’s Matthew with the goofy smiles and warm acts, no one really knew what he really like huh?

WARNINGS : THIS FIC IS A FANTASY ONLY NO WAY REFLECTING THE ACTUAL BEHAVIOUR OF THE CHARACTER IN REAL LIFE, HEAVY SMUT, Sadist!Matthew x Sub/bratty!reader, harsh kinks, degradation, humiliation, sex dungeon, BDSM setting, Exhibitionism, Vanilla :), breath play, knife play, impact play, pain kink, many more kinks, fluff, angst, yeah you’ve been warned.

Chapter I : Trouble in Heaven

chapter II : Dungeon of the Forbidden Fruits. 

Chapter III : Elongated Pleasure

Chapter IV : Little Mess

Chapter V : Pathetic Sins.

Chapter VI : Paradise in Paris.

Chapter VII : U-shaped love 

Chapter VIII : Sweet Bratty Rendezvous. COMING SOON

Blurbs or Oneshot on Thrilled!Au

Naughty list (Christmas Special) set in between chapter VIII and IX

Little Butterfly (Sugar Daddy-Mob Boss!Spencer Reid x Reader AU)

WARNINGS : UPCOMING VIOLENCE, HEAVY SMUT, daddy kink, degradation, humiliation, 80′s Mob era, Don!Reid, Manipulation, Murder, Dark kinks (Gun, Knife, Bondage etc) BDSM THEMED, Subspace, Mean!Spencer, Naive!Reader, Heavy Topics of Mental ilness, Breath Play, Impact play, Master-Kitten, Heatbreak, Aftercare, Spencer is not kind to being loved, ANGST, Fluff, just the best of both worlds. MORE WARNINGS WILL BE ADDED AS THE SERIES PROGRESSED, THANK YOU AND READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Chapter I : The Young Don.

Chapter II A : Naive Angel.

Chapter II B : Unfinished business.

Chapter III : Hello, dove. COMING SOON.

Blurb or Oneshot on Lb!AU

Cockwarming don!Reid with others outside.

LONG BLURBS/IMAGINES/FANFIC (MIX!CM CHARACTERS AND Casts x Reader)

(!) SMUT

The one where Spencer is fuming and jealous. (!)Dom!Spencer Smut, Hints of Degradation, Slight exhibitionism, Car Sex, Jealous!Spencer.

The one where its the Reader and Spencer’s one year anniversary, and they play a game. (!) Absolute porn of Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, Bratty!Reader, Degradation, Slight Exhibitionism, Office Sex, Some Fluff, just.. Filth :)

The one where Reader wants to be the one that take charge. (!)(+) Sub!Spencer x Dom!Reader, Just filthy SMUT, Ice play, Slight Exhibitionism, Bondage, Aftercare, Edging, Teasing, They’re both actually switch, Blindfold! thats it!

The one where Y/N has an oral fixation, and MGG is sweaty. (!) Dom!MGG x Sub!Reader, fiancées, FILTHY SMUT, oral fixations, degradation via name callings, daddy kink, mentions of wedding, mention of breeding kink, over stimulation, thigh riding, detailed description of sex, just filthy. And some fluff!

The one where Y/N just decided to distract Mgg and ended up a mess. (!) Dom!Mgg x Sub!Reader, Smut, Rough sex, Degradation by name calling, Dacryphilia, Slight Exhibitionism, Slight breeding kink, Edging, Denied orgasm, Overstimulation, Mirror sex, Mean dom!Mgg, aftercare fluff (+), thats it i think :) just filth.

The one where Y/N just love to tease Brat Tamer!Spencer. (!) Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, Smut, Rough fingering, Degradation by name calling, Exhibitionism, Punishment by spankings, Brat tamer-esque!Spencer, Bratty!Reader. Like i always said... just filth.

The one where Y/N decided that teasing Matthew on set is the way to go. (!) Dom!Mgg x Sub!reader, Smut, Rough car sex, Punishment by spanking and overstimulation, Degradation by name calling, Bratty!Reader, Just filth filth filth car sex filth! with fluffy fluffs on the end.

The one where Y/N is a good girl for Spencer, she has always been a good girl for him. (!) (+) Soft!Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, Smut, Praise kink, Deep Subspace, Oral (F receiving), bit of cute rough sex, aftercare, Fluff!!

The one where Y/N finally get a taste of her own medicine. (!!) Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, post prison spencer, filthy smut, rough sex, daddy kink, rough spencer, pain kink, masochism, spit play, pet names (bunny, little girl, princess etc), big age gap (but reader is NOT UNDER AGE/A MINOR), degradation by name calling, slight exhibitionism, just filthy rough smut with fluffy after care!

The one where Y/N was so deep in subspace after a night of full on rough adventure (!!) Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, Daddy kink, Subdrop, subspace, DDLG undertones, all the characters are 21+ years old, Tiny bit of degradation, soft and rough sex at the same time, its just so cute yet fucking filthy.

The one where Spencer takes absolute control (!!) Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, heavy Smut, bit of name calling, mention of overstimulation, choking, not so heavy stuff compared to my other works heheh, oh and fluff galore.

The one where daddydom!Spencer gives you the belting of your life and you fall into a nice subspace.

Matthew’s breeding kink with wife!reader blurb.

making a sex tape with dom!spencer blurb.

dom!Spencer overstimulating reader blurb.

Matthew’s innocent kink blurb. 

(-) ANGST

The one where Y/N loves Spencer, but she might already be too late. (~) SSA!Reader x Spencer, ANGST, fluff at the end, blowjob reference, heartbreaking stuff, mention of anxiety attack, and just sad but cute at the end :)

(+) FLUFF

The one where Y/n and Spencer Reid Cuddles on the jet, and the team realizing just how smitten they are. (+) Spencer x Reader.

The one where The team went out to celebrate after a case and a certain genius duo may secretly have a crush on each other. (+) Super cute drunk reader x Spencer, Platonic Bau x Reader.

The one where the reader is a new young Agent in the BAU, who messed up one day and Aaron comes to her rescue. (+) (~) Aaron x SA!Reader, Fluffy caring Aaron, Tw : Mental disorder, Blood, Scars, Guns, and the usual CM stuff!, oh and Mean!Strauss :)

The one where the reader let Spencer knows that he’s going to be a dad. (+) Husband!Spencer x Wife!Reader, FLUFFY GALORE!!, Pregnancy.

The one where Wife!Reader is under the radar for her own protection, but kindergarteners never took no for an answer. (+) Husband!Spencer x Wife!Reader, FLUFF!, its so cute- honestly one of my favorites, Description of a murder case, Snippets of Domestic life with Spencer, brief mention of Maeve, Just.. its so cute okay:)

The one where Y/N remembered the night Spencer asked her the big question. (+) Spencer x Reader, FLUFF!!, cute stuff. oop

MORE TO COME! BLURB REQ AND TAGLIST ARE OPEN, PLEASE MESSAGE ME :)

#insufferableblurb #insufferablemasterlist