#like I kind of always wished they’d played up the confusion at the beginning of 4x1 a little more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shywhumpauthor · 1 year

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YOU!! Can u do a whumper-to-whumpee prompt where they’re rlly vulnerable? Pls and tank ya.

ME!! I can!!

Just a heads up, this is a lot darker than what I usually write. Playing with my comfort zone a bit, testing the waters of my squicks and stuff.

For the sake of keeping things from being confusing, I’ll state this beforehand. “Whumper” is ex Whumper turned Whumpee. “Whumpee” is ex Whumpee turned Whumper. The names are the same for the roles BEFORE the dynamic shift

Cw: gore, hand whump, mentioned murder, dark themes, refusal to eat, starvation, thoughts about death/wanting to die (not really in a suicidal way, more so a “put out of misery” way, amputation, gore, blood, torture, restraints, sadistic whumper, mentioned eye/mouth whump, a little bit of pet whump towards the end, rough wound care, abuse

Everything in Whumper’s body hurt.

Their ribs seemed to crack with each breath, bruised sides screaming with every shallow inhale, lungs burning as they carefully exhaled. Their sternum was on fire, a cold flame crackling in the pit of their chest, searing anything and everything within proximity. Their stomach cramped with the pain of hunger, which at first they had found to be the most unbearable of it all, but as the days in captivity stretched to weeks, with only a few scattered, intermittent meals to sustain them, they had grown used to that ache. Any food Whumpee seemed to spare them was never enough, not to even begin to tame the hunger. Each bite only ever left them feeling more empty than before, to the point where it had once driven them to stop eating entirely. It wasn’t like they could manage to keep much down anyways. Whumpee had put a quick end to that, however, if Whumper wasn’t going to eat by themself, they’d have to settle for having the food shoved down their throat.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” was what they had said, their voice more a snarl than words. “You try anything like that again, I swear to hell and back I won’t be as kind as now.”

At one point, Whumper would have scoffed. They would have come up with some snarky response about how their little bitch had grown to be so rude and demanding, which certainly would have earned them another slap but they would just laugh. Make some comment on how weak Whumpee was, even after all that time. Still pathetic, just as always. They would have delighted at how red Whumpee’s face got, how mad those few little words made them. That even though Whumper was now the one in chains, it was clear who still had control.

That Whumper had died a thousand times. They had been tortured, torn apart piece by piece until nothing remained but a broken, shivering shell of what they once were.

Whumper had long since given up on the hope of death. That was one mercy Whumper had always extended, whether it be intentional or not. The concept of life had always been so easy to slip from their grasp, out of their control. It was inevitable, in most cases. Sometimes they would try to delay it, drag it out until they found themself content and finally allowed their subject to release into the glassy-eyes void. A look Whumper had grown to adore, the way their lips would slowly turn blue, the way the colors faded from their features until they were nothing but cold, dead husks. They would also grant life, if their toy would so wish. If by the time they were finished, they were still managing to drag in ragged breath after breath. Once Whumper released them, they were free. If they could make it to civilization, to the nearest town from the cabin Whumper spent their life within, they would no longer be pursued. It was pathetic, and yet, every time. The way their eyes would flicker with the first sparks of hope they had seen in months—at least for those still left with eyes. The way they would stumble, or in most cases crawl across the porch Whumper dumped them on, dragging themselves with a sudden energy.

It never lasted long. As far as Whumper knew, none of them had ever made it further than a mile.

Whumpee wasn’t like that, though. Oh god, if Whumper had known, they would have killed them that first night in the alley. They did not give that kind of pity. No. From the very first day, Whumpee had made it clear. Death would not be an escape, and Whumpee would guarantee that.

The torture was agonizing and slow, drawn out across days, weeks. Whumpee would always be sure to clean the wounds afterwards, whether that mean hosing Whumper down with the frigid water in the back yard, or dripping some alcohol directly into the gashes. Even the smallest wounds for bandaged, but Whumpee never seemed to spare the expense for traditional gauze or wraps. Duct tape wrapped over the lacerations, which would only rip open the scabs when Whumpee deemed it was time for the dressings to be changed. Whenever Whumper began to think that maybe, just maybe, they were lightening up, Whumpee would walk in the next day with some horrible new tool, worse than anything Whumper had ever used.

Whumper shuddered from where they lay, every part of their body aching worst than the last. Their entire body went rigid as they heard the terrible click, the one they had grown to absolutely dread.

They couldn’t bring themself to do anything more than crack open their eyes, well, at least one of them. The other was nearly swollen shut, nearly the entire half of their face swallowed with an ugly bruise. They could only watch as the heavy pair of boots descended down the steps to the basement.

“Rise and shine, buttercup!” Whumpee’s voice was light and bubbly, in the poor filtered light that streamed through the grimy windows, Whumper could just see the smile on their face. They held something in their hands, but from the height which they stood. Whumper couldn’t make out quite what it was. “I’ve got a surprise for you, come on, sit up.”

Whumper let out a shaky breath, their gaze falling to the concrete ground just inches away, eyes beginning to burn as tears quickly welled. Usually they were good with not crying—they knew it only made Whumpee mad. They didn’t deserve to cry, not after everything they’ve done.

But god, they were just so tired. Yesterday had been brutal in a thousand different ways, they were sure they wouldn’t have been able to sit up if they tried. The shackles wound tightly around their wrists, only a few inches of chain between the loop drilled into the floor didn’t allow for much room to move, either.

“Did you not hear me?” Whumpee’s boots stopped less than a foot from their face. So close Whumper could see the old splatters of blood that covered the dark leather. They could practically feel it slamming against their face, like it had countless times before. Crushing their nose and loosening a few teeth as the sole caught them square in the jaw, knocking them so hard they would see stars. “I said sit up.”

Whumper let their eyes slip closed as a rough cough seized their chest, pain like a thousand searing knives tearing through all the abused muscles in their sides. Something hot and sticky dripped from the corner of their mouth, painting their lips with a coppery taste.

From above them, Whumpee sighed, just barely audible as Whumper finally slumped back, cheek pressing to the cold ground.

Whumpee crouched down, setting what they held down next to them. A strong scent invaded Whumper’s senses, for a moment all they could comprehend was the overwhelming presence of food. Not the oatmeal rice mush they were used to having shoved down their throat, but actual food. Chicken and cut potatoes and some vegetable that Whumper couldn’t quite make out through their distorted sight. For a moment, they felt like they were going to be sick at just the sight, the tug of hunger in their gut nearly making them gag. They slowly raised their gaze to Whumpee’s face, searching for the signs of a trick. They were taunting them, of course. This was a cruel game, a joke. Putting food just in front of them, but never allowing them to eat it. It wasn’t the first time Whumpee had done something like that.

“Caretaker says I ought’a go easier on you,” Whumpee muttered, rocking back on their heels as they pulled something small from their back pocket. “They’re worried you’re gonna keel over if I don’t start takin’ better care of you, said if I didn’t start doin’ nothing, they would. And we can’t have that now, nope. Believe me, I don’t like it either.”

Caretaker. The name rung faintly in Whumper’s mind, but there was nothing that came up besides a distant feel of familiarity. A terrible cold jolted up their arms as Whumpee twisted the metal between their fingers, picking up Whumper’s wrists and fitting the small rusted key into the lock. A moment later, the shackles fell with a small clatter to the ground, and Whumpee let go of Whumper’s wrist, letting it drop to the ground. They didn’t make any effort to move, but their breath hitched slightly, letting Whumpee know they were at least a little aware of what was happening.

“Shit, you stink,” Whumpee moved back slightly, their face scrunching as they wrinkled their nose. “Guess you’re due for a bath. Whatever, now just eat.”

A moment later Whumpee straightened up, looking down at their past abuser with an expression somewhere between a scowl and disgusted pity. They bit the inside of their cheek, watching as Whumper’s fingers twitched, the remaining ones. Their left hand with only three, the right with four. The marred areas still fresh and pink.

A pinprick of emotion splintered through Whumpee’s mind as they looked down at their own hands. A few scars, a few burns, all long healed, but nothing like Whumper’s.

“I’m not done with you,” They muttered, shoving their hands into their jacket’s pocket. They weren’t sure if Whumper could comprehend what they were saying. “So don’t go thinking that, alright? This’s just for a little bit.”

Whumpee stepped back, twisting the key between their fingers as they made their way over to the stairs.

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have a pet, ‘specially after everything you’ve taught me. We’ll see how much I can really break you then.”

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 1 year

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The Snake Who Lived: What if Harry made Slytherin? (Year 1)

(What started as a simple ask from one of my anons prior to the #InboxPurgeOf23, has now evolved into a full, multi-post AU. Proceed at your own risk.)

So the first question we need to ask ourselves is how this happens?

The "Out of Sorts" TLSQ in Hogwarts Mystery seems to confirm what fans have speculated for years: That Harry's canon Sorting wasn't a rarity or a fluke. The Hat sorts students based on what they want. Perhaps not always on what they directly ask for, as Neville begged for Hufflepuff - but I suspect he dreamed of being a daring Gryffindor hero, (especially if his parents went there) but felt as though he was unworthy and would never be brave enough. That he would never rise to the occasion. But the Hat could see into the deepest corners of his mind, and knew what he truly wanted - even if Neville himself wasn't conscious of it entirely. The Hat did the same thing when it came to the Sorting of Tulip Karasu.

Harry didn't particularly want to be a Gryffindor. All he asked of The Sorting Hat was not to place him in Slytherin. The Hat was on the fence about these two Houses, and it chose to respect a genuine wish on Harry’s part, especially since he was offered the chance at obtaining great power - which he immediately rejected. That, itself, is pretty non-Slytherin in the first place. But what led to this point of view? What caused Harry to feel this way? Mostly a combination of Draco being Sorted there, Hagrid and Ron warning him against them, and probably his finding out that Voldemort was a Slytherin as well. I'm not seeing how Harry could shake that instinct unless we just flat-out erase these events from the story, but that feels a bit cheap. So long as we're doing that, we could just as easily have Harry run into Lucius at King's Cross instead of Molly, y'know? (I’ve read the fanfics. I know how these things go.)

Something we cannot forget is that Harry has two souls. I feel like that changes way more than we realize, but the bottom line is that there's no reason The Sorting Hat couldn't pick up on that second presence. "It's all here, in your head." We all know what Voldemort's Soul Fragment would have wished for if it was given a say, and why couldn’t it be?. If The Hat were to be thrown off, confused by the warring opinions that Harry himself isn’t even aware of...it could have come to another decision. So in our AU, that's exactly what happens. The Hat seemingly ignores Harry's pleading and Sorts him into Slytherin House.

So what happens next? Let’s take this book by book.

Once they’re in the Dormitories, Draco reaches out to Harry once more, gloating that he was right, and he "knew" Harry was no blood traitor. He asks if Harry now intends to play nice. Harry, reminded of Dudley and still loyal to Ron, rebuffs him again. At which point, Harry likely begins sleeping in the Common Room, either by his own decision or because he's forced out by Draco’s gang. Or maybe it’s more ambiguous.

Snape has no idea what to make of Harry. James Potter's son, his worst enemy’s doppelganger...but he has Lily's eyes, and he made Slytherin. So I think Snape reserves judgment until he has the chance to observe Harry. From Harry's perspective, even the Head of Slytherin is strangely distant and he doesn’t know why, but he definitely does not appreciate it.

Though he and Ron were friends prior to the Sorting, Ron is young and immature with an Anti-Slytherin bias. His opinion of Harry would change after this, even if he’d still see Harry as redeemable. The fact is, if he were to treat Harry any lesser for his Sorting, (and he would. I love Ron but he would.) I don’t think Harry would take it well. He wouldn’t be the bigger person. We know this because of how the two of them handle their fights in the canon ‘verse. Harry would try to reach out to Ron but at this point, I don't see it turning out well for either of them. Ron would make some kind of comment that Harry would snap back against, and they’d fight. They'd have a falling out.

I am pleased to say that Hagrid would likely not think any less of Harry, certainly not after a single conversation with him. He'd see how miserable Harry was, and offer up tea and rock cakes. He'd still refuse to reveal anything about Snape or the Gringott's break-in, but he's Hagrid, so Harry still gets the scent. Not that matters, as you’ll see, since Harry doesn’t wind up learning a lot of things in this book that he otherwise would have.

The Midnight Duel doesn't happen the same way, if at all. Draco and Harry live together so he wouldn't be able to lure him out of bounds after dark. Meaning Harry never discovers Fluffy. Harry would still stand up to Draco in the first Flying lesson, and Ron would take notice of this. But I don't see Harry making the Quidditch team, at least not this year. McGonagall isn't really in a position to appoint him Slytherin Seeker, and why would she do that in the first place? Nonetheless, Harry's reputation in Slytherin plummets. But his reputation with the other Houses slowly improves.

Halloween on the other hand, that changes quite a lot. Ron never complains about Hermione to Harry, as they're not speaking right now. He probably complained about her to Seamus or Dean, but either way, it wasHarry in the original timeline, who spearheaded this adventure. He was the one to suggest they search for Hermione, and in this timeline, he doesn't even know she's missing. He barely knows she exists. So does Hermione just...die? The teachers could save her, but they don't know she's missing either. Harry and Ron got to her a lot sooner, and Hermione directly states that if they hadn’t..oh. Actually, yes. As horrible as it is to say, the troll kills Hermione. Well holy hopscotch Batman, we’re in real AU territory now.

The school now collectively mourns the poor, brilliant first year, and Harry is appalled to see Draco and his cronies celebrating her death. (Sorry Draco fans, but we all know he would.) Meanwhile, Ron, of course, blames himself and sinks into a depression. The attempt on Harry's life during the Quidditch match doesn't happen, since he's not Seeker. Still, Quirrell would find some other way to try and kill him, whatever that might be. But the school is on high alert after Hermione's death and Snape has been watching Harry like a hawk. He stops the attempt, but Harry likely misunderstands and assumes Snape is trying to kill Quirrell. His scar also sears with pain for a second time when this happens, and he notices the correlation to Snape.

Harry now begins to suspect Snape of letting the Troll in, though Hagrid shoots this idea down. Meanwhile, Harry hasn't had nearly as much opportunity to be caught breaking the rules, so Snape has less excuse to proclaim him as Mini James. In fact, Harry sticking up for Neville against Draco would stand out. As a Slytherin who once failed to stand with his Gryffindor, Muggleborn friend...I think Snape would see in Harry what he should have been. Granted, it's Snape, so he still hates Harry for this, but it's a different kind of hatred. It’s complicated and confusing for him, but it’s also a strange kind of respect. And also envy.

Harry never finds The Mirror because he never goes into the Restriction Section. Keep in mind, he only learned about Nicholas Flamel from Hagrid, and that only happened because he already knew about Fluffy. Which at this point, he doesn’t. Perhaps Quirrell might have tried to lure Harry to Fluffy in an attempt to kill him, but that’s veering into speculation. So I’m gonna say Harry doesn't know about The Mirror or Flamel.

Nonetheless, Dumbledore would summon Harry to his office at this point to check in on him. Harry, friend-starved as he is, vastly appreciates this. He likely admits how miserable he is in Slytherin, and perhaps even asks to try The Hat on again. Whether or not Dumbledore consents doesn't change anything because both he and The Hat would give Harry the same advice: That he belongs in The House he was placed in, but this will not stop him from making his own choices. Dumbledore gives cryptic advice about Harry needing to make his own decisions and figure out what he "truly desires." It's also at this point that Harry begins to sleep in the dormitory again, after Dumbledore promises to have a "talk" with his roommates.

Inspired by Dumbledore's life advice, Harry once more reaches out to Ron. While it's possible that Hermione's death would affect the Weasley's decision to visit Charlie, this is also his first year away from home, so let's say it still happens. After all, Arthur and Molly wouldn’t know about Ron’s “role” in her death unless he told them, which I doubt he did. Harry attempts to bond with Ron, to rekindle their friendship. Ron initially lashes out before breaking down and finally confessing to his indirect role in Hermione's death. Harry urges him not to blame himself. Ron now echoes Harry, having a death that traumatized him on Halloween, and Ron can point this out. For his part, Harry wouldn't have known until now that his parents died on Halloween. This may come up later.

Next term sees Harry and Ron back to being tentative friends, but it's still not the same as the bond they had prior to the Sorting. Time heals all wounds, we’ll just have to see. Meanwhile, it's quite shocking to me how much doesn't happen, how little Harry knows compared to the Gryffindor timeline. But I think he would still learn about Norbert(a) since he could easily be visiting Hagrid without a plot related reason. This plotline would go largely the same way - Harry has bonded with Ron and now knows about Charlie, so that's still the answer. Ron still gets bitten, Draco still interferes and gets caught, though this time I assume it's Snape who catches him as he's been Harry's unseen bodyguard and Harry still gets detention.

Neville isn't there since he and Harry don't share a House, it's just Harry and Draco this time. Snape still punishes them harshly, or at least he does for Harry. This is the first time that, in his mind, Harry has shown James-like qualities, and in Snape's twisted psyche, that's as much a betrayal as it is anything else. He'd believed in the boy. He'd dared to open his mind, to consider the idea that the boy was more Lily than James… but as it turns out, Potter is just another arrogant rule-breaker like his father.

I don't see him taking House points from Slytherin, his favoritism is still too blatant. But the Forbidden Forest detention would still happen. Draco and Harry both go, as does Hagrid and - here's a surprise - Snape himself. I suppose Draco doesn’t have to go - as it’s Snape, he could probably talk his way out of this, but honestly it doesn’t much matter. Either way, Snape sneaks in after them. Suspecting Quirrell/Voldemort of being behind the Unicorn murders, and knowing that Harry is bound to lure him out. I honestly think this was Dumbledore's plan all along, and the reason Harry was sent into The Forest for his detention, even in the OG books. Whether or not Snape approved, he would continue to guard Harry from the shadows.

Which means that it's not Firenze who saves Harry, at least, not alone. Snape attacks Quirrell as well, and since he's carrying a wand, he has the means to subdue everyone's favorite stammering Death Eater. In other words, Quirrel is captured. Snape escorts Harry and Draco up to the school while Harry asks for answers. Why would Quirrell kill a Unicorn? How did Snape know it was him? Does this have something to do with Snape trying to kill Quirrell before? Snape refuses to comment, but returns the boys to the Slytherin Dungeons and warns them to say nothing. With no one else to talk to, Harry asks Draco for input, but having been in genuine danger, Draco is pale faced and quiet.

The next day at breakfast it is announced that Professor Quirrell has sadly passed away of some cause or other. Harry nearly swallows his fork - not daring to believe that Snape actually killed him. He wants to go see Dumbledore straight away, but Dumbledore already wanted to see him, and Draco, to set the record straight and make sure they're alright. He explains that Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, who left his body after he was captured and that Quirrell subsequently died because of the possession. He sends Draco, who looks far too excited at the idea, to his classes. Dumbledore communicates further with Harry and reveals Snape's history with James - further revealing that James was a Gryffindor. Now Harry doesn't know what to think. He feels like a failure, as though he's let his father down. Here is also the first moment that he truly begins to dislike Snape, though we'll see if that sticks.

From here, things are quiet until the end of the school year. Harry doesn't know about Fluffy, the Trapdoor, The Mirror, or the Stone. He has no reason to go poking around the Corridor. What's more, Voldemort has left Quirrell's body. His disembodied spirit is now in the Forbidden Forest, which may be a game changer for later. On the other hand, he might simply go back to Albania, though I don't know why he would. He’d likely just possess various creatures in the forest, still sniffing about for information. Slytherin wins the House Cup. Apart from Hermione's death, not a lot changes. Except the Stone is never discovered and therefore it probably isn't destroyed.

So there we have it. The first year of Harry as a Slytherin. Future years coming soon!

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter AU #Harry Potter Fanfiction #Harry Potter Fanfic #Slytherin House #Severus Snape #Harry James Potter #Ron Weasley #Draco Malfoy #Lord Voldemort #Slytherin Harry #Hermione Granger

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musclesandhammering · 3 years

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Know what would’ve been a cool au plot for season 4? Dean, Sam, and Bobby already thought Castiel was some sort of badass demon so what if, instead of dropping the whole “angels are real” bomb on them, he’d just gone along with that. You know? Like just let them think he was a demon and he owned Dean’s soul or some shit like that? And season 4 was just Castiel having increasing difficulty trying to keep up the ruse while leading them through the pre-apocalypse stuff, and the humans are going along with it but trying to figure out what kinda demon Cas is and how to get Dean out of the deal etc etc. And then toward the last few eps of the season the “whoops I’m actually an angel and this is what’s really up” shock could get dropped, and idk it just seems like that would be so interesting and badass and cool omg is there a fic out there like that? I’m rambling.

#I’ve gotten carried away forgive me #but yea Issa pretty dope prompt if I do say so myself #like I kind of always wished they’d played up the confusion at the beginning of 4x1 a little more #and delayed the reveal a little bit #plus Cas moonlighting as some badass demon who owns deans soul #and having the Winchesters + Bobby be completely freaked out by him #is just very satisfying to me #fear him you curs #castiel meta #castiel

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles imagine #fanpic harry #harry styles prompt #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb

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t00turnttrauma · 2 years

Text

insecure-jmk

Added two prompts together. Let me know if you don’t like it. Sometimes I can’t think of things that will make sense and it makes it easier to put them alongside one another. I also tried a new style of writing and I kind of like it but let me know if its confusing or hard to follow along with. creds to @shutupdevvie for helping me with it

idk maybe josh was being too friendly to an ex youve always been insecure of and it made you uncomfortable, but he says you’re overreacting. you fight and then he comes around and realize how much it hurts you

Josh and y/n have been together for a few months but Josh is increasingly paranoid about her trying to get with Jake (like he's had an ex date him to get to Jake before so he's always got that fear in the back of his mind) so anyway maybe he sees an exchange between Jake and y/n like laughing and hugging or something and Josh takes it the wrong way and he gets into a fight with y/n and accuses her instead of just telling her his insecurity. And maybe he says some harsh stuff during the argument.

Warnings: miscommunication, arguing,

“Who is that?” You asked, nudging Sam and directing his attention to the blonde and Josh across the room.

“That’s just his ex, Sheila.” Without another explanation, Sam ran off to complete his turn at the billiards table.

You crossed your legs, dropping your eyes to the wooden bar. You studied the numerous stains and dings, creating stories for each one in your mind. Josh continued to talk to Sheila. Every few glances, you’d notice something different. His smile would be wide or her hand would be on his arm, stroking lightly. The clacking of the billiard balls behind you resonated in your chest, matching up with the sudden realization of what it looked like. You looked back at Jake. He’d seen what you’d seen, growing worried at the concern on your face. He walked over, pulling you into a hug. He pulled away, a hand on your shoulder, the other shaking his pool cue.

“He knows who to come home to. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he knows,” he grinned, shaking the stick for emphasis.

“Thanks, Jake,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good brother. Violence aside.”

He laughed. “You consider me a brother?”

You nodded. “Never grew up with any, so yes,” you giggled.

Sam overheard, attaching himself to your side. “What about me?”

You pretended to ponder it. “Not really, but by default, yes.”

And so, the seemingly happy couple that were Josh and Y/N spent their night with their respective company. Y/N spent most of the time cozying up with 3/4 of the band, playing a two on two game of pool. She strategized, working and whispering with Jake on how to take down the younger members. Josh spent the night on the other side of the bar, laughing with Sheila, the ex-girlfriend he’d left off on a good note. The two reminisced over good times, memories that they’d cherished as a couple. The breakup was an amicable one, ending with a promise that they’d get hitched if they were both single and childless by the time they reached 30. The distance was too much to bear, she was a journalist who’d taken a job in Beijing. He was a musician who never spent a lot of time in one place.

When it was time for Sheila to bow out, she left him with a kiss and a wish of good luck in his future endeavors, especially with the attractive girlfriend who was across the room hanging onto Jake. Her head rested on him, her hand cradled over his shoulder to cushion her cheekbone.

Josh felt his blood boil, seeing his girlfriend far too cozy with his twin brother. It’d had happened before and he knew the signs. It’d begin with a hug that lingered a little too long or a kiss on the cheek that hadn’t happened before. Then came the secrecy, the lying, the gaslighting.

I swear, there is nothing going on between Jake and I.

Jake is your brother. I would never cheat on you with your own twin.

He’s just a good friend. You’re being irrational

But Josh knew. He always knew.

The air at home was tense and thick. Both parties of the happy couple were angry at each other. Y/N trudged up to the bedroom, changing into her pajamas. It was their usual Friday routine. Hang out with Josh’s or Y/N’s friends, depending on the week, change into pajamas, and finally curl up on the couch before falling asleep embraced in one another. Josh would pick a movie, he was well versed in the language of film, while she would change. While she gathered snacks, he would change before running back to the living room and jumping over the back of the couch and into her arms. Tonight, though, was different.

She’d changed into her shorts and t-shirt. When she came down, there were no opening credits to the movie paused on the screen, nor were there snacks on the table. Josh wasn’t on the couch, sprawled out waiting for her. He was at the dining room table, eating cold leftover spaghetti.

You felt what was wrong. Maybe he’d seen that you were upset and was trying to figure out what was going on with you. Had you looked upset? You glanced at yourself in the reflection of the mirror that hung above Josh. You did look angry. The familiar furrow of your brows that only happened when you were upset about something. You sighed, opening the fridge to look for your own meal.

“What was that for?” He asked.

You didn’t look at him, instead you surveyed the contents of the overstuffed fridge. There were leftovers from almost every meal as both of you were used to cooking for large gatherings, not just two people. “What was what for?”

He mocked your sigh. “That.” He sighed again for emphasis.

You shrugged. “Nothing. Just a little bothered.”

The entire world could sense his eye roll. He wasn’t one to have an attitude, that was gene was passed onto his siblings. Josh was mature in that way, talking out his feelings rather than moping and letting the pot boil over. You ignored it, feeling the hot glare on your cheek as he studied your face.

“What’s bothering you?” He asked. While it was usually a sentence followed with a tender peck on the cheek, this sentence was laced with mockery, anger, and resentment. They were feelings that you were almost completely certain Josh didn’t have, but you were dead wrong.

“I don’t know, Josh. It doesn’t feel very good having your boyfriend fawn over his ex.” The tone in which you said it matched his. Annoyance was threaded through your words. You closed the fridge, walking around the corner into the craft room. Josh had given up his in-home studio when you moved in, giving you the space so you could have an area of the home to yourself. He shared the space with you most of the time. You sat in the egg chair, picking up the needlepoint. You felt yourself getting angry at how oblivious he was being. Your hands shook as you threaded the needle in and out of the fabric, creating sloppy lines.

Josh had followed you, standing in the doorway. He laughed. “You’re really upset about that?”

You didn’t answer, focusing on not poking yourself with the needle. The point came through and you pulled the thread through.

“You’re going to be all petty now?” He scoffed. “Y/N, answer me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I need to explain myself, Josh. It’s fine, really. I loved spending the night alone while you chatted up the ex that you told me you were never truly over. I knew that when we got together, so just drop it.”

Josh scoffed. “Didn’t seem like you were that upset when you were all over Jake.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb!” His voice raised and his hands started going as he spoke. “You were all over Jake when you were playing pool together. He was all up on you and you were laughing, Y/N.”

“As if you weren’t laughing with Stephanie.”

“Her name is Sheila!” He shouted.

“Whatever!” You shouted back, tossing your needlepoint to the side and standing up. “Either way, you ditched me and I made the most of the situation.”

“Fine! Fine, then. If your night was so bad, then maybe you should go spend it with Jake.”

You grabbed your keys. “Maybe I will!”

Josh was quick to grab your hand, gripping you tightly. “You better fucking not.”

“Watch me,” you spat, taking your hand and keys back.

It pained you to ignore Josh’s rant, accusing you of cheating already. You had no reason to explain your side of the story. In all honesty, if he was so worried about cheating, you felt like he had done it, becoming far too defensive for it to make sense. You put your shoes on, the nearest sandals, and grabbing a jacket from the coat rack, slamming the door behind you.

tags: @lightmyluv @agirlwithmanytastes @the-weightof-dreams @groggyvanfleet @gretnabancheese @doodle417 @gretavanflowerpower @prophetofthedune @joshkiszkasgirlfriend @gretavanflipflop

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fortuositywritings · 3 years

Text

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all.

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow.

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong.

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous.

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says.

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff.

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him.

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for.

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside.

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder.

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks.

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing.

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves.

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh.

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends.

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks.

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end.

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round.

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone.

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night.

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand.

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke.

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face.

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch.

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.”

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you.

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow.

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie.

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach.

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands.

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything.

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos.

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after.

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

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kpostedsum · 3 years

Text

high | d.m

summary: you find an unhealthy way of coping after draco cheats on you

warnings: drug use (marijuana) angsty¿, cheating, illusions to sex

song: habits - tove lo

a/n: this fic isn’t meant to romanticize drug use in any way. i also know nothing abt weed so LOL and very rushed & not edited

masterlist | taglist

I eat my dinner in my bathtub

Then I go to sexclubs

Watching freaky people gettin' it on

It doesn't make me nervous

If anything I'm restless

Yeah, I've been around and I've seen it all

you had a few minutes left of your charms class which was your last class before the weekend. you wanted nothing more than to get out of here and cuddle up with your boyfriend— who was enjoying his free period right now.

draco was one of the best boyfriends you could ask for, the frequent dates, gifts, and attention— it was more than you could wish for.

“you’re excused. you essays are due at the beginning of next week” snapes monotone voice dragged on as you quickly packed up your things and made your way to the slytherin common room.

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the tub

Then I go to sleep

And I drank up all my money

Days get kinda lonely

entering the slytherin common room your eyes immediately searched for a certain blond boy, yet he was nowhere to be found. you made your way to the boys dorms in hopes of finding him there but you’re quickly interrupted by two familiar voices.

“why hello y/n, marvellous weather we’re having today aren’t we?” theo asked looking towards the ceiling and smiling as if he were outside, blaise blocking your path as he did so.

“i’m not sure what weather you’re talking about since we’re inside but i am okay thank you” you responded with a chuckle, trying to make your way past blaise.

“wait y/n” he stopped you. “can i borrow the astronomy notes? i would ask luna but i can’t find her anywhere” blaise continued.

they both seemed awfully on edge and anxious, you figured it was just quidditch nerves getting to them since there was an upcoming game this week.

“i have yet to finish my astronomy notes, but i did see luna in the great hall if you want her notes. now if you’d excuse me i’d like to see draco” you said trying to push past the two boys who still wouldn’t let you through.

“forget malfoy! let’s do something instead, we’re so much more fun than him, right blaise?” theo said giving blaise a pointed look as he threw his arm around your shoulder.

“right you are nott, let’s go!” blaise continued also throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you away from the boys dorm.

“what? no, i have plans with draco. now excuse me” you said pushing them both off and heading towards dracos door.

as you get closer to his door you can hear heavy breathing, pants and skin slapping on skin. you’re confused, you figured draco would be taking a nap or running over drills for quidditch practice. the closer you get, the louder the noises become.

“pans, you feel so good”

you recognize that voice anywhere.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

quickly you turned your head towards blaise and theo who had their heads lowered in shame, refusing to meet your gaze. “is this some kind of sick joke, are you guys pulling a prank or something because this isn’t funny” you said seriously not wanting to believe what you’re hearing from inside of your boyfriends dorm.

“we’re sorry, we tried to convince him not too but he wouldn’t listen” theo muttered silently.

it felt like your world was breaking apart slowly. just not too long ago you were excited to spend a weekend with your boyfriend who you loved so dearly, the same boyfriend who you’ve been dating for years, the same boyfriend who gets jealous about how much time you spend with his mum rather than him.

with shaky fingers you put your hand on the door knob and quickly pushed the door open, already preparing for the worst.

there he was, wrapped up with parkinson in the same bed you two shared not even twenty-four hours ago. her body straddling his naked, just like yours was doing the night before. you stood there frozen, mouth agape— not even knowing what to do with yourself.

“baby, i can explain, just please— y/n please don’t leave” draco said pushing pansy off of him, shuffling on his pants and reaching out towards you.

“dont touch me, malfoy!” you yelled and everyone froze. “you lost the right to touch me the minute you even thought of touching her” you continued sending both him and pansy a glare with tears threatening to slip from your eyes.

“darling please, i can explain—”

“no draco, we’re done just leave me alone, please” your voice cracking at the end as you pushed past blaise and theo rushing towards the girls dormitory.

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

it’s been days since you last left your room, days since you last saw draco. daphne would come by and check on you but you’d always dismiss her, wanting to be alone. regret is one word to describe how you’ve been feeling— you gave him everything and he threw it away so carelessly for a quick hook up.

you missed waking up against his smooth skin in his embrace, tracing the lines and scars across his porcelain skin as you waited for him to wake up, the way he’d try to kiss you in the morning without brushing his teeth and you wouldn’t let him because of morning breath— but he’d still do it anyways.

you missed him, but he didn’t want you anymore.

maybe it was something you’ve done, you’ve been quite busy with work recently so you haven’t been spending as much time with him as normal. he was probably lonely and trying to seek the attention you lacked to give him.

getting up, you stared at yourself in the mirror picking yourself apart. you were pretty, it was a well known fact around hogwarts, maybe he thought she was prettier. she was the life of the party and always up for some mischief whereas you preferred to do stuff in silence and would rather be with a small group of people. maybe he liked how exciting she was in comparison to you, she probably brought a spark of excitement to his life that you couldn’t.

dreading to feel something you quickly showered and got ready to leave your room hoping to run into a specific set of twins.

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown,

Make them feel alive

I'll make it fast and greasy

I'm on my way to easy

“well what can we do for you today” fred said to you with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“do you have any muggle herb left?” you asked in a low voice making sure no one heard you.

“maybe we do, maybe we don’t” george said. “how much are you offering in exchange though” he continued.

“ten galleons for three ounces, is that enough” you said pulling the galleons out of your pockets and placing them in george’s palm.

“it was a pleasure doing business with you” they said in unison as fred placed the tiny baggie in your pocket so no one would see.

once you returned to your dormitory you quickly pulled out the pre-rolled muggle herb, lit it and let yourself forget.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

you started showing up to class late with red tired eyes, not caring about the looks you got. at this point every one knew what had happened but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

the muggle herb brought you a sense of bliss and freedom, a new feeling you haven’t felt before but something that you now craved.

“are you high right now?” draco said as he sat himself in the seat beside you.

“since when do you care about what i’m doing” you said sharply, not wanting to talk with him.

“love, you don’t smoke. who gave that stuff to you, i’ll kill them—”

“no you won’t.” you said turning towards him. “you won’t do any of that because you don’t own me and i’m not your girlfriend anymore. so mind your business malfoy, i’m sure parkinson’s waiting for you”

the rest of the class you both sat in silence working on potions that draco did most of since you weren’t in the correct mind state and he wasn’t willing to let his mark falter over your slip up.

you find it amazing how even when you’re on drugs he still looks amazing. the way his nose curves perfectly with a slight bump, and the way his hands move with caution as he pours the potion into the waste bucket.

“look, i’m sorry for what happened with pansy. it didn’t mean anything i swear, i don’t know why i did it but i regret it with my life” draco said breaking your thoughts, he looked older than normal and had dark circles underneath his under eyes. you wondered why he looked so distraught when he wasn’t the one who got cheated on.

“a sorry isn’t going to fix this draco” you told him. he knew you were right but he didn’t want to admit it. he hadn’t talked to pansy since the day you walked in on them, the guilt has been eating him up inside. he stayed silent and didn’t bother respond to you, he knew anything he said would have made the situation worst than it already is— but how he wished you were still his sweet y/n.

“now if you excuse me, i have some fun to attend too” you said leaving him alone as you made your way back to your dorm.

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun, it got no end

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

over the last few weeks, you couldn’t remember the last time you were sober. you started skipping classes to smoke and avoiding your friends so they’d stop questioning your habits.

you were forgetting and that’s all that mattered, you didn’t care how it was affecting your health— it made you feel better. sometimes you wished there was another way, another way to forget how he held you at night pressing soft kisses to your skin, another way to forget the way he took pansy the same way he took you. you wonder if he feels as sorry as he looks, he’s the one who cheated so he can’t possibly care that much.

you hear two knocks at your door which quickly break you from your state making you more attentive, cleaning yourself up and opening the door. there stood draco— his eyes red as well, like hes been crying.

“y/n listen, i know what i did was wrong and that i tried to pretend it wasn’t me but please. i didn’t mean too, you mean the world to me. i miss you so much love.” he pleaded with you.

“y’know draco, i miss you too” you admitted. “but i’ve found a way to forget about you, maybe you should do the same”.

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

taglist: @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @ilygw @nic0lodean @s1ater @henqtic @justreadingficsdontmindme @i-love-scott-mccall @harmqnia @gwlvr @alishahpotter

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco malfoy angst #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

The Brothers Dropping Hints to a Remarkably Oblivious MC

I liked this idea and wanted to flesh it out a bit before I bury my head in research for requests. Maybe I'll make a part two later? Who knows.

Intro:

Seven demon brothers, one human. All seven want their attention… So the family agrees to a challenge: Can they get their human to return their affections without actually confessing first? Perhaps… but there's a catch. The MC is denser than a bag of bricks in the love department...

Good luck, boys.

Lucifer

If it weren't for this silly challenge, he'd have considered hiring a sky-writer because he couldn't think of anything more obvious and unavoidable than that…

It honestly astounded him how utterly unaffected the MC seems to be by all of his flirtations. It'd be impressive if it weren't so frustrating.

He could praise their appearance and they'd seemingly forget the compliment.

He could offer them all manner of gifts or meals and they'd think he was just being nice.

He could probably straight up give them a diamond ring and they'd assume it was a late birthday present…

He was so out of ideas he was considering just ripping off the bandage and asking them directly, brothers be damned, but then that'd be admitting defeat and that’s just not on the table for him.

No, no… He just had to be more patient… Maybe offer them a dance next time? He'll win this challenge yet... maybe…

Mammon

Of course the Great Mammon can get his human to notice his feelings! He's their first man, he knows them more than anybody else! This will be a piece of cake. Right?... right…??

It is not. It is not a piece of cake.

First off, Mammon's already shot himself in the foot because of his tsundere-ness. Turns out when he says, "It's not because I like you!" they actually believe him… 😰

Secondly, he's terrible at expressing his affection in ways that aren't material or possessive...

When he buys them things, they think he's acting sweet and just… pay him back or buy him something in return…

Like, he's not complaining (much) but that's not the point!!

Then when he tries to spend extra time with them they assume it's Mammon being Mammon and not, like, because he's trying to show them how crazy he is about them.

And now he can’t even be honest about his feelings if he wants to because of the damn challenge!! 😫

This seemed like a lost cause for him really… Looks like someone else is going to have to win…

Leviathan

He's been cursing their name to here and back for stealing his heart so thoroughly while still having no idea that they actually had it!!! He'd almost swear they were mocking him but eventually, he genuinely started to think they were just that clueless… 🤦‍♀️

At first he thought that he found a loophole because he could just act out a bunch of obvious anime tropes to not-so-subtly hint at his affections!

...but each time he tried to make a move, he lost his nerve and chickened out at the last minute…

"MC! I just bought some pocky off of Akuzon, do you want to try some?"

"Sure, Levi! 🙂"

"Oh u-uh… Great! H-here you go.. " *hands them the whole box...*

When these efforts failed, he went to plan B, which was again not-so-subtly throwing hints at how special they were to him.

"Hey MC, do you remember that game you were looking at? I got it for us! Come on, let's play together! I'll even let you use my favorite controller!"

"MC, why don't you sit over here? W-wait not that close…! No wait, don’t go!! Urgh!! 😫"

At first he thought it was working until he overheard them talking to Mammon, "Mm? Oh, of course Levi's been so nice to me! We're best friends!"

… Ouch, but not unwarranted. He'd have to try something else or just admit defeat…

Satan

He still truly can't get a good read on them. Are they interested? Just nice? A chronic sufferer of selective blindness?? What does he have to do here???

Satan took a page out of Levi's playbook at first, but replaced anime tropes with what you find in old romance novels.

He was on his best behavior whenever MC was around. Downright gentlemanly, right down to kissing their hand and putting his jacket over puddles for them to walk.

… Unfortunately, Lucifer refused to be outshined by his little brother in the princely courtship department and the two started butting heads (almost literally).

If Satan gave up his jacket for a puddle, then Lucifer would take their hand to "help" them across it. If Satan held a door for them, then Lucifer would hold it too and insist that he go in first. If the MC was cold they suddenly were covered by two coats… It was infuriating!

And you know what's even worse? It was counterproductive.

After a while the MC just thought that it was some kind of game or challenge between him and Lucifer and not him trying to express his actual affections…

Looks like he wasn't going to be winning this either…

Asmodeus

On one hand, he kind of gets it because he's lovey and feely with everybody but, sweetheart, please take a hint every once in a while…

Asmo comes into the game with both an advantage and disadvantage. He's far more versed in the art of wooing than any of his brothers, but he was so close with them to begin with it's going to take a lot to get the point across…

Confident boi starts inviting them out more, lunch "dates," spa days, shopping sprees, any excuse to be alone with them really hoping they'd get the idea…

...but they didn't. It was just some fun time with Asmo and not any particular special treatment…

His compliments all seemed to bounce off of them too. They never seemed particularly touched and he wouldn't be surprised if they forgot about them within five minutes of hearing them…

Kicking it up to drastic measures, he tries to initiate even more cuddles and hugs than usual… But it feels like he could literally sew himself to their clothes and they'd think he's just being friendly! How do they not see what's going on here, are they just messing with him??

After a week of trying to monopolize the MC's time he had to throw in the towel, certain if he couldn't get through to them then no one could! 😣

Beelzebub

Well, Beel's a little oblivious himself sometimes so it's not like he couldn't relate… He just wished he could be upfront and ask them because they really didn't seem to notice.

Chances are he was already cuddling with them, sharing his food, taking them places, and doing all the stuff he'd usually do when he likes a person... They probably just considered that to be his normal behavior by that point…

So. He just does what he normally does, but MORE.

Suddenly he's giving the MC half of his meals instead of a third. (Which is what? Enough for a family of four?)

His hugs have gone from just firm to full on bear-snuggles.

He's always offering to take them to a new restaurant or some other place he likes and showing them the best things on the menu (written or hidden).

But it's not exactly going anywhere… 😥

They seemed happy and liked spending time with him but if they were actually noticing feelings for them at all, he couldn't tell…

After a while he kind of gives up on getting them to notice and just starts to enjoy making them happy. Sure, he won't win the challenge, but for now a smiling MC is enough for him 😊

Belphegor

Look. He may be the King of Mixed Signals, but he's considering just giving up his crown but nothing he's tried has been working...

Similar to Mammon, he’s starting at a disadvantage by regularly being more than a little cryptic about his feelings…

To be honest, it was sort of a reflex for him by this point which didn’t help matters at all. He’s not that used to being completely open with his emotions so he has to fight the urge to downplay things all the time...

Oh, the MC agreed to go with him to the botanical gardens? Cool.

Wait, no, not just cool. It’s great! Really great!! He’s really happy about it, MC, can you see his smile?? He’s smiling! That’s rare! Please notice!!

(They don’t seem to notice…)

Eventually he got even more frustrated than Satan or Mammon and nearly just asked them point blank, but he knew his brothers would flip if he tried…

By the end of the challenge he thought it was a dumb, stupid waste of time and energy and he regrets ever agreeing to it (and he’s not just being pissy because he couldn’t pull it off or anything......)

Bonus:

After a couple weeks of zero progress for everybody, the brothers seemed to snap. The MC woke up one morning for breakfast only to find their seven demons waiting intently for them to walk into the dining room. What followed was a cartoon squabble of kicked up dust, flying limbs, and thrown objects as each desperately tried to climb over the other in order to get to their human first (even Lucifer nearly flung Satan across the table by the foot at one point). Poor MC was so confused that they had to shout at them just to break up the fighting…

When asked what's gotten into their demons so suddenly, the brothers have only one response:

"WE LOVE YOU!!!"

…. Eh?

*MC.exe has crashed*

Back to square one, guys...

#obey me #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Twelve

Prompt: Christmas Day.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders/Reader (Twisted Wonderland).

TW: Implied Non-Con, Manipulation, Coercion, Slight Verbal Degradation, Mentions of Injury, Mentions of Choking, and Premeditated Assault.

It was supposed to be a tradition, among the Dorm Leaders.

That was what Leona said, at least, nudging you in the side as that predatory grin played at the corners of his lips. The prefects never went home for the winter holidays, sticking around to organize the dorms and met with the headmaster, so it was only natural that they’d celebrate together, sneaking off campus for the night for a bonfire and a few drinks Sam only sold to his favorite students. You’d tried to brush him off, but Azul’d vouched for him, and when prompted, Riddle’d flushed and admitted that there wasn’t technically a rule against anything they did. Somehow, neither managed to inspire much faith in their ringleader’s story, but they did their best. You’d give them credit for trying.

Kalim was the one who convinced you to go, in the end. You’d never been able to turn him away, and tonight wasn’t an exception, not when he’d been kind enough to turn up on Ramshackle’s doorstep with an extra coat, a spare thermos, and a smile that could’ve rivalled the sun. He was always sweet, like that. He always made it so hard to refuse, like that, even if you’d still groaned as he led you into woods surrounding Night Raven. He always made it hard to say no.

And now, he was making it impossible.

He was making it impossible to say much of anything, honestly.

You could feel his fingers hitting the back of your throat, prying your lips apart and forcing you to gag, your entire body jolting with the sudden force. Something sharp dug into your exposed back, the jagged edge of a stone cutting at the meat of your calf, but a strong hand was quick to clamp down around your shoulder, shoving you back to the ground. Its twin wrapped around Kalim’s wrist, dragging him away and letting your head fall to the side as you sputtered, struggling to breath. If Riddle noticed, he didn’t seem to think of you comfort as a priority. His grip only tightened around your forearm, a growl lacing the edges of his voice as he spoke. “Don’t be so careless,” He spat, all self-righteous frustration and poorly veiled aggression. “They could’ve passed out! The last thing we need is less time than we already have.”

Your vision was blurry, by now, your sense separated from reality by a thick layer of fog, but you could’ve sworn Kalim pouted, straightening his back and digging his knee into your bicep, the pressure numb and bruising, at the same time. “I’m just trying to have a little fun,” He sighed, his tone somewhere between a whine and a mumble. “It‘s not my fault Leona called the first turn. The rest of us still have to find something to do, ‘til he’s done.”

Until he’s done. It was more daunting than it should’ve been, until he’s done. You could feel Leona now, even if you refused to look at him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your thighs in his hands, sharpened nails tearing through thin clothes with a pace so idle, it almost felt patronizing. It would’ve been worse if he rushed, you knew that, it would’ve been so much worse, but part of you still wished he’d just… get it over with. Or, that he’d pretend he was trying to, at least. “I don’t take scraps,” Leona scoffed. You tried to buck your hips, making a half-hearted effort to put any amount of distance between you and him, but he only bared his teeth, sending you a soft glare as he splayed his hand over your waist, pinning you down before you could do so much as writhe. “I offered to let Schoenheit go, but apparently, his majesty got cold feet. And he was so pushy about this, too.” There was a tap to your side, a breath of a chuckle from Leona. “I’d be insulted if I were you, sweetheart. It’s not very considerate of him to leave you high and dry, is it?”

“Some of us have self-respect,” Vil retorted, from the edge of the clearing. You knew he’d be watching, that he’d be looming over you, but you still cringed at the reminder, at the judgement in his voice. “I would’ve offered Pomefiore as a venue, if I knew you’d be rolling around in the dirt like a herd of wild animals. I’ll clean up (Y/n) and take what I deserve when the rest of you are finished.”

At his side, Azul hummed in agreement. He’d chosen to play the role of innocent bystander, his judgement softened into a guiltless, shameless curiosity. In a way, he was better than Vil, he hadn’t helped to restrain you when you tried to run, nor did he seem to take any more malicious glee in this than he did anything else. But, what little appreciation you had for him died the moment he continued to do nothing, staring on with that small, knowing smirk. As if he wanted you to understand that he wasn’t on your side, even if he wasn’t really on theirs, either. “Someone has to make sure Idia gets his recording, too. And, with that in mind, it’d only be fair if he got to see some of the aftermath.”

“Greedy bastard,” Vil muttered, but he didn’t try to object further. “Fine, but don’t expect me to share.”

There was a beat of silence, and Leona took the opportunity to push your ripped shirt up to your collar, dragging his talons over your hips and aiming to start in earnest, but he stilled quickly, rounded ears flicking slightly as his expression dropped. You heard the reason why a second later - footsteps, hurried and careful, dredging through the forest and only getting closer. Your heart skipped a beat, the shocked hazed over your mind finally beginning to thin. Still, you didn’t have to think, you didn’t even try to. You were already thrashing, kicking at Leona, pulling against Kalim and Riddle. You were already screaming, the sound only partially muffled by Riddle’s attempts to keep you quiet. “Help!” It was a desperate cry, all shrill necessity, all primal instinct. “Help, I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t-- They’re going to ra--”

Riddle covered your mouth, but it was too late, you could already see him - Malleus. Wonderful, powerful Malleus, his eyes wide and his expression confused as he stepped into the small clearing. For a moment, he scanned over the arrangement, Leona between your legs, Vil watching on with crossed arms and a scowl, Azul, phone in hand and his posture still relaxed. Worrying relaxed, honestly.

Then, you heard Malleus’ laugh, and your heart cracked open in your chest.

“You gave me the wrong time,” He chided, but he didn’t seem angry. His pace was calmer than it had been as he approached, his touch nothing but gentle as his hand came to rest on Leona’s shoulder, who offered a shake of his head by way of apology. Malleus’ attention shifted towards you, but he didn’t seem affected. If anything, he only seemed more content than he had been, as he met your eyes. “Don’t stop on my account. I’ve been waiting as long as the rest of you.”

That made sense. You hated it, it was disgusting, but it made sense.

Leona did say all the prefects were looking forward to this, after all.

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately.

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on.

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds.

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it.

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive.

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head.

The BAU!

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed.

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He’d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture.

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right.

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips.

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy.

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt.

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was.

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind.

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her.

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone?

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed.

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased.

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly.

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away.

Blood.

So much blood.

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.” She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days.

It wasn’t real.

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #mgg #CM

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chipper-smol · 3 years

Text

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-  “You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”  No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.  “THANK YOU???”  You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood.  As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.  “Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?’

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown

------------------------------- By @buglife

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg. “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris

------------------------------- By @payasita

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.

#telephoneknight #hollowknight #hollow knight #RelicCoffeeAu #lemm #tiso #ghost #quirrel

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

The Perks of Cold Weather

Hello! This is just a whole lot of fluff because I need some positive vibes this week. Feel free to send some requests my way if you’d like! They can be as specific or as vague as you want and I’ll do my best. None of my ideas are currently working for me.

Summary: Reader and Spencer have some fun in the snow in a small town in Alaska.

Words: 2996

Warnings: none I think

When you first started at the BAU, you were quick to realize the group was more like a family than coworkers. It was clear in the little things they did for each other on case, like the way JJ and Spencer would comfort each other on particularly difficult cases to the slight bickering that would inevitably start up between Derek and Emily about anything that didn’t really matter.

You were quick to find your place in the little family as well. Well, not find it so much as fall into it, but you didn’t mind. You were only 28 years old, meaning you were the youngest member of the BAU. Being the youngest meant a lot of teasing from the “older sibling” personalities of everyone except Rossi and Hotch. Their personalities were much more parent-esque. With how much they’d tease you, you were always quick to jump on the chance to tease them for a change. The perfect opportunity arose when a case came up in Alaska.

Penelope walked through the bullpen, calling you all into the roundtable room right before you left for the day. “Hello my wonderful crime fighters. I wish I had better news, but this case is a real whammy. Three women have been found stabbed to death in a small town in Alaska.”

The collective groans of just about everyone in the room were quiet, but obvious.

“I know, I know. Another freezing cold case. I wish I could send you to LA all the time, but alas bad guys aren’t deterred by freezing temperatures.” She went on to explain the details of the case before Hotch dismissed everyone with his typical “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed to collect their go bags- and winter items for the cold weather they would surely be facing in Alaska- before meeting on the jet. When you got there, everyone else was already boarded, and you couldn’t help but feel the low energy of everyone on the plane.

“Don’t tell me the lot of you are afraid of a little snow?” You can’t stop the smirk from appearing on your face as you sit down across from Spencer and adjacent to Emily, Derek, and JJ.

“Big words from someone who hasn’t been on a case in Alaska yet.” Derek’s reply comes without hesitation. The grin on your face only grows when you realize that everyone really is feeling low because of the impending winter wonderland.

“Don’t tell me you’re excited for the cold weather?” JJ shivers just asking the question.

“Of course I am! I’ve always loved the cold. There’s something so magical about watching snow fall. It feels like Christmas!” The four of them stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You are seriously telling me none of you like the snow?” You scan all of their faces in disbelief, eyes landing on Spencer last.

“Don’t look at me. I’m from Nevada, it’s basically the desert. Winter in Las Vegas is comparable to fall in DC. The last time it snowed with any significance was in 2003 and that was only an inch.” Spencer nearly starts rambling about weather patterns across the US, but cuts himself off.

“You all are seriously killing my good mood with your bad vibes. I will change at least one of your minds by the end of this case” You say in a huff while putting your headphones on. You try to catch up on some sleep before you all reconvene to discuss the case.

After the briefing and right before landing, everyone starts bundling up in layers upon layers of sweatshirts, jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. You pull a sweater on over your long sleeve and zip up your FBI jacket, adding a cute beanie more for aesthetics than warmth. You’ve never been one to get overly cold, so you skip a few layers everyone else put on.

The rest of the team marches off the jet as if they would rather be anywhere else, but you don’t let it deter you. You exit the jet with a smile on your face, taking a deep breath of the cool Alaskan air.

“You really are enjoying yourself?” Spencer asks with a small smile. You meet his eye, the look on his face giving you butterflies, before responding.

“Of course I am. It smells like winter!” The two of you share a laugh as you get in the SUV headed to the police precinct to actually get to work.

The case only lasted two days. You were glad to have solved it so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the snow. After the case files are all packed away and Hotch goes off to coordinate the jet, you head outside to absorb every last ounce of winter possible.

“I thought I might find you out here.” Spencer sits next to you on the bench as you stare at the flakes falling from the sky.

“What can I say, I just really love the cold.” You reply without turning your head. “Maybe it’s weird, but I would pick cold over hot any day.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all! I think it’s kind of cute actually.” That gets your attention and you turn to see he’s looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I like how happy you are when you look at the snow.”

Of course, that makes you smile again. “Thank you, Spence.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you’re quickly distracted by the sound of Derek calling the two of you back into the station.

“Hey lovebirds, Hotch needs us.” You roll your eyes at Derek before standing up, offering your hand to Spencer to help him up. He takes your hand, squeezing it slightly as he rises from the bench. He only drops your hand when he goes to hold the door open for you, leading you back inside. The team gathers in the conference room, Hotch walking in with a grim expression.

“I’ll cut to the chase. We won’t be able to fly home until this evening. The snow from last night on top of the storm that’s about to pass through is too much to clear right now.” Everyone, including you, sighs before nodding in understanding. As much as you would love to stay longer, you know it sucks that everyone can’t go home to their families. “This case is wrapped up, so feel free to just explore the town or relax in the hotel. We should be able to take off at 9:00 pm, so I expect to see all of you on the jet by 8:45.” Those words were music to your ears. As everyone begins to pack up to head out, you turn to Spencer.

“I can’t believe this. It’s like a snow day! I’ve always loved snow days! We would always go outside, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, and try to build an igloo but end up giving up when it collapsed for the third time.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, but nods along as you both walk out of the precinct toward the hotel just down the street. “Then we’d go in for lunch, make hot chocolate and cookies, and watch all our favorite movies.”

“Is that what you want to do today?” Spencer asks as you both walk into the hotel lobby.

“I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. That is exactly what I would want to do today.” You smile wistfully as you think back to your childhood snow days with your siblings.

“Well then, let’s see how perfect we can make the world, just for today.” Spencer’s smiling as he says it, taking in the confusion and shock on your face.

“You mean… You want to build a snowman? With me?” Your heart is beating so forcefully, you wouldn’t be surprised if it flew right out of your chest.

“Yeah, and all the other things too.” Spencer’s words are soft and unsure, contrasting the confidence of his previous statement.

“But you don’t like the cold weather…” You simply can’t fathom why he would volunteer to do these cold weather activities when just two days ago he was talking about how little snow he experienced when he was younger.

“But you do, and we’re stuck here anyway. So, why not?” Hearing that he would spend his day off playing in the snow simply because you want to does things to you that you chose to ignore for the time being.

“O- okay… yeah, let’s do it! ” The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before you each bring your things to you respective rooms with a plan to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

When you get to your room you pull out the warmest clothes you brought to Alaska. Although it would suffice for walking down the street, it’s not exactly made for playing in the snow. After getting dressed you meet Spencer in the lobby. He is dressed in warmer clothes than you, but still not snow proof.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Your excitement to start this day with Spencer has dwindled since imaging the cold, wet clothes you’d end up in. “The key to a good snow day is waterproof clothes and we definitely don’t have any. How am I going to make you like snow if you’re freezing and wet at the end of the day?” You would expect the resident genius to agree with you, but instead of a grim expression and a nod in agreement, Spencer’s smile grows.

“Don’t worry about it. Just come with me.” He leads you outside of the hotel with his hand on the small of your back all the way down to the town store. “What needs to be waterproof? We can find snow pants, jackets, gloves, and boots right here.” He looks so pleased with himself as he leads you around the store to collect all the items you’ll need. He even picks out a sled for the two of you.

After checking out, he leads you back outside where you pull the waterproof gear on over your warm layers, tossing the tags into a nearby trash can. Before you can say anything, he is again leading you through the town with his hand on the small of your back. He stops when he reaches the park, turning to you once again.

“Where do you want to build the snowman?” You mirror the grin on his face as you run across the park to a flatter area.

You begin compressing the snow in your hands to form the ball that would eventually become the bottom layer of your snowman. Spencer copies your actions, forming a lopsided ball for the middle. You leave Spencer to work on the head while you search around the nearby trees for sticks to use as arms and rocks to use for the eyes and buttons.

After finding the perfect set of sticks, you return to see Spencer adding a carrot nose right in the middle of the head.

“I didn’t even see you buy carrots!” He laughs at your childlike enthusiasm, moving aside so you can add the sticks to the middle. You also add the rocks you gathered for the eyes and buttons. Spencer surprises you again by pulling out a hat and scarf to add the finish touches.

After forcing him to take a selfie with you and the snowman, you walk across the park to find a good sledding hill. You find the perfect hill, and offer to go down first since it’s going to take some effort to form the path. Spencer watches you scooching your way through the snow, forcing the sled down the hill, laughing hysterically. You haven’t been able to enjoy snow like this for years.

Spencer was hesitant to sled down the hill together, but one pout from you and he climbed on right away. The sled picked up pace is you barreled out of control, flipping and rolling down the hill.

You took the opportunity of a distracted Spencer to form a snow ball, waiting until he was only a few feet away to throw it at him. Of course, as soon as it hits him it’s game on. The two of you are running through the park, hiding behind trees, and dodging each other’s snowballs. Spencer, being uncoordinated, mostly missed you. That is, until the very end of the snowball fight when he hits you right in the face, the surprise causing you to fall to the ground.

“Y/N! Are you okay! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He’s cut off by your laughter.

“Relax Spence, its fine! It was powdery snow. It’s not like you hit me with a chunk of ice.” You smile at him as he helps you to a standing position. You’re so focused on standing up without slipping on the compressed snow beneath your feet, you don’t realize how close the two of you have become. When you look up to meet his eyes, your noses are nearly touching.

Without much thought for the consequences, you lean a few inches forward, ever so slightly brushing your lips against his.

Spencer is so stunned, it takes him much longer than he’d care to admit to reciprocate your affection. So long in fact, that you’ve pulled away and are frantically trying to think of something to say to save your friendship when he pulls you back in.

The two of you don’t pull away again until the need for air overpowers your need for each other. You stay close though, foreheads pressed together.

“Let me take you on a date. A real one where we go into knowing it’s a date.” Spencer says it all in one breath.

“Oh, Spence. This whole day has been a perfect date, even if we didn’t say it at first. But I would love to go on another with you.”

The two of you are all smiles as you walk back toward the café near your hotel. You’ve been outside so long it’s nearly dark- granted it gets dark around 4:00 this time of year in Alaska. Upon entering the café, Spencer is quick to order two hot chocolates and cookies to go.

“I know it’s not the same as baking them ourselves, but we don’t have access to an oven in the hotel.” He says, squeezing your hand before leading you out of the café.

You would blindly follow Spencer anywhere, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him about it. “Where are we going now? I thought we were going to eat…”

“Back to the hotel. We have one more thing to check off the list for your perfect snow day.” Of course he would remember your list from earlier in the day. “So tell me, what’s your favorite snow day movie?”

“That’s actually a tough question. It changes depending on the mood.” You are genuinely trying to think of the perfect movie to end the perfect day as you walk back into the hotel.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a movie that fits ‘the mood’, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes?” You simply nod in response, too lost in thought to contemplate where he could be going.

15 minutes later you have finally picked out a movie to watch when Spencer enters your room, carrying a takeout bag.

“I finally found a movie!” You smile at him as you show him your computer screen. Anastasia is queued on your Disney+.

“Perfect. We can now officially start our date.” He smiles, pulling the food out of the bag, he hands you a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Your heart warms at the sight of it. You know Spencer has an eidetic memory, but you still get butterflies at the idea of him remembering your favorite cold weather food.

The two of you sit against the headboard, setting the computer between you to play the movie. After you’ve finished eating you shuffle around on the bed, moving the laptop so you could cuddle with Spencer.

“I’ve got another reason for you to like the cold weather.” You state matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the movie.

“Yeah? What is it?” Spencer’s eyes are trained on your face.

“It’s better for cuddling.” A small grin appears on your face at the sound of Spencer’s airy laugh. He pulls you closer, both of you completely content.

As much as you love the cold and snow, dragging yourself out of Spencer’s arms and into the cold air to get to the jet on time was not an exciting task. In fact, it put you in a slightly sour mood, something Morgan was all too quick to pick up on.

“What’s the matter L/N? The cold weather got you down?” He laughs at your annoyed expression.

“Not a chance, Morgan. I quite enjoyed our little snow day actually.” You smile at Spencer as you pull your blanket from your go bag and sit on the couch.

“You actually played in the snow? It was only 22 degrees today!” You can’t help but shake your head. 22 degrees is cold, but nothing compared to how bad it can get in Alaska.

“We did indeed. I think I managed to turn Spencer on to the cold weather too.” Spencer sits down next to you encouraging you to share your blanket.

“How’d you manage that? I’ve been to on enough cases with Pretty Boy here to know he prefers the warmer ones.”

“It’s actually rather simple.” Spencer replies, shifting his arm around you on the back of the couch. You smile as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Colder climates make for better cuddles.”

tag list:

@mac99martin

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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slytherinwh0re · 3 years

Text

Now or never

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), swearing, use of the word m*dblood once

Summary: *Draco’s POV* Where Draco admits his feelings for the girl he’s been friends with for years.

Masterlist

*Draco’s POV*

I’ve never felt anything that comes close to this, a desire so deep it keeps me up at night, longing so ingrained into every crack of my soul it’s all I can think about. That’s what she’s done to me, (y/n) (y/l/n), the girl I’ve known since childhood, the one who’s always been there, and the only person who makes me feel alive.

Why she chooses to keep me around I’d never understand. Whenever I ask she says the same thing everytime, “I need you Draco” the response usually makes my heart slam against my chest but what I don’t think she gets is how I’m the one that needs her. Her warmth and kindness is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, I’m a fiend for it, without it life would be dull.

That’s why when she’s around I make sure to be on my best behavior, even Potter and the Weasel can’t get a reaction out of me when she’s near. Well, none other than a dirty look but she’d usually kiss my cheek and tell me to quit glaring cause it causes wrinkles.

One time in second year I’d called Granger a mudblood in front of her and the disapproving look she gave me was enough to put me off the word forever. She didn’t talk to me for a week after that, I had to apologize to the bushy headed scoundrel before (y/n) would speak to me again, it was humiliating but for her I’d do anything. I’ve never used the word again.

The witch has been there for me through everything, she’s always been my dearest friend, and I hers. So when I hadn’t seen her during the summer inbetween third and fourth year I was confused by my emotions when I’d finally spotted her on the train. I’d always known (y/n) was beautiful, I never denied it, but that year her hips had rounded out, her breasts were fuller, and her face looked more matured. That was the first time I’d wanted to do things with her that friends just don’t do together.

It only got worse from there, the older we got, the more attractive she became. She was everything I’d ever desired, it was torture not allowing myself to tell her the thing I wanted to do to her out of fear of ruining the friendship I valued over everything. Instead I sat back, lusting over the girl who didn’t have a clue.

I’d watch her, in class, at the library, while she was with her other friends, my eyes always seemed to find her in a room full of people. It’s pathetic really but I can’t help it, (y/n) took up every thought in my mind. It’s the worst at night, when I’m trying to sleep and the only thing I can focus on is how fucking nice her ass looked in class that day or the fullness of her lips and how perfect they’d look wrapped around me.

Now here we are in seventh year, both 18, and fully matured, our friendship as strong as ever but I’ve just about had it. I’ve watched as other twats got to call her theirs and be with her in ways I’ve only imagined but I’m always there for her, ready to pick up the pieces of her broken heart when they hurt her. The pretty girl was too kind for her own good and she’d only ever blame herself for them being such fucking idiots, how could they not realize what they’d just lost?

I knew she’d have boyfriends, she was too beautiful not to, but I’d never expected it to hurt me so much to see her with another. However I kept my mouth shut, she knew I didn’t like any of them but I never said anything to her about it, it’s her life and if she’s happy than I suppose that would just have to be enough for me. Although I will admit, I felt relieved when they’d break up, it meant I still had a chance if I ever gained the courage to tell her how in love with her I am.

“What’re you thinking so hard about Draco?” Her eyebrow’s are scrunched together and I can’t help but smile at how cute she looks.

“You.” I tell her honestly, reaching across my bed where she lays to brush the piece of hair off her face. The best part of being a prefect is the private dorm, we’d always come here and hangout.

“Me? What about me?” She rest her face on her hands and gives me her full attention.

I take in a deep breath and decide to be completely honest with her. “(Y/n), you know I think you’re beautiful right?”

“Well uhm—you’ve never really told me that before but uhm thank you.” Her face is bright red but she doesn’t look away, her eyes remain on mine and I feel my heart rate spike. “Why are you telling me this now Draco?”

There’s so many ways I could answer that question but I know if I never tell her the truth I’ll live the rest of my life thinking of the what-if’s. I sit up, grab her hand, and beckon her to do the same so we’re facing each other.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful my darling but I’ve been a coward,” I take deep breath, preparing myself for what I’m about to say, it’s now or never, “I’ve been hiding my feelings from you for years now. The way I feel about you is much more than what a friend should feel for another friend.” I grab her hands and hold them in my lap, my hearts going a mile a minute but if I stop now I won’t forgive myself. “What I’m trying to say is, I love you, I’m in love with you, I have been for so long.”

She’s silent for a while, just watching me, and I feel my heart begin to shatter. I start to lift myself off the bed but she holds my hands tighter, not letting me move.

“Oh Draco, you must be blind.” She let’s go of one of my hands and puts hers on my cheek, leaning into me until we’re only an inch away from each other. “It’s always been you, I love you.” And then she’s kissing me, and I think I might be dreaming but she throws a leg on either side of my hips, straddling my waist, and I realize this isn’t an image I’ve conjured in my head, my girl is on my lap, kissing me.

It’s like a switch flipped in my head, my hands find her hips, the same hips I’ve dreamt about for years, and I pull her as close to me as possible. Her tongue tangles with mine and she has her hands in my hair, tugging just enough to make my hold on her tighten. When she pulls away for air I tilt her head to the side, giving my lips access to the skin of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave my mark on her for the next few days, the airy moan she lets out is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s addicting, the taste of her on my lips is like a drug, the sounds she makes give me goosebumps, and I love her, all of her.

When my sweet girl grinds down on my cock I just about lose it, the moan that leaves my mouth would be embarrassing if I wasn’t so caught up on how perfect the curve of her ass feels in my hands.

“Make me yours Draco.” (Y/n) whispers and I have to pull back to make sure I heard her correctly. Could it be that she really wants to be with me in that way?

“You’re sure my love? We could wait as long as you’d like.” She kisses my jaw and I moan as her hands start pulling on my shirt.

“I’m positive, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Fuck.

I flip us over so she’s laying on the bed and I’m on top of her, I pull my shirt over my head as quickly as possible as she starts fiddling with my belt. I place my hands on the skin of her stomach, moving them upwards slowly, giving her a chance to change her mind but she never was one for patience, instead she yanks her shirt off, leaving her in a thin black bra that she has off even quicker than the shirt, then she places my hands on each breast.

God I fucking love her.

The supple skin feels soft under my finger tips, her peaked nipples just begging to be played with so I do just that. I bring my lips around one, letting my tongue roll over the hard bud, listening to the soft sounds from the girl underneath me.

I hook my fingers into her leggings, dragging them down her silky legs, each new inch of uncovered skin makes my already hard cock grow impossibly harder. Her small hands pull down my pants and boxers with one quick tug, making my dick slap my stomach, leaving only one article of clothing between us. She wraps her fingers around me and I bury my face in her hair, the warmth of her hand driving me insane.

I pull her panties to the side, dipping my fingers into her dripping cunt, and the pretty girl moans my name.

“We can do foreplay another time, I need you now Draco, please.” How could I deny her when she sounds so sexy begging like that. I rip off her panties, throwing the destroyed material somewhere on the floor. I pull her lips back to mine and position myself at her entrance.

When I push into her it’s as if her body was meant for mine, her slick tight walls grip me perfectly. (Y/n)’s nails dig into my back as I keep up a steady pace, her perky tits bouncing with every deep thrust of my hips, and I watch as her swollen lips part into a silent moan as I find the spongy spot I’d been searching for.

My hands explore her body, running up the curve of her hips and up her soft stomach, bringing a thumb up to her bottom lip and watching in awe when she wraps her lips around it, sucking lightly before letting it go. I use that same thumb, to rub small circles into her clit.

“Draco, more, please I need more!” I pull out of her, flip her onto her stomach, and pull her hips up so her ass is in the air.

“As you wish my love.” I lick a single bold line up her center and then slam my hips into her. Giving my pretty girl exactly what she wanted. I smack her ass, thanking every God for letting this happen to me. She arches her back and grabs at the sheets, the screams of my name have me holding onto every fiber of self control I can. “You take my cock so well darling, I’ve dreamt about this so many times.” I smack her ass again, thrusting into her at a brutal pace. She’s soaking wet, the warmth of her cunt sucking me in with every jerk of my hips.

“I’m close Draco!” Her legs are shaking and I reach around her, one hand wrapped around her throat, pulling her to my chest, the other massaging her clit.

“Let go my love, I’ve got you.” I kiss her neck, inching her closer to her release. Her walls clench and she screams, my name leaving her lips on repeat as her orgasm rolls through her body. I wait until she’s done to let myself spill into her, my hips stutter and I moan into her hair as she pants against me.

I lay her down, grab a towel, and clean her up. She just stares at me with a small smile on her face when I lay with her, my pretty girl.

“I love you Draco.”

“I love you (y/n).”

Tag list: message me to be added/removed

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorn @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx @raylovessarcasm @xlilsubbyx @amourtentiaa @sahvlren @beiahadid @royalvolturisblog @im-totally-not-dezi @disartrous @futuremrsfelton20 @dlmmdl @rowanthomasknapp @a-malfoy @drabblingdraco @rennaisancebaby

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco imagine #draco smut #drac #hp smut #slytherin #draco #malfoy

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cuddlesslut · 3 years

Text

Part Eight: Hope

Atsumu x fem reader , Suna x fem Reader, Hinata x Fem reader

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long to put out this chapter I’m gunna try to do better on posting faster. I’ve had a lot of stuff happening irl. I love see so many of your write in for the poll 😂 I did not expect Sakusa to pop off! I hope y’all like this chapter. Again it’s still kind of short but I wanted to get it posted. Also you can’t convince me Hinata doesn’t use an all in one cleanser!

Warning: crude language, not much angst, some fluff.

Part Seven: Regrets

Hinata stared at his phone questioning whether he should message you again. It had been four days since you ran out of his apartment. You had yet to respond to any of his texts. As concerned as he is he knows no good will come from spamming you. Although he wants nothing more than for you too talk to him. He was so confused where you both stood. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that things couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He can’t go back to pushing down his feelings and pretending he doesn’t want to be more. That he didn’t want to call you his and show you off to the world. To take you out on dates try new experiences and make memories with you. He can’t keep acting like he doesn’t dream of waking up to you in his arms every morning. He wants to be there with you every step in life and support you no matter what. He wants to show you that you are the most amazing woman he’s ever known. As much as the sex is amazing it’s not worth holding back anymore. He knows you may still not be ready for a relationship and he wouldn’t think about pressuring you into one after how horribly your last ended, he’d gladly wait for you to be ready but he has to be honest with his feelings instead of torturing himself.

The sound of his alarm snapped him out of his daze. Time to get ready for practice, he groaned pulling himself from the comfort of his bed before heading to the shower to start his day. He shuffled in the bathroom hooking up his phone to his Bluetooth speaker starting up with morning playlist beginning his morning routine. He loved jamming in the shower. He turned the water on letting the heat build as he brushed his teeth before climbing into the steaming shower bopping his head to the beat of silhouette by Kana-boon having to refrain himself from attempting to naruto running in the slippery bath. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat hitting his back and loosening his muscles. Losing himself in the music as he grabbed his three in one, body wash, shampoo and conditioner. He scrubbed his hair and body screaming the lyrics to the next song. “Sawaras nai kimi wa shojo wa na no Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo !!,” he was jamming out when the song was interrupted by the sound of a notification. He thought nothing of it figuring it was just Bokuto-San. When the chimes continue his curiosity won out as he peeked out passed the curtain still covered in bubbles to see who was spamming his phone. His eyes grew wide as he saw your name lighting up his notifications. He rushed for his phone loosing his balance and slamming the shower wall to keep himself from falling on his ass as he scrambled out still dripping and soapy as he stood in bathroom unlocking his phone.

YN-Chan 🧡: Hey Shoyo

YN-Chan🧡: you’re usually up by now so I thought I’d message you to say I’m soo soo sorry for how I ran out the other day.

YN-Chan🧡: honestly I should have messaged you days ago but I’ve just been dealing with a lot . It’s no excuse but still I’m sorry.

YN-Chan 🧡: look I totally understand if you don’t want talk to me after how I acted but if you do I was hoping we could get together and talk?

Hinata could see the text bubble at the bottom showing she was typing but he wasted no time pulling up the call button needing to here your voice. It rang two times before connecting. His heart clinched hearing your soft hello.

“Hey Sho,” you answered.

“Hey there YN-Chan,” he greeted back.

He could here a sense of nervousness in your tone. “Hey sorry if interrupted anything.” He realized how hard he was breathing from excitement and from nearly dying trying to escape his shower.

“Oh no no, its fine I wasn’t busy,” he feigned nonchalance. There was a beat of silence as you both searched for words.

“Umm you had said you wanted to talk?” He questioned. He was really concerned for why you ran off that day.

“Oh yeah but I’d much rather talk in person, is there anyway we could get together soon I understand if you’re busy,”

“I’m free tonight,” he cursed himself for how desperate he sounded, “uhh do you want to come over tonight?”

You chuckled at his eagerness. “If it’s okay with you maybe we could go out... to like dinner maybe,” his heart froze his mind reeling with excitement you had never gone out before. Always just opting to have food delivered and eating in. He couldn’t help but let his hopes rise.

“I know it’s not what we usually do so I get if you’re uncomfor-”

“I’d love to!” He cuts you off. Not wanting to miss this chance.

“A-awesome um is 7:30 good for you?” You questioned.

“Yep!” He could feeling his heart soaring as the plans started to solidify.

“Great well I’ll message you all of the details later, bye Sho umm I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye YN-Chan, can’t wait!” He heard a small laugh leave your lips before the line disconnected. There is a wide smile spread across his face as leaning against the wall next to him not even upset that his shower water was now starting to run cold.

Hinata’s day was instantly better with thought of seeing you tonight the Idea of having a date with you filled him with joy. Everyone could see the difference in the outside hitter today compared to the last few practices. It’s was like he was in the zone. He was all over the court making the cleanest receives and his spikes were just so on point. It was time for there first water break and stretch. He sat on the bench taking a gulp of water a big smile present on his face when he checks his phone to see a message with a restaurant address. His teammates shared a look at the way the ginger stared at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy Hinata?” Sakusa questioned.

“Yeah Sho you’ve been on fire today plus you won’t stop smiling at your phone!” Bokuto boasted wrapping an arm around his newest teammate.

“That obvious huh?” Hinata grinned. “Well uhh the girl I’ve been talking to wants to go on a date tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked “the same girl that’s been marking up yer back recently?” Bokuto and the Setter busted into laughter when Hinata’s faced turned red. Sakusa rolled his eye at the childish behavior.

“Uh haha yeah that’s the one,” he chuckled rubbing the back of his head.

“Well if you’re already fuckin her why are you getting all giddy over a date?” The setter asked

“We’ve actually never been on date before,” Hinata admitted.

“Damn Sho, first date! Why’d you wait so long dude?” Bo wondered.

“Really Hinata-Kun I didn’t take you for the casual sex type,” Sakusa stated

“She’s a friend but I’ve like her pretty much since we met but she’s just not ready for a relationship,” he explains “ she has some bad history but we kept fooling around as friends. I’m so excited cause she asked if I wanted to get dinner so I’m hoping maybe she’s starting to open up to the idea.”

“Ha well good luck then bro,” Bokuto smacked him on the back laughing. The rest of them agreed in the well wishes before the whistle blew signaling the end of their break.

They resumed their intense training. Right now focusing on their serves and some indurance training. The coaches were wearing them out today going over and over drills. Soon enough they were in the locker room showering up a bit and changing as they got ready for their lunch break before they’d have to return to practice. The locker room filled with chatter as they discussed different plays they wanted to work on or where they wanted to grab lunch. There conversation was interrupted when one of the coaching assistants poked their head in.

“Miya-San your fiancé is here to see you, she waiting by the gym entrance.” He stated before turning to leave. All eyes were on the setter when he dropped his phone a look of shock present on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute he was so sure he miss heard the man . There was no way you were here. He stood up rushing to finish getting dressed. There was a pressure in the room he was ignoring some of his teammates sharing a confused look.

“I didn’t know you had a Fiancé Tsumu?” Hinata asked excitedly as the team started following behind the setter.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Sakusa stated bitterly. Atsumu shot a dirty look back at the wing spiker.

“She left him months ago before you joined the team Shoyo-Kun, she’s are really nice girl though always brought us the best snacks when she’d visit,” Bokuto explained his hungry mind straying as he thought back to her delicious cooking.

“Oh I’m sorry Atsumu,” Hinata apologized.

“Don’t he deserved it,” Sakusa scoffed.

The setter paid no mind to comment there was no point in getting angry with the neat freak he was completely right. It didn’t matter at the moment what mattered was seeing you. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. You were looking at your hands picking at your nails. He could see you were nervous. So was he. What was he supposed to say he knew he owed you an apology and much more but it felt like he couldn’t breath looking at you. You looked up at him your eyes locking. There was a look he couldn’t quite pin point. It wasn’t exactly a look of hated which it was what he expected but it also nothing like the looks of love he used to receive. He didn’t even realize the boys had stopped behind him watching the scene. His eyes only focused on you and nothing else.

That is until he hears a sharp breath from behind him as Hinata called out your name. Bokuto and Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the ginger some confusion present. Atsumu however didn’t look away from you not even when you gaze shifted from the setter to his teammate. This look in your eyes he could distinguish. It was one you used to look at him with. It shattered Atsumu as he realized right then you were the woman Hinata had been talking about. It obvious when he saw a similar look of happiness on Shoyo’s face. It felt like a kick to the gut. An array of emotions swirling through his mind. He was hurt to think you moved on. Disgusted as he thought back to his earlier convo with the man and how they had discussed the scratches on his friends back and now realizing how they were from you. He felt like he was going to puke thinking of his teammate with you in that intimate way. But he knew he had no right to feel this way not after all he put you through so he pushed those emotions deep inside. Returning to the moment.

“Hi Sho,” you gave a small smile as you shuffled nervously in your spot.

“I thought we were getting dinner? We can switched to lunch if you need to tho.” He stated.

Sakusa and Bokutos eyes grew wide finally coming to the same conclusion the setter previously had. Sakusa had to stifle a laugh as Bo muttered “oh shit” under his breath at the awkward situation.

“Um actually Shoyo, I’d still like to get dinner with you. I know this must seem really confusing, and I promise to explain everything tonight, but uhh.. I actually here to see Miya-San.” You explain sheepishly.

Atsumu tried not to flinch at the use of his last name.

You turned to the blonde with a stoic face. “Can we get lunch, we really need to talk.” He nodded not knowing how to use his voice.

You turned back to Hinata with a pleasing look. “I’ll call you later before our date, Sho.” Before turning to leave with Tsumu.

Hinata may be beyond confused right now not yet connecting the dots. But that didn’t matter he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping. Date. It’s a date. He wasn’t overthinking or wishing hopefully. It was an actual date with you! The woman he can’t get out of his mind. And that one little comfort was enough for him to trust the situation as he watched you walk away.

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