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skzdarlings · 28 days

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the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.

Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.

“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.

“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.

“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.

“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.

“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.

Chan squeaks.

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.

“Channie,” you say, breathless again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”

“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.

Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”

His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”

You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.

“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.

“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”

He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.

“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

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Steve let out the greatest sigh he'd ever heaved. "I can't believe I have to fuck him."

Robin's head whipped to him so fast like he just said he was gonna jump off a building. "You don't have to."

"No I'm gonna", Steve said, eyes not leaving Eddie. He was biting his thumb like he couldn't wait to get alone with him.

Robin looked back at Eddie, who was filling up his plate with things from the picnic table. "I don't see it."

"Because you're a lesbian."

"With taste. And standards. I mean what exactly has got you twirling your hair right now?"

"I mean look at him!"

Eddie had a plate in one hand that already had an open burger on it. The fingers of his other hand danced like they were trilling a piano as he was deciding on what to put on the plate next. He grabbed some chips on the side and then placed the plate down to figure out what he condiment he wanted.

Eddie put his hand on his chin like it was the utmost important decision. Then he grabbed the mayo and the mustard in one hand and squeezed them in a swirl.

"You gonna kiss him with must-ayo breath?", Robin snickered.

"I wish I was that burger", Steve said as he watched Eddie sink his teeth into it. Steve bit his lip while Eddie was licking som stray sauce off his fingers and Robin felt uncomfortable.

"Um, do you, Eddie, and the burger want some privacy."

If Steve was being honest, he didn't fully trust himself to be alone in a room with just Eddie and whatever he was currently feasting on.

--------------------------

Eddie wasn't drunk. He wasn't even buzzed. No this particular evening, he was simply loopy on lack of sleep. He'd meant to go to bed, honest. But an idea popped into his mind and things kept adding in a delicious stew of inspiration and he just stayed up all night.

When Steve heard that, he nearly cursed him out for driving like that to his house.

"We were supposed to meet today, Steeeeve."

"It could've waited."

"Hmm, one doesn't make the king wait."

Eddie collapsed onto his couch and Steve thought he might conk out right away, but he was valiantly staying awake. Steve sat next to him and thought he might wait to see just in case Eddie fell asleep in the next 15 seconds.

Instead, Eddie reached out slowly with his pointer finger and booped Steve's nose. "It's so pointy", he said in a croaky voice. "Bet the girls loved that."

Steve snorted. "What?"

"When you ate 'em out."

"Dude!", Steve laughed. Eddie was always pretty candid, but this was another brand.

Then Eddie began to draw circles on Steve's face with his finger, all while drawing out that croaky sound before saying "Phooone hoooome."

Steve giggled and Robin finally spoke up from the loveseat.

"Yeah, I'm still here. But you know, movie night can wait or whatever."

----------------------

Steve's hands were in his face as he sat on the edge of his bed. Robin was patting his back reassuringly.

"There, there."

"It's just... Robin you should've seen him."

"I've seen him, babe."

"Not like this he was just-he was so into it!"

Steve had gone to pick up Eddie from the Wheeler's. He figured he'd find the other either with Mike, or maybe even Nancy. But no. Eddie had been in the backyard, in the middle of a very intense game of pretend with Holly. It had taken Steve everything not to strip and beg Eddie to give him his own babies.

"Have I...always been this much of a slut?", Steve asked.

Robin thought for a second before answering. "Yyyeah. But also, you've always been a goofball. Now that I think about it, you and Nancy had kinda an opposites attract thing. But maybe you don't need to opposite. You need someone as silly as you."

"Steve!", Eddie nearly crashed through his door. "We're making a blanket fort downstairs, you in?"

Steve rubbed his face and looked to Robin, admitting defeat with his eyes and then looked to Eddie. "Yeah. I really do."

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #steve is in the closet about his goofiness #and nothing else #robin has to tell him yeah yall are made for each other #ur both clowns

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kquil · 11 months

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JAMES POTTER | KISS CAM PART 2

SUM. : even though yours and james's relationship is public, his jealous streak continues

G. : fluff ; modern au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; viral sports couple ; fans love you together ; protective james ; jealous james ; you're his ; he's yours ; everyone should know this by now ; heated kiss

LENGTH : 1.9k

PART 1

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Now that your relationship with James was made public, he’s been more open to showing how much he adores you on the rink. You never miss any of his games and he makes a point of visiting your side of the rink during opening warm ups for a kiss through the glass. It’s the same one you gave him when your relationship first became public, where you kiss your fingers and press them against the glass where his lips are directly behind. Being the goof ball he is, James makes a show of puckering his lips and making a kiss sound every single time and, although you feel incredibly embarrassed by it, you just fall even harder for him each time. Your rising fans and shippers are very much the same over your relationship, so supportive and ‘oooo’-ing and ‘ahhh’-ing behind you from every interaction.

During every intermission as well, James would come over to interact with you through the glass, whether to draw a heart on the divider or just wanting to get your attention with his puppy-love eyes. And all exchanges always end the same way, by James getting pulled away from the back of his collar by his teammates.

It’s pretty obvious how in love the two of you were with each other and you’ve become a viral sports couple in the media. The fans adore your dynamic, dubbing James the cheeky loverboy and you the shy sweetheart, which were pretty accurate titles. Their support and love for your relationship made you wonder why you both were so worried about becoming public in the first place, granted there were a few bad eggs here and there but the majority accepted your relationship and you couldn’t be happier. However, you do wonder whether the reason why your relationship became public added to that positive reception or not.

The moment James came over and claimed you as ‘his girl’, it went viral on social media. Many people reported on the incident, made multiple edits of it and some even scoured through videos of past games James played in to try and spot you in the crowd, just to speculate on how long you’ve been together. With all of that, the two of you quickly overtook some of the current famous celebrity couples in popularity. It was quite a romantic way of announcing your relationship, especially when James had the reputation of being the playful goofball of the team through interviews and such; seeing him get aggressive outside of the sport was surprising.

It didn’t help that, on one of your spontaneous dates with James was clipped by Sirius and sent circulating everywhere online.

James had asked for access to the rink so he could practice some moves in his free time and you tagged along with lunch whilst Sirius and Remus came for company and fun. Soon enough, it turned into you and James just having fun on the ice. You’re a clumsy, first-born fawn on skates but James was always there to steady you with his sturdy frame and strong arms so you had more fun skating than you typically would on your own. The two of you were giggling and joking about, just being the sweet couple that were and being so incredibly cute that Sirius couldn’t find it in himself to tease you two about it. Instead, Sirius merely captured the moment James lifted you in his arms - the typical princess cary - and took you for a lap around the ice on video and posted it on his instagram story. There was no audio to overshadow the laughter you and James shared before you cupped his cheek and kissed him deeply. The lighting, the moment and the chemistry between you two couldn’t be denied and you went viral again. It was a lot of attention, mostly good but some bad too.

Trust Sirius to give the fans what they want, seeing as how you and James still try to stay private about your relationship on social media. It wasn’t too much of an issue though since he always asked before posting anything, this particular post though, was the only exception.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t be happier because, now, you can freely support your hard working boyfriend without having to hide under baggy hoodies. Sometimes you dressed up in a cute dress, sometimes you dressed down into one of James’s spare jerseys, proudly showcasing his name and number. It’s a secret but he loves it most when you wear his jersey. It’s also a secret that you wear his jersey whenever you want him to take you home early with no plans of leaving the bed for the night and most of the following morning. He treats you so well.

In this particular game, you had made something special for James to wish him more luck and comfort. It wasn’t much but you wanted him to have something that’ll remind him you were always close by. You also wanted to give him a real good luck kiss before the pre-game warm ups started. James had expressed to you the night before that his nerves were more sensitive than usual because the team they were up against were quite formidable. He knew it, his team knew it and the fans knew it so the seats were packed for the game tonight - it was nerve-wracking. Tonight would be the perfect time to give him the gift.

On the way to the locker rooms behind the rink, you were a little unsure of which changing room James was in because you wanted this to be a surprise and didn’t ask for any further information.

“Oh, hello there,” A man with a black and yellow jersey greets you as he walks out the locker room door you were contemplating knocking on or not, previously unsure of which team was in which but immediately went warm in the cheeks upon realising the mix up, “how did you get down here, pretty lady?” he flirts, making your breath stutter. It didn’t feel right for any other guy to address you so endearingly if they weren’t your James.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly regain yourself and clutch your small present in your hand, “I mistook which locker room to go to,”

“No worries,” he leans down in an effort to level with your height and meet your eyes more directly, “but I am a little disappointed that you aren’t here to see m-” he’s cut off when you catch a glimpse of James over his shoulder and run the distance to his figure outside the locker room further down the hall.

“James!” you run into his arms with a grin, completely forgetting the man you had just encountered, who was now in a silent death-stare exchange with your boyfriend. Running up to him, you miss James muttering something under his breath, eyeing the figure past your own.

“Number five…”

“Look James, I made this for you,” you present the gift, “for good luck,” the excitement in your voice gradually fades with the influence of your bashfulness.

James kept the opposing player, who had not left yet, in his peripheral as he turned his attention to the soft face towel you were offering him. His heart swells when, in the corner, he spots neat stitches of yours and his initials surrounded by cutely embroidered hearts. You’re really so cute, he can’t fathom how he ever got so lucky. His heart softens further when he takes in your timid but adorable form, looking up at him with curious eyes, gauging his reaction.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” James says, his voice purring more than usual. He has full confidence that despite the opposing player displaying clear interest in you, never leaving and still eyeing up your form, James knows that you will always be his and him, you. Your focused eyes solely trained on him, your sweet smile only for him to see and your cute way of dressing only for him to undress later, it’s all for him and it’s all he needs to know that you are his forever, “I love it,”

“Reall-” he cuts off your excitement by pressing his lips against yours, throwing your gift to rest on his shoulder so he can have both his hands free to trace your silhouette down to your cute butt and give a possessive squeeze. Like clockwork, you squeal into his lips and give perfect access for his tongue to ravish yours. It’s a very heated and possessive display. James wants everyone who sees you two to know that he’s the only one who can have you like this and you’re the only one who can make him like this.

Lost in each other, time quickly passes and when you two eventually pull away, the other player is gone. Good riddance, James scoffs in his head, his telling smirk giving away his thoughts. You could see it all. Being his girlfriend, you knew exactly why James behaved like that but you weren’t complaining; you got one hell of a kiss out of it and there was no violence, nobody was hurt. What he needed was for you to anchor him. And you did, by gently taking your gifted face towel off his shoulder and pressing it to the perimeter of his face.

No words needed to be spoken, James could see it all in your eyes. You knew him too well to let his actions slip past like that, however, knowing that your response was only to reassure him with a tender touch and loving actions rather than berate him, his love for you grew even more. He loves you so much. Soft and with a comforting ache in his chest, James hugs you and lifts you off the floor. He tucks his face into your neck and whispers his apology into your skin.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asks, face still nuzzling your neck as you bury your own into his unruly, dark curls.

“You didn’t hurt me, Jamie…”

“Good…I’m sorry for being so forceful and…possessive,” still in his arms and with your feet off the floor, he gives you a small squeeze.

“...I love you,” was your only reply; your own way of forgiving him.

“God…” James sighs dreamily, pulling back to and press a tender kiss onto your lips, “I love you more,”

You giggle and kiss him again, “I love you most,”

“Impossible,”

When the game finally started that night and you had properly kissed your boyfriend ‘good luck’, James became a prominent instigator on the ice. His plays were more violent and aggressive, especially to a particular player wearing the number five. It was pretty bad and you were getting worried, not just for James but for the other team’s number five.

Half time comes and James is seen getting a visible talk down from the coach, there was tension in the air but the excitement for the game still too precedence, shaking the air with an infectious vibration. Before the game starts its second half, James makes a quick visit to your front seat for his usual kiss past the glass. This time, however, he wasn’t being a goofball and worried you but his tense figure visibly relaxed after the pseudo kiss, much to your relief. The second half of the game, he wasn’t as violent but became the top scorer, earning point after point after point.

Suffice to say, James’s team was the clear winner and you had much to celebrate his victory on the ice in the bedroom.

NAVI.

A/N : this was one of my unexpectedly really popular timestamps, thank you all for the support! hopefully you darlings like this addition just as much as the first. i've taken the liberty of adding additional tags who expressed their interest in the first timestamp if you lovelies don't mind

TAGLIST : @fredweasleysjumper @ghostgardn @melinajenkins @astonishment; @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @loveltdoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @diputy @taytaylala12 @its-sappho-biotch @hiya-itsamber @arctvrvs @lilmaymayy @callisto00 @crying-on-the-floor @yrluvjane @neeezza101

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n

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draw-the-squad-like-this · 3 months

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Draw your serious silly couple

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michelle-is-writing · 1 year

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Tired, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 800~

A case that takes more than a week to solve usually tires Spencer out to the point that he's zoning in and out of sleep as he enters the apartment. This case was no different. In fact, he was so tired out from everything that the first thing he did was plop down on the couch after dropping his bags by the door. Usually, he'll take them to the bedroom and unpack, and usually, he won't start falling asleep two seconds after pushing his face into my lap either.

Moving the book in my hands over to the side, I peer down at him and smile with an eyebrow raised. "Tired much?" I joke with him, taking a hand away from my book and placing it on top of Spencer's fluffy hair. He tiredly groans in response to my words before turning his face up to greet mine, only to be blocked by the book in my hands.

"I see you've begun reading from my side of the bookshelf," He notes with an exhausted smile. My smile brightens as I look back at the printed words of the many poets and writers during the transcendentalism era. "It fell when I was dusting earlier, and I've always enjoyed poems and short stories, so I decided I would read it," I explain, placing a finger in the book so I don't lose my place.

Planting his face back into my lap, Spencer speaks up. "How far have you gotten?" He asks, his voice muffled by my legs. I look back at the unread page in my hands and look for my previous spot.

"Currently, I'm in the middle of The Birthmark by Nathanael Hawthorne," I answer. "Do you want me to read it to you?" I question him, smiling as I comb my fingers through his hair.

"I would love that," He tells me, his eyes closing soon after. As soon as I see him do this, I just know he's going to fall asleep within a few seconds. Nonetheless, I still begin reading it to him, trying to make him stay awake for just a bit longer by keeping my voice slightly raised.

"Such a union took place and was attended with truly remark- Spencer?" Not even ten seconds pass after I begin reading that Spencer's snores start overriding my voice. Looking down at him, I hold back a laugh before nudging his shoulder. "Spencer?" I say his name. "Spencer...?" I repeat myself, drawing on his name until I see him lightly jolt and wake up.

"Did you already finish?" He asks, his voice already groggy. This time, I don't hold back my amused laughter and watch as the messy-haired goofball stares at me, confused.

"Baby," I begin. "I barely even started before you fell asleep," I inform him, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. Upon realizing it's the truth, he sighs before replanting his head back onto my lap.

"I'm sorry..." he apologizes, reaching a hand up to rest on my knee. He runs his thumb against the soft material of my pajama pants before eventually stopping, growing tired even with that.

"It's okay, sweetie," I assure Spencer, placing his book beside me on the couch before moving to stand up. Taking his hands into mine, I pull him up with me, causing his sluggish body to slump against me. However, Spencer quickly takes this chance to wrap his arms around me and hold me closer to him as he gently sways us in his hold. For a few moments, I savor his touch until the thought occurs to me that if he falls asleep and goes down, I'm going down with him.

"Spencer, honey, let's get you to bed," I murmur to him, receiving a small nod against my neck in response. Still, it takes a few seconds for Spencer to pull his face away from my neck and part from my embrace, showing me Spencer was probably enjoying our embrace like me as well.

After walking to our shared room with Spencer nearly stumbling behind me, I help him change out of his work clothes and into just his boxers before turning to grab him his pajamas. However, before I can grab anything, I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind. "Honey, let me grab your pajamas," I tell him with a small laugh as he almost whines.

"I'm okay, baby," He murmurs as he nuzzles his face into my neck like earlier. "Let's just get to bed," he adds. I can't help but simply nod at his words before turning and walking us over to our bed. As I pull the bed covers over, I feel Spencer begin to place light kisses down my neck. "I'll make it up to you for coming home so late~"

Shaking my head at his sudden mood change, I smirk at him before helping him lie down on our beige sheets and pulling the comforter over him despite his weak protests. "Tomorrow," I promise him, moving over to my side of the bed where I lie next to him. Without a second to spare, I feel myself become trapped in Spencer's arms just as he succumbs to a deep slumber. Spencer's soft snores from earlier return within seconds, making me slightly laugh to myself. He's so tired, it's like he's drunk - hence the sudden want for intimacy. I think I'll have a talk with Hotch tomorrow; he needs to stop sending my boyfriend home half-asleep and unsupervised.

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lunatic-pudge · 6 months

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Scout, Pyro, Demo, Medic, Sniper, and Spy Relationship Headcanons

Can you tell which ones are my absolute favorite:')

Scout

• Unsurprisingly, it takes him a long time to get over his infatuation of Ms. Pauling (I'm 110% convinced she's a lesbian), so you must be basically a deity to be catching his attention (though he'd the type to flirt with EVERYONE)

• Golden retriever energy, also youngest child energy. Constantly wants to do everything for you but also needs constant attention. He's also used to be getting picked on by the other mercs and his older brothers so he'll be going to you for validation. But he also doesn't want to appear weak so it'll take some time to break through his (fragile) shell.

• Love language: physical touch and acts of services. Will be constantly trying to act like a macho man for you but will also beg to hold your hand. Cuddles are constant. He may not be good at being a handyman, but my gods he's gonna try his darndest. Plz tell him that he did a good job, he's trying his best.

• He's the best person to go to if you wanna go on randon and unexpected adventures. One minute you're both in Teufort, the next your across country at the beach up east coast. Poor thing gets yelled at a lot for just uping and leaving without notice.

• Local snack dealer. Ma is always making sure that he's got sweets on hand. His room has care packages from her with some of the most wholesome letters from her and the box if FILLED to the brim with sweets, treats, and soda

Pyro

• My little baby boo, a wholesome partner who would kill for you. Can get jealous very easily so you might have to hold them back from committing manslaughter.

• Love language: quality time and gift giving. Time with Pyro is time well spent. Constantly just wants to be in the same room with you. They don't do well when you're not around. Also loves to give gifts. Most of their gifts consit of stuffed animals and handmade drawings. Your room will be filled with gifts from this goofball.

• In my opinion, they're a lot more there than people realize. Some days are better than others though. They were literally CEO of an engeneering company! And I believe they made all their weapons to but I could be wrong on that. Homie is definitely reliable when they're having a good day, but on the bad days, just sit and spend time with them. You don't gotta say anything, just knowing your right there beside them is enough conformation to know you'll always be there no matter what.

• You two are little troublemakers. You'll constantly be up to no good with them. It seems like harmless fun, but you've both almost burnt down the base five times just this month!

Demoman

• Probably one of the best lovers you could have out of all the mercs (aside from Engie, they're competing for the number one spot). I'm deducting points cause of the nonstop alcohol consumpution. :(

• But he is a happy goofy dunk so thank gods for that. Always happy to be here. Very attentive, caring, cuddly, overall a good person to date or even just be friends with.

• Cause the constant alcohol ruined a good portion of his memory (and Medic as well), he writes down every little detail of you that he can in a little journal he secretly keeps on his person. Important dates, likes, dislikes, ect. The man has it on file in case of emergencies.

• Love language: gift giving and act of services. He works three jobs and makes over 5 mil a year, he's LOADED. He's gonna buy you the world if you ask. Definitely good at money managing so he never worried at how much gifts cost. He's also gonna try his darndest to help you out with any problems, though it can be a bit hard when you're constantly drunk. Hims trying his best, okay?

• Wants his mom to approve of you but knows how critical she is of him. Poor baby has some self-esteem issuses cause of her so please give him lots of love and support. It's hard when your mom never has anything nice to say about you and compares you to everyone else. It's a neverending struggle. :(

Medic

• You're definitley into weird and questionable people if you like this man, and that means we're best friends now. :D

• He will ask you to help him out with surgeries and organizing his lab. You're hims little nurse. He'd probably (absolutley) be getting you a nurse outfit with his symbol on it.

• He's very much the possessive type. What's his is HIS, no if, ands, buts, or questions about it. Would put a tracker in you so he knows where you are at all times, but someone would have to talk him out of doing it... for now...

• Constantly talks about you to his birds, if any on them ever have babies, he's naming one after you. Would get you a stuffed dove plushie to cuddle with at night when he can't be there with you

• Love language: physical touch and quality time, you're ALWAYS welcomed in his lab, in fact, he expects you to be there with him. Is the type to ask you to grab something and will graze his hands against yours when grabbing it from you. (then give a shit eating smirk afterwards) He'd also be the type to stand VERY close to you, and stand behind you in an intimidating way to keep others from talking to you.

Sniper

• This man is my all time baby boy so I have LOTS to say about him and how much I love him :')

• Is someone who takes a while to get close to, especially in a romantic way. He's just a shy little boy who's used to being alone. But isn't introverted, just has introverted tendencies (you literally see him hanging out with some of the other mercs in Expiration Date)

• Love language: words of affirmations and physical touch, he sucks at verbally saying how he feels about you but will leave cute little love notes around for you to find. He's also VERY touched-starved so he will just flat out lay on top of you if you let him. Loves hearing you say how much you love him, plz just hold his hands and say how much he means to you, he might just cry from it.

• Is also someone who goes on random adventures, but they're usually just out and away from everyone. But I could see him taking you to a zoo or aquarium to look at the animals. But you're not allowed to go to a Humane Society cause you'll be walking out with all the animals they have and raising them like they're your babies,

Spy

• Another gremlin who takes a long time to warm up to you. He's a grumpy old man who's never really been with someone in such a serious light (aside from Scout's Ma)

• Love language: gift giving and words of affirmation, another merc who would buy you the world if you asked. Will only buy you the best of the best and will throw hands with someone if it's not up to his standards. He could go on about his love for you. His words sound like poetry. You'd wake up with a bouquet of roses and one of the most beautiful love letters anyone has ever read.

• Is 50/50 on PDA, he'll wrap an arm around your waist, call you beautiful, and give you a peck on the cheek in front of others but that's about it. Any extreme PDA is to be in private or you're getting a scolding.

• Would definitely help you learn French. He's way more patient with you than anyone else. You've seen him yell and insult every merc a couple times (Scout getting the brunt of it), but he refuses to ever say anything negative about you

• Definitely the bragging type. He'll put you on a pedestal and go on about how gorgeous you are. How you were crafted by gods, and so on. He thinks he's better than everyone else so if you're with him, than you're right up there with him.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 pyro #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 demoman #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 spy #tf2 spy x reader

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ibbythebee · 7 months

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Hospital Wing Hermits

gif credit: @handknit on wattpad

pairing: Neville Longbottom x year younger!reader

summary: From Neville's second year at Hogwarts to his last, his most memorable times with you have been spent in the hospital wing.

genre: fluffiness all round, slight angst at the end... but only a little, slow-burny

warnings: this fic is so soft that you will potentially combust, slight swearing, SO MUCH hand holding, the reader is an oblivious goofball until she's not, kissing, talks about illnesses and injuries, blood and boogers

words: 6k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 2nd Year

Clutching onto Madame Pomfrey is nothing new to Neville. In the middle of the night, however, is a different story. The Nurse coos whenever the boy makes the slightest sound of pain, holding him up as not to put anymore pressure on his right foot.

"We're just about there, dear. Come on, just a few more steps..."

Leading him to the middle of the hospital wing's room, she then guides him onto an untouched bed, and immediately slides a pillow underneath his ankle. A spot of light on the opposite side of the room does not go unnoticed to either the woman or boy as soon as they had entered the room.

Neville rubs his eyes, squinting at the strange glowing mound of sheets. He watches as, with a sigh, Madame Pomfrey marches to the other preoccupied bed and pulls over the white covers to reveal you, a sheepish looking girl.

Under the light of your wand, your face looks puffy, lips and nose chapped, hair amuck. You cough into your elbow and smile a toothy innocent smile, batting your big eyes at the woman, silently pleading your innocence.

Pomfrey, however, does not play games. "Turn off that incessant light, Miss L/N. Do you realise what time it is?"

Your lips shape into a pout, voice stuffy as you answer. "But Madame Pomfrey, it's so boring here. I'm bored."

"No, you should be asleep. Turn that off right now. I don't want to have to send another owl to your mother about you refusing medical help."

"Just a few more minutes please? I'll finish the page I'm reading."

"Absolutely not. It's basic manners and respect for your fellow peer." She motions to Neville, and you finally turn to him.

Despite the fatigue in your features, your eyes seem to glow, piercing through the dark room. Perhaps it's just his lack of sleep or absence of light, but there is something drawing him to you and he fails to look away. Nothing comes out of his mouth even though he knows he's probably supposed to greet you, but neither do you.

A second longer you stare at your new roommate and in eventual defeat, you pout. The light from your wand fades, as you mumble 'nox' under your breath and get comfortable under the blankets.

Satisfied, Madame Pomfrey clears the rubbish bin underneath your bed and turns back to Neville handing him a small flask of some sort of healing potion.

"All right. Off to bed now both of you. Good night, dears."

You both mutter a 'goodnight', closing your eyes, gingerly pulling the covers up to your chins.

It stays mostly quiet in the room, apart from the Nurse's shuffling. Though as time passes, shoes click and click away, and then the door creaks shut.

"Psst!"

Neville stirs.

"Hey, psst!"

"Huh?" Is all Neville can manage, lifting his head with a groggy squint.

"What happened to you?" You ask in a loud whisper and sniffle. Sitting straight, and staring right at him. Your eyes really are big, inquisitive.

"Well I... twisted my ankle," he finally says.

"How?"

"I... I'd rather not say. It's embarrassing, really."

"I won't tell anyone," you say as-a-matter-of-factly. "You can hex me if I do."

He looks at you through narrow eyes again and this time it's your teeth that glow. As you show no interest in falling asleep, Neville's neck admits defeat and his head crashes back down onto the pillow. "Can we just please go to sleep?"

"I caught a cold... or maybe a fever. Runny nose—" you sniff, wiping your face with your pajama sleeve "—wet cough, high temperature. My mum says I have a weak immune system."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" He comments half-heartedly to the ceiling.

"No, it isn't."

Silence. For a moment, he believes that you've finally surrendered yourself.

"So how'd you twist your ankle in the middle of the night?"

Never mind.

"You don't seem like a rule-breaker," you say.

He carefully shuffles up to sit and sighs. Where on earth did you get your energy from? He hadn't met such a talkative first year before.

Neville takes a moment to answer, debating on whether or not you're harmless enough for him to be vulnerable. "I had a nightmare, okay? I fell off my bed and... landed badly."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" You echo.

"No, it isn't."

Silence once again ensues, but this time Neville's ready for your chatterbox mouth.

"What's your name? I'm..." You suddenly stop and he nearly laughs when your silhouette jerks and you sneeze. It's loud, like his Gran.

"Nice to meet you, Achoo." He chuckles, holding a hand over his mouth.

You sniff again, face hot in a new wave of humiliation, and this time you wipe your face with more aggression. "Hey, that's not funny! My name is — A-ACHHHOO!"

"Isn't that what I just said?" He can't help but laugh again. Relishing in the groan you emit and how furiously you blow your nose.

With a poke of your tongue, you retort. "Whatever, Mr... mm... Fall-out-of-bed...n-nightmare-broken-ankle-boy."

"Wow, that's really fantastic, Achoo." He slides back down into his bed, closing his eyes with content and tries to hold in his giggles as you continue with determination to clear up your mistake.

Initially, Neville thought he wouldn't even be able to get in a nap, but now with the understanding that you bark more than you bite, he creates a silly image of you in the form of a puppy. As your voice rings in the background, the puppy image barks with you, and he feels his eyes grow heavy, falling into a content and nightmare-less sleep.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 4th Year

Ever since sleeping the night in the hospital wing, Neville knew he'd be seeing more of you. It was surprising to him that he hadn't noticed you before that night, especially seeing as you were such a social butterfly. And despite being in the year below, he'd always manage to catch your eyes in the Great Hall. And in the courtyard. And in the halls. And through a classroom window. You were everywhere and anywhere. And when you weren't, you were in bed in the hospital wing.

Just like you are now. The fourteen-year-old hadn't seen you for the past few weeks after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and needless to say, he had to see you.

And such a perfect opportunity had arose today, albeit a painful one, but an opportunity none the less.

Neville opens the door to the wing as gently as possible as not to wake you, however knowing you, you probably already were.

Entering the room, he clutches his sore hand to his ribs and cranes his neck to spot the nurse. Instead he finds your lying form under a mountain of blankets.

You stir, and Neville curses at his shoes for making so much noise. Sure, his intention of coming here was to see you, but he’d seldom seen you in such a peaceful state and didn’t want to ruin that for you.

“Neville?” He hears you say and then you’re facing him.

He smiles down at you, with a voice just as soft as silk. "Hey, Achoo. Didn't mean to wake you. How you feeling?”

“I’m feeling alright. Kinda headache-y, but fine. Ugh, what time is it?” You rub your eyes and stretch as you sit up.

The messiness of your bed-hair is incredibly endearing and the curve in Neville’s lips only grow at the sight.

“It’s third period.”

“Then… what are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

You’re suddenly on your feet, eyes round and wide, taking in the scene of the tall boy. He flinches, attempting to hide his hand in his robe sleeve.

You snatch his hand, bringing it close to your face. It’s a burn. All over the back of his palm. "Bloody hell— Where's Madame Pomfrey?"

"I was about to ask you the same question." A small chuckle falls from his lips as you examine him. Somehow, in some miracle he watches your big eyes grow larger as you twist his hand, move his long fingers to get as much information about his wound.

He feels like he’s going crazy, your touch is a new kind of burn on his skin. It doesn’t sting, but it is hot. And you don’t even know you’re causing it.

"She's always gone when you actually need her,” you huff.

"It's not as bad as it looks, really. Just hurts a little when I move it."

"What about when I...?" You drift off, as you slide a delicate thumb over his beet-red knuckles.

The tips of his ears turn the same shade of red. "Stings."

With no further words, he lets you pull him to one corner of the hospital wing, searching for a particular ointment on the many shelves of medical supplies. You don't let go of his hand, and he doesn't dare pull away.

"Let me guess how it happened—" you say, grabbing a round jar of blue gel to read the label.

"Seamus." You both state and then share a laugh.

Placing the jar back, you continue your search and Neville fills the comfortable silence. "It's Potions class. For once I thought I was doing pretty decent and then next thing I know, Seamus' cauldron blows up next to me and of course I get the damage."

His hand is held up to your face again and he watches as you grab a new jar with a less solid looking gel, creamy in colour.

"I suppose it's a good way for me to get out of the rest of the class," he shrugs.

"And get away from Snape," you quip and earn a chuckle from him. There was a time in Neville’s third year, when you had come to learn about his amusing boggart. He’d snuck into the hospital wing, claiming he had a nasty headache and ended up staying the night, neither of you getting a wink of sleep. It had also been revealed that the thing you were most frightened of was giants.

“Sit down,” your motioning to the mattress behind him.

He does so without question, still attached to you by your pinkie, making himself comfortable on the edge of a neatly tucked bed. He follows your every action as you place the ointment jar beside his thigh and open the lid. You scoop a teaspoon amount with your fingers and lifted his burnt hand again.

Before the cream touches his burn, you begin to tell him about what illness you've caught today and he barely feels the sting of the medicine. There's no better spell or potion to kill pain than your voice, that much was evident even back when he first met you.

Concentration laces your features and unbeknownst to you, your hips hit the edge of the mattress, unaware to the fact that Neville's knees are on either side of you.

The sight of you between him for some reason makes it difficult for him to swallow. The urge to trap you with his legs increases by the second. "Hey, Y/N?"

You wipe off excess ointment on your pajama top and turn your attention to him. He rarely called you by your first name. Something's up.

"Yeah?"

"Well, the erm... You know in a week or so?"

"Mhm?"

There's a pause as he searches your eyes for confidence, then he finally announces. "Would you say you're a good dancer?"

Creases form between your brows and you pout at the question, really thinking it over. If there was anything else Neville had learnt about you was that you always answered his queries with great interest and thought. You never treat his questions as though they're dumb, and he’s come to adore you for that.

As you ponder, he slides his non-burnt hand under yours, idly fiddling with your delicate fingers; tracing around the length of them, lifting them up and dropping them one by one, and eventually laying his palm flat on top of yours. Were his hands always this big?

The tips of your fingers tap-tap against his, as you finally answer. "I suppose... I would like to think I am."

"Well... that's good to hear."

"What about you?"

"Oh me?" He finds your face and swallows thickly. "I've been practicing lately, so I can only hope I've improved."

A giggle breaks free from your lips and it’s music to his ears. "Practicing? Whatever for?"

"The Yule Ball, of course."

"The..." The creases near your brows form again. "I've completely forgotten about that."

He squeezes a finger of yours. "So, no one's asked you yet?"

You sneeze into your elbow and then for a second time, and your voice becomes stuffy to the amusement of Neville. "Asked me what?"

"Asked you to be their date, of course."

"Oh. No." Scoffing. "Being stuck in here means no social-life. And besides—" You spin around quick to grab a roll of bandage, and gingerly flatten it over his burn "—who's gonna want to dance with someone who sneezes every five minutes?"

"I would."

"That's what I thought — wait... you would?"

In an effort to look nonchalant, Neville shrugs, finding interest in a bird that's flying near the window. The tips of his ears poking out of his shaggy hair are giving you a different response, they're blushing.

You finish with his wound and step away from the bed, fingers feeling cold when you let go of him.

Upon inspection of your medical handiwork, he smiles gently. He hadn't felt a thing. "Thanks for this."

"I... I can't guarantee that I'll be completely healthy that day," you say.

"The Yule Ball?"

You nod in an almost embarrassed way, as you fiddle with the collar of your sleeping clothes.

Neville just shakes his head. "The suit my Gran got for me has a lot of pockets so I’ll carry all your tissues for you. Or anything else you might need, I'll keep them for you."

"That'sssss.... ACHHU!"

"Bless you. So what do you say? Would you... want to go with me? Maybe? I promise not to step on your feet."

"Miss L/N?! What on earth are you doing out of bed?!"

"MADAME POMFREY!" You both exclaim, faces and necks feeling hot.

"Come on, dear, why don't you ever follow simple orders?!"

Mumbles of pathetic protest fall from your lips as the woman drags you back to the other side of the room. You knock into Neville’s knee on the way and so he’s quick to follow behind you with his own incoherent babble about the burn on his hand.

You're settled under the blankets once again and watch as the nurse's eyes bulge at the sight of the tall boy's perfectly cared for palm. She inspects the bandage, inquires about the pain and what the cause was, all while Neville can't keep the flushed look off his face.

"She— well... Y/N helped me out. It doesn't hurt anymore, I'm fine now, Ma'am."

As the said woman keeps a hold of his hand, she turns to you with daggers. "What did you use? A potion? Spell, perhaps? Mr Longbottom could have severe side-effects if you're not careful."

"He won't," you grin toothily as you did back in your first year and point to the shelf in the right corner. "I used the ointment that you gave Theodore Nott not that long ago. Haha, Nott not."

Neville stifles a laugh, and isn't surprised when the nurse doesn't question you further. You might be the only student that can get away with arguing with Madame Pomfrey.

The nurse's face instead takes the form of an appreciative and impressed expression. It's only natural that with your ‘weak immune system’, you've gained as much medical knowledge as you have colds and flus.

"I'll admit, you've done a splendid job with Neville. However, you simply cannot use whatever you like, whenever you like, on whomever you like. Next time this happens you need to wait for me to return, alright? Is that understood?"

Taking a glance at Neville's sheepish state, you sigh and nod in response.

"And Neville dear, don't encourage this behaviour. Especially not from Miss L/N."

"Okay, Ma'am."

She gives the boy a goodbye and immediately turns to you, a full on lecture spilling from her mouth. He isn’t supposed to leave yet, not when he’s just finally had the courage to ask you out.

Neville finds your helpless gaze behind the woman’s shoulder, and sends you a sad sort of smile before turning on his heel to get to the door.

"I-I'll go with you!" You yell.

The tall boy pauses, heart flipping at your words.

"To the Yule Ball."

There’s no stopping the grin that forms, and he finally nods after a second, hair shaking with the action.

Your eyes speak to him as your own smile appears.

Meanwhile, the woman huffs and puffs, cleaning the area around your bed. "Not in this state, you won't."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 5th Year

The last time Neville was in the hospital wing, he'd come to talk to you about his recent endeavours in Herbology and let slip that he's been secretly practicing defensive magic with a group of other students, being taught by none other than Harry himself. There was no doubt that you would also be trusted enough to join, however seeing as you were once again bed-ridden, it felt best to keep it a secret until you got better.

Now it wasn't a secret anymore, and each time he'd visit you'd ask him to put in a good word with Harry, with the group. Neville always said he would, but he never did, fearing that Professor Umbitch would eventually catch onto you and you'd have to pay the ultimate price.

Karma is an Umbitch, however, and now it looks as if the only answer to Neville's current predicament is to let you join Dumbledore's Army, despite all his worries and his efforts to stop you from doing that.

Today’s DA training has been cut short, due to the fact that the fifteen-year old is now incapacitated. Blood refusing to slow down from his nose.

Going to Madame Pomfrey would've required him to come up with a believable story as to what happened, so the next best thing was to send for you, someone who already knows about this secret group.

"Neville!" A Ravenclaw boy shouts, interrupting his thoughts. "Your Bogey Bug is here— ow!"

Someone smacks the kid, and then suddenly the Weasley twins are leading you into the Room of Requirement. You stand over him, adorning new pajamas he hadn't seen before.

"Hey Achoo," he weakly smiles. "Thanks for coming."

The DA gather around, as you crouch to his side and immediately take the cloth he's been holding to his nose. You make a face at him. “Oh Neville… what are we going to do with you?”

A fresh line of blood rolls down to his lip, so you let him leave the fabric there to sink it in.

"Keep your head steady, okay? Don't lean back, just let the blood flow for now."

"I think my nose might be broken?"

"Neville, I swear to..." your head spins sharply, and a few students flinch. "Who did this?"

"We were practicing stupefy," the familiar voice of Seamus answers and immediately your tense shoulders relax seeing his face emerge behind the twins. "I didn't mean to. I swear, Y/N."

"He really didn't mean to," Neville echoes.

You sneeze into your elbow and shake your head, palm making contact with your cheek. "See, this is why you should’ve told me about this secret army group thing so I could've joined and stopped something like this from happening.”

"I'm sorry."

You take Neville's hand again and lift the cloth, checking over the damage. There is damage, alright. You try not to make a show of wincing, fearing that the brown-haired boy would get anxious by your reaction, but his nose really does look quite out of sorts. Out of line. Broken.

He realises you haven't said a word in a while and smiles again, "you can fix, can't you, Achoo?"

"I told Neville I could treat him, but he kept refusing and insisted for your presence," Luna's soft voice interrupts as she crouches down beside you.

Someone amongst the crowd starts to coo and the tips of Neville's ears manage to turn beet red, more so when you turn your attention to him, expression unreadable.

Luna carries on, eyes focused on you. "He wouldn't let anyone touch him. Not until now, anyway."

"Okay!" A sudden clap startles even Luna, and you all turn to the perpetrator. Harry Potter's back is turned to your direction as he addresses the crowd, "I think we'll call it a day. Neville needs his strength and so do you."

The crowd murmurs, exchanging pouts and disappointed shrugs.

"Be proud of yourselves, you all did brilliantly today. Each and every one of you have improved. Next time we get to meet we'll continue with the Patronus Charm."

"What about Bogey Bug? How do we know she's not gonna rat us out?" A girl in Hufflepuff asks.

Neville sees you stand up, slapping a hand over your chest. "I swear on my life and the life of Neville—."

"Hey!"

"—that I will not snitch on this group or expose any of you. I promise to be loyal and keep my mouth shut about this."

Some faces don't seem convinced, as more murmurs and chatter erupt.

"She can be our nurse!" Neville exclaims, stealing everyone's attention. It's time to put in that good word for you. "We won't have to go to the hospital wing if Achoo— I mean, Y/N is here. She's really good at what she does. Plus, I accidentally told her about the army about a month ago and she hasn't told a soul since. I do..."

Your big eyes soften when he turns to you.

"...I trust her with my life."

"All right then," Harry claps once more. "All those in favour of Y/N becoming part of the army, raise your hand."

A few hands come up, whilst others whisper for a moment. One more, then four more, and then more hands raise faster than you can count them. You and the broken-nosed boy share grins, as you squeeze his free hand.

"That's it then. Y/N, welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 6th year

Following the events of the previous year of school you and Neville had grown ever closer. Outside of the classroom you'd never be seen without the other. Inseparable. There'd even been a rumour going around that you were dating, but you always denied such claims and Neville could only comply. He hadn't yet told anyone about his feelings for you, although it seemed that those in his close circle were figuring it out on their own.

After having looked like a lost pygmy puff in the Great Hall, Luna found Neville and mentioned to him that you looked 'out of sorts' during class. He hadn't even asked about you. She just knew to tell him.

So, it’s only fitting for him to be by your side now, during lunch hour.

You’re shivering underneath all the sheets and blankets, and yet as Neville glides the back of his fingers across your forehead, you’re sweating as well.

“Hang in there Achoo, you’ll be fine in no time. The spell will take effect.”

You can only give so much as a nod, and groan when your lower abdomen tightens with a deep, stabbing ache.

“Shh,” Neville smooths his delicate fingers over your forehead again, tucking loose strands back to their place with the rest of your hair. “I'm here. Do you want me to distract you with anything?"

"Anything," you squeak, eyes shut tightly as if doing that would stop your cramps and make you fall asleep faster. "Please."

"Alright, erm..." He slides his tongue over his bottom lip and leans in closer to you, elbow pressing into the mattress. "I suppose I can tell you about a dream I had not long ago. You were in it."

"The Hippogriff one?" You tremble.

"No, this is a new one," he smiles when you meet his gaze, finding your fingers peeking through the sheets and taking them into his hands. "It's really stupid, as dreams usually go, but I really like it."

Your fingers are stretched out, as Neville begins to trace over your palm. First he draws a circle and you giggle a little at the feeling.

"This is me," he draws a triangle, "and this is you. It seems like any ordinary day, except you and I have the same classes. In the dream we're both popular. Everyone cheers for us when we get good marks, and even Professor Snape smiles at you."

"No way."

He laughs and traces a shape with lots of spikes. "Yes way. It really seems too good to be true, because there's even a moment where we successfully sneak out at night, we're just in our pajamas and we're watching the stars from the astronomy tower."

"I'm waiting for the 'but'."

"But — here comes the stupid part — you just start flying out of nowhere. One second you're next to me, the next you're just in the sky. I'm freaking out trying to reach for your hand, but you're just so calm about the fact that you mysteriously gained the ability to fly."

You're giggling again, especially as he slaps your palm a few times to emphasise the story. "Accurate reaction."

"And then it just ends with me being able to breath fire."

"What?" You laugh, brows pulling together in amusement. "I wonder what Professor Trelawney would say about that. What all of it might represent."

He draws a line on each of your fingers, slow and tickly. "If it's anything like I've been told before, it probably means bad luck."

"Well I was also in the dream with you, so we'll go through the bad luck together." To his surprise, you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. You're not trembling anymore, you haven't been for the past minute or so, and it doesn't feel like you're being stabbed over and over in the stomach.

"Think you can sleep now?" He asks, fingers hesitantly unravelling.

You nod, grinning at him, those eyes of yours finally shining as bright as they usually do.

"Want me to go get Madame Pomfrey?"

You shake your head. And then your arms are around his neck, head tucked in the space between your bicep and his jawline.

It feels like a millennium till he returns your gesture, arms securing around your waist and back, pulling you in tightly and desperately. The mix of the wing's clinical scent and the smell of baked desserts fills his nose. He could've sworn he'd smelt something like this during Potions class.

"Stay with me," you purr. "Please."

He knows he has class in ten minutes, he knows he can't skip, he knows he'll get in trouble.

So with your arms determined to remain wrapped around each other he bends over, moving till your head meets the pillow. He kicks off one of his school shoes. Then the other.

You feel his knees dip into the mattress beside your thighs, and then you have to part for a moment as he slips under the blankets, his head settling on the pillow right beside yours.

When he's comfortable, you take one of his hands and lower it until he brushes over your clothed belly.

Keeping the heat from entering his ears and cheeks is impossible, as his hand flattens over your stomach, shock evident in his features from your bold action.

"Could you keep it there?" You say, when you feel his uncertainty. "It'll help if the cramps come back." Your own hands smooth over his, trapping him there.

"I will." He swallows thickly. "Are you comfortable?"

You nod. "Are you?"

"Absolutely. Yes. I am."

A content breath passes your lips and you smile, all giddy like, at the ceiling. "Thank you for being here. For being with me always. For not making fun of me being sick all the time. Not calling me Bogey Bug. For... for just being you. For being my most favourite person ever."

"I could really say the same about you." Both your voices are barely above a whisper, seeing as your faces are so close together.

"Thanks Neville," you turn to him, and tap the back of his hand on your belly.

You stare at each other for a moment, and for some reason it doesn't feel wrong. It's not awkward.

Neville breaks the silence. "You... you know how everyone keeps saying that we're... you know going out?"

"Yeah."

Neville pauses for a second, you're staring so intensely, pupils large and beautiful. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat and squeezes the material of your clothes. He can talk to you, he can ask you the question. He's battled against Bellatrix Lestrange before, he's been put in Gryffindor for a reason. He can ask you. "What do you say we make those rumours... not rumours anymore?"

The corners of your mouth twitch. "You-You mean... you mean like...?"

"Yes. Like that. Like... I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sort of way."

You don't say anything.

He continues, with a small bite of his lip. "Like... I'm completely mad for you and if I don't tell you now I don't think I'll ever get the chance to again."

"This... isn't a dream, is it?"

"Can I prove to you this isn't a dream?"

"Okay."

And it really feels like a dream, as his face leans in and you feels his lips press against the corner of your mouth.

"Did that help?" he whispers.

You twist around to lay on your side, guiding Neville's big hand up to your waist. "You missed, Neville."

"What?"

"You missed."

This time you both lean in, and this time Neville doesn't miss.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 7th year

The last Horcrux has been destroyed, Voldemort's killed, the Death Eaters have fled. New life has been brought to Hogwarts, sun pooling through the shattered windows of the Great Hall.

People sit on broken stools, torn and ashy blankets, chatter quiet and solemn. A few people manage to tell jokes and liven the mood, others cuddle, kiss, crying tears of relief. Nurses scamper around tending to the badly wounded.

Only...

As Neville limps his way through the hall he desperately scans over the crowds only to realise you're not here. You're not by Madame Pomfrey. You're not by Luna either. Neville finds Ginny's tired but hopeful figure and before he can tap her shoulder, she's already turned to him with a gentle smile.

She shakes her head before he even has a chance to speak. "I haven't seen Y/N. Not since... well not since she took care of Freddie. 'M sorry Neville."

"No," he shakes his head and gives the girl a gentle hug when her voice wavers and her bottom lip quivers. "No, I'm sorry."

"You helped kill Voldemort. That's hardly anything to be sorry for," she smiles again as they part, softly pushing at his shoulder to leave. To keep searching for you. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for her."

Neville sends her a purposeful nod and turns to leave, the sword of Gryffindor still snug in his hand. At times he uses the weapon as a crutch, the pain in his everything starting to take a toll as previous rushes of adrenaline begin to fade. The only thing keeping him going is the thought of you. You and your sneezes, your messy hair, your often nasally voice, your big eyes and equally big grins. You.

He passes what looks to be remnant of the hospital wing's door, merely a pile of wood chips and metal beams now. He hears the distant tweet of a bird, the pitter-patter of loose rubble and someone's sneeze.

The sword clangs to the ground and he's sprinting. Neville rounds the corner of the entrance to the wing and he stops, breath heavy, vision blurry.

You're there, and you're already staring at him, your grin so large and your eyes even more so and you're holding onto something familiar.

"N-Neville?" your voice is soft and so stuffy and gorgeous.

"Achoo, good Godric." His sore legs carry him to your side, and you're running toward him, arms open. And then you jump and he completely forgets about how much pain he's in when he catches you.

You cling to his sweater, to his shoulders, to his neck, to his waist, squeezing him with every bit of strength you've got left.

He's grasping at your hoody, your waist, your hair, your skin, he's touching all of you, scared that if he'll let go you won't be there anymore.

"I love you so much," he says through a trembling voice.

You pull away slightly and return your feet to the ground, legs unwrapping from his hips. You crane your neck to kiss his jaw, and then you kiss his cheek and his other and then finally his lips. And it sets your heart on fire, full of adoration and care and relief. You don't ever want to stop feeling him here, his supple lips against yours, especially as his hands cup your jaw, reeling you in for more and more.

"I love you Neville," you cry when you finally have to pull away to catch your breaths. "Ever since I first met you. You and your twisted ankle."

He chuckles, tenderly wiping a tear from the apple of your cheek with his thumb. He scans over the room for a moment, as he feels your fingers come to dance over the dry trail of blood from his head wound.

"I don't think we're ever gonna leave this place," he says with a caress of your jaw.

Following his gaze, you giggle. Those beds you spent countless nights on, those countless concoctions and medical supplies you've had used on you, they're all here, scattered and battered around the room.

"That's why I came here instead of the Hall," you say, keeping one arm around your boyfriend's waist and unravelling the other to reveal an intact jar of creamy coloured ointment. "I'm so sorry, I must've scared you nuts."

"Scared me to death more like, but all I had to do was listen out for your sneezes. Turns out it isn't that hard to find you."

You poke your tongue out and he laughs. "That's so embarrassing. Always comes back to me being a Bogey Bug."

"Yeah," he smoothly pulls you in for an ardent kiss, "my Bogey Bug."

"You know what else I am?"

You're leaning against his arms that are wrapped around you and he watches as you take off the lid of the jar. Just like his fourth year, you use your fingers to scoop up a teaspoon of the cream.

"What? What else are you?"

You step out and take one of his hands, letting his palm sit over the top of yours. And then the cream is applied over the burns on the back of his hands. In spite of these burns looking way worse than his wound from Potions class back in his fourth year, the pain is still barely felt once the ointment's smoothed over. What's also killing the sting is looking at your breathtaking eyes. He's lost in them, distracted completely.

"I'm also your nurse," you finally say, wiping the excess over your hoody.

Neville's mouth curls into a smirk, snaking his arms around you again and pressing your bodies tightly together. "Well, nurse. My lips are feeling kind of sore, do you think you can fix them?"

You hum, eyes twinkling with mischief as your hands link behind his neck.

His gaze dips to your mouth, trying to fight the heat flowing to his cheeks and ears. There will never be a time when you won't make him nervous and giddy.

You mirror his action, eyes taking their time stare at his lips. "You know what, darling? I think I've got just the thing for you."

#neville x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom x reader smut #neville longbottom x y/n

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backwardsbread · 1 month

Text

Hazbin Hotel:

Lucifer x Human!Reader

~The Devil’s in My Living Room~

Warnings‼️: Swearing, mentions of a breakup, Lucifer being a goofball, blood but very little, genderneutral!reader, character x reader.

A/N: Sooo. I don’t usually do full fanfics, but this idea has been invading my mind and I just had to get it out. If anyone wants a part 2, I have a lot more ideas! But I hope you enjoy my brainrot- <3

-I tried to proofread but if there are any mistakes, let me know!

Moving into a new space was difficult.

Anyone knew that. It was complicated, bittersweet, and downright exhausting.

And something you completely procrastinated doing, until your friend threatened to kick you out if you didn’t at least try to find a new place to live.

You had been hopping from couch to couch at your friends houses after a recent breakup with your long term partner.

The breakup was a mutual agreement between the two of you. The feelings that once felt like fireworks burned out into ashes. It had been a long time coming, but your heart still shattered when it was officially over.

This new house was sort of a new chapter and a step forward into figuring out life without your ex. You had no idea where to start, but being able to find such a cheap home to rent out seemed like a dream come true.

Or a scam. Either way you were desperate.

The house was at an insanely good price, wasn’t falling apart, and in the part of town that you found to be the acceptable amount of sketchy. Maybe a bit far from the city, but finding a decent place in the city was a pain in the ass.

Before you could think twice about whether or not this was really a good idea, you were signing all the paperwork and moving your belongings into the house.

You had shoved most of the boxes with your belongings into your basement. You set up the basic essentials you needed, clothes, kitchenware, blankets, etc. Several trips were often made up and down the stairs when you had forgotten something was still stored away.

It was completely inconvenient but you lacked the motivation to unpack everything all at once. It felt like too much work and in you convinced yourself the constant up and down was easier.

Family and friends helped you get settled, keeping you company the first couple days of your move. But they all had to move onto their own lives eventually. Wishing you well on the new chapter of your life, letting you know to reach out whenever you needed, friends and family went back to their respective houses.

So there you sat, alone in your house that felt much too old for you. While you were content living there, the house felt like it was covered in layers of dust from the lack of visitors roaming its rooms. The air felt heavy in a way that made you just feel uncomfortable.

At least there was a roof over your head. Adapting to living on your own was strange, but you passed the time by picking up all sorts of hobbies, none of which really stuck. Just a way to pass the time.

The hobby of the week was sewing.

You sat on your living room floor in front of your TV, letting whatever reality show play in the background while you focused on the task at hand.

You squint, hands shaking a bit, as you tried to thread the thin piece of string into the hooped end of the needle. You stick your tongue out in concentration as the string seemed to favor going anywhere but where you wanted.

Your intense gaze on the small objects was broken by the sound of an advertisement; with an actor who was certainly way too enthusiastic to be authentic. The shift in volume made you jump up, eyes darting to the screen, and needle grazing the side of your finger.

You let out a frustrated huff, silently cursing the overpaid actor for his theatrics. Feeling a slight sting on the side of your hand from where the needle had pricked your skin, drawing some blood.

Looking at your hand where the blood smeared against your skin, you sigh in defeat, getting up and walking towards your kitchen to rinse your hand.

A sudden gush of hot wind stops you in your tracks, followed by a blinding light coming from behind you. You turn around, stunned by the almost blinding light coming up from your floor. The light and confined to a large circle in the center of your living room where you once sat.

A shadowed figure can barely be seen through the hues of gold and orange, you can only make out red eyes blinking alive.

When light and smoke fades you finally see the person— or thing?? That had just straight up appeared in your home.

A short being, with skin white as paper. With two long horns protruding out of his skull, a small flame between them. His glowing eyes look at his surrounds, as he bared his dagger like teeth.

He wore a white suit, his undershirt decorated with gold and red details. On top his head was a tall white top hat with a purple snake curled up comfortably at the base.

He looked around your living room, doing a small spin as he took in his surroundings.

Where in hell was he??

He looks equally confused and stunned as you do. When you meet each others gaze it’s nothing short of awkward. Just looking at each other. His horns shrink back into his head, his eyes turning to an amber color with ruby pupils.

The man looks like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He gives a too wide grin, chuckling nervously and giving a wave to you. You just sat there stunned, eyes blown wide and mouth agape.

“Uhhh.. Hi.”

He finally spoke, making you finally blink a few times.

Oh- oh it talks.

“Hi…?”

You answer back cautiously, not really knowing the exact reason you answered the being who just straight up appeared in your living room.

The awkward tension flooded back into the room, the two of you just observing each other in silence.

The pale man rocked back and forth on his feet, tugging the collar of his shirt, as his eyes darted around the unfamiliar place.

You had to be dreaming… you rub your eyes, ready to wake up from this imaginary reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were in fact not dreaming.

The next few hours of your life dragged and felt so surreal.

At first you tried to ignore the thing in your house, carrying on with your house chores you suddenly found important to do. Every time you passed by him, he would wave his arms around trying to get your attention.

“Helloooooo?? I know you see me and I see youuu..”

He knew you could see him.

And you knew he knew you could see him.

He seemed to be confined to a small circle in the middle of your living room. You found this out when the demon started pressing his face against the invisible bubble containing him. Pressing his cheek and lips against the unseen force holding him. He pressed his face against the bubble like a child, making obnoxious faces and noises at you.

He never really tried to hurt or attack you. That was a good sign. When you had stepped a bit too close he did try to reach for your arm once or twice, but his hand just phased through your body, sending uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

Overall he mostly looked bored

Every time you walked through your living room you tried avoiding anywhere near the demon. Which was difficult considering he was stuck smack dab in the center of the room.

When trying to grab at you to get your attention failed. He decided on a different approach. Deciding to sit on the ground, taking off his suit jacket, folding it and refolding it over and over.

All while ranting about his extensive rubber duck collection.

Your eye starts to twitch.

Seriously, what the fuck was happening?

You didn’t know how many ducks the demon had informed you about, it felt like hundreds. He would take pauses between each explanation, almost teasing the idea of him stopping his tangents.

He had finally stopped ranting about his recent invention of a rubber duck that spits fire and did backflips. Letting a moment of silence fall.

You felt your shoulders relax, appreciating the peace and quiet…..until he started up again about another yellow duck shaped creation.

You finally snapped, he had finally gotten under your skin.

Your head snaps towards the demon in your living room, cutting off his words before he can start rambling again.

“Okay! Fine fine, you win! I see you! I hear you, what is up with you and the ducks??”

“Hah! I knew it!”

Lucifer throws his hands up in victory, celebrating the fact he was being acknowledged. He stood up, drawing a line with his finger against the invisible glass holding him.

“Score one for Lucifer~”

You drag your hands down your face, ready to claw your eyes out from when the demon celebrated winning over your silent treatment.

Wait. What was that name again??

“Lucifer? As in the devil? The fucking devil is in my living room??”

Lucifer gives you a confused look, picking his cane up off the ground. He observed your expression trying to tell if you were joking or not.

“Uh.. yeah.. hey hey! You’re the one who summoned me.. thought you would know that..”

“Summon you? I didn’t summon anything!”

Lucifer tilted his head at you, his eyes squinting and mouth hanging open slightly. Were you serious? How does one accidentally do a demonic ritual?

By the look on his face, you can see he’s equally in the dark about how he got here just as you are.

You look Lucifer up and down, pinching yourself on your side once again to ensure you’re not dreaming.

How could this.. how could this be the devil?

Sure, when he first appeared, you saw your life flash before your eyes, seeing the large horns, sharp teeth and red eyes. The whole thing you expected to see if you ever somehow were face to face with Lucifer himself.

But now he just looked like a shy awkward circus clown.

“I thought the devil was supposed to be.. ya know.. scary?”

Lucifer gasps dramatically, putting over a hand over where his heart would be— did he even have one? Was that possible?-

He straight up POUTS, turning his back to you taking full offense to your comment on his nonthreatening demeanor.

“I prefer terrifying, thank you very much! I thought humans knew better than to still mess with demonic rituals and practices.”

He shoots back in an accusatory tone, turning back to you and pressing his finger against the bubble.

“I didn’t summon you! You just showed up in my house!”

He looks down at his feet, tracing the circle where he had been confined to in your home with his cane.

“So.. you just.. accidentally… drew a pentagram.. and did all the stupidly excessive and tedious steps in my summoning ritual.. somehow correctly…”

The devil tried to explain how nonsensical your excuse sounded. You looked down at your living room floor, puzzled by what Lucifer had meant. All you saw beneath him was a neutral colored carpet that covered the entirety of your living room. Nothing seemed odd or off about it.

“Pentagram? What pentagram?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a quick google search about the history of your home, you find out the reason is was listed at such an amazing price. Your mouth hangs open as your read the gruesome details.

A satanic cult coming to this very house, trying to summon Satan. Apparently the group had stolen tools, a car, and a local farmers livestock to perform the ritual before police busted them.

Well you just made summoning him look like a casual Tuesday.

The information explained the pentagram that contained the Devil in your living room, who was peering over your shoulder to try and read the articles about your home. You sat just outside his reach, his cheek pressing against the invisible bubble of his pentagram prison.

Seeing the demon peer over your shoulder couldn’t help but make you feel a bit uneasy.

Slamming your computer shut, you turn towards Lucifer, who was waiting impatiently for an explanation.

It was a weird sight. Both of you sat criss crossed a few feet apart from each other. What on Earth did you do to be put in this situation?

You pinched yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

“So what’s the verdict?”

Nope. Still awake.

“Apparently years back, some sort of cult came here trying to summon satan- well you.”

“Uhh.. for what?”

“Hell if I know, I couldn’t find any sources that said their reasoning. But I’m guessing that’s why this place was dirt cheap and that’s how you’re somehow here now.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe you should’ve done some research before getting a house at such a cheap rate.

But it was such a steal- how could you resist?

“What did I do to get you here anyways? It’s not like I was chanting your name while killing a goat. Do I need to buy a Bible or something?”

You asked, making a little cross with your index fingers, moving it towards Lucifer’s face as if he would disappear with your mockery of him.

Lucifer looked exhausted by your cliches, but you were pretty much spot on with how people usually worshipped him.

He rolled his eyes, resting his elbow on his knee, so he could hold his chin in his hand.

“Well, what did you do before I got here?”

You explained your little incident with the sewing needle, showing off your hand that didn’t even look like it was injured anymore. The only evidence that the injury even happened being a bit of dried blood on your palm.

“Hey, not to be rude or anything.. but If you don’t want to be here anyways, why can’t you just.. ya know? Leave?”

Lucifer looked at you, twisting his cane and chuckling nervously, flashing his sharp teeth at you.

“Well.. usually with these things there’s an exchange. Human sells me their soul, sacrifices, the whole nine yards, haha!.. Mostly in exchange for my power.”

You shift back away from Lucifer cautiously, even though there was no way of him really getting to you.

“So.. you need my soul or something?”

Lucifer pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs and avoiding your gaze. Acting as if you were the one who was making this whole situation difficult.

“I mean, I don’t know, that’s usually how it goes.”

“How do you not know??”

“I don’t know! You’re the one who summoned me without knowing!”

“…”

“Touché.”

A moment of silence fell on the two of you, both clearly frustrated with no clear solution of how to fix this in sight.

It wasn’t like you were willingly going to give yourself up to the Devil. You didn’t even want him here in the first place.

Well. Not that you minded his company at the moment.

Was it kind of fucked you were talking to the devil and didn’t mind the company? Probably.

But ever since you had moved out of you and your ex’s house, your home just felt empty. Bare, lacking energy and life.

You weren’t used to being alone all the time.

Lucifer sighed, clearing his throat to break the tension in the room. He took in a deep breath, looking at you.

“Listen. I can’t really leave permanently unless you get an exorcism on your house. But until then, I’m kind of bound to you.”

“Woah woah woah, pump the breaks, bound to me?”

Lucifer shrugged, as if the fact was obvious. He held his legs, rocking back on his tailbone while looking around your living room once more, almost memorizing it.

“Yeah..! Well uh.. you should be able to summon me back whenever you prick your finger or…something like that? I can leave whenever I want.”

You stared at him blankly.

This whole time. This whole time he could’ve left but instead bothered for your attention until you caved and acknowledged his existence.

“You’re telling me this NOW?”

Lucifer put his hands up in defensive, quickly speaking up before you could get more angry at him.

“Hey! I did you a favor. Figured you would want to know I’m stuck with you. But hey! Good news is once I leave, I’ll be out of your hair for good!”

He had stuck around bothering you.. just to tell you that? That was an oddly sweet gesture from the literal DEVIL. But you appreciated the clarification and.. kindness.

Not once did Lucifer even try to hurt you, it didn’t even seem like he could. He seemed more awkward and anxious. And overall, he looked exhausted.

Dark under eyes that stood out on his paper white skin accompanied by hollow cheeks. I mean, you knew he was dead, but he looked just..

Numb? Maybe that was the word for it. Why were you even thinking about this? No way were you feeling bad pity for the Devil.

You had so many questions. What was Hell like? If Hell is real, what about heaven? Reincarnation? Angels? Bad omens?

Lucifer probably had all the answers to the ongoing list of questions you had growing in your mind. But a more simple question fell from your mouth rather than one about life as a whole.

“And if I summon you back?”

Lucifer looked at you, eyes blowing wide for a second. He was very bad at hiding his true feelings, his face nothing showing his shock, your question had simply baffled him. He didn’t expect you to, ya know- want him back. This whole thing was an accident after all. As far as he knew, you weren’t malicious or willingly going to give up your soul to him anytime soon.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, looking you up and down as you waited his response.

“I- Uh.. wha— why?”

Why?

You didn’t know the exact reason. As fucked up as it sounds, Lucifer provided oddly pleasant company. You weren’t used to living on your home so knowing you could enjoy someone’s company whenever you were lonely.

It felt nice knowing someone- or something- was there.

Even if it was the damn devil.

You shrug, avoiding the demons eyes which still looked utterly confused with your intentions.

“I dunno. Why waste the opportunity? What if I need someone killed or… I don’t know, help building furniture?”

You gave your sorry excuse and Lucifer’s gaze on you never changed, looking completely lost at your true intent of what you wanted from him.

He blew out a breath of hot air, chuckling nervously while grabbing his coat and cane. He stood from the floor, brushing dust off his white pants.

“Well- I suppose I can’t really stop you if you decide to summon me back. Just uh.. ahem.. don’t go nuts.”

Lucifer warned, his tone failing to convince you he was serious. You nod, chuckling a bit, and offering a smile to him.

You stand up yourself, looking over at him. You both break eye contact with each other. A moment of silence fell upon you, tension in the air thickening.

Man this was awkward.

Lucifer finally cleared his throat, adjusting his top hat. He shot you finger guns, laughing nervously.

“Uh- so I guess see youlater?…. Alligator…?”

He asks cautiously.

You pinch your side again, there was no way this was the actual devil. When you weren’t jolting awake from your comfortable bed, you couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You gave a small wave to Lucifer.

“In awhile, crocodile.”

You matched his awkward energy. Lucifer seemed surprised but not bothered by your comment back. He simply gave a small giggle, returning your wave before his departure.

In a gentle wave of swirling ruby and pink smoke adorned with golden glitter, Lucifer seemed to have vanished, as if he was never there to begin with.

You stare where he once stood, your heart beating fast against your chest. You gently wave your arm over the spot he once occupied for the last few hours.

Feeling only the wind pass through your arms made everything that just happened feel fake. You look around your living room, spinning in circles almost frantically to find what you wanted.

You quickly picked up your sewing kit that had been abandoned on your couch. Zipping it open, you grab out one of the needles, gently piercing the skin of your index finger.

As quick as he had left, Lucifer was back.

His hat was now gone and he was holding his jacket, presumably about to put it away before being summoned back. He looked around the room, meeting your eyes, then giving you a disapproving look.

“Sorry! Just had to- uh.. good news is it works?”

Lucifer sighed heavily, once again vanishing into a cloud of pink and red. Well it was settled.

The Devil was at your will…

Now what?

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