#and I don’t know everything of course everyone is always still learning every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doublekanble · 2 months

Text

deer (in a head light)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

platonic-romantic. (almost everyone thinks you two are in love or is extremely baffled by the fact, a bit more romantic for me but can be seen as anything actually i just like writing people being sort of stupid)

word count: 5.6k.

or, collectively, everyone's reaction to the fact. Nifty is there👍. no real warning this is a normal fic part two to this.

Husk have never gone through this level of raw mental torture, while Angel thinks it’s absolutely hilarious how hard is it for Husker to accept that one of the most feared Overlord of all Pride Ring is vying for a cute lil fella like you. What started out as a small remark over the rim of a particularly strong cup of gin about how Alastor have been seemingly hovering around you, making small talks that you try to keep up with confused enthusiasm - soon turn into listing off every growing instances of odd affections that no one ever thought he’s capable of, but it’s yours in abundance.

You’re standing up with the intention of going outside? Unless he’s actively in a conversation (and several time, even during one) Alastor will find a convenient excuses to walk with you. You’re cold? Everyone else better be cold too, either that or hope to God he have anything to give you to wear. Hungry? Thirsty? Almost like a caretaker, he’s always making sure you have little bites of food and drink here or there, reminding you like clockwork. Staying in your room for the day? Your room is close to Angel, and the first time he come out of his room, fresh from a hangover, only to catch the tail end of a red coat and a greeting disappearing behind your door, it takes everything in him to try and rationalizing not breaking the door down.

(Husk thinks he was being overprotective. Angel brushed it off with a nervous chuckle. It’s a good thing, he remarks, if only Angel kept that attitude.)

The idea of Alastor actually taken interest in anyone, even positively, send shivers down his spine. Husk have been one of the older soul that fell into the hand of the sadistic Overlord, one that did just enough to keep his earn and do what he want when Alastor would’ve gotten busy with a new project or two. He knows he’s useful enough to Alastor, even with the occasional slipped up, learning quickly where to tread and where to back down. The Radio demon is insane, but he is surprisingly much more lenient with people than he often let on, but not as much as he is with you.

Which quickly became a thorn that Angel uses to dug into his side. Old battle-worn Husk cannot wrap his head around the fact that you, of all people in Hell, somehow get back on Alastor good side and stays there for longer than anyone thought you could.

You are more than bearable, don’t get him wrong. Good at reading and picking up on certain cues to pleased people (more particularly, the fact Husk likes to be alone most of the time), and in spite of being just a tad bit too stubborn at times, is generally a polite and entertaining thing to have around. It would’ve made sense for Alastor to wants to keep you for fun, if not for how you two started out.

Having missing out on your first introduction, all he have to go off of is your debrief of it on the one day you want to try whiskey. You’d damn near spat it out, opting to just sit with some soda instead (he didn’t try to poke too much, you’re almost like a pop-up pirate at time). Husk figured you would earn the ire of the most egotistical man he’d ever known, considering how you loudly asked Charlie for Alastor's resume as a way to try and barred him from working here.

Of course, that didn’t work, both you and Vaggie are long-time victims of Charlie convincing puppy gaze, and Alastor secured him and Nifty a spot at the hotel. But Husk was extremely adamant it would put you on a black book with Alastor, still remembering how Alastor grip on his cane would tighten just a bit whenever you spoke up on the first day. And yet, you get to laugh about it.

“Yer just bein superstitious kitten. At this point ‘m pretty sure dude just got the hots for them, nothing big.” Angel fiddles with his phone on one set of hand, the other propping himself on the bar counter, holding a popsicle to his mouth. He wants to tell the spider that’s absolutely not how the word superstitious should be use, but he digressed. “We’ve been at this for days, if he gonna do something, we would’ve known.”

Husk scoffed, throwing the piece of cloth he’s been using to furiously wiping down a stain someone left on the counter over his shoulder.

“Yeah right, as if you can get your head out of your ass enough to see that.” He ignores Angel smirk, already knew where this can go if he let it, almost like a whisper, he spat. “I’m just saying, he ain’t the Radio demon for show. You lots know nothing about whatever he got planned in his shitty fucked up head.”

Forced contractor be damn, this bar is his pride and joy, or whatever’s left of it anyway.

At that, Angel sends his attitude right back, hand(s) flickering, “And I’m saying he’s head over heels. What? Ya wanna explain the fucker just- casually waltz up to them and kissin' their fucking hand as a morning greeting? Cus’ I’m calling bullshit. Nobody even doing that fucking thing anymore, and he’s doin’ it every chance he gets! Like, have you even seen them?!” Almost like a comedy setup, they both look over to the chattering at the top of the stairs.

Over the railing, you’re rushing off from Alastor’s side to catch up to Nifty, who’s desperately nagging you to come and help her with a spot she can’t dust off with a ladder, having long depleting the fun of falling off from it. And almost like instinct, he took your hand and planted a gentle peck, along with a well wish for your day.

You, with your other hand occupied and being dragged away too fast after the fact for you to formulate a real respond, simply perks up and laugh, waving at him before you fully give into the little bug-like demon and let her rushed the both of you to the other side of the hotel – Alastor stands and watch you fully disappearing behind a corner before turning his head and look directly at the pair. His mic sounding nothing except for a low drones of static.

Husk expertise kicking in, he looks straight ahead instead, wiping down the counter again just to be safe. Angel’s years of acting led him to immediately start talking about the latest project he’s involved in, popsicles stick held from his face. Husk can’t be too bothered by it this time, at least he’s reading the room. But even with their combined effort, it still doesn’t stop Alastor from manifested himself right by the bar, smiles almost pull taut, a too jolly “How is it going gentlemen?” and a request for a cup of moonshine, with a tune contorting just to sound much too whimsical for anyone else except him echoes from his microphone, and he’s off again.

“…y’know, you can just say you’re sorry for being wrong Whiskers~”

“Go fuck yourself.”

-----

Vaggie knows that no matter how much she tries to warn Charlie about the cannibal murderer in their own cozy hotel, her partner can and have constantly willed it away with loving words and cute beady eyes that she can’t fight against. Her loving and trusting nature always been the tried-and-true counter to Vaggie’s much more doubtful and skeptical side. Recalling the way you refer to it (two people working in harmony, balancing out each other’s nature, like a tango, a secret rhythm unknown to anyone but them), she smiles.

It dropped the moment she remembers the matter at hand, specifically, you, a friend that have grown dear to her heart, and the cannibal murderer she very much hated guts - growing close to yours. She’s not sure whether this qualifies for a tango when she’s dragging her feet and Charlie’s tap dancing.

Vaggie would’ve been glad you have virtually zero comment on the fact Alastor is getting close to you, and with her luck, purposefully ignoring it (what’s with you and dive bombing out of the conversation the moment the topic came up), if not for the fact Charlie is very insistent on letting you know all about it (=> conversation you have to dive out of). You and Vaggie traded favors all the time, exclusively about Charlie, who always try to bite off a bit more than she can chew.

Usually, you did a much better job on keeping Charlie from trouble than Vaggie actually can, having the heart she lacks to guilt her partner into keeping still or stop her from running into red light traffic. Yet a pattern emerges soon after this deal started that you three all pick up on, much to Charlie’s delight.

Somehow, some way, Charlie aged old puppy dog eyes are much, much more effective when the both of you are right next to each other. Alone, while Vaggie can’t turn her down, you can and have consistently do so. But together, you both would turn to each other, and you either would give into Charlie first, or wash your hand completely from the whole situation altogether, both decisions are equally awful, and often left Vaggie alone on the line of defense.

Like that time you asked for the Radio demon resume, being extremely firm on his demeanor being horrible for customer service and how unfit it would be for a hotel to house someone who clearly doesn’t want to help or be help. Vaggie remember the chills running up her spine as you stand firmly in the face of the greatest mystery to Hell even after all this time and not even batting an eye to his straining words or the implications of it. Even going so far as to point out that he’s a liability and can’t keep himself straight for anything worth the hotel’s effort.

Only for Charlie to held onto your (and Vaggie’s) hand and tell you both she can do this. She remembers it took you not even 5 second to turn towards her with a wistful gaze, a smile pulls on your lips, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Aside from her first real injuries, it was the biggest betrayal she’d ever gone through.

Vaggie like to think it doesn’t sting so badly that her partner and her friend are now growing more used to the giant red flag stalking their halls. If not also for the fact she have to be in on your effort of stopping Charlie from bringing up a weird line of conversation while you still - albeit not fully of your own volition - feeding into her girlfriend delusion of being a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be so hard if you just, try to at least calm Charlie down yourself, but your tendencies to avoid particularly specific conversation makes her boomerang from appreciation to pure exasperation.

Especially when she would be fighting her love for Charlie to keep your dignity intact.

“But Vaggiee…!” clinging onto her left arm, Charlie tries her best to bring her girlfriend’s eyes back to her. “Just look at them! They’ve never looked at anyone like that!”

She would love to argued otherwise, you have a habit of looking at everyone like that, something with making people feel more welcome to talk to you. But all thought vanished from her head when she turns to try and make an argument, and for a brief moment she forgot what they were talking about. Charlie’s good at distracting her, but she steeled herself and stop Charlie from jumping off into this and making it so much harder on you than it already is.

(God, the things Vaggie’d do for love.)

“I know you really want to, hun, but - I’m just, not sure about this. It’s Alastor we’re talking about. I get them being into him or whatever, but you’d really set them up with the Radio demon? You know…”

Charlie was slowly wilting a bit, but picks herself up at the hesitation, thinking it’s her chance, she races over her words. “A thoughtful, charming and-“

But still can’t finish fast enough, and Vaggie have to advert her eyes, she can’t handle a sad Charlie that well. “and a horrible cannibalistic freak, Charlie. He’s not a good person.” At that, her girlfriend really clings onto her.

“Vaggie…this is a hotel for redemption! We've got to believe that people can change…” Charlie’s not addressing her point, there’s no real way to denying the fact Alastor is really just who he is. A rotten, rancid piece of meat. Redemption be dammed when he doesn’t even believe in it. “And! I have proof that Alastor likes them~” Pulling out little drawn post-it-notes from her front pocket, Charlie nearly doubled over while trying to put all of them onto the table in front of Vaggie, and you.

“I’m going to go back to my room.” You abruptly stand up, nervously grinning while shuffling out of their office. Having sat completely stilled while hoping that you can somehow divert the topic ever since the start of the conversation, you gave up. Completely disregarding Charlie’s attempt at making you stay. “It’s late, and I should’ve been in bed some hours ago…”

“Wait! I swear that this time I-“ Charlie tries to reach for you again, but Vaggie held strong. Nodding towards the exit, you mouthed her a quick thank you as you walked out, wishing them both good night while gently pushing the doors close. “I have the proof…”

“C’mon babe…” visibly deflating, Charlie sat herself back into Vaggie’s arms with a pout. She doesn’t have the heart to press this too deeply, so she pushed back her hair and give her a small peck on her eyelid, she always did have pretty eyes. “You know they’re not going to listen to you if you keep ambushing them like this.”

“I know, but I just- really love them both…” Vaggie raised an eyebrow at that. “And they seem so, nice together. Alastor always makes sure to greet them every day, they always wished him goodnight-“ she scoffed.

“They do that for everyone hun, and I’m pretty sure that bastard just do it because…well, who knows? He’s weird, who knows what he’s thinking…maybe he’s just trying to- toot his own horns playing nice. He does that a lot.”

When Charlie stays still, Vaggie really thought she could end this tonight, for both your sake and her’s. But then, as if was given water from the spring of life, with her back straight, she sat right up and held firmly onto Vaggie shoulders.

“But he’s trying so hard for them! Don’t you see how he’s spending so much time just hanging around them? Oh, and don’t forget that he asked them, specifically them, what they think of his radio show! He doesn’t do that for anyone else Vaggie! He brings them food when they forgot to eat. They told him about stuff they would’ve ever tell us without prompting! And you have to see the way he looks at them when they’re just, sit together and, and-“

“Woah. Slow down Char. Through your nose.” Even like this, she’s endearing. She held Charlie’s arm and bring her closer.

“You have to see Vaggie, he looks at them like…how you look at me!” Vaggie pauses. Charlie is getting to her, she have to stop her from talking or she’ll give in. She thinks about how miserable you would be sitting through an actual talk about this, it doesn’t help.

“And, you’re one of the most wonderful things that happens to me, Vaggie. I love everyone in the hotel, and I would give my everything for them,” knowing her, she would “but you.” She breathes, and Vaggie feels her breath stuck in her throat. “You are my everything. We’re perfect together. And I really love them, and I just thought…”

Charlie looked at her with such a soft and gentle look, her eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips jutting out just a little bit. “I thought he’s perfect for them, that they’ll be perfect together too. I know he’s not the best person, and you don’t trust him. You don't have to. But I think he’s doing his best for them, and they’re doing so much for him too...” their hands, held tightly together “So please, trust me. I genuinely think this can work out. They deserve to be love like I did too.”

Vaggie tries so hard to held strong, opting to stay silent instead of replying and stoking the growing flame, but Charlie looks at her with her big shiny eyes, and she caved.

“…Alright… I guess he haven’t really…done anything to them yet…” before Charlie could jump up in joy, Vaggie tries to get her focus back “But if he touches a single hair on them- woah!”

Wrapped in her arms, Vaggie barely able to get out the full sentence as Charlie rambles on. “Oooh, thank you thank you thankyouthankyou I knew you’d understand! Oh there is so much I want to do too-“

“Charlie, bit too tight…”

“Oops! Sorry!”

Coming down from her high, she stares into her lover’s eye with the brightest grin possible. It takes everything in Vaggie to think about how disappointed you’ll be, so she closed her eye and takes a breath. “We have to let them sort it out themselves, though. No matchmaker.”

“But-”

“You know how closed off they can be. Give them time Charlie. They can find their own way home.” Like that, Charlie smiles a smile so bright and gentle, reserve only for Vaggie. “Like you and me?”

And all she can think is that this might not be that bad after all.

“Like you and me.”

----

“So...thissss is what the youth are…into?”

“Arguably, it’s somewhat better than what I have as a kid.”

Pentious squinted at the device in his hand, clawed hands carefully swipe through your ‘carefully curated feed’, whatever that means. You sat next to him on your balcony, various knick knacks on the side table he insisted you need, hands considerably less clawed holding a book you’ve never managed to get through past the 10th page, as you only ever try to read it when the moon is blue and you always ended up forgetting the previous pages, something he learned while he was helping with cleanups.

He’s flustered when you laugh at a joke without needing to look at the captions in the video, wanting to pretend he completely understood what just happened. It takes you a bit to calm down and explain to him what was so funny, it only serves to confused him further. You grin and handed your book over to Frank without putting a bookmark in first (who then immediately turns the page and started narrating half-way through to the other eggs), reaching for the phone.

“I’ll put on something a bit easier to get used to, is that ok with you?”

“But, aren’t we learning how to be ‘hip’?” you cackle, he tries not to shrink into himself.

“We can leave that for some other day i think, you don’t need to be hip or anything right now. And besides,” handing him your phone, he minded his claws, “I think you’re cool on your own.” You hum and turn to an open sketchbook on the table, picking up a pencil, you start to sketch one of the egg boiz running about your room.

Pentious nearly burst into tears, he should’ve known his friends (or, you) would’ve never made fun of him. Turning to your device again, his attention is immediately captured by a cat video.

You two stayed like that for what must’ve been an hour or two, occasionally checking up on what the other’s is doing. (he would show you the cutest video, you showed him your barely intelligible sketch. He feels like you’re sketching his nightmare he said, you’re flattered). With almost all of his eggies already tiring themselves out some time ago and gathered around both of your feet (and his tail), bundled up in your duvet and pillows. Except for egg boiz number 3, who’s in his lap as both are captured by a video of a dog getting a haircut (a mini-American shepherd, you chimed in happily that it’s one of your favorite video).

Then, the calm afternoon was broken by a singular knock to your door. You and your still cognizant companion(s) look up from your respective entertainment at hand and stare at each other. You glance over to him, head nodding towards the door, he shrugs, growing restless, you pat his shoulder as you stand up and walk away.

Pentious really did try to turn back and focus on the groomers narrating a particularly endearing moment in the nine minutes long video, but he can’t help but be on edge when a familiar voice sing a greeting too loud for him to ignore, and he realized just who is at the door, your door, his new best friend's door (verdict still out on whether you consider him as one).

Taking a peek, assuring to himself it’s to keep you safe, he locks eyes with red and half of his soul descend into the ring below, the other half turns him right back to your phone when the red starts to raise his eyebrows at him. He can keep you safe from a safe distance surely, but when he tries to hug the egg in his lap to comfort himself and feels nothing, he freezes. Horror-struck, he turns and look at you, specifically your back, the other half of his soul joins the first.

Without him realizing, number 3 already slipped out of his grasp and is now climbing on your shoulder and interjecting your conversation with the gentleman, who is now full-on glaring at him whenever your head slightly turn away. He gulped, but he still put your phone back onto the table and stand up, forget to mind his still sleeping minions at his tail. Thank Lucifer they decided to stay silent for once.

“I was just going to stay in tomorrow too… maybe- oh, Sir Pentious? What’s up?” You stare at him, easy-going as always. Almost like you’re unaware of the way Alastor is smiling at him. Pentious can only thank whoever is in charge of fate for the fact you slotted yourself right between them, and cursed them all the same for the fact you can’t covered up the demon’s face.

Clearing his throat, he tries to steered his nerves and curb his stuttering. “I see that someone have rudely interrupt our study session. May I have your permission to…”

At the sounds of radio static grows, his words in turns wilted as he stares into bright, glowing red and yellow growing in volume. Luckily, you manage to pick this up and covered for him. “Oh no don’t worry, Al was just asking when I’m free to hang out with.” As you turn to that same terrifying shade of red, it immediately transformed into a charming smile.

“Why, hangout is such a casual term dear. I prefer to call it a trip! Much more exciting that way.” With his usual theatrics delivery and a backing of voices coming from the microphone staff he uses to give you a gentle knock on the head, clashing with your much more casual tone brushing him off, Pentious wishes he can see this as endearing.

“Oh you’re trying to goat me into going back there again.” That wasn’t a question on your end. Alastor smiles in amusement, but it strained when number 3 chimes in and tries to asked you where is back there. He’s extremely grateful the demon chooses to ignore it, letting you entertain the egg instead.

“I do not know what you’re referring to at all.” Closing his eyes and leaning a bit to the side, the demon bounces a bit on the tip of his shoes and sings. “Otherwise, it seems my presence is making our welcomed guest uncomfortable.” Pentious tries to stand tall for you and number 3, but Alastor preference for getting up close and personal is mincing his confidence to bits. “I guess I will settle for an extra visit by tonight to talk a bit more about your hectic schedule, if that’s alright with you Ma chère?”

You laugh a bit and agrees with him, saying a quick sorry while he brushed it off with a smile, adjusting his coat’s flawless lapel with one hand, the other reaching for yours. Lifted up to his lips, he planted there a kiss with a look that can passed off as soft. Pentious looks away the moment their eyes lock again, whistling like he hasn’t been blanching at the two of you.

As you turn to close the door, he could’ve sworn red dials were looking at him in the seconds you look back to him, completely in contrast with the life-threatening aura now stand outside the door.

“Haha, sorry about that. I didn’t have time earlier and he was busy, so…” you trailed off, explanation offering him nothing but more questions. “I’ll try to be a bit more mindful about this next time, yeah? Didn’t know he still held something against you.”

You want to keep doing study sessions with him? He perks up a bit at the implication, while choosing to ignore the second part, until his egg started speaking.

“Uh, boss number two, why does Alastor kiss your hand so much?” Number 3 raises his hand, still sitting snugly in your arms. Pentious makes a note to make him sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. It doesn’t help that you’re leading them back to the others, who also started to chime in with their own questions. He can tell this time you’re getting a bit miffed, smiles growing a bit taut and looking off somewhere, unable to let them somehow ruin your goodwill towards him, he cracked. “SILENCE! Cease with your silly questions right now!”

You look at him, and he would’ve shrink into himself if not for how you seem more surprised than angry, as your brows relax and you smile a bit, he let himself breathe. “It’s alright, they’re cute, they can get away with a little questioning I think. And hm…” you bounce on your feet in a slightly familiar manner, he sweats a bit. “-I mean, it’s normal for friends to be close, so I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Oh…friends can kiss each other on the hand?” number 1 jump up. You laugh.

“Of course they can. Alastor loves getting into people’s space too, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

He would’ve tried to say something and help you out with the questioning, but it hit him that at least in his time, the specific to the gesture was more of a formal greeting. But he takes into account the fact it's Alastor, and how whenever he sees you two together, the Radio demon always seemingly follows after your heels like a shadow tie too tightly, and he shivers. Anxiety fills his heart as he tries to navigate this thought.

“I do have to say, why is it that he tends to get so…closssse…to you?” You visibly stiffen at this, but as he takes your hand in his, trying his best to be tactful, still minding the claws, you stare. “Could it be…he’s trying to threaten you, dear friend?” he tries to recall how you comforts him in time of distress, and did his best to echoes the same sentiment to you.

“Whatever it is, you can share it to me! I will, uh- “

“You’ll duel him, right boss?”

his eggs chimes in where he falters, he follows their lead.

“Duel! Yesss! A duel to the death! That Radio bastard will regrets the day he-“ You squeeze his hand, and he drop his false bravado and let you seated him back on the balcony, letting number 3 dropped from his spot in your arms to the duvet covering the floor.

(with much less grace compared to you, but all the heart. he takes the fact you’re still around that he’s doing great.)

“We don’t need any of that silly. He’s my friend, I think.”

You fall back onto your seat, number 1 climb up to your lap with a question. “You two are friends? Like with boss?” sitting up, you sing an enthusiastic agreement while reaching for your notebook again. Pentious swore the sketch is looking more and more familiar by the line.

“Yeah, like with Sir Pentious! Al’s intimidating but he’s fun to hang around.” Hunching over while minding number 1 watching in your lap, your grin drops to something a bit kinder. He feels like he’s overstepping, despite the fact the room is void of anyone else. “He nice to talk with, I’ve never seen him shutting up on anyone else’s terms. That’s a good thing.” He wanted to say that’s a bit too barebone, even for himself, but then, turning to him with a smirk, you added. “Don’t tell him i said this, but he’s ssssuch a bitch sometimes. It’s fun though.”

Nodding with a much more serious look, Pentious takes your word as a command. “Not a word to my grave!”

“Hehe, that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Refocused on your sketch, you trust Pentious to be able to work your phone a bit better than before. He thinks he would’ve work it better if not for the tears gathering in his eyes, he takes the tissue paper you handed him without looking and wiped it away, only to panic about the long scratch he left on your screen. You laugh and assured him it’s fine, you can change the screen.

(verdict be dammed, you’re HIS best friend.)

(he took a peek at your sketch before you turn the page, and it hit him why it looks so off-putting. Antlers sprouting from two end on a figured too lanky to make out the physique of, but familiar enough all the same. He’d much prefer you go back to sketching his eggies, he said, you happily complied and he leave your room after with 5 torn note full of egg sketches and another schedule study session he pray you'll relay to Mister Alastor.)

---

“There you are darling! I was looking everywhere for you.” Calling out with joy, then stopping to take in the sight. He steadied you with one hand while you stop to catch your breath, nearly doubled into him. “I can see that you’re quite busy, seems like Nifty is giving you quite the run for your money huh!”

“Please…shut up…” you don’t need to look at him to know he’s enjoying this way more than you do, laughing at your utterly exhausted state. “I didn’t know there’s this much bugs in here… How can she even keep tracks of them??”

“Don’t feel too bad now, that one mind and health both are simply wonders to behold! Even I can’t keep up with her at times.” Trying to dust off your shoulders, he looked offended when you just swatted his hands away, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re not done yet, she’s just in the kitchen for a bit.” You pulled out your phone to check the time, Alastor squinting his eyes besides you, leaning over to keep watch and raising an eyebrow at the long scratch on the glass. “One hour before I’m free…”

“Thinking of giving up then~?”

“Yeah.”

Laughing at your tone, he takes your hand and twirl you, but not too much! Just enough daze you a bit. “Well darling, I would love to whisk you off with me for a trip downtown! I’m running low on good meat, and simply can’t afford to stained my coat while the tailor’s out of commission. But knowing you…” he’d look down-right sad if you let him. He can tell you try to keep your expression neutral, but your smile is growing to match his.

“No Al, an hour is-“

“An hour is an hour. Yes I know dear but it’s dreadfully boring without you.” Holding on still, he brings his face close to you, taking delight in the growing red on your face and you acting like nothing is out of the sort.

“You’ll survive Alastor. Nifty however…” As the sound of tiny footstep calling your name quickly approaching, he can’t help but letting a long, drawn-out sigh, backing off from you. A lost for him. You smile.

“Over here Nifty!” calling out to the little woman, you step away from Alastor to meet her half way, her stopping just before she hit your leg.

“You! I’ve been looking for you where have you been! I saw SOOOO many of them but they’re on the ceiling and I can’t reach them at all you've got to come help me – oh hiii Alastor!”

Nifty stops pulling you down the hall again just to give him a violent wave, dancing from one foot to the other and giving him time to catch up to you two, fully aware of your tradition from the moment it first started. Alastor smiles border on self-pleasing, gracious of Nifty’s effort to not drag you away just yet, less so the fact she would stares with such a wide grin. Nevertheless, he takes your hand again and bring it up, speaking all the while.

“Nifty, dearie, won’t you work our dear friend here a little less? I need them to-“ he pauses as you suddenly grip his hand and bring it up to your lips, too quick for him to stop you. And before he knew it, you both disappeared behind the corner yet again. Nifty voices and your cackle echoing down the empty hall way.

When he came back, aware of how the light flickering above his head now finally stabilizing itself, he laughs. Steadying himself, Alastor brushed off his coat and fix his monocle. Humming along with a love song slowly trickling from the microphone while walking the same way you and Nifty ran off to before. He have time to spare while waiting for you.

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshot #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #me writing this: i can do this in 2k #i wrote 4k in an afternoon and night and the rest is just me going back and forth like replaying in my head dialogue to checks how it sound #i need to draw more of him i need him carnally (he will splattered my guts on the floor)#that title could've actually been for a horror angst fic actually #one of these days i'll commit to writing an actual horror/yan fic im good at weird writing. maybe

350 notes · View notes

literaila · 2 months

Note

how do u think satoru would react to reader in a depressive episode, especially what do u think the kids would do

obviously, they’ve all noticed.

the past couple of weeks have not been lived through ignorantly. and you have not been acting normal.

the differences are just that, at first. tiny inconsistencies in your otherwise normal personality, your routine.

and then it becomes more than just a… change.

it starts off simple; megumi’s brows furrowing when you ask him a question—something about his teacher, or what kind of drink he wants in his lunch that day—and then forget what you’ve just said as soon as he answers.

tsumiki watching, smiling along idly, as you rub your temples, sighing with every other sentence and squeezing your eyes tight like you’ll be able to wake up if you try hard enough.

and satoru noticing when you linger in your room a bit longer, as the days pass. staring when you freeze looking at the wall in the morning, zoning out so hard that he has to shake you back to life.

just an accumulation of things that might indicate that something is up.

but as these moments—moments when you’re lost in your head, trying to conceal your entire being from all of them, and pretending that it’s all normal—increase, the three of them learn a little something about observing.

and lying to themselves, of course.

eventually, though, when megumi or tsumiki inevitably say something—usually when you’re not in the room, off hiding somewhere—satoru just shrugs.

(he’s going to lie his way through this, just like everything else, thank you).

“it’s a bad day,” he’ll say, like the two children will comprehend that. like they don’t know what a bad day means. “she’s just tired.”

he could make a million excuses for you. oh, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. oh, you’ve only had one cup of coffee today. oh, the world is a truly terrible place and it’s only natural that it runs you down.

but he leaves them with the simplest of explanations, instead. maybe it’s his subtle way of denying that there’s anything wrong. that you could be upset about something. it doesn’t matter, anyway.

and tsumiki, ever so trusting of all of you, listens to him. if satoru says that you’re okay, then so does she. she’ll draw you a picture at school or try to help you make their lunches in the morning, but you’re fine. her questions end with an answer.

megumi, on the other hand, has never believed a word that satoru has said.

so when the older man swears that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, megumi only begins to worry harder.

he sees that look on your face when you walk in the room, and megumi knows. maybe it’s because he’s the most attuned to you, out of everyone, in particular. maybe it’s because he’s observant, or too worrisome for his age (as you tell him).

but he knows.

and if satoru says one thing, megumi’s going to believe the other.

(plus the two of you have always had a symbiotic relationship. you worry about him, and he worries about you. you laugh at him, and he gives a little lip twitch in return).

so satoru is not surprised when megumi brings it up for the fourth time in a week.

“you want me to what, exactly?”

“you can talk to them, can’t you?” he repeats, giving satoru a bland look. something like ‘are you serious.’ “they know you.”

satoru snorts. “i don’t think my bosses will appreciate me telling them what they can or can’t do.”

megumi gives him another look.

and yeah, so satoru already does that. they still don’t appreciate it.

he sighs, smiling at the boy. anything to mess with him, really. he ruffles megumi’s hair. “kid, she’s fine. i can’t just tell them to give her a couple of weeks off. there has to be a reason. and,” he adds, cheerfully. “i’ve been told it’s impolite to speak on someone’s behalf without their input.”

“you don’t care about being polite,” megumi argues, crossing his arms.

satoru groans internally. he’s really not going to let this go.

it’s not that satoru necessarily disagrees, but anything he does to help you is going to be refuted with a “butt out,” or “leave me alone, satoru.”

“true,” he says, grinning as he mocks the boys stance. “but i do care about being yelled at. particularly by your mother.”

“she needs a break.”

satoru rolls his eyes. “she’s getting one. the next couple of days are free, and she’s taking a nap right now.”

megumi frowns, even deeper than usual, and stares satoru down until he breaks.

“megumi,” the man groans, childishly, pushing the boy out of the room. “you don’t need to worry about her. chill out. just go back to reading about rocks or whatever you were doing.”

“it’s geology.”

satoru waves a hand, indifferent.

(secretly trying to come up with a way to get you to talk to him. he can’t ask because you’ll just ignore him. he can’t force it out of you because that would get the two of you nowhere.

what other options are left, really? you’ve put satoru in a terrible position).

“then can we get something, instead?” megumi asks, almost pleading. “flowers, or… whatever girls like.”

“y/n already has flowers. i bought them.”

“buy something else.”

“who taught you to be this stubborn?”

megumi only scowls at him.

satoru sighs, scratching his head. he knows he should do something—but he’s so used to sitting around and waiting for you to fix everything.

yes, he does recognize that it’s a terrible habit, and completely unfair. he also recognizes that he is the worst person in the world.

eventually he sighs. “okay. how about i order dinner?” he asks, almost wincing. it’s the most natural response—everything can be fixed with food, in satoru’s sophisticated opinion. “that’ll be easy. want to go ask mom what she wants?”

megumi practically runs to your room, leaving satoru with no time to remind him that you’re probably asleep, knocking just briefly—from what satoru can hear—before going in.

he tip-toes up to the door, also wanting to check in.

satoru is nothing if not nosy.

and he might as well let megumi do all of the dirty work.

“um, i don’t care,” he hears you saying. “whatever you guys want.”

“it’s for you.”

there’s a pause. then, “really, megs, i’m not very hungry, so…”

megumi is frowning down at you when satoru steps in.

“good nap?” he asks, smiling and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“you don’t need to get dinner. it’s my turn.”

he waves a hand. “i feel like takeout.”

you frown, about to argue when megumi speaks up, glancing between the two of you with an almost furious expression.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft but mad. like usual. satoru realizes that he’s been tricked into contributing to this.

“what?”

“why are you upset?”

“upset?” you repeat, eyes widening. “i’m not upset, megu—“

“are you sick?”

“no,” you say, immediately. “i’m just a little tired but it’s—“

“megumi,” satoru interrupts, trying to ignore the almost hurt look on your face—the glance you send his way, pleading and worried. he knows you hate this the most. “let’s let mom sleep some more, okay? tsumiki and you can decide what you want—“

“no.”

and neither of you can argue, or console the confused boy, before he’s climbing into your bed with a determined look on his face.

satoru tried to grab on to him, but megumi is having none of that, shaking him off before he can get a good grip. you’re looking at satoru anxiously, and this is the worst.

if satoru knows anything about you, it’s that you don’t want to be coddled. you don’t want to accept any help, even if it’s from your sweet, concerned son.

“megumi—“ you say, though, satoru notes, don’t make any attempts to move him when he struggles to get under the covers with you, or when he just sits by your side, barely touching you.

“i’m staying here.”

“really, bud, i’m okay. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“you’re sad.”

“i’m not.”

megumi looks at you, and satoru watches as you both share a glance. an internal conversation he’ll never get to be apart of.

for once in his life he’s not even jealous about it.

“it’s…” you say, but the two boys watch as your shoulders slack and your face drops. all at once, you lose color, life, and just sit there. “it’s fine.”

you say it to them, but it sounds more like a reminder to yourself.

satoru’s face falls. he has no idea what to say, what to do to help you—he’s spent so much time denying that there was anything wrong, that he could do anything to help, and now he’s got no answers.

he feels like an idiot, sitting there. megumi shouldn’t be taking more initiative, he should be the one worrying about you, the one to go to—

megumi doesn’t say anything though. he only moves closer to you, not complaining when your arm wraps around his shoulder and you hold him to you.

like a life vest. a support in all of the vastness.

he doesn’t need to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘i’m here for you,’ for the words to ring out across the the air.

and, satoru realizes, quickly, he’s only doing what you do for them. what you do best.

climbing in beside them and making sure they know that they’re not alone. being that support, no matter how unwanted.

megumi’s learned from the best.

“sorry,” you mutter to him. “i know im gross.”

megumi shakes his head and settles into you even further. and the boy doesn’t cuddle—or, at least, without being forced—but your face softens as he leans against you, allowing this kind of intimacy.

and, maybe, satoru thinks, that’s the problem with all of you.

no one knows quite what to say. what to do to help someone with something that they can’t understand. neither he or megumi is sure how to dig you out of this hole.

none of you are very good with words.

but, at least, satoru knows how to be good at this.

he sets his glasses on your bedside table, and he moves you both over with ease, smiling when you both grunt at his intrusion.

and then you’re a tower of people, all leaning against one another. building blocks stacked on top of each other.

you relax into satoru almost instantly and he kisses the top of your head, feeling some sort of pride—just at the fact that you’ll let him be here, with you.

maybe that’s the thing with families, he thinks. no one needs to say anything for it to be okay.

and the uneasiness sits there with all of you. the past couple of weeks—the distancing and disassociating—linger there.

there’s nothing he can say to make everything all better. he could destroy the entire world right now, save for your house, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

but this is nice. a hug might not fix everything, but it won’t make anything worse

and after a minute or two, you say: “where’s tsumiki?”

and she peeks her head out from your door, smiling at all three of you. it takes her three seconds to jump on the bed, having been waiting there the whole time, the final piece to your messed up puzzle.

#not sure what any of this means but 🤫#a typical family #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

400 notes · View notes

querenciasturniolo · 9 months

Text

strange ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: lots of inner monologue, awkwardness, swearing, corniness, she/her pronouns

summary: request

a/n: this was requested again by the lovely @rainsoakedphoenix!!! this was super fun, and i had the idea to write it from chris’ point of view (still second person pov), so hopefully it works 🤞🏻

(this fic has jokes written in it about “chris having a crush on matt” bc of how prominent the jokes are in the fandom, but it doesn’t solely revolve around those jokes)

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

The comments had been going on for ages, and Chris genuinely didn’t know how everyone found out.

the way chris looks at y/n in todays vlog ?

i never would have guessed the girl chris has been talking about is y/n, but honestly the last few vlogs have really swayed me

okay no, but how has this never occurred to me ? i would have thought she’d end up with matt

Sure, he’d always had a hard time hiding his emotions on his face, but surely the fans didn’t really know he had feelings for you. He’d tried to ignore all of the comments about it, until the edits started rolling in. Every other edit on his for you page was the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking, or the way he’d look away when you turned to face him with pink cheeks.

It was his fault, for letting it slip on a live that he had feelings for someone, and of course the fans started sleuthing. It wasn’t like he’d declared his love for you on the top of a building with a megaphone, but the swiftness in which the questioning comments turned into matter-of-fact statements on any vlog you were in or any photo dump you were included in had Chris realizing he really should learn to control his face.

“Have you seen this one?” Matt asked. Chris looked up from his phone and watched Matt’s screen. It was an edit, a few of the clips from Wednesday’s vlog showing how disgustingly enamored he looked with you. Chris groaned and flopped back on Matt’s bed. “Did you read the caption?” Matt asked, his voice sounding as if he was holding back a laugh.

Chris shook his head and mumbled a reply into the pillow, not even understanding himself as Matt read it out loud. “Chris really went from having a crush on Matt to having a crush on the girl equivalent.” Chris pulled the pillow off of his face and glared, Matt’s laughter spilling out of him as he pulled his phone back towards him.

“Don’t laugh at a joke about me having a crush on you, it’s fucking weird.” Chris grumbled. “And she isn’t even that much like you.”

Matt huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Tell that to the countless comparison edits of the two of us on my for you page.” He retorted, Chris rolling his eyes and sitting up to throw the pillow in his direction. He stood, Matt glancing up from his phone with a frown. “Where are you going?”

He turned. “The living room, your presence is getting on my nerves.” He said, Matt scoffing and turning his attention back to his phone.

Of course he’d seen the comparison edits, how could he not? You were soft spoken, only occasionally getting loud enough when whatever you were talking about was important to you. You were incredibly observant, and never the first person to point something out. All of the fans had said you and Matt were one in the same, which made sense as to how comfortable Chris was around you almost immediately. But it was still odd that the fans said that, because to Chris, you were just…you, and he couldn’t help but catch feelings for you.

In all reality, it hit him like a truck, and it scared the shit out of him. One day, the four of you were hanging out, and then out of nowhere, he had a headache with how fast the realization hit him. Things were different after that, at least for him. It felt as though everything that came out of his mouth directed at you was awkward, and that you could see right through the facade he held up to keep his feelings from you unknown.

You’d continued to be yourself throughout everything, though it worried him that any time the jokes about Chris’ crush on you were brought up, you’d immediately blush and change the topic. He didn’t want to immediately think that you had feelings for him as well, but he also didn’t want to think you didn’t. He didn’t know what he wanted, truthfully. He wanted everything out in the open, but at the same time he didn’t.

Chris groaned and flopped forward on the couch, his groan being muffled by the couch cushions. He stayed like that for a while, ignoring the buzzing on his phone until he heard Nick walking down the stairs.

“Dude, Y/n’s been at the door for like five minutes, why the fuck didn’t you let her in?” He asked, not giving Chris a chance to answer before he descended the second staircase and opened the door. “Sorry about him, he’s in a mood or something.”

Chris heard your quiet reply and the sound of you and Nick climbing the stairs again. He still hadn’t moved from his position on the couch, even when he felt the cushion dip next to him.

“Everything alright?”

His heart rate spiked at the sound of your voice and he shrugged, though it didn’t work well. You laughed softly, and it felt like every nerve was on high alert. He finally pushed himself up and sat next to you, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes. You always had a look on your face, like you knew something was bothering him even though he hadn’t said anything.

“How do you do that?” He asked. You frowned.

“Do what?” You asked.

Chris sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “You always know when something is bugging me.” He said. You chuckled and shook your head, your eyebrows raising.

“Chris, I walked in and you were laying face down on the couch. It’s pretty obvious that something is bothering you.” You said, your voice light and teasing.

He blinked and sighed, putting his head in his hands. “Jesus, that was dumb, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s funny. One thing I can tell is that you want to talk to me about it, unless that’s just me being hopeful.” You said, Chris looking over at you. It was true, you were the only person he wanted to talk to about this. He nodded, and he couldn’t help but relax when you adjusted to face him completely, and just watched him patiently.

It took him longer than he was expecting. He usually could say anything without a problem, whether he messed up his words or not, but this was you. He’d never had a problem talking to you about how he was feeling before, but it was near impossible when it directly applied to you.

You hadn’t pushed him, which he was grateful for. You sat right in front of him and waited patiently, nodding your head in encouragement each time he was about to speak, but not reacting when he didn’t. He groaned and threw his head back.

“Jesus, why is this so hard?” Chris mumbled. You shook your head and rested your hand over his, lightly squeezing it.

“Chris, it’s okay. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” You said, Chris sighing and nodding his head.

He was silent for a few minutes, but eventually met your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Do you wanna, like, go out? On a date?” He asked. You blinked, your face heating up and your heart racing as you processed what he said.

“Like, for real? This isn’t just because of all of the comments?” You asked, Chris smiling shyly and shaking his head.

“Well, the fans were right. I mean, about me liking you.” He said, wringing his hands together in his lap to take attention away from them shaking.

You couldn’t help but smile at him for a moment, looking away when his eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know it was true.” You said, your voice almost a whisper.

Chris glanced over at you, his chest pounding when he realized you hadn’t answered him, and that you couldn’t look at him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t feel the same. It’s fine, really.” He said, pushing himself off of the couch. He paused when your hand gripped his wrist, looking down to see you grinning up at him. You shook your head and stood, trying your best to keep your eyes on his. It was insane, how someone’s eyes could be so intimidating but so kind and full of love all at once.

“I’d love to, really.” You said, blush traveling from his neck to his face. He cleared his throat and nodded, trying his best to fight off the dorky smile on his face.

“Okay.” He said, his voice quiet.

You chuckled. “Okay.” You repeated awkwardly, Chris’ smile coming in full force. You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his eyes widening slightly when you dropped down to your heels. You smiled at him, entwining your fingers with his.

Your hand fit so well in his, like a puzzle piece. He watched as you looked down at your hands. He ran his thumb over the side of your hand, smiling at the way you looked up at him shyly. He frowned when your eyes lit up and you smiled at him, confusion clouding his face as you lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so strange.”

#chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

660 notes · View notes

karalovesallthegirls · 2 months

Note

“i’m not going to write this” you say as you simultaneously create a tag for any future instalments in the same universe. (i see you and i agree lena should have two wives.)

Listen obviously I’m not going to write this story BUT just imagine…. The tension, the forced conversations as Kara and Lena both pretend to still be the women they were all those years ago, pretend like they aren’t strangers with nearly a decade of distance between them. With Kara and Lena experiencing an anxious desperation to get away from each other as deep as their desire to never leave each other’s sight.

Andrea goes to bed before them - she has to, she’s trying to be strong but even she isn’t strong enough to navigate the sleeping arrangement - and when she wakes up in the middle of the night it’s not a surprise to find Lena’s side of the bed empty and untouched. The predictability doesn’t lessen the burn. The guest room sits empty, though, and instead she finds Lena curled up in a ball on the couch with Kara sleeping beside her. Not on the couch, no, instead sat propped on the floor at Lena’s feet, her hands gripping right at her ankles in her sleep. Like she was scared if she let go for a second Lena would vanish.

Everyone wants to know what this means for them - Kara was dead legally, so their marriage was voided in the law, but then Kryptonians mate for life, and it’s not like Lena ever really let her go in her heart - but they have no answers. It’s clear they don’t fit together anymore, not any of them, but the idea of any one of them letting go is unimaginable. So they fight and they fake it and they find ways to connect as the new, scarred versions of themselves, and there’s a palpable jealousy between the three of them.

Andrea can feel Kara’s eyes burning into her when she comforts Lena, when they share well-worn jokes Kara never learned. And Andrea can see the longing in Lena’s every move, every word, and it burns and burns and burns. Andrea stares at Kara and wishes she had stayed dead. Her dreams are filled with the other woman: dreams of her dying again, of her never returning at all. Of her smirk as Lena tells Andrea they’ve run their course because “really, did you think I’d pick you over her?”

Andrea dreams of what Kara’s mouth must taste like, of how her lips and tongue might move against her own, what she must do to have Lena so fully under her spell. Perhaps if she could kiss her then she could know how to give Lena everything she’s been missing for seven years. Maybe then she could be enough for her. She feels almost desperate thinking about it.

And Kara burns just as deeply in her own way, Andrea can feel it. Kara’s eyes track her every move, always studying and analyzing and overwhelming her. The questions are endless every day - tell me about your life, what do you love to do, what makes you tick.

“You are the one person she chose after me. She wanted you,” Kara explains after Andrea’s furious refusal to answer her forty ninth question about her perspective on things. She’s staring at her with a hunger Andrea feels in her toes. “I have to understand. I have to know every part of you.”

Kara looks at Andrea like she wants to devour her whole. Andrea feels the same.

#once again and cannot emphasize this enough…… not writing this #two wives AU #i should work on two doors down lmfaooo I am in my Andrea feels

182 notes · View notes

allwaswell16 · 5 months

Text

🔔 It's December! That means it's One Direction Advent fic season! Advent fics are generally posted daily from December 1 to December 24/25. Don't forget you can subscribe to the author to get a daily email reminder to read their Advent fic! 🔔

🌟 Baking In December by Itstilliswhatitis

Louis can't believe it! His sisters signed him up for a competition at some bakery and they won! Now he has to spend every day of December baking something with a random dude. Except, the random dude is named Harry and he's hot! Louis realises that this Christmas might be extra special!

🎁 Be Merry All by @justanothershadeofblue {Fic post}

there is a specific sort of oppression that comes with a miserable so-cal christmas, when it’s dark and dirty and rainy or else it's too hot and too bright and everyone’s hustling, and your family is all far away and the laundry machines in your building are broken and you’ve eaten too much take-out and all you want is two seconds of quiet and maybe a morsel of holiday joy.

🕯️ Can I Fly Home by @sadaveniren {Fic post}

“Nothing? A seventy-eight year old woman just gave birth. It’s clearly supernatural stuff at work. How could you say no?” “No.” “Come on, the mystery has to be getting to you just a little.” “Granny being horny isn’t a mystery, Lou. We’re supposed to be on a break until the new year. The real mystery is why you aren’t content to just stay in one place. We’ve hunted everything imaginable to hunt.” “And yet weird shit still ends up happening, fancy that.” He saw Louis change tactics, sticking out his lower lip, pleading. “Please? Check it out with me and then maybe we’ll come back here for Christmas.” AKA Louis and Harry have been hunting together since they were teenagers and it's beginning to take a toll. Harry wants to retire. Louis plans to die hunting. Maybe a "Christmas Miracle" is just what they need. An advent fic.

🦌 Christmas Advent Calendar by enchantedlandcoffee / @alarrylittlechristmas {Fic post}

A collection of holiday drabbles written and posted leading up to Christmas. One posted per day.

🥁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 {Fic post}

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

⛄ the holiday remix - choose ur adventure advent series by warmcuppatea / @hlplease {Fic post}

“I love you so much, yeah? And we’ve talked about moving in together when my lease ends. And we’ll be spending so much time together for the holidays, and you know, we get on so smashingly-” “Louis-” Harry laughed. “Spit it out!” “-So I was thinking,” Louis laughed, rubbing his face. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He laughed. “I was thinking we should test-run living together this month.” Harry and Louis are very in love, but moving in together feels huge. So, naturally, Louis has the idea to do a holiday test-run.

🔔I'll Be Home For Christmas by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {Fic post}

Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas. Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well...

🍪 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {Fic post}

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on now, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype. It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

🎄 kay's 25 days of smutmas by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow {Fic post}

Starting on December 1st, I will be posting a new smut fic everyday until Christmas! These are all one shots of varying lengths and content. As they are posted, I will add the links to this post, summaries and lengths will be included under the break! All fics will be Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.

💌 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 {Fic post}

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

❤️ Love Actually [L.S.] by @louisthiccsexyglitteryass {Fic post}

Louis Tomlinson has just became Prime Minister of the UK. Harry Styles is a housekeeper at 10 Downing Street. Louis can't help but be enthralled with Harry. But, unfortunately, love has a funny of fucking punching you in the gut.

🎅 Neondiamond's 2023 Christmas Ficlet Party {Fic post}

If you know me at all, you’ll know that two of the things I enjoy most are writing fluffy ficlets, and Christmas. This year, I decided to combine the two and create my own little Christmas ficlet party all throughout December! 8 ficlets, 4 different pairings, many different tropes—all short, fluffy and festive! Perfect for a quick reading break with a warm drink!

☃️ Snow In Love by @lululawrence {Fic post}

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny. People thought they were already dating. Weird. An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🌲 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {Fic post}

Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

🔔 they're singing 'deck the halls' (but it's not like christmas at all) by doesanyonehearrunningwotah

Louis Tomlinson is no fan of Christmas. Between his douchebag ex-husband/co-parent, his two teenage kids, and the awful fact of his torn-apart family, the holiday season isn't looking to be all that festive. But maybe a boy's trip with his closest friends will lead him to something that'll make the season a little more bearable. Or the one where Louis' a bit of a grinch, Harry's a gorgeous present, and there's more weight to the past than either of them would like.

❄️ We Can Roll in the Darkness by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 {Fic post}

Top and Bottom Construction Co. - “We’ll get the job done, however you prefer it!” Louis looks up from the flyer, and back at Niall. “You must be joking?” Niall shakes his head, his mischievous grin only going wider. “Nope! I already researched them. They have glowing reviews AND they’re affordable. It’s perfect!” He pauses then to give Louis a cheeky wink. “Besides their website says they’re full service.” (Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way).

✨ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {Fic post}

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is. Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon. Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

#these are in alphabetical order because that's how I roll #adventfics #advent2023 #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghome #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #ficsfor4am

314 notes · View notes

galactic-magick · 1 year

Text

But Then I Saw You: Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: Adam can’t take his eyes off you and he doesn’t understand why.

Words: 0.7k+

Warnings: SPOILERS!!

Adam was slowly but surely learning to navigate his new life—a far different one than he ever thought he’d be living.

Between missions with the other Guardians, his new home is Knowhere. He has his own small apartment with an overlook of the city, and he’s been trying to inegrate himself into the community. It’s difficult, considering he violently destroyed the place less than a year ago, yet he’s made a decent amount of friends.

There’s one person he still hasn’t figured out how to talk to, though, and that’s you.

Adam sees you around town nearly everyday, and the sight of you always makes him feel something different. He doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to you like he does everyone else, the nervousness always stopping him. He’s been made well aware that he left his cocoon too early, and therefore isn’t fully developed, but this feeling isn’t something he ever heard mentioned by his mother or his people.

“Ya know, it’s a good thing you don’t have laser eyes or something, because they’d be dead from all your staring,” Rocket jokes, catching Adam looking at you again.

“I don’t know why I can’t stop looking at them,” Adam says.

“Sounds like you got a crush, golden boy,”

“I am Groot,” Groot agrees.

“What’s a crush?” Adam asks, intrigued.

“Oh, geez, do I have to be the one to explain it to him?”

Groot steps up, wrapping a vine around Adam’s shoulders, “I am Groot. I am Groot, I am Groot. I am Groot! I am Groot?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I guess we just don’t usually have those romantic type feelings in my species. We reproduce through genetic engineering and birthing pods, so we don’t have the need to be attracted to each other like that,”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with you then?” Rocket laughs.

“I don’t know,” Adam catches another glance at you. “But maybe it’s not a bad thing,”

“I am Groot?”

Rocket cackles again, “No way am I giving him dating advice, Groot. Go ask Drax or something, he’s the one who’s been married before,”

Adam doesn’t waste much time, so later that day he asks Drax how he should talk to you. Of course Draw tells him about how he met his wife, talking about his attraction to her in graphic detail. Adam hangs onto every word, taking everything in as if he’d be quizzed on it. He asks lots of questions, trying to figure out how best to express his interest in you. Eventually he thinks he has it down, so next time he sees you, he’s determined to make his move.

Fortunately, that time comes pretty fast, and he sees you sitting in the main square on his way home. He sits beside you, attempting to be somewhat covert and casual.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you reply with a smile. “You’re Adam, right?”

“You know who I am?”

“Well, yeah, everyone here knows who you are,” you shrug. “Plus I see you staring at me a lot so I’ve asked some people what your deal is,”

Adam loses his entire train of thought, quickly realizing his plan had already failed. He clearly already weirded you out by his behavior, and he didn’t want to further discomfort you.

“I’m sorry,” are the only words he finds to say.

“Why?” you laugh. “I’m not mad, I’ve just been waiting for you to actually talk to me,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to know what’s so interesting about me. Do I look like someone you knew or something?”

He’s relieved to know you’re not upset with his terrible social skills, but he still doesn’t know quite how to respond. How is he to explain how seeing you makes him feel?

“The truth is,” he starts, “I thought my people were supposed to be the most beautiful and perfect species in the universe...but then I saw you,”

Now it’s your turn to lose all words and thoughts from your mind. Is the Adam Warlock into you?

“I never meant to scare you, and I understand if you don’t feel similar feelings towards me,” he stand up, “I hope you have a lovely evening,”

“Wait, hang on Adam,” you stop him from leaving. “Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Out where?”

You laugh, his confusion endearing, “Anywhere, goldie. I need to get to know you better before I decide if I like you too, don’t I?”

“Ah, yes! Great idea,” he nods. “I will ask you out tomorrow, then,”

“Not now?”

“I need to go home now to feed my pet,”

“Of course,” you smile. “Tomorrow, then,”

He flies up into the air, leaving you to look forward to whatever he comes up with.

Read this to make a Guardians request!

#adam warlock x reader #guardians of the galaxy x reader #gotg x reader #adam warlock #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #gotg 3

939 notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 6 months

Text

ahh, you guys got me, i’ll write more statue!ghoap (i was already planning to who are we kidding)

part 1

John is quick to learn that Simon is selective with his speaking.

He never asks questions, only makes observations. He listens to John’s rambling as he’s toured around the museum, only responds when necessary and never dares to greet other wandering exhibits.

John doesn’t mind. He’s long since learned how to fill silence.

Simon also seems to understand their limitations easily, finding his original pose with ease as the night comes to an end when John instructs him to, freezing in wait of dawn. John can’t help the fond smile that grows on his face watching him settle, lingering just before he’ll have to return to his own place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” John says.

Simon never responds.

John watches Simon as he had the day prior, once he’s set himself right. He has to fight the smile that doesn’t seem to want to leave him just as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the room.

Change, he may like, but it can’t always be afforded.

Simon is again constantly swarmed by observers and cameras, the centre of attention as new artwork often becomes for a week or so before the storm calms. John is comforted knowing that even in spite of this popularity, he’s the only one who gets to see what’s hidden behind the skull.

And how he can’t wait to see it again. How he can’t wait to see it every night following.

The museum’s opening and closing go by too slowly and mercifully quick all at once, and soon enough John is moving over to Simon yet again, excited to tell him all the things he’d thought of over the course of the day to share.

This time, Simon does relax with everyone else, but he doesn’t move from his pedestal until John reaches out his hand to help him down. The skull is left in his place as they go to wander.

It’s hours into the evening, when John has lost track of his rambling that Simon finally speaks for the first time that night.

“I don’t like how many people there are,” he remarks.

John has to pause a moment, bronze joints creaking at his sudden halt. He looks up at Simon and the distant expression that shadows his face, and finds himself rubbing a comforting hand along Simon’s bicep before realizing what he’s doing. Even still, Simon does not pull away.

“It’ll slow down in time,” John promises—he speaks entirely from experience, though he hadn’t ever thought much of the attention. “Just happens whenever there’s a newcomer, is all.”

A frown tugs at Simon’s face. “But I’m not new.”

John hums. “No,” he agrees. “But to them, you are. In a few days, everything will be quieter. It’s just the cycle for all of us.”

John already knows Simon’s tells for when he’s thinking. He wonders if it’s a cause of Simon’s expression being obscured by a mask for as long as he’s existed, up until the night before.

“I don’t like being a display,” Simon decides quietly, determinedly.

John knows the feeling. Knows it goes deeper than just wanting to be hidden away from thousands of pairs of eyes on the daily. Knows it stems from a want to be real.

“Me neither,” John says softly. Simon looks troubled—it takes strength to keep from trying to smooth the artificial crease in his forehead, a gesture he’s seen many times from museum goers, among many others. “But it’s either this, or be stuck in a crate, or under rubble and earth somewhere. Alone. It’s hard to avoid when it’s the purpose we were created with.”

It’s all something John had to grapple with himself, once upon a time. But he’s had decades, now, to get used to it.

He’s sure Simon will as well, in time. John can only help him to adjust.

“C’mon, let’s go visit the other exhibits from your time,” John proposes, gently taking Simon’s hand. “Maybe you’ll know a few of them.”

Simon doesn’t have much to say for the rest of the night as he follows along—but it’s alright. John revels in his company anyway.

He’ll come around, eventually. John is certain of it.

#scheduled #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #writing #statue!ghoap #more to come maybe

258 notes · View notes

lu-vin-it · 3 months

Text

Luck | 2

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Part 1

Summary: Life with Coryo in the districts is hard.

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Pronouns used: Gn! Use of “Mx.” and “Mxs.”

Word Count: 4,448

Warnings: Death, depression, use of morphling (but only as a pain medication.)

A/N: Okay so pt 2 is here! I am willing to do a part 3, but I wanted to leave that up to you guys cause if I do a part three then there will be a major falling out between Tigris and R, and if you’re anything like @lunatiqez and I, you are probably dreading it. Up to u guys!!

Also thank you to @/lunatiquez and @lemkay-luminary for proofreading! Ilysm!

“Coryo?” You ask as line breaks up.

“Hm, yes?” You let out a relieved sigh. You hate when you lose connection, because Coryo only gets one call a week, and once it ends, it ends.

“Sorry, you cut out, what were you saying?”

“It’s fine, I said I miss home.” He pauses with a small sigh. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Coryo. It’s not the same without you.”

“Sejanus says hello, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “Tell him I said hi.”

Coryo’s laughter fills the line. “I’ll make sure to say it with more enthusiasm.”

“I’m sorry! I just don’t care for him. Though, I imagine he’s better than the District 12 idiots you have to slum with.”

“Exactly.”

“Tigris says she misses you.”

“I miss her too.”

You hum. “Tessa’s been learning how to play the violin. She’s finally given up on the guitar. Thank goodness for that, too. Ever since Lucy Gray’s interview she’s been non stop playing it, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. The violin, on the other hand, is gorgeous.”

“That reminds me, I’ve been going to this bar called The Hob with the other Peacekeepers, and as it turns out, Lucy Gray sings there.” You always knew it was a possibility he’d run into her again, but you hoped it wouldn’t be this soon.

“Really?”

“Mhm. She asked about you, and she seemed almost upset when I told her we were together.”

You smile and bite your lip. “You told her we were together?”

“I tell everyone we’re together.” Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Wouldn’t want anyone coming for what’s yours, right?”

You smile, though you have to swallow a lump that forms in your throat. “Yeah.”

You cherish every single phone call you have with Coryo. He’s been gone for a month and a half now, and you miss him dearly. The weekly calls you were able to secure were great, but it’s not the same as seeing him every day.

You’ve found other ways to fill the void though. You still ate most meals with Tigris and The Grandma’am, but you also started to hang out with your sister more. You brought her shopping with you a few times, and she started playing songs for you as soon as she learned them.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”

You sit up straighter. “What is it?”

“I think Sejanus is getting into some bad stuff..” You bite back the urge to say ‘Of course he is.’ “He’s been hanging around this guy named Billy Taupe. Whenever I ask about it he changes the subject.”

“Well considering the arena...” You reply, coolly.

“My thoughts exactly. What do you think I should do?”

“Report him.”

“I don’t have any proof, and I can’t go tell Commander Hoff, because he will tell Sejanus’s parents.”

You curse. “Yeah.. Yeah you’re right. I don’t imagine you have anything to record him with, do you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He sighs. “If he gets caught he’ll drag me down with him.”

“Then make sure he doesn’t get caught.” You can hear a faint buzz from the other side of the line, and you frown knowing it means he has to go.

“It’s time.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you next week. Goodnight, Coryo. Miss you.”

“Goodnight, I miss you too, Y/N.” The line goes dead and you put the phone on the receiver. The minutes following your phone calls with Coryo are always the loneliest. You hunch over with your hands over your face and sigh.

You thought everything was perfect when Lucy Gray won The Hunger Games. Now you weren’t sure if anything would go to plan.

“Y/N?” You glance at your bedroom door to find Tigris looking at you confused.

“Hey. I forgot you were coming, ‘m sorry.” You rub your face.

“I always come over on Fridays.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m really not sure how I forgot.” You're occupied, that’s how. Occupied with the reality that maybe your life isn’t so perfect.

“Did you just get off of the phone with Coryo?”

“How’d you guess?” You glance at Tigris, her features haven’t changed much since the dark days. Back then, you dreamed big. You dreamed of a future where you and Tigris had your own fashion line, that you ate however much you wanted, of whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted; and that you were married to Coryo. It was actually Tigris’ idea originally, because she wanted you to be her cousin too. It took about two years after she initially suggested it for it to grow on you, but once it did, you never changed the plan.

She sits down beside you. “You have that look on your face.”

“Remember when we used to talk about the future together? How we’d have our own fashion line? Or how I was going to marry Coryo so we could be cousins finally?”

Tigris laughs. “Yeah, that was forever ago.”

“Yeah. It was.”

Your best friend places a hand on your back. “There’s still time.”

“Twenty years.” You lean into her. “Things are so different.”

A few days later, on Monday, you sit in the same spot, with the same red phone in your hand, and dial the same number.

“Hello?”

Hearing his voice never fails to put a smile on your face. “Hey Coryo. How’s everything going?”

“Good actually. I took the Officer’s test yesterday.”

“Really? That’s amazing, Coryo!” You breathe a laugh. “What happens if you pass it?”

“If I pass I can start climbing the ranks, if I ever become a commander we could see each other again. Commander Hoff goes to the Capitol for meetings all the time.”

“Seriously? You might actually get to come here?” Your voice is shakey.

He laughs a little. “A little less enthusiasm, please.”

“I’m sorry! I just.. I was coming to terms with the fact that we won’t be able to see each other in twenty years—“

“Do you not want to see me?” He interupts.

“Of course I do! Coryo, I’m over the moon.” You laugh. “This is amazing.”

“I know. Tell Tigris for me?”

“Of course. She’s going to be so happy!”

He chuckles. “I know. Also.. I got a recording of Sejanus.”

“How? On what?”

“Jabber jay. A messed up mutant that Dr. Gaul made. We were caging them when he started telling me about his plans.. so I recorded him, and I sent the bird off with the rest of them.”

“Where are they being sent?”

“Back to their creator.”

“To Dr. Gaul.”

“Will you tell her to expect something from me?”

You smile. He trusts you. “Yeah. When’s our next call? I’ll make sure to do it before.”

“No, I need you to do it now. The Jabber jays will be there tomorrow.”

You widen your eyes. “Okay.. yeah, I can do that.” You glance at the clock on your bedside table, if you’re going across town to speak to Dr. Gaul, you have to do it now. “I have to go now if I’m going to make it.”

“Oh of course, thank you, N/N.”

“Always. Miss you.”

“Miss you too.” You hang up your phone and rush out of your room.

As you put on your shoes at the front door, Tessa calls out for you. She sits in front of the coffee table beside your Mother in the sitting room.

“Where are you going in such a rush?”

“I have to speak with Dr. Gaul.”

Your Mother furrows her brows. “It’s so late. Can’t this wait till the morning?”

You shake your head. “It’ll be too late, it’s about Coryo.”

Your Mom sighs. She’s known for a long time not to get in between you and the Snow’s, it never ends well. You’re hit with the memory of being fifteen and told that you couldn’t sleep over at their penthouse because your Father was having coworkers over for a big dinner, and in retaliation, pouring out every spice in the kitchen so that all of the food tasted awful. “Okay. I love you.”

You open the door. “Love you too.”

“Be safe.” You nod and walk out.

Your driver is waiting for you with your car at the bottom of the stairs. You spend half a second wondering if he just waits there for you, but then shake the thought out of your head. Why should you care? He’s being paid.

“Take me to the Games’ building. I need to speak with Dr. Gaul.” The driver nods, and you give him a curt smile before lifting the privacy screen. You look out your window, taking in the Capitol. Sure, it was beautiful all the time, but at night, it was something else. The golden lights illuminating the streets, the people dressed to the nines, the dark blue sky that was once filled with stars— though not in your lifetime— now just an empty void with the moon in the middle. You feel compelled to smile as you absorb everything.

The car slows as it comes to the front of the Games’ building. Your driver rushes out to get your door for you. As you step out, you look at the front doors, where Dr. Gaul stood.

“Well, if it isn’t Mxs. Coriolanus Snow.” She greets.

You walk up to her. “Dr. Gaul, I’m here to bring you a message.”

“Oh? And what would that message be?”

“Listen carefully to the Jabber Jays from 12.”

She looks at you incredulously. “12? I expect this message is coming from Mr. Snow, then?”

“It does, but it’d be in your best interest to keep that to yourself.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Was that a threat, Mx. Rose?”

“No, of course not. Just… a suggestion.”

Dr. Gaul smirks, crossing her arms. “It’s not safe to be out alone around this time.” She looks around. “Are you alone?”

“No, I was driven here.”

“Well, be driven home. We’re done here, Mx. Rose.” The woman looks you over before walking towards the parking lot. You turn around and walk back to your car, where your driver still stood holding your door open.

The next morning, you get up early and head to the Snow residence. Thankfully, it was the apartment connected to your own, so you didn’t go far. You don’t stop to knock, either, just walking in and going straight to Tigris’s room.

“T?” You call out as you enter her room.

“In the bathroom!” You go to your best friend’s bathroom, where she is taking her hair out of rollers.

“Hello! Don’t you look gorgeous this morning.”

The blonde smiles. “Stop it! I don’t even have all my rollers out yet.”

You reach up and start pulling one out carefully. “Coryo called me yesterday, he took an officer’s test.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Well since he graduated from The Academy, he can get a job as an officer, and maybe eventually even a commander.” You place the roller down on the counter. “And if he becomes a commander, he’ll be able to make trips here.” Tigris’s neck snaps towards you. “He could see us again, T.”

“You’re lying.” She shakes her head.

“I’m telling you the truth, he’ll be able to come back.”

Tigris grins and wraps her arms around you, pulling you in for a big hug. “This is the best news! I’m so happy!” She squeals, causing you to laugh loudly. Not at her, but with her. You’re both over the moon.

Later, you and Tigris walk through your favorite fabric shop, your driver trailing behind you with your full cart. You pick a few yards of fabric, and you are still browsing. Tigris also picks out a fabric she likes, so you pile in some of that.

“Do you think we’ll ever actually start our own line?”

Not a beat passes before Tigris nods. “I have no doubt that we will.” She gives you a smile. “And you will be married to Coryo, and I will be married to some rich man, and we will be next door neighbors just like we are now but in bigger houses—“

“Don’t you mean mansions? Isn’t that how we always said it?” You ask with a smile.

She rolls her eyes. “The point is, our dreams will come true. I mean, you’re already with Coryo, that dreams come true. Why shouldn’t all of our other ones?”

You nod, not utterly convinced. “It’s just.. me and Coryo get together, and a day later he’s banished from our home for 20 years. That seems like a sign.. right?” You feel crazy admitting that out loud. You’ve never believed in “signs”, just unfortunate fate, but this one is too big to ignore.

“Maybe it’s a sign that you guys can get through anything. Don’t give up on him, N/N, my cousin is stupid, but he loves you, anyone with eyes can tell you that. He’s not going to let anything get in between you, you shouldn’t either.” You bite your lip and nod. “Plus, when he becomes commander he’ll visit us. You just have to hold on a bit longer.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I love him too— you know that— I guess I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

Tigris places a hand on your arm. “You don’t have to act like that with me. You can talk to me, N/N, you always have.” Her face is full of concern.

You smile. “I know. I’m fine, I promise.”

She smiles and nudges you. “Good! Now,” Tigris hooks your arms together. “What colors should our shop be? I’m thinking orange and red, Tigris and Rose, you know?”

You grin. “That sounds perfect. Our first line could be fire themed, too.”

Your best friend gasps. “That’s perfect! I can see the silhouettes now.”

You give her a knowing look and nod. “Once I get out of University, let’s swear to start.” You offer her your pinky, which she wraps with her own in a swift motion.

“Deal.”

You and Tigris went to your home after you were done shopping. You sew for a while, and then eat dinner next door with The Grandma’am.

You wake up the next morning with a sick feeling. Your gut is yelling at you, and you have no clue why. You lay in bed for half an hour before you get up to find your Mother, thinking that maybe she could give you morphling for the pain, but the second you leave your room, you’re so anxious to get back you feel like you're on the verge of a panic attack. You continue anyway, counting each step to ground yourself.

It takes you 56 to finally find your Mom. She’s sitting in the library with a book, a different one from last night.

“Y/N? Honey, are you alright? You’re trembling.” Her voice fills with worry. She immediately comes to her feet and stalks over to you.

“Yes— Maybe. I don’t know. I-I woke up really.. scared? I need.. something, I don’t know.” You’re not sure you’ve ever sounded so pathetic. You feel so vulnerable.

“Of course, come, I’ll give you some morphling.” She grabs your hand, and for the first time in a while, you’re grateful she’s so affectionate. She wraps her other arm around your back, and slowly takes you over to the desk in the middle of the library. Your Mother helps you sit down and then starts rummaging through the messy drawers. “I keep some in here for my headaches.”

You nod. “You read a lot.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

She laughs. “Yeah.. nearly one book a day.” She pulls out a small vial, definitely smaller than what Dean Casca Highbottom drank from. “Bottoms up. It’ll only take a second to kick in.” You take it and quickly swallow the dark liquid, grimacing at the taste. This makes your Mother laugh again. “Better yet?” She asks after a beat.

At first, you go to say no, but then a warm feeling swarms your body and you can no longer feel the terror or vulnerability. “Yes, actually.” You smile. “Thank you, Mother.” You lean down and kiss her cheek, something that leaves your Mom glowing.

“You’re very welcome. If you ever need any more and you can’t find any, let me know, I have some vials in my room.” You nod and stand up. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give her another smile before walking back to your room. As soon as you walk in, your eyes snap to your phone. The bright red plastic phone that has become your favorite thing since Coryo left, yet as you look at it, your heart starts beating fast. You can’t figure out what’s making it beat so fast, probably due to the morphling.

You shake your head and walk into your closet, everything is red, black, or white. Your shirts, your pants, your shoes. You run your hand over the hanging clothing. You stop on your favorite shirt, pulling it out, and then grabbing pants that look the best with the white top. After you change, you toss your pajamas into the hamper, and then grab a pair of shoes, before walking into your room. You set the shoes down beside your sewing desk which you sit in front of. You start going through your notebook to find a design to work on.

Hours pass, and before you know it, it's dark out. You stop sewing when you hear your Dad come home, a clear sign it’s 7:15, since he never comes any earlier or later. You slip on your shoes and stand up to stretch. With a sigh, you gaze at the dress you’re working on. It’s going to be beautiful when it’s done. You plan to give it to Tessa, thinking that the purple on the trim would compliment her skin. You pull it over your mannequin and pin it in place.

You’re admiring your work in full scale when your phone starts ringing and your stomach drops again. You can tell that this is it. This is the reason you’ve been so anxious. You walk over and pick up the phone.

“Hello?” You can hear music in the background, and lots of voices. The call is obviously being made from a public place.

“Y/N?” It’s Coryo.

You smile. “Hey! How’re you calling so early? I thought that you could only call onc—“

“Listen very carefully, okay? I don’t have much time, so I need you to listen. Okay?” His voice trembles.

You furrow your brows. “Okay.”

“The rebels Sejanus was helping bought guns with the money he gave them. Last night, I had to shoot two of them.” You gasp. “One of them was the mayor's daughter.”

“Oh Coryo..”

“And this morning Sejanus was hung for treason.” You widen your eyes.

“What?”

“The other rebel hid the guns, but if they find them, I’m dead, Y/N.” Tears pool in your eyes. “So.. I have to go.” His voice breaks. “Lucy Gray and I are leaving at dawn.”

Something inside of you breaks. Your stomach hurts, you feel nauseous, and tears are falling from your eyes faster than you can stop them. You sit down on your bed. “Coryo.. What do you mean?” He doesn’t answer. “What do you mean?” Nothing. “Coryo?” Your voice breaks.

“I’m so sorry.” Pain laces his voice. “I want things to be different. I want to be there with you, but Sejanus messed everything up, N/N. I’m sorry.”

“Y-You can’t… What about Tigris? The Grandma’am?” Your lungs feel heavy.

“You’ll take care of them, I know you will.”

A sob racks your body. “I-I can’t.. Coryo, please.”

“I love you.” The line clicks and you fall forward onto the ground. Sobs rack your body, one after one, until you can’t take it anymore, and you just scream. He’s gone. Coriolanus Snow, the man you thought you would marry, the man you grew up with, the man you loved more than anything, is gone.

You don’t know how long it is before your parents run into your room and fall to your sides. You can’t hear them over your heart pounding in your ears. You can’t catch a breath, either. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a servant ushering Tessa away. For a moment, you feel bad she’s witnessed you like this, but then you remember why you’re like this in the first place, and it doesn’t seem so important. You hold onto the phone tighter as you curl into the fetal position. Your Mother lays her body over yours, and your Father runs off.

You stay like that for a while, you think. Just curled up under your Mother, screaming and hyperventilating. Coryo is your everything, and with one phone call, your world is shattered.

Your Mother moves and Tigris crouches beside you, helping you to sit.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

No. No. You shake your head. The realization that you have to tell everyone is deafening. You stare at Tigris through your tears, the memories of the three of you together crushing you. You clutch your chest with your free hand before bringing your knees up to it. “Coryo..” Is all you can mumble.

Her face drops. “What about Coryo? Is he okay?”

You nod, not wanting her to worry while you gather the strength to say more. “He’s..” You swallow a lump down. “Leaving.” Suddenly, you can hear a pin drop in the room. Everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing.

“What?”

You hold up your phone. “He called.. said he had to go.”

A tear falls down Tigris’ face. “Did he say why?”

“No.” Is your immediate answer. Maybe it's a little obvious you’re lying, given the speed, but no one presses further.

“So what.. he’s just going to try his hand at surviving out there?” She brings a hand to her forehead. “He knows nothing about the woods.”

“Lucy Gray is with him.” Normally you’d be mad she was able to be so close to him, but honestly, you were happy he at least has her, a shot at surviving out there.

Tigris seems confused. “They’re running away together?”

Hurt swells in your stomach again. Were they? Was everything Coryo said to you a lie? You break down crying again. You’re disappointed about it, you hate crying, but it was foolish to think you were done mourning the love of your life after one good cry. “It’s not like that.” You shakily explain to her. “He wouldn’t—“ You interrupt yourself with a sob. Tigris wraps her arms around you and pulls you into her. You both lean back against your bed, holding each other, and crying.

Hours later, Tigris sleeps peacefully beside you, her arm draped across your stomach. You were turned on your side, facing her, and quietly crying. As you look at her, you note all the similarities between her and Coryo. You think about how you will never get to see him grow old, how he will never become the President of Panem, how you will never get married to him.

You fall asleep sometimes around midnight, you dream of a life with Coryo.

The next day, you stay curled up in your bed as Tigris goes to work. You get out of bed a few times to use the bathroom, but you have all your meals brought to you. Though, you barely eat anything. A few bites but that was it. You went in and out of consciousness, crying for a moment every time you woke back up to reality. You aren’t sure how you can sleep as much as you are right now. It seems impossible. But you do.

You hear your Father come home, and deja vu hits you like a brick. You glance at the clock, 7:23. 8 minutes late. Weird. You close your eyes again, hoping for more sleep, for more dreams of Coryo. But moments after, your bedroom door is opened and shut without a knock. You glance at the door and the breath is knocked out of you. It’s Coryo.

He rushes over to you and scoops you up in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t.. Coryo?” You start crying again, thinking that he has to be a hallucination. A sick trick your own mind is playing on you. “You’re not here.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck. It smells sort of like him, though. This is a really, really good trick.

“I am, I’m here. I’m not leaving you again.” He pulls away from the hug and holds your face in his hands, a gesture so normal it hurts. “I’m here, okay?”

You surge forward and kiss him, you can’t make up what you feel when you’re kissing him, joy like that can’t be forced, so when you feel it, you know he’s there. You gape at him when you pull away. “But I thought you had to leave?” You ask, forming a small smile, though tears still fell down your cheeks.

“I found the guns and destroyed them. And I passed the officer’s test.” He hesitates. “Yesterday Commander Hoff offered me a spot in district 2, I went back and took it. They sent me here instead and Dr. Gaul met me at the train station. She’s going to tell everyone I was in 12 as part of my internship.”

“Internship?”

He nods. “Dr. Gaul offered it to me. I start next week.”

Your smile widens. “That’s.. I don't even have words, Coryo.”

He smirks slightly. “Well, good thing we don’t need words.” He leans down and kisses you again. It's a long, sweet, kiss that you savor. When he pulls away, you’re left wanting more. “I meant what I said when I called you. I love you.” Butterflies erupt in your stomach, the ones only he can cause.

You grin and wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you too.” You finally take him in, his appearance has changed slightly. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with gray cargo pants, and his beautiful blonde curls have been buzzed. You bring a hand up to his scalp. “Your curls!”

“I know, weird, right?” He smiles and brings a hand up to his head too.

“A little bit, but you look so handsome anyways, I can hardly be sad.” You bring him in for another kiss, your favorite thing to do ever since the first one he gave you.

For the first time in months, you don’t doubt that everything is okay.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Taglist: @ems-alexandra , @becauseseaotters

#coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #sejanus plinth x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #lucy gray x reader #tigris snow x reader

108 notes · View notes

thetriplets3 · 7 months

Text

❝𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ⋆｡⋆

{𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫}

when chris cares about someone he will go to the end of the earth to make sure they’re okay. sure he can be goofy and childlike but he’s got a heart of gold, wanting to make sure everyone is taken care of before himself. that’s what i love about him, which is why he was the first one to notice i was sick.

the triplets and i had planned to go to the flea market in town at 2 but when chris hadn’t hear from me by 1:30 he called me to make sure i didn’t forget.

“hey are you ready yet? we’re leaving soon”

“hi uh no i woke up this morning feeling like i’ve been run over by multiple trains i feel like shit so not i can’t go” i croak.

“why didn’t you tell me earlier? i could have come by”

“i slept like crap because everything hurts to move and breathe so i stayed in bed hoping i’d fall asleep and that you guys would forget about the flea market because i felt bad for ruining the plans”

“forget the flea market it’s literally every week you don’t need to feel bad. you come first. i’m coming over and no i don’t care if i get sick i drink so many Pepsi’s a day if that hasn’t done anything to me getting a cold is nothing. i’m coming over whether you like it or not”

“fine. can you please tell matt and nick i’m sorry and that i’ll make it up to them. they are so excited for us to go”

“you don’t have to apologize i’ll tell them your sick, they’ll understand. they can still go if they want”

“if you say so. doors locked so use your key i’m gonna try to sleep” my voice trails off.

“i’ll see you soon i just gotta do a few things first, get some sleep”

chris pov:

2:23pm

walking upstairs i find matt on the sofa ready to leave.

“i just called y/n to see if she was ready but she got called into work someone didn’t show up for their shift. she said to tell you guys she’s sorry she didn’t tell us earlier her morning was hectic trying to leave last minute, she felt bad”

“that’s okay we can go next week. did you and nick wanna still go?”

“i’d rather wait til we all can go. if that’s cool?”

“of course, i’ll let nick know”

while matt heads upstairs to talk to nick i sit on the couch and think about what excuse i can make to get out of the house without them coming. sending a text in our groupchat i send an excuse.

i’m gonna go shoot some more photos for the new fresh love drop with brandon (aka gwhip333)

cool, you need a ride?

nah i’m good i can uber

when they model each others brand 😩

bro you’re weird

i’ll probably be back later tonight we’ll probably order food so don’t worry about me

we always worry about you, you’re a very concerning person

aw under that cold exterior you care about me, how sweet. i’m leaving

and with that i was on my way to her house without nick and matt knowing. i didn’t tell them because i know she hates being the center of attention and the last thing she wants is for 3 people to loom over her making sure she’s okay. so i’m going alone.

readers pov:

the rustling in the kitchen causes me to wake up for a second before realizing it’s probably chris, a burglar would make more of an attempt to be quiet. pulling my duvet up to my chin, i’m out like a light. i’m gently woken by chris. he knows better than anyone to wake me up gently and carefully.

he learned that the hard way.

he walked in my room one day, climbed in my bed, and made himself comfortable. being a fairly heavy sleeper, i didn’t hear or feel him come in. i rolled over in my sleep, i was met with a body. my natural instinct, in my half asleep state, was to smack and flail at whatever was in my reach. which happened to be chris’ face. hearing i’m yelp and call my name i woke up in seconds.

“what the fuck chris?! why would you sneak in here when i’m sleeping are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“i was gonna wake you up in few minutes, you just looked so peaceful i didn’t want to disturb you, i didn’t know trying to be nice was gonna get me bitch smacked” he grumbled.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hit you i was scared” my voice small, yet filled with guilt and concern. “you can’t sneak up on me like that”

“i should have expected that to happen” he laughed.

sitting up, i grab ahold of his chin gently turning it to the side i smacked.

a sad sigh escapes my lips “i left a mark” i frown.

“don’t worry about it it doesn’t hurt, i kinda deserved it” he reassures me.

“you kinda did” i laughed.

so now chris knows to not be so silent when waking me up. he sits beside me on my bed and starts quietly talking to me, slowly getting a little louder when he sees me stir. like a feather, his fingers delicately graze my cheeks, making their way to my knotted hair, tucking the stray, sweat soaked pieces out of my face.

my eyes flutter open, promptly squeezing shut as the brightness hits my eyes. groaning, for multiple reasons; being woken up, the brightness, and suddenly feeling all the aches and pains. i nudge my head towards chris’ hand on my cheek, enjoying his warmth and touch.

“well hello you ball of germs” he lovingly joked.

all i can do is glare at him however pain and misery are evident in my appearance. my forehead creased from the crushing pressure in my head, my limbs tight and scrunched from the aches and pains shooting through my body, and a frown replacing my usual smile.

“i’m not gonna bother asking how you feel because i already know the answer so i’ll skip to is there anything i can do for you?”

“i don’t know. uh maybe the heat pack? everything hurts so much” i tear up.

with a swipe of my stray tears and a quick "I'll be right back" he's off scouring my apartment. within minutes he’s back, plugging in the heat pack before getting in bed and leaning against the headboard. not only did he come back with the heat pack, he also came bearing a CVS bag.

“okay i’ve got cold meds, cough lozenges, fuzzy socks because i know you love them, your favorite soup, voltaren to put on where your achey, fruit snacks to munch on, tissues obviously, and this little penguin stuffy i couldn’t leave with out it” he explains in a hushed tone.

“thank you chris, you didn’t have to”

“i know but i wanted to, i wanna take care of you. you’re always there for me so whatever you need i’m here. now come cuddle you need sleep”

snuggling up to chris with my head on his chest and my arm draped across his body clutching his shirt. he wraps his arms securely around me. one hand holding the heat pack against my back and the other massaging my scalp, both helping my headache and making me sleepy.

i wake up confused when chris isn’t beside me but the rattling and banging in the kitchen answered any questions i had. slowly but surely i make my way to the bathroom. as i’m leaving i hear my phone ding. a text from matt reads,

hey kid how’s it going? i know you were looking forward to the flea market we’ll all go next week

i’m slowly rotting away in bed i feel like i’ve been run over been a bus. you guys could have gone without me but thank you for waiting to go with me

3rd person pov:

it’s then that matt realizes he’s been told 2 different stories. chris said y/n couldn’t go because she got called into work and y/n just told him she’s sick. immediately he knows who’s telling the truth because y/n wouldn’t lie, she’s too honest for her own good. not mentioning this mix up to y/n he tells her he hopes she feels better and to call him if she needs anything.

matt can’t help but smirk. he caught his younger brother in a lie that showed him everything he needed to know to confirm his suspicions. matt knew from the start that something was off with chris’ story because brandon was in NY for the week. both matt and nick knew something weird was going on but they needed chris to get himself caught in a lie to know if they were right.

chris’ pov:

i stood over the counter carefully watching the soup cook not wanting to burn it. just as i turn the heat down, my phone buzzes in my pocket. it’s a text from nick,

how’s shooting going? matt and i miss brandon tell him we need to hang out together soon

my breath hitches, i need to keep my lie going.

good these are turning out dope i can’t wait to see the final version. he was just saying that earlier we’ll plan something

your pov:

i muster up the energy to take a shower and wash my hair just not to the extent to normal would. over the sound of the cascading water i think i heard a knock but it’s heard to tell. it could be chris destroying my kitchen.

i get changed into one of chris’ hoodies i borrowed a while ago and never gave back and a pair of sweats. towel drying my hair i try to soak up as much water as i can, hating hating the feeling of wet hair. feeling my stomach grumble i follow the smell of soup to the kitchen only to be met with nick and matt sitting across from chris having some silent triplet conversation.

“hi what’s going on?” my voice hoarse.

chris’ pov:

sitting atop the counter beside the stove so i can keep an eye on the soup, i play games on my phone waiting for y/n to finish in the shower. a soft knock on the front door catches my attention. opening the front door, assuming it was a delivery driver dropping off a package, i’m surprised to see matt and nick. i probably look just as confused as they do. they make their way in and we settle on the couch, i feel like a kid about to get in trouble.

“dude why’d you make up a lie you could have told us you were coming to take care of her which might i add is a very boyfriend thing to do”

“i just- i wanted to come and take care of her, that’s not a boyfriend thing it’s called i care about her, i want to make sure she’s okay and that i can help her out if she needs it”

“yeah sure whatever but alone? that’s the weird part. why can’t you just admit you like her?”

“okay fine i do! i wanted to hang out with her without you buffoons there. i want to take care of her, make sure she’s okay. i love seeing this soft, gentle, affectionate side of her. i love being the first person she calls when she wants help or is having a bad day and just wants my company.i love being with her and these moments don’t happen when you bozos interfere”

“we already knew your undying love for her. the way you drop everything when it comes to her. your heart eyes are so obvious. how affectionate, gentle, and calm you are with her. you know when we’re out in a group or crowd i always catch you searching for her, smiling when you spot her, knowing she’s safe. when she’s around, she’s the only person in the room to you”

a little stunned that he knew all that but i kinda expected that from him. i have nothing to say so i just nod, agreeing with him.

the creaking floor board directs my attention to the stairs, y/n’s come up for lunch. matt, nick, and i look back and forth between each other. i know they’re wanting me to say something to her about how i feel but now isn’t the time.

“hi what’s going on?” her voice is scratchy.

nick and matt say their hellos as i get up leaving to talk to each other while i go meet y/n in the kitchen.

“how ya feeling? did the shower help?”

“a little, i’m still achey and in pain, my head hurts, and i’m tired. can you come cuddle?”

her beautiful blue eyes looking up at me, silently pleading, i can’t say no to that. “here, go have some soup in bed and i’ll be there in a second okay?”

your pov:

i carefully take the warm bowl of soup downstairs to my bed, eating it while i wait for chris. 5 minutes later, my door slowly cracks open to reveal chris with a soft smile adorning his face.

“i’m all yours now. let’s cuddle but first let me put the voltaren on that’ll help your aches. where’s it hurt?”

“um uh my-my back and neck mainly” i stumble over my words knowing you’ll be putting it on my back. very intimate action.

laying on my stomach without my head to the side, duvet cover pulled back, chris sits beside me pulling my oversized shirt up so he can access my back and starts putting the lotion on. once he’s done he makes his way under the covers letting me rest my head on his chest. his cologne brings me comfort just like the feeling of my hand gently massaging my back as he holds me.

“thank you for taking care of me. you’re so good to me.” no one has ever cared for me the way chris does. he’s shown me what it’s like to be loved.

“i’d do anything for you, you know that. i love taking care of you, moments like this are my favorite. now get some sleep i’m not going anywhere.

“i love you”

“i love you sweet girl”

little did they both know, they actually meant it.

thank you @abbie13sworld for giving me this request

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld

#sturniolo triplets #she/her reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

253 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 1 month

Text

Crawling to the Finish | Part 2 | 5K

Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader

*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.

+18 ONLY | MDNI

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else. *This part describes disordered eating due to pain.*

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

---

You were drifting through life, the unsteady ocean of the things out of your control set your course. It was something you’ve learned how to deal with. Take things as they come, adjust, go with the flow, let the waves move you how they wanted. But, when the pain is bad, it sets your teeth on edge, and you hate being that person. Mean. Angry. Bitter. It’s not who you are, but it’s how you are right now. You were just waiting. Because, despite the hope in your mother’s eyes, you knew that this last surgery would do nothing to fix you. It was just something to add to the chart so Dr. Greene could say he had tried it all before giving an 18 year a total hip replacement. They don’t last forever, and then he’ll have to deal with a patient needing revision at a too young age.

The bright spot these days comes in the form of a group of nerdy boys. Every day, you sit with them at lunch. It’s your safe spot. No one bothers you, you can just sit and be quiet without feeling like you need to do anything. The boys never say anything about how little you eat. Dustin occasionally looks at you with knowing eyes, and he’s always quick to offer up anything you might like as a treat. Food is hard most days, everything turns to cement in your mouth as you chew, and it never sits right in your stomach.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the highest points of your days are in the few minutes before each class when you move through the empty halls with Eddie by your side. Your friendship has come about easily. He’s so open to you. He asks questions. He stops talking when you tell him you need quiet without making you feel unkind. He tells you about his band and his club. Then one day, he tells you something that blows you away, because you feel like you were really starting to know him, and you never would have guessed.

“Well, you know, school’s not exactly my strong suit. I’m pretty sure I’m destined to be stuck in this building until I’m old and gray.” You’d been telling him about how determined you were to get your diploma, even if it meant you had to drag your body across the stage to get it. His statement confused you, though.

“What do you mean? You might not graduate?” You’re legitimately confused. “Why not?”

“Oh, Ilene, this is my third senior year.” You’re standing outside of your English class, the bell still 2 minutes away from ringing. These conversations were really one big conversation broken up into little intervals throughout the day. “If I can manage to pass English this time, there’s a chance I’ll be able to walk that stage.” His words hang in the air for a moment while you digest them and try to make sense of them.

You’re annoyed. Almost angry. How the actual fuck – “Eddie, that’s bullshit.” His eyebrows shoot up so high, they’re lost under his fringe. Your tone tells him that you think his excuses are bullshit. “Come on, are you telling me you can’t do that work, because I’m telling you, you’ve got a brain in there.” You tap the side of his head a little harder than was necessary.

“I’m telling you, I’ve managed to fuck it up two years in a row –“ he’s getting a little hot with you, annoyed for being called out, “- and I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

Today’s a better day for you, so you find yourself able to bite back the truly harsh remarks that sometimes spill out of your mouth. You let the silence sit for another moment and think about what it’s been like for him, how he’s been treated by his teachers and how he doesn’t have the kind of support at home that would help him get through a tough time. The bell rings and brings your thoughts back to the Eddie that’s at your side. You look and see his features are a little pained by your words, so you try to make it right before he takes off for his own class.

“Hey, you’re right, I don’t know how it’s been for you.” He’s following behind you while you make your way to your desk, only the two of you in the classroom at the moment. “Why don’t you come over a couple of times a week and we can be study buddies?”

Eddie drops your bookbag at your feet. He takes your hand, as he does multiple times a day to help you get yourself situated at your desk, and holds on to your crutches for you. This routine just sort of happened naturally, but right now it strikes you how comfortable you’ve become with his hands helping you. It’s so unlike you to be so accepting of help.

Before he can take his hand away and leave, you give it a squeeze, drawing his gaze to your face. “I’m serious, I’d like having someone around when I do my homework. It might help us both to just have someone else working next to us.”

A couple of people started making their way through the door, a signal that he has to bust his ass across the building, “I’ll see you in 45 minutes.” There’s a little sink in your stomach, worry at upsetting him, but he gives your own hand a little squeeze before he lets go.

---

Eddie doesn’t bring up your offer for the rest of the day, leaving you feeling a little bit deflated. You pushed too hard, and you regret it. Never once has he done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, and you let your mouth run away the first time he’s a tiny bit vulnerable with you. But, as with everything in life, you let those feelings float on, letting them go.

On the Monday of week 5 post surgery, the pain has ebbed into a constant and familiar ache. You eat enough to keep yourself upright. Your sleep is fragmented, waking frequently to adjust the pillow that rests under your left hip.

Your incision is healed, you’ve always been a quick healer - except for that one joint. The one that keeps you from being a normal teenager. The one that keeps you too thin and gives you dark circles under your eyes.

When you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the realm of self-pity, you let yourself remember. Because, this recovery is simple compared to a full body cast, a bed pan, hair washed in the bathroom sink, a baby monitor set next to you at night at the age of 14. This is nothing. And you’re inching closer to the thing you want more than anything. A new lease on life through your next surgery.

Today, though, you’re getting dressed, putting on makeup, and feeling better than you have in a long time. You’re looking forward to seeing your boys. To seeing your Eddie. You try not think about him when you pull out the curling iron and work your hair into a cute half updo. You try not to think about which lip gloss he would prefer as you rummage through the drawers of your vanity. You definitely avoid the thought of him seeing your ass in the form fitting black jeans you feel like you can tolerate rubbing against the still tender scars that run down your outer thigh and lower waist. Nope. Not thinking about that.

Eddie’s leaning against the hood of his van when you pull into the parking lot this morning. He’s been arriving early since last week so he can be there to escort you into the building first thing each day. This morning your stomach leaps into your throat as you watch him flick his cigarette butt into the grass at the edge of the lot. Friday was the first day you’d really noticed how pretty his eyes are, really looked at how full his lips are. It was a revelation you weren’t expecting. As much as you wish you could just push the feelings away, you know it’s not possible. You’ve noticed him, no going back now.

“Excuse me sir, can you point me in the direction of an errand boy to hire for the day? I can’t possibly be expected to carry my own things around all day.” You’ve pulled your car up next to Eddie with your window rolled down. You let your eyes travel up and down his body to assess him with exaggeration, “You might be sufficient. Do you have any references?”

“There’s this one girl, she’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I’m sure she’d be willing to write me a letter of recommendation.” His head is tilted to the side and he’s wearing a grin that shows off his pretty dimples. “What kind of compensation do you offer?”

“The pleasure of my company.” You give him a big smile and a flutter of your lashes before you pull in to the spot next to him. He makes his way to your car, reaching into the back seat for your crutches before offering his hand to help you out.

“Oh, I think I might take that offer, but I have one request.” He’s answering you try to find your balance. Once you’re upright, he reaches across the front seat to grab your bookbag for you. “How do you feel about adding in some study time this week to sweeten the deal?”

You’ve crutched a couple of steps while he closes your car door for you, but you stop after he makes his request to cock your head and squint your eyes. He’s got that fucking smile on his face again.

“Oh, sure. Follow me home tonight, we can do some work at my house, ok?” Eddie nods and you’re both kind of just looking back and forth at each other while you make your way to the big doors that lead into the school.

“You look really pretty today, by the way.” It’s a casual statement that a friend would make to another friend, but you can feel the heat rising up your chest, and your stomach feels like it’s on fire.

You can’t help but do the thing you always do when you feel like you’re in a corner. You joke.

“Stop flirting with me. I know the crutches are irresistible, but you’re gonna have to try to resist.”

And you think he’ll leave it at that. So, you crutch your way down the still quiet hallway, but he just can’t stop himself. A couple of steps behind you, he says just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s not the crutches I’m thinking about from this angle, Ilene.”

---

That’s how the flirtation started, with Eddie not so subtlety checking out your ass at 7:30 on a Monday morning. It went on like this for the rest of the week. On Wednesday, you sat next to Dustin at lunch. His positivity was contagious, and you found you cared deeply for the kid. He always knew how to talk, or not talk, to you.

“So, Eddie tells me you’ve been helping him study.” You’ve been making eyes at Eddie from across the table. Eddie’s been coming over to your house for a couple of hours the last two afternoons, and you’ve started helping him work on his English paper. After talking him through what some of his issues have been, you offer to be his scribe. It’s working really well, you writing his words.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been nice having him around.” You finally drag your eyes away from Eddie to meet Dustin’s face and he’s practically glowing.

“Oh, good. You guys are, uh, really hitting it off, huh?” Your eyes roll a little and you flick the back of his hands with your fingers in a playful admonishment.

“Stop. It’s not like that.”

Dustin shrugs a little, still radiant with pleasure at all of the possibilities he has running rampant through his head.

“Hey, when do you see your doctor? It’s next week, right?”

“Yep.” It’s all you can manage. Your anxiety was starting to build at the thought of it.

“How soon do you expect to have your surgery?” You had told Dustin about the prospect of a hip replacement. He was enthusiastic, understanding it would be the ticket to a more independent life.

“As soon as he’ll schedule it. Realistically? Probably in a month. I think I’ve convinced my mom that it’s definitely happening, but you know, parents are always worried.” Dustin knew. He definitely knew.

“Well, I’m excited for you.” His big smile does a lot to settle your anxiety. His support means so much to you. “I’m sure Eddie will be excited too.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Dustin, I swear to god.” You shake your head and look back to see Eddie smirking at your obvious annoyance with his favorite kid.

---

“So, tell me about Eddie.” Your mom sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the mail while you got yourself situated on the recliner. You’d been sleeping in it all week, it holds your body in all of the right places. It’s the only place you can fully relax, even if it’s only for a couple of hours at a time.

“You met him, you already know about him.” It’s Friday, the first afternoon that you’ve returned from school without the metalhead following closely behind. His band is practicing, but he offered to come over after to watch a movie later.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid, I like him.” She rips open one of the envelopes and scans the page. A medical bill. You can tell from the resigned sigh that leaves her mouth. “I was just wondering if anything’s been going on between you two yet.”

“We’re just friends, mom.” It doesn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“Of course your friends. He’s the reason I don’t worry about you when you leave the house. But I’m not blind.” She doesn’t say anymore, she just gets up and digs her check book out of her purse before dropping back into the seat and continuing the depressing job of draining her bank account.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s coming over at 7 to watch a movie if that’s ok.” Your attempt at sounding casual fails, and you know it because you’re mom barks out a laugh.

“Eddie’s always welcome, you don’t have to ask. ‘Just friends.’” She does air quotes at you, and you lay your head back to try to nap before Eddie heads over.

The next thing you know, there’s a hand on your arm and you smell pizza? Your groggy eyes are trying to open, the hand on your arm is lifting and you hear his voice, as if from a distance.

“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to wake her if she needs to sleep.” His voice is soft, and you wonder who he’s talking about. Wait, he’s talking about me. Because I’m asleep.

“No, I promise, she’ll never forgive me if I let her sleep through your visit.” You hear footsteps moving towards you, and there’s another smaller hand with a firmer grip on your arm. “Sweetie, Eddie’s here to see you. He brought over some pizza. Wanna wake up?”

Your feel like your eyelids weigh a ton, but you finally get them open enough to see your mom and Eddie standing over you, looking at you. Eddie looks concerned, his fingers at his mouth playing with his bottom lip.

“Hey, Buddy.” You croak out and give him a sleepy smile, and you can see him visibly relax. Your mom gives him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves the room. “Thanks for coming over, Eddie.” You start moving to get up, and he puts his hands out to stop you.

“Hey, no, it’s ok, stay there.” But you’re shaking your head, you had to get up and move around to get the blood flowing.

“I’m fine, I can’t stay in this chair anymore or I won’t sleep at all tonight.” Eddie’s quick to offer his arm to you, and warmth starts to stir inside of you. His leather jacket is thrown over a chair in the kitchen. This is the first time you’ve had your hands on his bare arm, and his skin feel so warm under your fingers.

“Where’d you get the pizza, Ed?” You put your arm around his shoulder, letting him help you to the kitchen without the aid of your crutches. His hair smells clean, like maybe he took a shower before coming over. You let your fingers brush across the ends of his hair to see if it’s still damp. It is.

“Uh, I went to Gino’s. Is that ok?” He turns his head to face you, and he’s so close. You notice his eyes drifting between your eyes and your mouth while you’re hopping the last few feet before resting on one of the cloth covered chairs at the octagonal table.

“It’s great. Thank you.” As soon as your ass hits the chair, he’s moving in a flurry. Getting you something to drink, plating some pizza, frenetic movements around the kitchen.

He finally sits with you after grabbing a plate for himself. This is the moment. This is when you know it. You let your foot rest next to his, your sock covered toes rub the top of his foot just a little, and he’s all smiles. This is good. He returns your gesture with a little toe rub of his own, and you let the greasy cheesy pizza fill your stomach while you play footsie with the pretty boy sitting next to you.

Eddie brought over the movie he’d been talking about all week, insisting you should watch it. LadyHawke. You know it’s not anywhere near what you’d consider watching normally, but his excitement was worth it. Also, the thought of sitting in a dark room with him sitting close to him made your whole body tingle.

You stood at in front of the couch, looking down at it, trying to decide what would work the best. Eddie stood there, looking a little confused, probably wondering why you were staring at a piece of furniture with such concentration.

“So, uh, do you need help, or…” He’s filling the silence with anything, and you’ve decided to just tell him the truth.

“I’m thinking about how I can be comfortable on this couch while also not being too obvious about wanting you to be close to me.” You keep looking at the couch, and Eddie is standing a little straighter.

“Ah, yeah, I see.” Now he’s looking at the couch with you while you lean your weight onto his shoulders. He snaps his fingers together excitedly. “I’ve got it. Here.” He’s helping you down onto the couch, making sure you’ve got a pillow to rest under your hip before he gets the movie set up and turns off the lights. You’re waiting, a little sad to be sitting alone.

“Ok, can I sit here?” He’s pointing at the very end of the couch where you’re head and shoulders are resting, and you feel a smile pulling on your lips.

“Of course you can.” You sit up as much as you can, and Eddie sneaks his slender body next to you. It’s easy to rest your head on him, perfectly comfortable, his arms are gently surrounding you. You can feel his steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart with your head on his broad chest.

LadyHawke is playing on the television. You know that. Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Broderick are right on the screen. Outside of that, nothing is connecting. Eddie’s hand is moving along your arm, fingers lazily running along your skin. Your face is pressed into his cotton t shirt, it smells like fabric softener and very faintly of cigarette smoke. You can feel his warm breath on the crown of your head. Your hand is running along the rings of his free hand, dipping into the valleys between his fingers. You can hear his breath hitch when you let the tip of your fingers rub against the sensitive skin.

“This is really nice, Ed.” You need him to know how you’re feeling right now before your heart explodes in your chest from his tender touches.

“Mmmm” The hum is thick, reverberating through his chest. He’s gone somewhere, just feeling and not thinking. As casually as possible without full function of you lower half, you turn yourself to look at his face. Your expectation is that you’ll see his face focused on the screen, but no. He’s looking down at you with a soft expression.

You reach to touch his face, asking him to look at you. Please, see me. He does. You see his vision focus, he’s back with you. You run your finger down his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there. His hand isn’t running along your arm now. No, it’s found the spot on your side where you’re shirt has ridden up, and now his fingers are bringing out goosebumps along this new place, a gentle dance.

It’s a challenge. It’s awkward. You’re moving your body in ways that are not completely natural, trying to angle your face to meet his. His sweet and knowing smile makes you giggle a little. It’s ridiculous that this should be so hard when it’s so stupidly easy for every other teenager in the world. But, this is Eddie, and he’s not making you feel weird.

“You wanna kiss, Sweet Girl?” Of course you want a kiss. It’s why you have your body twisted, face in the crook of his neck. So close. You have to pull yourself up using his shirt as leverage.

“No.” Your face is heating up enough that you’re sure he can feel it on the skin of his neck. “I just wanna put my face right here.” You let your lips brush against his the soft skin behind his ear, and he lets out a little groan.

“Oh, yeah, ok.” His breath is ragged as you trail your lips across his neck leaving gentle kisses as you go. His hands are gripped firmly at the skin of your side, he’s obviously trying to keep himself under control while you assault his most sensitive spots.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.” You breath out in the shell of his ear and his breath stutters, “I’m lying. I really do want you to kiss me.” Your teeth nip at the spot behind his hear, and you’re satisfied with the whimper that escapes his pretty mouth.

It’s still awkward, but neither of you seem to care. The goal is to let your lips meet. So close. So, so close. He’s so pretty. The reflection of the screen illuminates his face, and you’re struck again by his perfect features. You can’t get your face to angle in the right way, so you just bring your hand up to run along his eyebrows, down his nose, along his pretty lips.

He closes his eyes while you explore his features with your featherlight touches. Slowly, he starts to move away from you, gently guiding your body to a half sitting position.

“Lay down, Sweetheart.” His knees are resting on the carpet in front of the couch, and he helps you lay on your side to face him. “There she is.” His hand cups your cheek and he closes the distance to let your lips meet. Finally. His lips are as soft as the touches you’ve been sharing. His fingers scratch at the back of your head, and your open mouths taste each other while Lady Hawke plays on in the background, all while Eddie sits on his knees on the floor.

---

In your living room on that Friday night, you let the waves take you like you always did. The feelings were happening, there was no stopping it. There are so few things in your life that make perfect sense, there’s so much uncertainty. But Eddie was consistent, he was true. So, it happens, and it’s right.

Saturday, you’re mother takes you to a salon. Self-care has been low priority for a long time, but the hair cut was a practice in hope. Monday morning, instead of meeting Eddie in the parking lot of the high school, you’ll be sitting in the office of your surgeon discussing next steps. While waiting for your time slot, you flip through the book filled with glossy images of haircuts. You know what you want before even stepping foot in the door, but you need a visual reference. When you see the picture, you have to hold in a laugh, it’s exactly what you’re looking for. It’s not until you see the cut on the model that you realize it is the same cut that Isabeau wears in LadyHawke.

The seat is uncomfortable, it strains the already painful joint, but it’s so worth it. Angie, your hairstylist, is massaging your scalp more than washing your hair, and you feel like purring with satisfaction. You suspect that your mom told her something that made her want to give you extra pampering, and you don’t even care if it’s out of pity. When she finally turns the taps off and wraps your head in a towel, your eyes are heavy, but your body feels light.

Getting a haircut has always been a ritual you like to go through before major medical stuff. It’s a shedding of the past and making room for new growth. The practicality of having less hair to deal with post operation is an added bonus. This is the first cut you’ve had in a year, and your hair is well past the donation threshold. After the initial chop of the braids hanging down your back, you listen to the scissors snip snip snip while small clumps of hair float to the ground. You feel freer already.

Sunday Eddie visits for a while, and he brings Dustin. It’s a surprise, but you’re so happy to see him. Outside of your mom, they’re the only ones you’ve told about your anxieties. To his benefit, Dustin never comments on the fact that you’re head rests in Eddie’s lap and that he runs his fingers through your hair while they visit. Even though it looks physically painful for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

For the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re just passing time and waiting for the next thing. Waiting for you life to finally make sense and be set right. You feel accepted and held by Eddie. He sees you and doesn’t frown at the sight of your pain, he simply tries to not add to it. Having a friend like Dustin must have played a part in his understanding, but it’s more than that. Eddie just accepts and offers sincerity in everything.

When Dustin takes off, telling you he’s got plans with Mike Wheeler, you know he’s really giving you and Eddie some time. Eddie helps you over to the recliner so you can really rest, the week was long and you’re still so tired. You make yourself small and pull him into the oversized chair with you. He doesn’t argue. He moves with clear intention, cautiously but not with fear.

“Eddie, thanks for being here for me.” Your running your finger down his sternum, following a path to his ribs. You try not to think too hard about doing this without the cotton barrier of his shirt. You’re present, enjoying it for what is and trying to not wish any of it away.

“This is where I want to be, Baby. With my girl.” His eyes are closed, he looks as tired as you do. Fully relaxed under your touch.

“I’m your girl?” He keeps his eyes closed, but his mouth draws up into a smile at the softness of your voice.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. You’re stuck with me now. You found that spot behind my ear. I can’t let you go.” You take his hint and nose your way to his neck and run you lips along the spot. He’s practically growling his response, “You’re an evil woman, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you liked this.” He pulls your chin away from his neck so you can see his face. The tender look on his face has you feeling gooey and warm. You spend the rest of the evening with your lips connected, taking all that you could give one another until – finally – you fall asleep to the sounds of his breathing.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

hello! I hope ur having a good day! I have a request if you’re up to it! we’ve always had Professor matt so to spice things up can we have a college!matt x professor!reader? he’s actively trying to gain the pretty professor’s attention and she’s slowly falling for it. you can make it fluffy or spicy or smutty. its all up to you!

hi nonnie!

I hope you're having a good day as well! I genuinely loved this idea bc we all know matty is a flirt but I feel like college!matty is a HUGE flirt and would totally go after the pretty professor. and honestly, she would eat that shit up, let's be real. but who wouldn't???

thank you so much for the request! ❤️

warning: contains mentions of sexual content (minors please dni), swearing word count: 3k

office hours.

When Matt was reminded by his advisor that he needed to take a literature course to satisfy his degree plan, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. He had been continuously putting it off, but with one final semester left of undergrad, he couldn’t graduate without it. It wasn’t that Matt didn’t enjoy reading, he simply just wasn’t interested in taking anything that didn’t have to do with his program. He’d read enough “classic literature” and written enough analysis essays in high school, and he wasn’t looking forward to going through that agonizing process again. Reluctantly, he signed up for the last course available.

Taking a seat in the very back of the small classroom, Matt set up his laptop and plugged an earbud into his ear, prepared to appear engaged while he got started on a project for another class. All around him seats filled up with other students, but it wasn’t until he caught the sweet scent of pink grapefruit and blue wisteria that his fingers stilled over his keyboard. He turned his head slightly to the side towards the wall as the scent rushed down the hall, accompanied by a racing heartbeat. Matt’s head snapped towards the front when you walked through the classroom door slightly out of breath, heat in your cheeks from the run, and also a twinge of embarrassment.

“Probably not the best first impression to be late on the first day of class, but in my defense, I’m still learning how to navigate New York. I can’t promise I won’t be late again, so we won’t be counting tardies in this class, to a reasonable limit.”

An anxious giggle left your lips, and luckily everyone seemed to find the humor in your admission. Matt’s lips parted slightly at the sound, and he quickly ripped the earbud out of his ear as you introduced yourself.

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, please call me Y/N. This is my first year teaching, and you guys are my second class, so we’re figuring this all out together.”

Another timid giggle left your lips, and Matt clenched his fist tightly as the sound settled in his ears.

“I don’t expect perfection, I just want you guys to do your best. We aren’t reading things some arrogant ‘expert’ decided was a classic, or writing mind numbing papers identifying every literary device to prove you know what they are. I want to show you works that move you and make you think…make you feel. And I want to know what they make you think, and how they make you feel. The only way to fail this class is to not try.”

God your voice. It was as sweet as your perfume and had a velvet cadence that stuck to Matt’s ears like honey. He wanted to listen to you talk for hours, about anything. Your heart continued to beat wildly in your chest throughout the duration of class, and you fiddled with the rings on your fingers as you paced slowly around. You were incredibly nervous. Matt could feel it in the tremble of your fingers, hear it in the slight shake of your voice, and feel it in the rush of blood that never left your cheeks. He found it endearing that you were so anxious, and could hear how passionate you were in the way you spoke. Everything about you drew him in, and before he could stop himself, he was marching up to your desk once everyone filed out of the room to introduce himself.

“Excuse me? Hi, my name is-”

“Matthew Murdock, right?”

Matt abruptly paused, and he swallowed the sound that threatened to come out of his mouth at the way you said his name.

“J-just Matt, uh…yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Y/N.”

Your hand was so soft and small clasped in his own, and he could faintly smell the scent of blackberry from a lotion you’d smoothed over your body the previous evening.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“You have perfect timing, I was actually just about to come to you.”

Matt’s ears perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter, already missing your touch as you slowly let go of his hand.

“You were?”

“Yeah, this is for you.”

You lightly wrapped your fingers around his wrist, carefully guiding his hand to a folder that you had outstretched in your hand. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly as he let his fingers glide over the folder, pausing as they ran over a braille label that had his name on it. Taking the folder into his hands, he opened it to find stacks of paper in braille on the inside.

“It’s the syllabus, a list of the works we’re studying, and the first section of notes we’re going to go over. I wasn’t sure if you were able to access the digital copies. I’m still trying to figure out how the portal works, honestly.”

There was a timid smile that stretched across your mouth, and Matt could hear a slight bit of nerves in your confession. For a moment he was stunned silent by the kind gesture, swallowing thickly as he closed the folder and offered you a small smile in return.

“I-uh…yeah, I was able to. But um…I-thank you. For this, I uh…I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I like to have tangible copies of things, myself. Helps keep me organized. Or, at least I think it does. Maybe it’s a sensory thing and I’m just tricking myself into thinking it’s making me more productive.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle as you giggled softly, nodding his head in agreement.

“I can understand that.”

“Well if there’s ever anything you need, any help or accommodations at all, please don’t hesitate to tell me. All my information is on the syllabus, and I practically live here since I never go home, so my office is always open.”

“Good to know.”

From that day forward, Matt sat in the front row for every single class. He blitzed through every single text on the syllabus, always prepared to participate in the discussions, and approached every assignment early. He wanted so badly to impress you, and his chest swelled with pride every time you complimented one of his thoughts or ideas, or stayed behind after class to offer your positive verbal feedback on one of his assignments.

Matt knew he wasn’t the only one that wanted the pretty, young professor’s attention. He could hear the way the other students in class talked about you, which caused a tide of possessiveness to rise in his chest. Matt could also feel your affect on them as you smiled in their direction, or offered a compliment to one of their remarks, and it made jealousy simmer in his bloodstream. He was determined to be your favorite.

He found himself constantly stopping by your office hours to feign needing help or a second opinion on his approach to a paper, mainly as an excuse to talk to you alone, but also to scratch that itch of praise when you confirmed he was on the right track. Matt knew he was smart, and he knew he wrote incredible papers, but he liked hearing that come from you.

He loved when you complimented his intelligence. Was it wrong to fake being unsure just to hear you say, “That’s exactly right, Matt” or “I hadn’t even thought of it that way, but I love that idea”? Probably. But it didn’t feel wrong. It felt good.

Matt had to be careful playing dumb. You both knew he was smart, so he had to switch his tactics up. He found himself asking for other recommendations for reading material from you, wanting to know what your favorite works were, going out to buy them and consume them just to get a glimpse into your head, and then listen to the passion in your voice as you explained why they meant so much to you. He liked that you asked him questions too, questions he didn’t hear you ask any of the others when they stopped by. You asked him about how his other classes were going, how his day had been, about himself and his friends, and he could tell you genuinely cared about the answers. Every second he spent with you, he felt the crush he had on you getting stronger and stronger. He knew the way he felt about you was wrong. You were his professor, and he shouldn’t be having the thoughts about you that he did.

He shouldn’t feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest every time you smiled in his direction and showered his mind in praise. He shouldn’t feel the spark of something more when you let him hold your arm as you guided him towards your office, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips. He shouldn’t stroke his cock to the sound of your voice from a recorded lecture, waiting to let himself come until it got to the part of the recording where you said his name so sweetly. He shouldn’t be waking up with a wet patch on his sweats after yet another wet dream about fucking you over your desk. All of this was wrong, and the good Catholic boy in him knew that.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Because every time he started to feel guilty about what he was doing, he reminded himself of the way your body reacted to him.

Matt was careful with his flirting, crafting his sentences in a way that could be played off as casual conversation or banter, but riddled with undertones that could only be understood by the person given the cipher. The blood that rushed into your cheeks when Matt complimented you back or said something teasing that made you giggle only fueled his confidence to get bolder and bolder as the weeks went by.

He heard the uptick in your heart rate when he mentioned how soothing he found your voice, and the way it pounded beneath your ribs when he “accidentally” brushed his hand over your exposed thigh to reach for his backpack. He felt the warmth that pooled in your cheeks when he stopped by with your favorite coffee, and when he confessed that you were one of the best professor’s he’d ever had; definitely “his favorite”, he had said. He should’ve felt bad that he could possibly ruin a career that you were clearly very passionate about, but the selfish part of his brain was screaming that you felt it too.

With spring break approaching soon, and the thought of going a whole week without being around you, Matt devised a plan to finally make you his.

The building was empty considering most professors and students had left the previous day to get a head start on vacation plans, but Matt smiled to himself hearing your familiar heartbeat coming from your office. You had made class today optional, in case anyone was traveling or needed the break, and Matt had hoped that he would’ve been the only one to show up. To his disappointment, about half the class was there, but he knew he would get you alone soon enough. Matt waited until your office hours were just about to end, in case any other student had some last minute question, and when he was certain that it was just the two of you alone, he raised his knuckles to knock softly on the worn wood of your open door.

A quiet gasp left your lips, clearly surprised by the company, and Matt had to stop the cocky smirk that threatened to take over his mouth at the way your heart started to beat faster noticing his presence.

“Matt, hey.”

“Hey. I didn’t miss your office hours, did I?”

“Uh…nope. You have exactly a minute.”

Matt’s mouth split into a wide toothy grin at the playful tone in your voice, chuckling as he followed the familiar path from the door to the chair that was directly in front of your desk.

“Well, I’ll make this quick then. I know you have very important spring break plans to get to.”

“Oh yeah. Super important. I mean, my takeout isn’t gonna order itself.”

Matt dropped his backpack on the right side of the chair, folding up his cane as he sank back into the plush cushion and tossed it down by his feet. He pulled off his glasses and set them on your desk, a habit he had gotten into since you’d let it slip that you preferred it when he didn’t wear them.

I feel like you hide behind those, sometimes. It’s nice to get to see all of you, Matt.

His tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips as he fixed his gaze in your direction, a timid smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I actually need to ask a favor of you.”

“Of course, Matt. Whatever you need. What can I do?”

Matt gripped onto his own thigh to steady himself, your immediate response and sweet voice hitting his cock before they even reached his ears. His lips parted slightly when you sat up a little straighter in your chair, leaning in closer over your desk with a warm smile on your lips.

“I need a letter of recommendation for the law program.”

“And you’re asking me?”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised tone of your voice, shaking his head slowly as he leaned in closer to your desk and rested his elbows on the surface.

“I already have a few from my other professors, but my advisor mentioned having one from a professor outside of my main area of study would make me seem more…well rounded.”

Matt should’ve felt horrible about lying. He didn’t actually need a letter of recommendation from you. He’d applied to the law program months ago, and had already gotten in, but he would confess that later.

“Mm, so I’m next in line to make you look good?”

“Well, you are my favorite, and you have a way of making everything sound beautiful. If I’d taken your class a long time ago like I was supposed to, I probably would’ve asked you first before anyone else.”

Matt didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath you took, or the way your face instantly became a few degrees warmer.

“You wouldn’t have been able to take my class earlier, Matt. This is my first year, remember? You would’ve been stuck with someone else.”

“I guess I forget sometimes because you’re so good at this. But, that’s true. I don’t think I would’ve liked who I got stuck with as much as I like you. I’m glad I waited for you.”

Matt did his best to stay calm as he heard you swallow thickly, your breathing becoming a little more shallow as your heart rate drummed loudly in his ears.

“That’s…really nice of you to say, Matt-”

“I mean it.”

A blanket of tension suddenly surrounded the two of you, and his lips parted slightly as he caught a faint shudder course through you. Your fingers clutched the hem of your dress where it settled high on your thighs, digging your nails lightly into your palms through the fabric. Matt was waiting for your body to give him a signal, indisputable proof that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, before he crossed that line the two of you had been dancing around.

“Um…when do you need it by?”

“The earlier the better, I’m a little behind. But, take your time. I’d like this to be as…real and honest as possible.”

“I…um…I can have it ready for you by the time we come back from spring break.”

“That’s perfect, thank you. I really appreciate you doing this for me. I appreciate everything that you do for me, truly.”

“O-of course. It’s my job, Matt.”

Matt’s voice dropped an octave lower as he cocked his head to the side slightly, running his tongue along his bottom lip before the corner of his mouth curled upwards into a devilish smirk.

“No. I think it’s more than that.”

Bingo.

The second he felt you press your thighs together under the desk and the enticing scent of your arousal hit his nose, Matt knew he had you. He rose from the chair steadily, gliding around the side of your desk slowly like a predator circling in on its prey, grabbing onto the sides of your chair as he bent over so that your faces were merely an inch apart.

“I think you know that too, sweetheart.”

“Matt-”

“I think if I put my hand between these pretty thighs, you’d be just as wet for me as I am hard for you.”

A shocked gasp flew past your lips as you sank back further into your chair, fighting the urge to spread your thighs to let Matt test his own theory, and averting your gaze from the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“We can’t-”

Matt lightly grasped your chin in his hand as he forced you to look at him. He delicately traced his thumb along your bottom lip, leaning in ever so slightly to bump his nose against yours as he inhaled your scent deeply.

“You’ve done so much for me. Been so good to me, sweetheart. Shown me so much kindness. I’d like to repay that kindness, and show you how much I appreciate you. You gonna let me do that?”

A soft whine of desperation sounded in your throat, and a huge grin split across Matt’s mouth as you leaned further into his touch. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

“Yes you are. Because you’re my girl. My good girl.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #college!matt murdock #college!matt x professor!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request #daredevil smut

468 notes · View notes

klmp11s · 30 days

Note

enemies to friends (something platonic I mean) of Leona with a member of his dorm (he/him), who both don't like each other because the reader is extremely hardworking to an extreme level because his family is poor and he ends up thinking if you don't work towards your goals you won't be successful in life and he ends up disliking Leona because he's a prince and has everything he wants without any real hard work. But one day the reader faints from working so hard and Leona ends up helping him and they have a frank conversation about not liking each other.

Thanks for waiting! As soon as I read your request, I wanted to find more time for it because I really liked it. (English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes) Summary: You and Leona don't like each other, but one day something happens. Character: Leona Kingscholar Warning: male!reader, enemies to friends, platonic, second year reader, reader is a member of the Savanaclaw dormitory, faints

You don't like Leona.

Everyone knows about this, both in your dormitory and outside it. You don’t even hide this fact, because you don’t understand at all how such a lazy person can be a housewarden. You have never seen this man do anything other than avoid his responsibilities. You could also hear some people admiring him, to which you were completely stunned. What do they like about it? His sleep schedule?

You don’t respect him at all and don’t even want to know how other students might like this man. But, of course, a person born with a golden spoon in his mouth will not understand a person like you at all. Since childhood, you knew that to achieve success in life, you need to try and achieve your goals, but what goals can a person have who doesn’t even go to classes? You don't want anything to do with him and even tried to transfer to another dorm a couple of times, but you still ended up being kept in Savanaclaw. Although, even in such a place you made a couple of friends. Namely, your classmate Ruggie Bucchi and a boy a year younger - Jack Howl. Although sometimes you can't understand Ruggie at all. How can he be at the beck and call of this lazy lion? You even asked several times if Leona was forcing him to do something or Ruggie still doesn't mind? But the hyena just laughs every time you raise this question. Do you sincerely worry about him or do you just want to find a motive to kick Leona out of the post of “Housewarden”?

Although, you can see that Leona is not happy with you either. You are used to thinking that there is mutual hatred between you. You never wanted to understand him, just as he never wanted to prove anything to you. You two just silently hate each other and try to interact as little as possible.

You were born into a poor family and from childhood you saw that if you do not try to achieve heights, you simply cannot survive. You were always hardworking and could even sometimes help Ruggie in some of his affairs, even if he did them for Leona.

But no matter how many times you tried, it always seemed to you that you were not doing enough, so you constantly took on more responsibilities than necessary. Club activities? It's easy, you can participate in any task. Training program? You do homework, in-class assignments, and extra assignments. Are you really that eager to learn? You don’t even remember, but you know for sure - there is no such thing as too much knowledge, Therefore, you try to spend your free time in the library and study additional material. You were also able to help other students understand the course material - you were overly hardworking. Although this also affected you negatively, you tried not to notice your condition and simply continued to go about your business.

Therefore, one day before club time, you decided to go to the library. You didn’t even notice how, from the beginning of this school year, you tried to use all your strength to study, that you completely forgot about your needs. You had terrible problems with sleep, you even ate less than the daily norm, but still you forced yourself to go and work for the good of your future. Okay, maybe you went overboard this time.

You walk quietly down the corridor and begin to hear your ears ringing. This has been happening a lot lately, and you’ve even gotten used to the noise. But after that you begin to notice that your legs feel like they are made of cotton and it becomes harder for you to walk. You feel your lungs being squeezed and see how it gets dark before your eyes. Fuck. This is not good at all. The last thing you see before you pass out is the silhouette of a person. That's all.

You open your eyes already in the school nurse’s room. Okay, you lost consciousness - that's sorted out, but who brought you here? And then you hear a tired sigh next to you. Oh no. You recognize this voice. Of all people, he was the one you met? Luck is definitely not on your side.

You turn your head towards the noise and yes, you were right.

Leona Kingscholar.

You sigh heavily and look at the man in front of you. You don't like this scenario at all. He looks back at you, silent. Okay, are you guys playing a staring game now? You are just about to open your mouth and ask what he is doing here, when at that moment he interrupts your thoughts.

"Hm? Well, are you feeling better?" He glances over you appraisingly and looks back at your face. “why are you still here? Isn’t it time for you to take a nap, huh?” you sit more comfortably in the hospital bed and continue to stare at your interlocutor. “You're right, it's time for me to go back to sleep. No more falling at my feet in the corridors, other people won’t understand.” He tries to shake off his drowsiness and slowly gets up from his chair. “wow, are you really starting to care what other people think? Stop it, it doesn’t suit you.” You rub the sleep from your eyes and try to suppress a yawn.

You feel his gaze directed at you again and an involuntary shiver runs down your back. This is not the right time to be sarcastic to him, you understand this, but something does not allow you to close your mouth in time. You hear him sit back down in his chair and immediately hear his voice. “Mouse, you really know what suits me, right?” You open your eyes and begin to stare back. You couldn't stand a minute with him, so why are you maintaining a dialogue now? “I'd rather you didn't call me that. You were about to leave, no one is holding you. Why did you even decide to talk to me?” You place your elbow on your leg and rest your head on your hand. This is the first time you've talked to him so much, why now? You need to go to the library and finish your schoolwork so you can quickly go to your club, Why are you choosing to talk to him instead of your business now? "It's not like I chose for you to fall on me, you know." he closes his eyes and now you would really like to kick him out of here. “Believe me, if I were choosing who not to fall on, the last person I would think about would be you.” You feel irritation rising in your body. You need to leave, what time is it? “Congratulations, luck is not on your side. Stop turning your head around, there is no clock here.” You notice his ear twitching and you finally sit still.

Are you already tired of talking to him, why can’t he understand that he already needs to leave here? “Are you doing this on purpose? - you look at his face and try to understand what is driving him now. - getting on my nerves, I mean.” He opens his eyes again and squints. Okay, staring game again? How much more is possible? “You started getting on my nerves when you first came here. This is what I should ask you.” "I do not like you. I would like you to leave here right now, you know?” You are really ready to kick him out, if only he would move further away from you and you wouldn’t have to see him for the next week. “How interesting, I don’t like you either. So why are you always hanging around me?”

Okay, you feel like your head is starting to hurt from how huge his ego is. “I would love to be even further away from you if I could, of the two of us, who can leave first right now is you, so go for it.” You forgot that you ever even spoke to him. He was too unbearable to have a normal dialogue with him.

You would really like to leave here now and finally feel that someone’s gaze is not pressing on you. “You take on too much, just because I previously allowed you to behave so disrespectfully does not mean that I will tolerate it all the time.”

It felt like this dialogue continued for half an hour. You are ready to climb the wall if only you no longer have to be in the same room with this man. You must have already lost the thread of the conversation and you just started moving on to his shortcomings.

“You don't think you're too lazy to be a 'housewarden', huh? I’m even surprised that you still haven’t fallen asleep here.” “Don’t you think you’re doing more than you should, hmm?” you can clearly hear the irritation in his voice. Okay, a little more and he will leave here.

The only thing you didn’t expect was that after these words your dialogue with him would unfold even more and now you are expressing to him all your thoughts about him. It doesn't feel bad, why didn't you do this before? As soon as you fall silent for a moment, he decides to answer you in kind.

You didn’t even notice how it had already started to get dark outside and the lights came on. This was the first time in your life that you talked to a person about your negative feelings towards him. Okay, maybe he's not as bad as you originally thought. From his words, you also learned what, in his opinion, is a huge disadvantage in you. When did you move from sarcastic responses to each other to casual conversation about how you see each other?

He left. You stayed for a while longer, gathering your thoughts. It wasn't that bad, you think. You even felt better that all the hatred you had been holding inside of you had poured out. But, God, how tired you are. You decide to close your eyes for a couple of minutes and feel yourself falling into sleep.

Some time has passed since that day. You can finally feel like a living person. Perhaps he was right when he said that you take on too much. You even decided to stay on sick leave for a while and not visit the library; for you this is a huge step in recovery, both physical and mental. You don't see Leona as often, but he gives you a lot less bad feelings now. Okay, maybe an honest conversation really isn't a bad idea. You literally even said hello to him a couple of times??

You don’t know whether you can still consider each other friends, but you are sure that he does not cause you such hatred as he did some time ago. Even other students notice that you two can talk calmly at some events. This is quite a big step towards reconciliation and further friendship, but it looks like both you and he are feeling better. At some point you will be able to call him a friend, right?

The characters do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners, please do not edit, translate, repost my works on other platforms, also without my permission and @

#twst x reader #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #leona kingscholar x male reader #leona kingscholar x reader

71 notes · View notes

writing-for-life · 8 months

Text

Nuance in (The Sandman) Fandom

Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!

I thought a lot over the past few days, partly prompted by discourse on here, partly due to a couple of “interesting” asks and messages I received (the type you don’t answer). I *think* they might have been prompted by engaging in discourse on topics like anti-blackness/racism, misogyny/sexism, TERF characters etc in The Sandman.

Fandoms are always getting super sensitive if someone shines a critical lens on their favourite works, authors and characters. So to make this clear (in case it isn’t already obvious from my brain-rot blog):

I love The Sandman. I love Neil Gaiman. I have an extremely soft spot for Dream (and Desire btw, who deserves a lot more character analysis than just being summed up as “villainous, sexy bitch”. One day, perhaps ;)).

I can read The Sandman and just get lost in the story, even after decades and many rereads.

But I can also view it through a critical lens—these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Not critical enough or too critical?

As fans, we can get trapped in certain thinking patterns, like:

“My blorbo can do no wrong”-syndrome

“Characters with flaws are inherently problematic and imply authorial endorsement of those actions”

“Characterisation and problematic subtext are one and the same” (aka overanalysing and looking for problems where there are none is the death of every story, but failing to see problematic patterns where they are clearly visible is a problem, too).

Don't say anything bad about my favourite character

I think this doesn’t need much further exploration. It’s not my personal way of looking at stories through permanently rose-tinted glasses (I always feel it stalls my experience, but my experience is not everyone else's). Some people prefer that type of escapism, and I’m good with that (although the downside is of course that by not willing to engage with issues, we can unwillingly perpetuate them). Live and let live, ship and let sail. But please, for the love of god: Don’t insult people via their inboxes or messages just because their opinions and preferences don’t align with yours. I’m not going to sugarcoat it or phrase it “nicely”: It’s infantile (and a form of bullying btw), end of.

How can you even like a character who's so horrible? And that author must be equally horrible, too

We have to separate flawed characters, even those who are written to be really problematic, from real-life endorsement of these actions.

Author, narrator and character are three fundamentally different things, and don’t overlap as much as some people seem to think.

We can write vile, despicable characters to make a point (for me, Thessaly was always a prime example for this, and I explained why here). We probably hate them as we write them. I don’t know what else to say, but this facet of writing seems to get more and more lost on people, and it’s a worry. Crying for sanitised characterisation is one step away from censorship. We explore what is problematic about people and humanity through story. That’s how we process and learn. It’s nothing new, but it becomes impossible if we can’t write flawed and even disgusting characters.

Face value…

Since I’m mostly in The Sandman fandom, I often read that its ending is hopeless, and that’s supposedly the entire message.

It is agonisingly sad, yes. But is it truly hopeless? I personally see it as quite the opposite, but of course that’s my opinion, coloured by my life experiences.

I also get that show-only fans often haven’t read the comics, or at least not the whole arc. And as such, their outlook from what they’ve seen so far (and choose to focus on) has to be different by default. I also understand that many people are quite new to the comics, even if they have read them in their entirety. I’ve sat with them for 30 years, and I still find new things on every reread (and I read it more times than anyone should 🙈), and I still don’t feel like I’ve understood it all. Perhaps because I still haven’t fully understood myself (and it’s unlikely I ever will). If there’s one thing The Sandman isn’t, it’s one-dimensional and easy to grasp in its whole depth.

I just wrote a ginormous meta on it, if you’re interested, it’s here:

Subtext, (not so) glorious subtext

This is where it gets complicated:

We shouldn’t mix up characterisation and story subtext. Overanalysing every line to death will always make us find something that’s “problematic”, when it really isn’t in the wider context of the story.

Zooming in is NOT always a good thing. Sometimes, we actually need to zoom out.

But subtext *can be* (accidentally) problematic. Even in stories we love. And none of this negates what I previously wrote.

Stories have real-life implications of sorts, and we need to be able to talk about it. That’s where those slightly flabbergasting, hostile inbox messages come in, and I want to expand on that "topic of contention" a bit:

Neil himself confirmed that the Endless basically warp reality, and that this is why, after Dream’s failed relationship with Nada, many black women in his vicinity suffer terrible fates (Ruby and Carla in particular). And that this spell is only broken when he dies, and that it is the reason why Gwen doesn’t suffer the same fate. And said Gwen then gets used as a plot device to basically absolve Hob (who canonically really is a problematic character, whether show-only fans like it or not) from his slaver past. Once again, very clearly: No one is making this up. Neil confirmed it (for the comics, and that was over 20 years ago. It remains to be seen if his stance has changed as we move into that arc in the TV show).

I don't think it is correct to imply that Dream as a character is racist (I've read that, too) because he logically can’t be. He holds *all* the collective unconscious. He is also, strictly speaking, not white. He is everything and nothing, and he shows up in many different ethnicities throughout the whole arc, depending on who looks at him. But Neil played with a subtext here (reality warping due to a bad relationship which then affects everyone with similar physical traits) that will read very differently to a black person than it reads to a white person, and we have to understand why that is an *extremely* slippery slope.

Plus, we are supposed to see Hob, who *was* a racist at some point (you can’t not be if you’re a slave-trader—it’s impossible by default) as redeemed. And yes, he *does* regret deeply, good for him (and if I were saying this aloud, you would hear the sarcasm in my voice, because it is indeed all about him. We are to sympathise/empathise with him and his character growth while there isn’t much mention of the people he maltreated). But also: it was a black woman who basically forgave him (with dialogue that personally makes me cringe). And that black woman who offers forgiveness is not truly a black woman—she is a character written by a white man. And as much as author and character are not the same (see above), there is an inherent sensitivity in that power imbalance that we can't brush under the carpet.

I don’t think Neil is racist. Probably quite the opposite, and I can even see that his intentions were good from a storytelling point of view. BUT intention and impact are two fundamentally different things, and telling the story this way (comic version) betrays blindspots only white people have. Just like women have blindspots when they tell stories about men, and men have blindspots when they tell stories about women (and there are a few of those in The Sandman, too). And and and…

As storytellers, we can’t always speak from lived experience. It’s impossible. And that also means we occasionally make mistakes that look bad in hindsight, even if our intentions were good.

I guess the proof is in the pudding: What do we do when people who *have* that lived experience tell us it looks bad? If they inform us why it is hurtful, plays into old stereotypes etc?

Are we willing to listen and yield (both are the foundations of allyship btw), or are we insisting that our viewpoint as someone *without* lived experience is right? That lived experience extends to all lived experiences (sex/gender, sexual orientation, age...), and from all we’ve heard from Neil so far, it seems important to him to rewrite what he sees differently today. Whether they’ll always get it right for the show—we’ll see. At the moment, it looks a lot better than in the comics, and certain issues are already being handled with a lot more sensitivity, but a few problems remain.

Pushing back on criticism that comes from people with lived experience is problematic—I’d encourage us to think about what it looks like if a white majority in the fandom is basically saying that the opinions of POC are essentially “overreactions” (and yes, that happened).

It’s complicated. The Sandman was written in a different time, and I think we have to distinguish between things that weren’t really problematic at the time but have aged poorly (again, Thessaly springs to mind, and I have lived experience as a queer person during that time, so I can see it in context while at the same time acknowledging that I would make changes to bring it to the present day), and things that were always a problem due to blindspots. They were a problem in 1990, and if they don’t get changed, they are still a problem today.

This fandom is generally so much more open and nicer than others I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s infallible, because it’s full of humans.

Nuance is sorely needed, in both story interpretation and interaction between said humans.

#fandom discourse #fandom blindspots #sandman meta #sandman spoilers #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #nada #morpheus #sandman

188 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

JUST HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES (part 2)

A/N: okay okay part 2! here we are!! my progress about the story is not as fast as i would like it but im trying my best!! feedback is always appreciated!

PAIRING: Harry x High-School-Best-Friend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has thought of seeing you again so many times in the past months, he imagined this moment when he lied in bed, counting the days until he meets you again after all this time, but seeing you in real life is nothing like his daydreams.

You’ve changed so much, yet he can see the version of you he last saw clearly too. Your facial features have matured, your hair is longer than he was expecting, though he only saw pictures of you from the past years. You have a black wrap-around dress on that’s hugging your curves that look absolutely delicious.

It’s pretty obvious you’ve put on some weight and judging from the way you nervously keep fixing your dress every other second, it’s something you feel insecure about, but Harry cannot take his eyes off you and he forces himself to tame his already wandering thoughts.

“Dude, close your mouth!” Beckham walks up to Harry, patting his shoulder to snap him out of his trance.

“Shut up,” he mumbles under his breath, averting his eyes from you, but it only takes a few seconds before his gaze returns.

“Go say hi,” Beckham encourages him, but he shakes his head no.

“Later. I don’t… I don’t think I’m the person she wants to see the most.”

Beckham laughs as he walks away with his beer while Harry returns to his seat that’s not as close to yours as he would want it to be, but at least you’re on opposite sides, so he can keep an eye on you as the dinner finally starts. He can faintly hear your voice over the chatter every time you speak up or laugh at something and he wishes he was part of the conversation as well, sitting next to you instead of sneakily stealing glances.

Sometime after the main course and before the dessert it’s suggested that everyone say a short little summary of what happened to them in the past decade, and the round starts, everyone curiously listening to what their old pals are saying.

“Um, hi,” Harry chuckles awkwardly when it’s his turn. “Well, I’ve had a pretty busy couple of years,” he grins, making everyone laugh. “I don’t know what I can say that you can’t read online, but let’s pretend you know nothing. So I just published my third solo album not long ago, I’ve been really enjoying experimenting with music on my own, though I loved my time in the band as well. I’m working on new stuff lately and I still have part of the tour coming up. I’m doing good, it’s all good,” he nods to himself before smiling around and giving the word to the next person.

While he is interested in what everyone has to say, he is mostly looking forward to your turn finally so he can shamelessly stare at you while you talk.

“Hi everyone,” you smile nervously around, squaring your shoulders as attention turns to you. “Um, I don’t really know where to start. I started marketing at college, but I didn’t really like it and I was learning coding at the time so I thought I would start a career in that field. I went to an intense training so now I mostly make websites, but I do other stuff too. Um… I live here in London as most of us do now,” she chuckles, the class sharing her smile. “Nothing… Nothing else to share, really,” she adds in a mumble and looks to her right, signaling that she is done talking, it’s time for the next person.

It wasn’t enough. Harry wants to know more, everything if that’s possible and if it wasn’t for all the people around him, he would stand up and just sit beside you, asking you dozens of questions.

But he has to sit and wait patiently, pretend like you’re not the only one he is interested in the bunch.

An entire hour passes by before he sees you slip away from the table and out to the back patio. Part of him tells him he shouldn’t follow you, but he just can’t stop himself. He excuses himself from the conversation and heads after you, hoping no one will notice him missing inside.

In the summer time there are tables outside as well with fairy lights creating a cozy mood, but it’s too cold right now to sit outside, so it’s only used by smokers occasionally. When Harry steps out as he slips into his coat he spots you right away in the corner, scrolling on your phone as you’re probably having a break. Even when you were younger, you often told him your social batteries easily run out and those were the times Harry gladly sat outside with you until you felt comfortable enough to go back inside. Seems like not much has changed.

“Hey,” he breathes out and watches your eyes widen when you realize he came after you.

“H-Hi!” you clear your throat, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“Having a social break?” he smiles warmly, standing only a few feet away from you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

There’s a bit of a pause where you’re not too sure how to act with Harry right next to you and he is stunned as well. There’s so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t know how you’d react. He doesn’t know about a lot of things when it comes to you but he is determined to change that.

“So… how have you been?” he asks at last, the ure to speak up taking over the silence.

“Um, I’m fine. Fine, yeah,” you nod.

“Do you still work at that civil organization, or…?”

“You know I worked there?” you ask, the surprise is pretty apparent on your face.

“Of course,” he smiles softly, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Uh, I’m not there anymore. I work for a bigger company.”

“But still in marketing?”

“Yes,” you nod. “I can do more designing here on the side, that’s why I switched.”

“You like it?”

“It’s good. But work is work, you know, I was never the kind to be obsessed with my job.”

As you say that you realize he can’t know that, because you weren’t talking by the time you started working. It brings the awkwardness right back and he knows he needs to address some things before moving on.

“Y/N, I hope you know I didn’t… I didn’t want us to eventually stop talking. It’s just that so much happened, all at once and I didn’t take all of it the best way either. I should have focused more on my oldest friendships. I’m sorry, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“It’s fine,” you shake your head with a weak smile. “People have fallouts all the time, it’s natural.”

But it wasn’t supposed to happen to us, Harry wants to say, but he bites his tongue. He shouldn’t bring everything up the first time you see each other.

“But we could start again,” he suggests, holding his breath as he watches your reaction to his words.

“Start again?”

“Yeah. I would… love to catch up with you, hear about everything I missed. Only if you want to tell me about it, of course.”

You stare back at him for way longer than he would have loved it and it convinces him it’s the part where you tell him to fuck off. He wouldn’t be surprised, you haven’t talked in ages and now he is so desperate to reconnect. You have every right not to want him back in your life even if you never had a fight that resulted in the fallout.

He is about to take back what he said, but you finally speak up.

“Okay,” is all you say with a tiny nod.

He’s shocked, to say the least, even though he was hoping you’d say that. But seeing that small smile on your face is all he needs right now.

“Cool,” he breathes out. The door behind him opens and another guest walks out to have a smoke, making them realize they should probably return to the table. “Look, if you’re free sometime soon, I’m staying until the end of the month. We could have lunch, dinner or even breakfast,” he chuckles. “I would love to see you again and talk. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Cool! Great!” he enthuses, probably more excited than he should be, but it doesn’t matter.

The two of you return to the table soon, no one really noticed that you slipped away, but it leaves Harry with a silly smile on his face that widens every time he looks at you again. Suddenly, he feels like a teenager all over again, he is in that basement with his best mates, just having fun, looking forward to spending some time alone with you.

Your bike rides home together were always his favorites, even the ones when you didn’t exchange a single word. He just loved seeing you by his side, the way you always squinted your eyes when the wind blew harder than usual, how you always checked back at him if he was behind you whenever you were about to cross a road. These are all tiny things that are etched into his memories probably forever.

Sometime towards the end of the evening Bee gathers your little group and asks to talk to you outside. You stand in a circle, everyone eyeing her suspiciously as she tries to hold her smile back, Lucas standing right behind her.

“So, there is something that we would like to share with you guys,” Bee starts and without any time to waste, she pulls out a ring from her pocket and slips it on her finger, holding it up, her grins stretching from ear to ear.

“Oh my God!” Chloe gasps as she realizes what it means. “Congratulations!”

It’s a shock, but not really. Bee and Lucas became an official item sometime before graduation, had a short break during college since Lucas studied abroad and long distance took a toll on them, but they found their way back not long after. Engagement was definitely the next step after they moved together three years ago and adopted a dog just last year.

But still, it’s shocking for Harry to see his old pals move on in life together. There’s a pang of jealousy in him too, but it’s overruled by the happiness.

There’s a round of hugs and congratulations before Bee reaches for her purse and pulls out a stack of envelopes.

“We want to invite you all to the wedding that’s gonna be held in June. You guys have been here from the start and it only feels right if you’re there with us on our big day.”

“Man, I might even start crying!” Joshua jokes, but Harry can see the shimmer in his eyes as he takes his invitation.

“Don’t get too mushy,” Lucas chuckles, patting his shoulder.

Chloe is already talking Bee’s ears off about the wedding and offers to help with basically anything, while you’re examining the invitation card with a soft smile on your lips.

Harry’s excitement runs even higher when he realizes it’s gonna be another occasion where he’ll see you, though he plans to meet a few more times until June.

The night stretches long, it’s way past midnight when the last guests get ready to leave. Harry has been keeping an eye on you all evening in case you wanted to slip out, but you stayed until the end and he doesn’t hesitate to take this opportunity.

“Do you have a ride home?” he asks, when you’re putting your coat on.

“Um, I’ll just call an Uber or something.”

“We can share, I already called one.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

In front of the building everyone says their goodbye, heading their own way and you are left alone with Harry on the curb as the car pulls up.

“So when will you be free for that breakfast slash lunch slash dinner?” he asks, not wanting to miss the chance to see you again.

“I have to check my work schedule, but… I’ll text you, okay?” “Promise?” he arches his eyebrows.

“I promise.”

“Okay. Just so you know, if you ghost me I will come for you.”

“So you’re that desperate?” you chuckle and he just shrugs with a smirk.

“I’m just eager to start over and reconnect with you.”

“I’ll text you, don’t worry. My days are just… a bit hectic lately.”

He wants to ask you about it, would be even better if you just opened up about whatever it is that’s happening in your life, but he’s fine with what he got as well. He doesn’t want to be greedy.

You make some small talk on the way to your place and when the car comes to a stop Harry is already looking forward to seeing you again.

“Don’t forget about texting me!” he reminds you again, to which you exhale sharply.

“I actually keep my promises, Harry. Goodnight,” you say before hopping out of the car, leaving him too stunned to speak and the car drives away before he could even react.

It was like a stab in his chest, your words ring in his head all the way until he arrives home and even after that.

He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. His nagging was supposed to be just a joke, but apparently, he should have been more careful, because your reaction was sharp and painful. But he deserved it, he knows, because what you said… that was a reminder that he fucked up and he can’t just start all over again so quick and easily.

He wants to go back in time and take the words back, everything was going so well up until that point and now it feels like a setback. While in the shower he is composing a text to apologize for overstepping your boundaries and he is just about to type it out when his phone rings, your name on display.

“Hi!” he answers, shocked to receive a call from you but also thankful that he can apologize.

“Hey.” Your voice is weak, but a lot lighter than it was in the car when you parted ways. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed and he wishes he could talk to you in person, see your face.

“It was rude. You’ve been so nice all evening, even asking to reconnect and I was… I was an asshole,” you sigh and he can imagine you closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I kinda deserved it. It’s been long, Y/N, I shouldn’t have expected to just go back to being best friends. I pushed too hard, so if anyone has to be sorry, it should be me.”

There’s a long pause at your end of the call, Harry is dreading to hear your voice and make sure he didn’t fucked up royally.

“I’ve been kind of… moody lately. I should think about my words before talking.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks, but then realizes that it might be over the line too. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to share anything with me, I totally understand it.”

“Maybe some other time,” you quietly answer and Harry swallows down his greed to know more. “But… I’m free on Friday,” you add and his heart skips a beat.

“Friday is awesome!” he answers without even thinking through his schedule. If he has anything that day, he’ll surely cancel, nothing can be more important than meeting you again. “We could go out for dinner?”

“Can we… Is it possible not to go out?”

“Yeah,” he nods, though his chest tightens. Does this mean you don’t want to be seen out with him? He wouldn’t blame you, it would put you in the spotlight instantly. “Want to come over? I could cook something.”

“That sounds good. See you on Friday, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he manages to say before the call ends.

A week has never felt longer. Every waking moment was spent by counting the days until Harry could finally see you again. He planned out the whole evening the day after the reunion, from the meal to the outfit he would wear, he knew it all by Monday rolled around so he had to spend five days anxiously waiting for Friday.

On Wednesday he has a few drinks with just the boys, Joshua, Beckham and Lucas, cheering on Lucas’ engagement and having some boytalk. Even though they kept in touch throughout the years, there’s still a lot to share. They are having a great time, lots of laughs and jokes are shared over their beer.

“Alright, I want to talk about something major,” Joshua smirks over his pint, his eyes finding Harry and he already knows it’s gonna be about you.

“Just ask it,” Harry chuckles.

“Can we talk about how you had the heart eyes for Y/N all evening at the reunion?”

“Like a lovesick puppy!” Beckham laughs, patting Harry on the back as he puts up with the teasing.

“It was nice seeing her again, what can I say?” Harry shrugs, but he can’t hold his smirk up, which earns another round of laughter from his friends.

“Oh, it was more than just nice, right?” Lucas grins with a knowing smirk.

“We shouldn’t be surprised though, you were so in love with her back then,” Beck scoffs as he leans back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Not in love, I was just…” Harry tries to explain himself, but fails.

“Just in love,” Lucas teases him.

“I might have had a crush on her, I admit. But it’s been a long time, we obviously changed a lot. It was great to reunite with her.”

“And you plan to reunite some more with her soon?” Joshua wiggles his eyebrows.

“We’re actually meeting on Friday.”

“You little minx!” Beckham laughs. “Will you shoot your shot?”

“We literally just met again after almost a decade. There’s no shot to shoot.”

“Yeah, and maybe it’s better if you’re careful,” Lucas nods, but Harry doesn’t really understand what he meant by that.

“Careful?”

“Yeah, I mean, after what she went through…”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Joshua asks, his gaze flickering between Harry and Lucas.

“What? Tell me what it is!”

“She got a divorce not long ago. Like, about a year ago,” Lucas says, keeping his voice down.

“Huh? I didn’t even know she was married!”

It feels like a punch in the stomach, how he missed such a major event in your life. Not getting an invitation is one thing, but how did you manage to keep it so secret that he didn’t even know you were engaged?

“She kept it pretty low,” Beckham says. “I mean, the divorce and also the whole relationship.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know about them until she was engaged,” Joshua shakes his head.

“And what happened? Why did it end?”

Beckham and Joshua shrug their shoulders, but Lucas seems like he knows something.

“Lucas? If Bee told you something…”

“I don’t know the whole story, okay? But as far as I know… he cheated on her.”

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathes out, his heart sinking instantly.

“Pretty rough, yeah. But maybe don’t bring it up until she is ready to share it with you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods.

The night carries on and they talk about anything and everything, but Harry’s mind stays stuck on you. To be more precise, your divorce he knew nothing about. It’s no surprise you are so reserved and moody, it must have been hard for you to go through it. He can only hope you had friends to rely on, Chloe or Bee at last if he wasn’t there for you.

Another thing to add to the list of things he should feel horrible about when it comes to you.

At the end of the night he offers to share a ride with any of the boys and Beckham accepts, so they leave together.

“I know it’s eating you away,” Beckham speaks up in the car.

“Huh?”

“That you didn’t know about her divorce.”

“I wasn’t there for her, Beck. I should have been, but I didn’t even know she was engaged!”

“You weren’t talking, you couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but it was my fault we weren’t talking. I should have tried harder and… I should have kept my promise I made to her.”

Silence falls over the car as the passing lights illuminate their faces. Beckham is looking at Harry while Harry is staring straight ahead, his jaw jumping.

“Look, you’ve made mistakes, it’s fine, totally human. If she is willing to meet you again, I’m sure she is not that mad at you, so it’s a good sign. You… Do you… want to, like… date her?”

Harry presses his lips together, thinking of his answer.

“It’s complicated, but… I think I still have feelings for her,” he admits, finally peeking at his friend. “Is that crazy? I mean, we were kids, can I actually still have… feelings for her?”

“Don’t underestimate your younger self. Look at Lucas. He’s been in love with Bee since forever and now they are getting married.”

Harr hums and nods in agreement, but there’s still a lot he needs to get clear in his head. Whatever it is that he feels for you, he wants to explore it but he also needs to be extremely careful now that he knows what you went through. And what if there’s more to it than the cheating? What if the guy did something else too that left you even more scarred?

He wants answers, but he needs to be patient and give you time.

Time, he couldn’t give you before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #just how fast the night changes

632 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 10 months

Note

Hello there! I hope you’re doing well, I was wondering if you could do a few head cannons or a ficlet (whichever you prefer) where the brothers (and/or dateables) find out that MC is multilingual.

I’m mostly thinking in the context that they didn’t know before and suddenly hear MC speaking said language, but you can change that if you prefer of course! Or not do the request entirely if this idea doesn’t strike your fancy.

Have a nice day/night!

Hi, anon!

Okay I wasn't sure if multilingual meant MC speaks two languages or if it's like more than two, so I kinda did a little bit of both. And really I think everything could apply to either option, so hopefully that all still makes sense!

Thank you for the request!

brothers react to hearing GN!MC speaking in a different language

Warnings: none!

Lucifer

When he first hears it, he’s sure he’s just tired. He’s never heard you speak any other language before. Surely his mind is playing tricks on him. Starts thinking he must really need to take a break like everyone is always saying.

If you do it again, then he’ll ask. MC, are you multilingual? Demonstrate all the languages you speak. However many it is, he's impressed. He wants to know the details of how you learned this language. Tell him more about it.

He will ask you to teach him the language so he can speak it with you. Really loves it when he gets fluent and can carry on conversations with you that other people don’t understand. He will say all kinds of things with the sole purpose of making you blush.

Lucifer will find records of music that’s sung in languages you know. Might ask you for a translation of the lyrics, but mostly just wants to share the experience with you. Sit with him in the music room to listen and he won’t be able to stop himself from holding you close, whispering sweet sayings that you've taught him in your ear.

Mammon

Woah! MC! Since when could ya speak more than one language? You’re always surprising him with the things you can do!

He will ask you to teach him all the swear words. Says them to Lucifer under his breath more because it makes you laugh than because he really means it.

Wants to know the circumstances in which you learned this language. Is it your native tongue? Or did you just learn a whole new language for some reason? Either way you had to learn a second language at some point and that sounds like a lot of work. Wouldn’t do it himself but he’s impressed that you could.

Actually picks up parts of the language pretty easily. Depending on how often you use it around him, Mammon will be able to imitate your most used phrases. He’ll say stuff without knowing what it actually means, he’s just repeating you. If you tell him what it means and how to use it, it will just become part of his own speech from that point on. Only says lovey things when the two of you are alone.

Leviathan

The first time he hears you speaking it, he’s confused. What was that? Did you just speak in a different language? Quick, MC! Tell him all the different languages you know!

Instantly wants to hire you to translate any media that’s in a language he can’t speak. Video games, manga, shows, movies, even songs! If you insist on teaching him so he can do it himself, he’ll actually be excited to learn. Teach him everything!

Absolutely will watch movies and shows in any languages you speak with you. He’s gonna need subtitles. He’ll ask you about how accurate the subs are. Makes you go through every single line and complains about any inaccuracies you guys find. Posts your translations in online forums.

Talk to him in your language and he’ll be flustered even if he has no idea what you’re saying. You could be telling him to clean his room, but it sounds so romantic? Now he’s blushing like crazy. Levi actually really likes to hear you speak to him in a different language. If he's learning it for himself, he won't get as flustered if he knows what you're actually saying. Either way, he's going to hesitantly ask you to say it again.

Satan

You’re sitting near each other somewhere when you ask a question out loud in a different language. Without looking up or missing a beat, Satan answers your question in the same language. Several moments pass before the two of you look at each other in surprise. Then you both launch into a conversation in that language about how surprised you are that the other person knows it.

This guy has spent many years learning all kinds of languages and that includes human world ones. His main goal was to be able to read books in their native languages rather than translations. But it turns out he’s just good at it so he speaks pretty fluently too.

Now that he knows this about you, he’s almost always talking to you in a language the others doesn’t understand. Finds it especially entertaining to discuss his prank ideas with you while Lucifer is sitting right there.

Do not think for one second that he’s not going to take this opportunity to recite poetry in that language to you. Blushes the whole time, but does it anyway. Please indulge him, MC. You are the only one who can truly appreciate these romantic lines.

Asmodeus

Did he just hear you speaking in a different language? Oh, MC, you’re so full of surprises! He has no idea what you just said, but he is swooning! Please flirt with him in your language, he’s really going to fall even harder for you now. You could say anything but if you do it in the right tone of voice you will get a dramatic reaction from him.

Teach him how to say “I love you” and things like “hug me” and “kiss me.” Know that once you do, he’ll be saying them to you all the time. Asmo might ask you to teach him some insults, too, just so he can use them on unsuspecting demons who have no idea what he's saying.

Designs some clothes with sayings in your language on them. Won’t tell anyone what they mean - he only knows because you told him. But everybody else is just going to have to wonder about it! This is a secret between the two of you! (Well, and everybody else who speaks that language… but that is not the point.)

Might start learning the rest of the language without you knowing. Gets Satan to help him. Then when you’re alone with him he starts saying a whole speech about how much he loves you. Giggles happily at the look on your face before kissing you.

Beelzebub

The first time he hears you, he thinks he must have heard wrong. Blinks in confusion. What was that you said, MC? He’s not sure he heard you right. Explain to him that you were actually speaking a different language and he’ll be even more surprised.

He wants to know more about it. Where did you learn it and why? Beel asks you about the names of food. He doesn’t want to learn them necessarily he just wants to hear you say them.

If you tend to refer to a specific food in the other language, he will start calling it that too. Just straight up replaces that word in his vocabulary. Might do this for non food related things as well. Pretty much just does that thing where he picks up little words and phrases from you simply because he's absorbed it from being around you so much.

He likes to listen to you speak in a different language, even if he can't understand anything you're saying. Might ask you to say anything just so he can listen to the sound of your voice. You could read a dictionary to him and he would be all about it. Content to just sit quietly and listen.

Belphegor

The only one who doesn't even notice at first. It's not that he doesn't care, it's just that it doesn't even register. For some reason, it seems perfectly normal to him that you speak multiple languages. He considers you to be a smart person, someone on Satan's level, and Satan knows several languages, so why wouldn't you?

After he hears you using that language a few times, he gets curious. He doesn't know what you're saying, but he does realize if you're using the same language, especially in the same context. Always letting out a string of it when you hurt yourself? Maybe you rant in that language when you're frustrated? He recognizes the sound of it.

Now he's going to ask you about it. What language is this, MC? Tell him about it, please. He'll ask you to teach him how to say things like "take a nap with me" and "Lucifer sucks." The first time he says that last one, Satan does a spit take.

Belphie will ask you to sing in your language. He wants to hear some songs that were originally written in it. He's especially interested in lullabies. If you sing him one, he'll fall asleep on your lap pretty quickly. Might get needy and ask you to sing to him every night.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #request #anon request #misc writes

265 notes · View notes